#*for the third time today* this would be so cool if i wrote it into a fic

[rwshfordgirl]

KENAN YILDIZ IS YOUR FIANCÉ?

where her students discover that kenan is her fiancé

pairing: kenan yildiz x teacher reader!

a/n: i want to thank 🪐 anon, you helped me improve this story haha but a few years ago i wrote a story similar to this one with ben chilwell, but those were pandemic times :/ unfortunately i no longer have the original post, but rewriting it was really cool.

requests are open | check here my masterlist

The mayor decided to hold classes remotely for a day due to an event that would leave the streets of Turin busy. You don't mind teaching and being at home, and the children wouldn't mind changing for one day either, in fact they are curious. When they received the news that they would have online classes, they shared loud and clear that they wanted to see what your house was like.

"I'll only show you my house if you show yours."

You made your 9 year old students laugh.

The office on the third floor of your house was made for events like this. In fact, you teach Italian classes remotely to people from all over the world. However, a leak must leave the space closed. And today, you will have to teach on the kitchen counter.

"Kenan, love. It'll take me an hour in the kitchen, if you need anything, text me."

Your fiancé appeared in the room, he seemed to be looking for something.

"It's okay, I won't bother you."

Yildiz gave you a kiss on the cheek after grabbing a drink from the fridge and going up to his room, he intended to make the most of his day off from training. Since he couldn't stay with you, he decided to watch whatever was on TV.

"Signora, your kitchen is very beautiful." Your student's high-pitched voice was the first thing you heard when you entered the virtual classroom.

"Thank you, Amelia." You smiled at the screen. "I'm glad to see you guys with the camera on, I thought you guys would be embarrassed."

"You said you would only show us your house if we showed us ours."

"You guys really took this seriously." You chuckled subtly. "But come on, we have to start studying."

You heard countless sounds of children snorting, which made you laugh out loud. They turned on the microphone just to do that.

"You guys are very lazy. But don't worry, we're just going to practice what we saw in class yesterday."

Out of the corner of your eye you quickly saw a figure pass by. Which made you jump back slightly. It was Kenan, he looked at you with an awkward smile.

"I forgot my cell phone." He whispered, but not quietly enough.

"How is there with you, Signora?"

His gaze was divided between the computer screen and Kenan smiling embarrassedly, knowing he couldn't be there.

"Stop taking care of your teacher's life."

Someone who shared the same room as one of the children, screamed.

"Oh my God." Your student said as he kept his eyes peeled for Kenan's figure passing behind you trying not to be seen, "Kenan Yildiz. Do you live with Kenan Yildiz?"

The children began to talk together, some wondering who Kenan was and others almost crying.

You turned your head back a little to look at Kenan. "Sorry." He mumbled.

You gave the Turkish man a reassuring smile. "It's okay."

Not enough reason to be mad at Yildiz. You knew that the kids would find out sooner or later that Kenan was your fiancé. In fact, you don't know how they didn't find out before, your photos wearing the Juve jersey at the stadium on match days appear on several gossip portals.

You reached out to gently pull Yildiz by the sleeve of the long shirt he was wearing. Seeing the children's reaction to seeing him up close made you laugh out loud, again.

"I want you to meet someone very special to me." You saw Kenan's cheeks flush "My fiancé."

"I can't believe my favorite teacher is engaged to my favorite player."

"Kenan please, come visit us at school."

Like you, Kenan laughed at their reaction. What’s more, he felt proud knowing that the children felt so much affection for you. Seeing you becoming a teacher, as you always dreamed of, makes Yildiz feel happy.

"I'll visit you only if you pay attention in class today, okay?"

Total silence. The children just nodded.

"Great. I'll leave you guys alone now." He walked away smiling and waving at the computer camera. "Love you, good job." You read his lips and blew a kiss in his direction.

Your students were in awe, you laughed at their reaction after Yildiz's cameo. They couldn't believe.

"I can't believe my teacher is Kenan Yildiz's fiancée."

The days passed, and they couldn't get Kenan out of their heads. You even tried to get Kenan to come to a cultural event that was going to be held at the school, but the busy schedule didn't allow them to go.

But Kenan was eager to meet the school, the staff, and the kids. After all, you always speak so highly of them. Why wouldn't he enjoy meeting the people you like?

And it was on a random Thursday that he decided to pick you up at the school where you teach. Kenan arrived a few seconds before the bell rang and the children were released. He was outside the car, leaning on the side of the vehicle and smiling as he watched you say goodbye to the students.

"Miss, your fiancé is here." One of the girls warned you and you saw him waving as you looked up.

The children crowded around you. "Call him to come here, please." The sly voice made you smile and do as asked.

Yildiz was happy when he saw you waving, calling him to come in. And he promptly followed towards you.

He was hugged by several children, even those who weren't even his students. He looked at you with a smile that took up almost his entire face.

"They were waiting for this moment anxiously."

"I imagine, I promised them I would come."

[leighsartworks216]

Cookies And Kisses

Zayne x gn!Reader

I am YEARNINGGG for a Zayne kiss so badddd (and also cookies) I also wrote this like minutes after my friend sent me the trailer for the new banner cuz ough Zayne why you gotta kiss like that and NOT BE REAL

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, kissing, baking, established relationship

Word Count: 1,229

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It was only a matter of time before the sweet fragrance of baking cookies beckoned Zayne to the kitchen. Even though he was in his office, working away on his reports and research, it's the most surefire way of getting him to take a break. You've only just put in the second batch when he wanders in with that round-eyed interest, honing in on the fresh tray of sweets.

"You're baking today?" he asks. You hear the excitement in his voice, even if he's trying to act natural.

You slip off the oven mitt with a smile. The counter is a bit of a mess - flour, baking soda, vanilla and almond extract, sugar both powdered and crystalized. You tried to keep it contained, for what it's worth. Cooling racks are spread out on the kitchen island, empty for now. A full one sits beside the oven. Twelve golden sugar cookies, with coarse rainbow sprinkles pressed into their tops. You are the only thing between him and the cookies.

"They're still hot," you warn, walking over to meet him so you can hold him back for as long as it takes to let them cool for just a couple minutes. You wrap your arms around his neck. His hands rest comfortably on your waist, slipping around to your back to hold you close. Eyes focus down on you, momentarily distracted by the one thing he loves more than his sweets. "I thought it would be fun. I was going to bring some to Yvonne and Grayson."

He glances back at the cookies. "How many are you making?"

"The recipe makes about 50 cookies. I don't think either of us need that many to ourselves."

He hums noncommittally and asks, "How many are you giving them?"

"Eight each. Will 30-something cookies be enough to satisfy you?"

"With your baking, no amount could satisfy me."

You laugh softly. Your fingers begin caressing the back of his neck and playing with the short ends of his dark hair. His eyes soften behind his glasses, warm with affection as he soaks in your touch. "With your sweet tooth, no amount of anyone's baking could satisfy you."

His ears grow warm, but he just smiles. His long fingers trace light patterns against your spine and lower back. He glances at the cookies once more. You try not to laugh at how obviously he's restraining himself. "Can I have one?"

"Just one?"

"Mm, or two, or three?"

You peck his lips with a snicker and pull away. His hands slide away, falling down back to his sides. You miss them immediately. Still, you grab a napkin and carefully settle two cookies on it. The third you take for yourself, taking a bite as you turn to rest your back against the counter, holding out the napkin for him. He stands close, comfortably within arms reach, as he eagerly accepts the cookies and takes a bite of one.

Still warm, the sugar cookie crumbles in the best way possible. The subtle vanilla, the sweet almond, the added crunch of sugar crystals. He hums in content. You reach up to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, and he looks at you with a smile.

"They're delicious," he praises after he swallows his first bite. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. "Thank you."

You catch his lips again before he can fully pull away. A quiet sigh escapes him as he reciprocates, fanning across your cheek from his nose. He tilts his head. Sets his partial cookie back in the napkin to hold your cheek as he licks the seam of your mouth, tasting the cookie's lingering sweetness on your lips, on your tongue.

Zayne kisses like he'll never kiss you again. It wasn't always like this. When you first started dating, kisses were hesitant. Light pecks, chaste and quick. Even your first make out, there was always something restrained in the way he kissed. He allowed you to lead, to take what you wanted from him. Now that you've grown as a couple, discovered each other's quirks and habits, moved in together, begun intertwining your souls, his kisses aren't the quiet, reserved pecks they used to be. He's always aching to kiss you deeper. Tilting his head from one side to the other as his hands hold you in place, pull you closer. His breaths grow heavy with excitement, soft sounds escaping the back of his throat. He devours you. Kisses you as though it's the last kiss you'll ever share and he needs to make the most of it. Kisses you like a soldier off to war, saying goodbye to his partner before he's shipped off. Kisses you like you're sweeter than pure sugar.

The oven beeps. You pull away with a sigh, sad to see the moment end. He smiles reassuringly as he kisses your cheek, silently promising to continue this later, before he steps away to lean back against the island. Those lithe fingers slipping from your cheek to pick up the cookie again, bringing it to his kiss-swollen lips and-

The oven beeps once more and you push away from the counter to stop the timer. You slip on the oven mitt, open up the inferno to let its dry heat caress your already-warm cheeks, and retrieve the tray of fresh cookies. Zayne watches as you hold the tray in one hand and pick up the spatula with the other, one by one depositing the cookies onto a cooling rack.

He's halfway through his second cookie when you begin scooping an array of dough onto the tray. Sneaking a third from the first batch when you're pressing divots into the center of the dough-balls and dispensing pinches of sugar in them. Finishing the third when you're slipping the tray on the top rack of the oven and setting a new timer. You grab his hand before he can grab a fourth, tugging him away and toward the kitchen doorway.

"You're gonna make yourself sick one of these days," you playfully chide. "No more until after dinner. Or at least until I've boxed up the ones for Yvonne and Grayson."

He chuckles as you drag him all the way back to his office. Smiles like a lovestruck fool as you push him into his chair. He grabs your hips before you can pull away, settling you to be standing between his legs as he looks up at you like you're the moon itself.

"Will you tell me when you've finished?"

You brush his bangs aside from his forehead. Trail your touch down his cheek. Hold his chin as you run your thumb along his lips. "Finished baking or finished separating theirs out?"

His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your finger. "Both."

You lean down and kiss his forehead. "So long as I don't catch you sneaking out before then."

"I won't."

"Mm-hm."

He tilts his head back, eyes flickering to your lips. "I won't," he insists.

"You won't get caught, you mean." You brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He turns to fully catch your lips again. Draws you into him, until your knee is resting on the chair right up against his crotch. He murmurs breathlessly against your mouth, grinning with a subdued playfulness, "Now, I never said that."

---

Tag List:

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[runningfrom2am]

valley's blossoms (c.s.)

pairing: pk!coryo x fem!reader (third person limited pov)

wc: 2.3k

tags/warnings: none! just fluff and nonsense... (actually... tw for coryo's internal monologue) (also me attempting to live up to miss collins' example)

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: this started as some kind of character study on him, but evolved into this kind of cute thing? not sure. also i wrote this at 4 am thanks to jetlag so forgive me if there's any mistakes thankssss

The only thing Coriolanus did not absolutely loathe about District Twelve and his extended, impromptu stay there was Lucy Gray. Though, even she was starting to get on his nerves. Just a little bit.

She was so black and white now that cameras weren't monitoring her every move, prompting her to win over the hearts of the Capitol. She wasn't that much different, but he was growing... tired of her. And her songs. And her mockingjays. Oh, especially those particularly grating mockingjays.

At first, he believed the District itself to be beautiful- after he had abandoned his suicidal ideations he had formulated and subsequently tossed away on the long train ride out here, of course. Outside of the barracks and the training grounds the land was actually nice. Serene, even, when he wasn't surrounded by obnoxious voices and the perpetually drunk locals that flooded the streets seemingly all times of the day. Shouldn't they be working? Aren't there mines to tend to?

It was no matter. He loved Lucy Gray, he was sure of it- and once he outgrew this phase of annoyance with her and her overall culture of carelessness and disdain for his people of the Capitol, they would be perfectly happy and he would be content once more.

On a beat he had taken at the behest of a hungover bunk mate the other week, he had spotted a flower stall at the edge of the market. At the time it was untended, empty spare for a small hand painted sign above an empty counter that read "Valley's Blossoms". That had come to the forefront of his mind again when he decided he needed to see Lucy Gray smile at him again, the same way she had when they had first met back home and he had presented her with one of his grandma'am's precious roses. No doubt these flowers would be nothing close to those, but maybe he could find something sufficient enough to elicit the same reaction from his girl.

Today was a Wednesday, but nevertheless it was his day off and he knew just enough about the workings of the District to know that they would need to be open today, even if it would be slow. Few locals could afford the privilege of a day off, but Lucy Gray could and today and Monday's were his allotted days of rest after training in the early mornings. So after picking up flowers, he would make his way to her ever-collapsing shed of a home to deliver them to her and perhaps he could convince her to wander down to the fields and spend the afternoon together there instead of between those Covey-crowded and humid walls.

Even the early afternoon is warm in this region of Panem, which meant he was already almost sweating from the short walk from the base to the main street where the market was located. It was quieter during the day, with most either deep in the cool rocks of the earth or locked up in their houses to avoid the summer's sun. But not, apparently, the girl running the flower stand.

Graceful as he's sure he's ever seen anybody, she's standing on her toes to deposit fresh flowers into small baskets hanging from the top of the sign at her stall. She had what appeared to be an already perfectly arranged bouquet tucked into the front pocket of a small apron, and was pulling each flower out individually to inspect before reuniting it with it's floral peers in the pot above her head.

At the sound of his footsteps crunching over the gravel littering the street, she turns and Coriolanus is met with just about the brightest smile he has ever seen.

"Good morning, Officer." The girl grins, and with a quick assessment he concludes that she must be his age- the freshness of youth in her eyes untouched by the horrors of the world that had come down so hard and fast on him and Lucy Gray. "Or afternoon, I suppose. The day tends to get away from me at times. What can I do for you?"

She doesn't cower at his authority, though that could be chalked up to the lack of the cold grey of his formal uniform and his current attire of blue slacks and a clean white shirt that implies he was off duty. The respect she was serving out, though, still made his chest puff up unintentionally with a fresh wave of pride.

"Flowers." He answers dumbly, shocking even himself with the perceivable lack of intellect he was exuding- suitable of a peacekeeper, not of a man raised behind Capitol walls. "I mean... I just wanted to grab some flowers. Assuming that's what you actually sell here."

She laughs at that, brushing her hands off on her apron as she takes a small step back from the stand to examine it, placing herself next to him nearly shoulder to shoulder. "Well, I believe you're in luck, then. I do so happen to sell flowers here."

Trained by what must be years of working with the public, she doesn't leave it just at that. "Are you looking for something in particular? Colour preference? Species?"

"Roses?" Coriolanus replies hopefully, though he doesn't see any there.

The girl clicks her tongue, slightly shaking her head as she looks over the stand, as if they may magically appear in her stock. "Unfortunately I haven't been able to find any of those growing wild yet this season, but when I do you'll be the first to know."

He huffs out a breath, looking over the flowers she does have anyway.

"They for someone special?" She inquires, deciding not to leave him to browse the small stand in peace.

"Yeah..." He mumbles absentmindedly.

"If you tell me 'bout them, I can make a recommendation, if that would help."

Normally, Coriolanus would be annoyed by such nosiness. However, something about her made him open to indulging the offer. Maybe it was the way she was standing next to him, the straightness of her posture as she held her hands behind her back and looked up at him, head tilted in a way he could only see as an eagerness to be helpful. Yes, she would possibly be making money off him in a less than lucrative business considering the state of their local economy, but she seemed so truly genuine in her intention.

"They're for Lucy Gray Baird." He answers. "Maybe you'd know her?"

"Oh!" She nods, her smile brightening the already glowing street under the sun. "Yes! Well, not personally, but I've seen her 'round. Let's see..."

Gazing down at the flowers in her apron before back at the stand, she tries to work out his best options. "She's got that olivey tone, so we should be a little more picky, but..." She makes her way back around the stand, gathering a small handful of white snowdrop flowers and a couple purple ones that look to him like daisies. "In my opinion,  some of these staggers and harebell's would suit her nice. She looks good in purple. She looks good in everything, I think, but purple would compliment her palette and white to brighten never frightens."

This girl had put together the small bouquet in less time it took her to say two sentences, one of which being the corniest rhyme he'd ever heard that somehow endeared him rather than making him cringe, all while organizing them and then holding it up for him to look. It was nice, he did like it, and so would Lucy Gray. Probably. How could anyone not like what she had put together so effortlessly?

"Yeah, I... I think she'd like those." Coriolanus replies, not noticing he's smiling until she relaxes at his approval. That felt good. Her shoulders relaxed subtly, and she set to work wrapping them in a small laced ribbon bow on the counter behind the display.

He found himself wanting to talk to her in the brief moments in which she was focussed on tying up the flowers for him. "So... is that your name?"

"I'm sorry?" She asks in casual confusion as she looks up at him and he nods toward the sign.

"Valley." He clarifies, by now used to weird names of people out here in the unfamiliar District. "You run this stand, is that you?"

She giggles at that, glancing up as if she was seeing it for the first time as well, shaking her head. "No, no..." The girl answers. "That's just... they're flowers from the valley. It's where I pick 'em. It would be a cute name, though."

Coriolanus' cheeks flush at the realization he had just asked probably the stupidest question of all time, but she doesn't make him feel all that embarrassed about it. "Oh, right. That... that seems obvious now." He admits with a chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"No, you're good." She assures him. "Now that I think about it, it is a little confusing. Especially to newcomers."

"What gave me away?" He's already speaking to this girl more casually and carelessly than he has with Lucy Gray in the entire two months he's been trapped here. What a relief it is.

"The accent." She answers with a shrug, cutting off the ribbon. "But also... most if not all peacekeepers are imports from lower Districts."

"Ah..." Coriolanus nods slowly. "Well, I'm from the Capitol, actually."

"Oh, really? That's fancy." Her accent makes him smile, even if he knows the words should offend him somehow. "Well, welcome out to Twelve, then. It's a pleasure to have you, officer."

The assertion strikes him as odd, used to seeing locals crossing the street to keep a viable distance between his peers and them, but she didn't seem afraid. While he loved the small doses of a power trip he got from that, he liked her polite respect much more. It warmed something deep in his chest, not all that different from the beating sun that she's somehow grasped a beam of in her delicate and calloused palms to shape and redirect just so at his heart.

She holds out the flowers to him now, happily handing them out for him to bring to Lucy Gray with some fabricated claim he had picked them out himself.

"Snow." He tells her unprompted, and she tilts her head as he takes the bouquet. "Private Coriolanus Snow, that's my name."

Understanding settles in her features and she nods. "Of course, Private Snow. My apologies, then."

"No need." He grins, looking down at the flowers she had passed to him, digging into his pocket with his free hand. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing." The girl insists, much to his surprise. "Consider them a congratulations gift to Miss Lucy Gray on her win, and for you, a gift as a first-time customer."

Generosity like that was unheard of to him, both here and back home. The practice of selflessness was extinct in the aftermath of the war, of which he was sure this girl was old enough to remember just like him. He wondered if she had lived through that, no doubt been hurt like that the way everyone had, how she could fathom being so kind? Or so respectful to someone who she could tangibly still perceive as the enemy in that long-lingering conflict, being from the Capitol.

"Are you sure..?" He asks, shocked.

She nods. "As sure as the day is long, Private Snow."

"Call me Coryo." He corrects, knowing for sure now that he sounded like an idiot, having told her two different versions of his name in an exchange lasting altogether under five minutes. He just wanted to hear that nickname fall from her lips with the same silkiness in which she had first greeted him.

"Coryo, then." She smiles, tucking her hands behind her back again. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Business.

For her, this was just business. It was a difficult concept for him to choke down,  something impossible to believe even conscious of the fact that they are still effectively strangers.

"No, Miss. Thank you." He gives her a curt nod which she acknowledges kindly,  gracing him with the privilege of her name in response. It felt like a weapon in his mind and on his tongue as he echoes it back to her, a blade so sharp and sweet as she cut him off from anyone and everything so gently that maybe he would never notice he was ready to throw himself into anything she asked. Or didn't ask, like he had done for Lucy Gray.

"In that case, send my love to Miss Lucy Gray. I'm wishing her a smooth recovery." She says, and the bitter taste in his mouth at the mention of his girl mixes poorly with the feeling of sweet admiration for the girl in front of him instead- who seemed so caring for the recovery of a victor she hardly knew, if at all.

"I will, thank you." Coriolanus says again, giving her a curt nod before tearing his eyes away from her own sparkling ones, and the apron tied around her waist pulling her figure in just right. "I'll see you around, Valley."

As he turned on his heel and walked away, he could hear her light laugh at the inside joke they'd just written into the fabric of their story. He wondered if she knew how perfectly that suited her; that pretty smile accompanied by a symphonic laugh, and flowers spilling out of the large front pocket of that handmade apron that on anyone else would look downright foolish.

He was willing to risk everything again, he thought, but this time, at the lowest point in his life, what more did he possibly have to lose?

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[v6quewrlds]

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT; we saw the stream of tee listention to bmf by sza; so an imagine request could be; reader in her universe or wtv wrote that bc yk her and tee are together. and tee didn't know, and she just randomly posted new song out go enjoy, and when its released let's see tee is on stream and everyone's saying like tee reader dropped a new songs and he goes huh and so he calls her and is like did you just drop a song and she goes maybe and he goes to listen to and is like wait, is this about me and then gets really cute and excited that its about him

imagine writing a song about tee.

Tee was bored out of his mind.

The quietness of the off-season was usually a welcome reprieve from the chaos of football, but today, it felt like a prison sentence. His eyes darted from the TV playing the Notre Dame game to his phone and back again, searching for anything to fill the void. That's when he decided to set up his chair, pop his headset on, and start up his Twitch, hoping the time would fly by.

"Yo, what's good," Tee greeted his viewers with his usual enthusiasm. His screen flickered to life, displaying his face and the den behind him. The chatter in the chat grew as fans typed away, eager to interact with the star wide receiver.

Mid-game, the notifications started pouring in. "YOUR GIRL SURPRISE DROPPED," one fan exclaimed. "It's trending on Twitter," added another. Tee's heart skipped a beat. He paused the game and leaned in closer to the camera, his eyes searching the chat for more information. He hadn't heard a peep from you about this. You were in New York, tucked away upstate to finish recording your third album.

"Fuck is y'all talkin' about? My girl dropped?" Tee said into the mic, his eyes darting between the chat and his phone. He sent you a text, his thumbs moving at the speed of light. "Nobody told me nothing," he muttered under his breath. The notifications on his phone went wild, with fans sending links to Spotify and Apple Music.

After deciding you were taking too long to answer his text, he dialed your number, putting the call on speaker. It rang twice before you picked up, your voice as smooth as honey. "Hi, baby," you drawled out, playing it cool.

"Don't 'hi, baby' me," Tee said, trying to keep his own cool. "Did you really drop a new song?"

You giggled, the sound echoing through the room. "Maybe," you hummed coyly.

Tee rolled his eyes. "You playing with me?"

Your laughter grew. "I don't know. I miss you though."

Tee felt a tug at his heart. "Miss you too, but tell me about this song," he urged, trying to ignore the flutters in his chest.

"Why don't you play it and see?" you suggested, your voice dripping with mischief.

Tee's heart was racing. He pulled up Spotify on his other screen and searched for the new release. Sure enough, there it was: "BMF". He hit play and put the phone back on speaker. The song started off pleasant before the beat dropped, and your velvety voice filled the room.

Young and fine and dark and handsome The boy from Tennessee keeps bossing And I can't keep my panties from dropping

Tee's hand came down to press pause before the rest of the verse could reach his ears. "Hold on, is this about me?" He was grinning wide, a laugh bubbling up from his chest in disbelief.

Your giggles grew louder over the phone. "You're supposed to play it, listen with your ears, baby," you teased, your voice full of excitement and a hint of nerves.

Tee's smile was uncontainable as he hit play again. He leaned back into his chair, eyes on the lyrics scrolling by. The song continued as Tee continued smiling wide. He listened intently as the words painted a picture of your feelings for him. The fans in his chat went wild, posting heart-eye emojis and shouting out their love for the couple.

Know my baby packing, why I'm stuck That's why he my man

He couldn't help but press pause again, rising out of his chair to do a little victory dance. "Chat, y'all hearing this shit? This is about me!" The room was alive with the energy of his laughter and the thumping bass of the track. "Baby girl, you out here talking crazy. Goddamn!"

Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter. "I had to," you said, the sweetness in your voice contrasting with the explicit nature of the lyrics. "Just finish the song."

By the time the song wrapped up, Tee couldn't help but feel over the moon. He had heard rumors about artists writing songs for their significant others, but never thought it would happen to him. His cheeks were sore from smiling so much. He sat back down, his eyes gleaming with pride and love.

"So, what do you think?" You asked.

Tee looked at the screen, his mind racing with thoughts. "Baby girl, that shit is fire. Like, for real," he said, nodding his head in time with the beat that he decided to loop for a second play.

"You like it?" Your voice was a mix of relief and excitement.

"Like it?" Tee scoffed, his laughter still echoing in the room. "I love it, baby. You went off, baby, damn." His chest puffed out a bit, unable to contain his pride. The fans in the chat were going crazy, sending love to the couple and praising the song. Tee read some of the comments out loud, his smile growing wider with each one.

Your laugh was music to his ears. "Thank you, baby. I wanted to surprise you."

Tee leaned in closer to the mic. "Surprise? You could've just called me to tell me this. You ain't have to go and make a whole song about it," he joked, winking at the camera.

"Mute yourself for a second?" you said, your voice taking on a more sweet tone. Tee's eyes widened, and he quickly muted the stream before you could say anything more.

[yunhoszn]

steamed milk

pairing choi san x f!reader word count 2.5k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, not proofread, all lowercase bc i wrote this at 2 am… a week ago <3, barista!reader, barista!san, clumsy reader, mentions of burn scars?, mutual pining, little bit of power imbalance but it doesn’t play into the plot, escalates pretty fast, public sex, unprotected sex, cute fluffy moment at the end, may we get f’s in the chat for kim hongjoong’s desk chair

summary a closing shift with san is… interesting… to say the least.

more alright alright alright, i know i have a billion wips and a billion reqs to work on,,, but @bro-atz needed something to read on a flight and i needed an excuse to write with no plot in mind, solely based on vibes and this is what came out of it… i ALSO KNOW i’ve been withholding for a week but that’s bc i wasn’t sure if i wanted to keep this locked in the dungeon for a rainy day or not, until i remembered i should post something in honor of chellateez 🥳

@atzhouse @san-network

“did you burn yourself on the steam wand again, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away from hongjoong bashfully. so what if you’re a little clumsy, it’s not like you completely sucked at your job. maybe there were a few milk spills here and there. at least you knew what you were doing most of the time. 

“um, what would you do if i said no?” you scratch the back of your neck with the hand that wasn’t burned. hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his rolling chair. as the manager of a coffee shop, he did not get paid enough to babysit and coddle his employees like he usually did. 

between you almost always making a mess and then yunho and mingi goofing around whenever they were on shift together, he felt like he was starting to grow grey hairs. he shakes his head with a tsk, pulling out the first aid kit from one of the drawers in his desk. “let’s put some burn cream and a bandaid on it so you can hop back out. the dessert rush is about to begin.”

you nod and rock on the balls of your feet as you wait patiently. your manager dresses your burn and sends you on your way. the dessert rush, aside from the morning rush, was arguably the worst part of the day. shifts at the coffee shop were divided into thirds— open to mid, mid to evening, evening to close. while opens were the most busy, you at least got out early and could enjoy the rest of your day. mids were the slowest, but they took place midday so you couldn’t do much after you clocked off. 

closes were the worst, because they were so unpredictable. you weren’t ever sure if it was going to be busy, apart from the usual dessert rush, and that uncertainty bothered you. the beginning of your closing shift was staffed pretty well. there was yeosang, who was probably the best barista out of the lot of you, and seonghwa, a seasoned veteran in this game. he was your assistant manager. 

however, yeosang and seonghwa were off at 6 PM and the shop closed at 9 PM, leaving you and your lead for the night to close all by yourselves. and your lead? choi san. 

closing with san wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for your massive crush on him. out of the other leads, san was the kindest. he didn’t lose his cool if your clumsy nature got the best of you during a hectic shift. in fact, he took his time to ensure everything was okay. he didn’t care if there were angry customers demanding that their drinks be made. his baristas were his number one priority. 

and well, with his appearance today, it would be more difficult than usual. donned in a white button up and some black slacks, his brown apron over, you think you’re going to faint. on a regular basis, san wore simple things like the occasional sweater or t-shirts and jeans, but this new look was making you all sorts of dizzy. you felt inferior beside him. (though technically, you were.)

with hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang leaving all at the same time, you were in a crisis. how were you supposed to survive this shift? it’s like the universe meticulously crafted this moment so it could laugh at you. and it all started with you burning yourself on that goddamn steam wand, while you were on bar with san of all people. 

“are you sure you don’t want me to send you home?” san asks lowly, making sure only you heard him. the two of you were finishing an order when he asked the question. 

“i couldn’t let you close by yourself.” you pout. as hard as it’s going to be working with him alone for three hours, you’d feel awful leaving him to fend for himself. 

“i can ask yeo or hwa to stay,” he shrugs, putting a lid on the iced vanilla latte in front of you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

“i’ll be fine, san,” you reassure. “besides, seonghwa would probably kill me if i was the reason he had to stay later than he had to.”

san laughs a little, eyes scrunching up in the cute way they do when he smiles. your heart rate spikes and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. he nods as he turns to hand out the order. 

“if you insist.”

maybe you should’ve taken him up on that offer to go home. 

you’re too distracted by the way his rolled up sleeves strain against his muscular arms, staring a little too much. hongjoong just so happens to walk out of the back at that exact moment. he thinks your (very obvious) crush on san is funny, but not when the line is wrapped and you’re about to be down two men. 

“y/n, there’s five drinks waiting to be made,” he calls out, tapping on seonghwa and yeosang’s shoulders to let them know they can go. “what’s more important that has you standing there doing nothing?”

“sorry…” you apologize sheepishly, avoiding his gaze as you start on the next order; a dry cappuccino with cinnamon. great. another drink that required you using that godforsaken steam wand. a truly evil contraption. 

“i can be milk if you’d like?” san suggests suddenly, noticing your hesitation to steam the 2%. 

“if it’s not too much of an ask,” you frown. “i just don’t want to hold us back in the middle of a rush.”

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me, y/n,” he quickly swaps places with you. “i think you’re pretty damn good with a portafilter anyway.”

it’s a stupid compliment. only another barista would even know what that meant, but you take it to heart. your body flushes with warmth as you tamp the espresso grounds and pull a shot viable enough to use for the cappuccino. you’re a little shaky as you pour it into the paper cup and wait for san to pour the milk. 

this was the closest you’d get to flirting with san, and it was him telling you that you were actually good at your job. what a sad life you lived. 

thankfully, you manage to bulldoze through the line with just the two of you. in times like these, your solution is to go nonverbal and lock in. if you talk while you’re making drinks, you get distracted too easily and you find it’s harder to multitask. after the rush, things are slow for the most part and then it’s just you, san, and the sound of cafe music playing quietly over the speakers at 9 PM. 

“y/n, can i ask you a question?” san inquires, counting the till as you wipe down the espresso machine and the bar around it. 

“what’s up?” you hum, refolding your rag. he shuts the register and walks over to you, leaning on the bar adjacent to the one you were at. 

“i’m curious, and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable, but i’ve heard that you like me. is that true?” it comes out so politely, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. you blink as the words process in your brain. this was the end. now you really wished you went home early. 

“well— um— i don’t know how to answer that…” you fiddle with your fingers, looking everywhere but at san. 

“all i want is a yes or no, because truth is,” he walks closer and closer until he’s directly in front of you. “i have a little crush on you myself.”

“you what?!” you don’t mean to sound so shocked, so appalled even, because he takes a step back, eyes widened by your outburst. you’re just so confused. choi san liked you? like, liked you?

“i’ll take that as a—“

“no!” you stand upright, grabbing his wrist. when you realize what you’ve done, you immediately let go. “i mean, no, as in yes. i do like you, san. i was just… embarrassed… that you found out from elsewhere instead of me. and i’m a little in disbelief that you feel the same.”

“why’s that?” his head tilts to the side a bit. “what’s not to like about you?”

“for starters, i’m the biggest klutz on the planet.” you huff, but that makes his smile grow wider. 

“i think that’s your charming point,” he admits, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. “while i don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, like when you burned yourself earlier, i do think it’s kinda cute when you accidentally knock over a drink.”

“are you okay in the head? were you dropped on it as a baby?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. he laughs, this time a full on laugh that has him bringing a fist up to his mouth. you think you just shed a tear. and not from your eyes. 

“i don’t believe so. i guess i’m just attracted to people who aren’t afraid of being themselves,” he shrugs, reaching out to take your hand into his. “and you check all the boxes.”

remember the whole fainting thing? that’s about to come true. you manifested it. 

san brings your knuckles up to his lips, first kissing over the bandaid where your burn was and then all over the back of your hand. you stand there like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing but no words escaping you. was the universe… rewarding you somehow?

“how often does joong check the cameras?” you gasp when his kisses have moved from your hand to your neck. he doesn’t break contact, speaking into your skin as he unties your apron. 

“almost never, but you have a point.”

this is how you end up on san’s lap in hongjoong’s office chair, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, lips locked like no tomorrow. he was a fantastic kisser, which just further proved your theory that he was the perfect human being. along with the subtle flirting, and the obvious knack for respecting boundaries, it’s almost like the universe had hand crafted choi san to be the ideal man. and they say chivalry is dead. pft, san’s existence dispels that notion undoubtedly. 

“he won’t know, right?” you pant, arching into him when he sucks at a particular part on the base of your throat. he hums. 

“you’re worrying too much,” san’s fingers slip under your top, digging into your waist. “i promise, he won’t find out. but we’ve gotta be quick since he’ll know what time we left.”

“m’kay,” you sigh, grinding down on his lap to help speed things along. the undressing process is a blur. you wish you could spend more time admiring his bare chest and arms, especially because you’d been fantasizing about this moment for almost an entire year now. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous, y/n,” he murmurs, reconnecting your lips sweetly. his hands massage the sides of your thighs as you hover over him, preparing to sink down on his cock. “i finally have you all to myself.”

you whine when you do, his words encouraging your arousal. the intrusion has you moaning softly, eyes squeezing shut from the sheer pleasure streaming through your veins. your nails scrape his shoulders and back, toes curling. the tip of his dick grazes that sensitive spot deep in your cunt with ease, as if he was made to be inside of you. 

“feels— fuck— feels so good, san,” you whimper, head falling to the crook of his neck. san chuckles, albeit a little strained. his hands remain in your hips, aiding your movement so you don’t get too tired. 

“is that right, sweetheart?” he says into your ear, nipping the lobe gently. “you’re taking me so well.” 

his praise shoots straight to your core, punching another moan out of you. you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s inching you towards the edge of that familiar tide so fast. it’s san, and like you’ve stated before, he’s damn near perfect. but holy shit, the way he’s fucking you has you thinking that there is such a thing as heaven. 

you have to bite down on his collarbone to stop yourself from screaming like a fucking pornstar, leaving a myriad of marks on his skin to restrain the ferality threatening to jump out of you. every drag of his cock on your velvety walls drives you just a little more insane each time. 

he’s moving so slow, but so deep all at once, and it’s just the right combination to decorate the backs of your eyelids in stars and colored spots. his ring and middle fingers meet your swollen clit, circling with practiced pressure. the office chair squeaks awfully with each of your bounces on his lap, but you’re too close to pay it any mind. instead, you drown it out with your own noises— warnings of your impending orgasm. 

“gonna cum— my god, san, i’m—!” you don’t even finish your sentence, the tide finally reaching the shore. your orgasm washes over you hard and unlike any other you’ve ever experienced before. you aren’t sure if he’s just that good, or if it’s because it’s san. (most likely a combination of both.) 

san coos, guiding you through the peak of your climax. once you’ve calmed considerably, you slide him out of you and stroke his cock until he’s painting the inside of your thighs with milky white and a groan. his face screws up in pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and brows knit together. his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks and you think you’ve just fallen in love, for real. 

his chest rises and falls as he attempts to catch his breath. you can’t help placing a hand over the left side to feel the rapidity of his heartbeat, smiling to yourself. he mirrors your expression after a moment, leaning up to press a sensual kiss to your lips. 

“as fun as this was, and as much as i like the view right now, it’d be better if i could actually take you out after this… and if i could fuck you somewhere nicer than on our manager’s desk chair.” san bites at the inside of his lip, glancing down at the rolling chair beneath you. 

“i agree,” you giggle, brushing his hair from his face. “hongjoong’s office isn’t the ideal location for a first date or first time sleeping together. but at least we’ll have a fun story to tell our kids.”

san bursts into laughter at that. “our kids, huh? you’ve thought that far ahead?”

“i’ve had a crush on you since i got hired, choi san, what do you think?” you raise an eyebrow, booping his nose with your index finger. he scrunches it up with a grin. 

“i think that i’ve had a crush on you just as long. and if we’re having kids, it’s best to omit some details when we retell this story.” 

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[b0ne-merchant]

Hii, I was wondering if you could do headcanons of how (classic) Sans acts when he realizes he has a crush on you :) Thank you, and remember to eat and stay hydrated :D

You anons are so nice :))) you do the same boo <3

i couldnt stop thinking about this scenario and before i knew it i wrote a whole additional drabble to go along with it LOL so enjoy that free of charge at the end of the headcanons :D

[content warning for several dick jokes lol im not sorry]

Undertale!Sans with a crush

If you were to ask Sans how he caught feelings, he'd probably claim that it just hit him all at once. Everyone else who was around him will tell you that they saw the signs long before the two of you became official.

One day you wave goodbye to him at his hotdog stand and his soul suddenly tries to leap out of his chest and follow you. It was that very moment that he knew he was screwed.

He definitely tries to keep his crush under wraps (and deny it himself) but it just slips out in several places.

He just has to show Papyrus the hilarious meme you sent him, and he needs to check out that new thing you've been raving about.

He starts texting you back really quickly. He can leave people on delivered for days, but you? Near instant response.

Late night text chains with you become commonplace. He can stave off sleep for just one more text with you... maybe one more... okay this is the last one...!

He has noticeably more energy after talking to you. Suddenly he's not dragging his feet as he walks, he's prancing like a horse in dressage. Okay maybe not that much but he's definitely stepping around with purpose.

The frequency of suggestive jokes skyrockets. Suddenly, every other pun he throws at you is some flavor of dirty.

His joke frequency in general bumps up, too. Sans wants to make you laugh so badly, and his soul flutters deliciously at the sound of it.

On the flipside, he gets very jealous when others make you laugh. That sound is for him only, thank you very much.

Lots of stolen glances. Sometimes at your face, but most often at your hands. He really wants to hold them. He wants to know how your fingers feel intertwined with his. He wants to squeeze your hand to remind you that he's there and that he loves-- oh shit you caught him looking. Quick, Sans, act natural!

Sans invites you to all sorts of events and outings. He never calls them dates, though. He's too nervous to put any sort of label on things, even if you thanking him for "hanging out" makes his soul die a little on the inside.

Please help this man. He really needs a friendly push in the right direction to finally admit how he feels.

~~~

The door clicked shut behind Sans as he let out a tired sigh. He dropped his heavy briefcase on the ground, and the loose hotdogs and condiment bottles rattled around inside. Today had been an extra busy day at his little hotdog stand that sat in a prime location on the piers. The hot swell of the sun after a cool, rainy spring had brought the residents of the city out in droves, and if there's one thing someone starts craving on the docks after hours of sandcastles and suntanning, it's a big, juicy hotdog. Now, after a full day of slinging ‘dogs, Sans was ready to collapse in his bed and not wake til at least the third time Papyrus yelled at him to get up.

Speaking of…

The house was unusually quiet. And dark. There were still a few drops of evening light outside, but the blinds inside the house had been pulled, shrouding the entire interior in darkness. It wasn't quite the darkness that unsettled Sans, however. It was the silence. Papyrus was usually home by the time Sans had wrapped up his day at the stand. The only times this wasn't the case were when he was having a particularly late training session with Undyne, but in those cases, he would always text Sans to inform him of the change in schedule.

“hey, pap, you home?” Sans called out. There was no response.

Sans pulled out his phone and double-checked his messages, slipping off his sandals on the welcome mat and toeing his socks off his feet. He kicked them somewhere into the darkness as he tapped on Papyrus's contact. The most recent message was still the shaky picture Sans had sent of a rather smug seagull picking up a slice of hotdog that Sans had tossed at it, as well as a message about how people were flocking to him for a taste of his hotdogs. Papyrus had simply reacted to the message with a thumbs down emoji.

There was, however, a new message from a different contact. The ever-present smile on his face lifted at the corners at the sight of the contact name, the unease melting away from his system.

You: Hey bonehead, how was the rest of your day? Bet it got pretty slow and boring after I left :P

Sans: nah i got ppl lining up round the block 4 a taste of my sausage

You: Ew >:( but like I guess they ARE pretty good lol. Are you gonna be open tomorrow? I have an early shift and could use some lunch afterward

Sans: yes im open tmrw but u can have my wiener whnvr u like ;)

Sans chuckled as he pressed send and threw his keys in the bowl next to the door. He let his phone linger on his messages with you, hoping for a quick reply. He reached for the light switch, deciding to raid the pantry for a healthy dinner of junk food.

Click!

Light flooded the room, and Sans's soul leapt to his throat. The phone dropped to the floor as his magic flared to life in his hands, ready to defend himself as needed. But, as he quickly regained his bearings from the startle, he was met with an entirely different emotion – confusion.

Papyrus was sitting silently on the couch, his arms crossed and a deadly serious look on his face. Next to him was Undyne, equally as serious with just a touch of blood-thirst as she tapped a spear on the ground. Finally, in the recliner, sat Alphys, wringing her hands together and looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

Papyrus kicked the ottoman in front of the couch forward. “HAVE A SEAT, BROTHER.”

Sans glanced from Papyrus, to Undyne, to Alphys, then back to Papyrus. He opted to stay near the door, trying to glean whatever he could from the situation. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made an attempt to seem relaxed.

“did i miss game night or something?” he chuckled, looking around and suddenly feeling hot in his own bones. “sorry, pals, i can't help that i got a monopoly on hot dog sales. that's just the game of life. i hope i’m not in trouble.”

Papyrus was gritting his teeth harder with each board game pun. Undyne was stifling a laugh and trying to look stoic at the same time. The two emotions combined, giving her an absolutely maniacal grin. Alphys started to nervously pick at a loose thread on the chair.

“THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES, SANS. THIS,” Papyrus suddenly stood and dramatically paused, placing his hands on his hips, “IS AN INTERVENTION. NOW PLEASE, SIT. AND HAND OVER YOUR PHONE.”

His smile faltered, and all he could eke out was a dumbstruck, “what?”

“WE ARE INTERVENING, SANS. THIS HAS GONE ON FOR LONG ENOUGH. WE JUST WANT WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU. YOUR FRIENDS ARE WORRIED ABOUT YOU,” Papyrus gestured to the other two monsters. He then put his hands over where his heart would be, specks of tears forming in his eyes. “I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU.”

“i don't–”

“We're talking about your love life, you dork!” Undyne slammed the end of her spear on the ground. “Now give us your phone so we can make sure you don't screw it up!”

Sans froze.

“Papyrus t-told us about them,” Alphys spoke up.

“i've mentioned them two times?” Sans argued, looking to his brother.

“I-I didn’t even say th-their name…”

“THAT'S TWICE MORE THAN THE USUAL AMOUNT OF TIMES YOU MENTION SOMEONE.” Papyrus cut in, jabbing his finger in the air matter-of-factly. “I HAD MY SUSPICIONS AFTER THE FIRST TIME, BUT I HAD TO BE SURE. WORRY NOT, BROTHER, FOR I HAVE GATHERED ALL THE DATING EXPERTS I KNOW – INCLUDING MYSELF – HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU SUCCEED IN COURTING–”

Sans interrupted. “you know, i really don’t appreciate getting jumped in my own living room.”

Undyne lets out a laugh, like a crack of thunder. “He’s not denying it!” she very helpfully points out.

“i’m not doing this.” Sans leaned down to pick up his fallen phone. All he wanted was to walk away from whatever the hell was happening in his living room and retire to his bed.

Except that was clearly not going to happen.

As soon as he started moving toward the phone, a spear shot by his head with a whistle and impaled the door behind him with a crash. Sans had dodged it on instinct, blinking a solid foot away from the spot where he had once been. He leapt once again at the phone.

“Tackle him!” Undyne shouted, another spear summoned in her hands.

She threw another spear through the air, and Sans once again dodged. The spear went straight through the wall where he was just standing, shaking the nearby table and sending the poor pet rock that sat atop it careening from its paper plate nest. What he didn’t count on was Papyrus tackling him to the ground after his quick sidestep. The two brothers fell to the floor with a thump, and Papyrus kicked away the phone as Sans struggled under his grasp.

Undyne scooped up the phone. Her grin turned to a pointed frown. “It’s locked!” she groaned.

yes!

“THE PASSCODE IS 6969.”

no!

Alphys gave him an unimpressed look. “Real cl-classy, Sans.”

Undyne unlocked the phone, and the commotion paused. Her good eye began to scroll back and forth as she read the messages. Her brows furrowed, then her eye widened, and she threw her head back in a howl of laughter. Sans, watching the whole ordeal, slowly lowered his head to rest on the carpet, his face starting to burn.

“Holy shit!” Undyne cackled, “Is this how you flirt, dude?!”

“LET ME SEE!”

The weight of Papyrus was lifted off his back. The weight of his sins remained.

“That’s a lot of dick jokes,” Alphys observed.

“SANS! THIS IS NO WAY TO GAIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A POSSIBLE DATING PARTNER!” Papyrus snatched the phone from Undyne. To Sans’s horror, he began to type something. “I AM GOING TO WOO THEM WITH A PROFESSION OF MY BROTHER’S LOVE. THEY WILL SURELY SWOON AT HIS WORDS THAT I AM WRITING.”

“You’re doing it wrong, punk!” Undyne swiped the phone back and started typing something else. “It needs more fire, more passion!”

“A-actually, you should say something like this.” Alphys gently guided the phone from Undyne’s hand and started writing yet another something else.

The three became caught in a loop, passing the phone amongst each other, backspacing, rewriting, proofreading, then back to rewriting. Throughout their squabble, Sans had gotten up, honestly perfectly content to leave them to it, walk to his bed, and pretend it was all just a bad dream. He could do damage control when he sees you tomorrow. That is, if you would even want to see him again after the surely horrifying amalgamation of words slingshotted through the invisible current of radio waves and arrived on your screen. Maybe fate would be kind to him and a stray solar flare would whip through the stratosphere and burn the world to a crisp first – or, at least knockout cell service.

As he turned to leave, however, Sans noticed that the arguing and clacking of bones and claws on glass had stopped with a sharp ding. He turned back around and sure enough, the three were staring silently at his phone. Papyrus looked surprised, glancing between the phone and Sans. Undyne’s eye had widened as she clutched the phone closely. Alphys was slack-jawed in awe.

Sans did not take the opportunity for granted. He swiped the phone back, now safely cradled in his hands, and he took a shortcut to the roof of the house before anyone could even react.

He heard the shouts from inside and subsequently ignored them. The air was warm, and the stars were shining in their full glory in the moonless night. Sans sighed in relief, then looked at his phone. Sure enough, there was a nausea-inducing mishmash of text covering the screen, and lucky for him, the send button had not yet been pressed. What caught his attention, though, was that there was a new message from you. Sans thanked his lucky stars that you had responded before you were subjected to the worst combination of words and syllables in the English language.

He read the message. He read it again. A third time.

You: So, “wiener” you gonna ask me out for real?

Sans smiled wide. His cheeks lit up with a soft blue glow.

Sans: ur sure feeling cocky. tmrw? ik a place w great burgers

You: It’s a date! :)

[missimaginx]

MY GIRLFRIEND IS A WITCH | KA12

pairing: kimi antonelli x f!girlfriend!witch!reader

plot: where kimi discovers your biggest secret.

warnings: narrated in first person (reader’s pov); female reader; the reader is a witch; all information in this one shot about magic, spells, potions, etc. were taken from universes such as: harry potter, samantha the witch, sabrina the apprentice witch, wandavision, the worst witch and other films and books; possible grammatical errors; english is not my first language :).

a/n: images taken from pinterest. i know this is more of a halloween vibe, but i was binge watching harry potter again and then the idea came to me and didn't leave my head until i wrote it 🙃. hope you like it!! (wc: 1k)

remembering that this is just fiction, all the people portrayed here have their own personalities and their own relationships.

I knew something was going to happen.

The moment I woke up, I felt that sensation—a slight tingling behind my ear, the faintest hint of a premonition that didn’t match how I was actually feeling. It was as if my body had received an emotional spoiler from the universe. And, like any sensible person with an active magical sixth sense, I did what any witch would do… I ignored it.

Was it my smartest choice? No.

Did I have my reasons? Yes.

It was Saturday. Finals week was finally over. Summer had officially begun. Just one week to go until vacation. And I had plans with Kimi: we were going to spend the afternoon binge-watching all the movies on our “cheesy couple movie list.” It was our ritual. I wasn’t about to let a random feeling ruin our session of couch time, laughter, and sarcastic commentary.

Today I wasn’t going to be: Y/N, the witch with a magical sixth sense blaring like an alarm…

Today I was just going to be: Y/N, the cool girlfriend who makes the best jam cookies in all of Italy.

In other words: no magic. Just me, a recipe book, and fresh ingredients.

Except… I had cruelly underestimated the art of baking.

The three sad, demoralized batches on the counter stared at me with something like… pity. The first one was overcooked — basically charcoal. The second barely baked, with a soft, depressing center. The third looked edible, but the strawberry jam was so bitter that the smell alone soured my mood.

It was supposed to be easy. I’d done this before. Many times. But apparently, mixing powdered asphodel root with wormwood infusion for an Anti-Fire potion is not exactly the same as mixing flour and eggs for dough.

I sighed, checking the clock. 2:00 p.m. Kimi would arrive at three. I didn’t have a single presentable cookie.

Okay… I know what I said. No magic. But desperate times call for equally desperate spells.

“What kind of spell does a witch who can’t bake even use…?” I muttered, staring at the battleground my kitchen had become… where I had clearly lost every battle.

That’s when my eyes landed on Nero, my black cat and eternal culinary critic — or just eternal critic in general — perched on the counter stool. His emerald green eyes pierced me with the silent judgment of someone who’d seen this movie before.

“Alright, I know it’s a bad idea to use magic for this,” I rolled my eyes. “But have you seen these cookies? I can’t give these to Kimi! He’ll think I tried to poison him!”

Nero blinked slowly, flicked his tail with disdain, and jumped off the stool, strutting with full feline royalty up the stairs to the shop’s upper floor—where my family lived.

“Hey! You’re supposed to help me find the right spell!” I shouted after him. “That’s what familiars do, isn’t it?”

No answer. Of course. He was a cat with priorities — and clearly, my lack of baking skills wasn’t one of them.

I huffed, walked to the cupboard, grabbed Grandma’s grimoire, and flipped to the section on light kitchen spells. The spell seemed simple enough: the right words, the right motion, clear intent. Okay. I can do this.

I made the gesture the book described, recited the enchantment, and let the magic flow.

The kitchen came to life in seconds. Sugar measured itself, eggs cracked perfectly, the dough stirred itself in bowls with grace, spoons floated elegantly — everything looked… enchanting.

Literally.

I was so focused, smiling proudly at the magical symphony I’d orchestrated, I didn’t hear the store’s door chime as it opened. Nor the soft footsteps on the wooden floor. Nor the sound of a bag being placed on the counter.

“Y/N?”

The voice hit me like an ice spell. I turned slowly, heart pounding like a small explosion.

Kimi.

My very human boyfriend who had no idea I was a witch. Standing in the kitchen doorway. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Watching floating cookies, self-cracking eggs, dancing jars on the counter, and a grimoire open in the middle of the table.

“AH!” I screamed. But not just any scream. A Y/N™ scream — the kind that immediately cancels spells out of sheer magical reflex.

Result? Chaos.

The flour bag dropped, creating a white cloud of processed wheat. The bowl of jam tipped over, strawberry mush splattering to the floor like a sugar bomb. Eggs shattered in slow motion. A wooden spoon fell from the air and bonked me on the head before hitting the ground.

For a moment, the world froze. Like, literally. I didn’t even breathe.

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the kitchen stool. But clearly, I was the one who needed to sit down. My legs were shaking.

“I was going to tell you! I swear I was! Someday! Later on! Like… maybe when we were married?!” I blurted out way too fast. “But I wanted today to be normal! I swear I tried to make the cookies without magic! I really tried!”

“Y/N…” he said again, voice way too calm for the situation.

“And then everything went wrong, and I panicked, and Nero left, and then the spoons started rebelling and… and… and—”

“Y/N.”

“WHAT?!” I yelled, breathless, hands trembling.

Kimi looked at me with that lopsided smile of his — half amused, half affectionate — and said:

“That explains a lot.”

I blinked.

“You… you’re not freaking out?”

“No.”

“You’re… not running away?”

“No.”

“You think… I’m crazy?”

He laughed.

“Y/N, I’m dating you. I’ve already accepted that logic isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a nervous giggle.

“But seriously,” he continued, now with a sparkle in his eyes, “I always knew there was something kind of magical about you. You shine in a… different way.”

My brain melted a little.

Slowly, Kimi reached out, held my wrists, and gently pulled me to sit on one of the kitchen stools.

I sat down slowly, still half in disbelief.

“So…” I began, trying to sound steady. “I’m a witch.”

“Figured.” He smiled, leaning in to wipe some flour off my cheek. “Is this like Hogwarts? Do you have a wand?”

“It’s different. More… traditional. My family follows an old lineage of Italian witches. We use natural magic, gestures, ancient words, symbols. And yes, sometimes a wand helps. But my mom always says ‘the strongest catalyst is intention.’ And…”

“And the chess?” he interrupted, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Was that all a cover?”

“Totally,” I sighed. “I don’t do tournaments. Every time I said I was traveling for one, I was actually going to Scuola di Stregoneria di Valdorcia — a secret magic school in the middle of Tuscany. I suck at chess, to be honest.”

He burst out laughing.

“Knew it! You always dodged playing with me!”

“Obviously. You’d figure out my strategy was pretending I had a strategy.”

He laughed again—and this time, I laughed too. We laughed together. At the situation, at the jam on the floor, the flour in my hair, the magic revealed, and the sheer madness of our lives.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking—about spells, potions, Valdorcia, Nero, how strict my grandma is with magical traditions, and how hard it is to hide a wand in a school backpack.

Kimi listened to everything. No judgment. Just fascination. Asking questions like a kid discovering a new world.

“Can you stop time?”

“Is there a spell to pass physics class?”

“Does your cat talk?”

“Can you teach me one?”

As he asked, his eyes curious and gleaming with excitement, I realized how scary it was to tell my truth… and how freeing. For the first time, I talked about everything: how I grew up helping in my family’s café where every espresso had a pinch of magic; how I lied about chess tournaments while sneaking off to Tuscany on weekends; how keeping up the athlete scholarship facade was the only way to attend a regular school while still honoring my family’s traditions.

And between one question and another, I realized: he wasn’t scared.

He was enchanted.

In the end, we cleaned the kitchen together—or rather, he cleaned, and I just whined about the lost cookies.

“I’m sorry I ruined our romantic afternoon…” I mumbled, wiping up a jam stain.

“Y/N, you just revealed you’re a witch. You really think that ruined my day?”

“But the cookies…”

He picked up one of the survivors (barely), took a bite, and made a hilarious face.

“Okay, maybe the cookies. But you?” He smiled, leaned in close and whispered: “You’re the best part of my day.”

My heart melted faster than the butter in the recipe. I blushed. All the way to the tip of my ears.

And before I could say anything, he wrapped his arms around my waist, touched his forehead to mine, and murmured:

“Even without cookies. Even with jam on the floor. Even with you being a fully outed witch. You’re still Y/N. My Y/N.”

And in that moment… I knew. That I could breathe. That I could be myself. That the strongest spell wasn’t the one I cast on the cookies.

It was the one Kimi had cast on me since day one.

And he didn’t even need magic to do it.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello... again! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content and my first recommendation post of magnificent fan-artists and fan-writers wasn't enough dopamine for you?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got even more hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list, as I have biases and favorites and limited time. If you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August 2022 and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@agentplutonium: they/them

Pluto is just one of the many gorgeous people who've migrated to Tumblr now that Twitter is, ya know, on fire. I've been following them on Tiktok for ages, and I'm so pleased they joined us on tumblr now! Highlights: "Constant" and "Inconvenience" mean the world to me, because there are just not enough aspec headcanons in the fandom, we could always have more.

@angelicaether: they/them

Aether is a fucking gem unto this fandom- not only do they run Sky Side, a friendly, closeknit (hehe) server for 21+ Redacted fans but they also were who we have to thank for Redacted Kinktober 2023, bless them~ Highlights: New Job Posting is magnificent if you’re in the mood for some David/Angel smut today and this cute couple crossover fic if you’re feeling more SFW!

@caelumsnuff: they/them

Phoenix is magnificent, creative, and endlessly sweet. I also respect the hell out of anyone that can take the anon hate that they get with as much grace and attitude as they do /gen /pos Highlights: I love this gift for the Quinn-fuckers they wrote, I do, but I have to admit I'm partial to the Imperium!Vincent/Imperium!Asher piece they did, because their tension and hatred was just too palpable to deny, I needed it.

@empydoc: any pronouns

Empy's Soul Eater AU has not only taken over my life but has also got me deeply wanted a Soul Eater rewatch. God forbid xe succeed because this post has already been delayed enough /j Highlights: I love the Marcus/Asset post, because that's my favorite pairing but also because Asset as both an android and a weapon is so, so interesting. Blake/Bestie's is also a particular gem, because being a meister just gives him a new dimension to his manipulation and I love it.

@floofdeloop: she/her

Not only is Floof a beloved fic writer but she's also one of the adored DJs of the fandom. Are you really a fan if you haven't looked up Redacted on Spotify and saved all her playlists? /j Highlights: Her whole playlist page is literally so good, but I love the cute, domestic vibes of this Geordi one or the tragic, angsty, Britrock vibes of this Porter playlist~!

@joshusten: they/them

Sten is one of if not the writer that comes to mind when you're looking for amazing Guy/Honey content! Highlights: Bitter Melon is my personal favorite of their work; what can I say? I'm a sucker for a little jealousy in my fics. You also can't miss Honeysuckle, their most recent piece which gets into Guy's canonically less-than-pure mind~

@pinksparkl: she/her

Gosh, where would we be without her? Pink never has a bad word or thought for anyone and just persists in being a delightful, sweet presence in the fandom. Highlight: I can't decide what I'm more obsessed with- their Adam-centric fic exploring the Progeny/Maker bond or their nsfw Gavin-centric with his tail exploring Freelancer nudge nudge wink wink

@redlikeredacted: they/them

Just as their blog says, they are the CEO of Dasher. In my head, they are the president of both the David/Asher and the Autistic!David fan clubs, and I'd vote for them a second and third term okay I love Red Highlights: Their "David bottoming for the first time" fic is everything to me okay I am here for nothing but this except maybe this Milo fic where he gets Aggro~

@teafairywithabook: she/they

A lovely writer, voice actor, and person, Cheri does it all! With a whole 34 Redacted works on AO3, they are a must-follow. Highlights: I'll provide the masterlist of previously mentioned works, but I must recommend her nsfw Avior/Starlight fic keeping us sated until we finally get an Avior BA and their fic of Alexis's POV of Sam's turning I couldn't not okay I'm just a person I have biases

@tepid-judas: he/they/it

My favorite Adam stan, my friend, and the person who converted me into an Adam/Brighteyes shipper, I thank Judas every day for that. Highlights: I love their series of epistolary fics, because who doesn’t love a good letter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rec his DAMN polycule plus Xavier fic cause fuck canon let's add frosty the snowman to the orgy /lh

@themonotonysyndrome: she/her

Lady, my dearest friend and greatest foe~ How else do I describe the gorgeous, sociable, friendly person who bought Alexis/Christian into the world and ruined my life? (affectionate) Highlights: Let these two assholes in love take you on a ride, fall in love with them too. If that's not your vibe, I cannot recommend enough her insane, gen z Bright Eyes being an absolute fucking terror /pos

Fanart:

@androgynouspenguinexpert

Can YOU believe Penguin's only been posting art since, like, December? I certainly can't, because it's like they've drawn every boy at this point and each is as smoochable and adorable as the last. Highlights: Their Porter is one of my favorites; what can I say? Who can resist this high ponytail and cape combo? I also love their Hush, cause look at him~! He's adorable! Penguin gives all these boys such luscious, floofable hair; I love them!

@cute-brainz: she/they/it

Kindly, lovingly, respectfully, Cute's listeners designs reduce me to a sniveling, simpering puddle of a simp. I become nothing but a humble, simple straight man, and none of you came blame me good god their listeners are hotter than all the redacted men- Highlights: Like, look at their Lovely: the hair, the singlet, the VIBES? Fuckin irresistible; like Vincent, I'd give them anything their heart desires. And their ANGEL? The MINUTE David Shaw fumbles that bag, I'm on my knees with a ring hello earth angel will you be mine

@darling-solaire

Darl has been posting art for only a month and a half at the writing of the post, and yet I feel like I've loved their Solaires for forever. They, as a unit, are hot and tragic as fuck, and I love them. Highlights: I am obsessed, particularly, with the Solaire family portraits, but maybe that's because my girl Alexis is up there, and I love her. There's also this bust compilation of more Redacted boys in case you didn't find your favorite in the Solaires~!

@free-boundsoul: she/her

Okay so, like, vibe with me did you ever love Lisa Frank products with the bright, saturated colors and sparkling eyes but wish instead of cuddly animals that there were really hot men? Then Savvie is the artist for you~ Highlights: One, it's fun to see a Regulus that's not blue, okay? It's thinkin outside the box. Two, the CRACKS? WITH THE GOLD PEEKING THROUGH? I'm inconsolable my god. Speaking of daemons, Fool!Gavin is sort of everything to me. He's just really rocking that sweater vest!

@hotmcrodz: he/they

I know for a fact that I'm not the only one obsessed with the way Jai draws human anatomy. I have unironically seen a Jai piece in the tag and gone "WOWZA" like I'm Jim Carrey in The Mask; that's what they do to me. Highlights: This Milo was one of the pieces that made my eyes pop out my head like a cartoon wolf; I think it's the shirtlessness plus the muscle pose. I just couldn't handle it. I also reacted like that to their Babe because I am an equal opportunity pervert /hj

@izzuku: he/they

Izzuku designs characters with the most realistic and gorgeous body types; like, I love the soft jawlines and how warm and touchable they draw skin. Every Izzuku design is kissable as hell. Highlights: I have to recommend his Regulus and Hush designs, obviously, they're my favorite men. However, I can't let the world go by another rotation without recommending this special Halloween version of Vincent~!

@kilarthmac: she/they

In case we needed another reason to love and appreciate the iconic timestamping account we all recognize from the Redacted comments, we cannot neglect their fanart! Highlights: Like, look at this brought-back-wrong Vega! This Hush with his cute face and off-putting air! He's so cute and so weird! I also love this piece they've done for one of my favorite rarepairs, Imperium!Lasko/Adam~

@latenightsleeper: he/they/it/she

My kinfolk and my beloved, one of the few people who understand me and the vision that is beautiful, blonde, dumb and lovable Christian. They will give you so many feelings about Darlin and Christian, and they will cause you agony /pos Highlights: Obviously, I'm obsessed with the Tank/Christian art like this one (Christian is just so cuuute), but we're all obsessed with this Sam/Darlin animatic set to Eat Your Young.

@maxpaulll

An amazing artist that I'm so glad we managed to get to migrate to Tumblr from Twitter so I could put them on this list~ Highlights: I am obsessed always with their Indigenous character designs, especially David. Like, look at him, he's indescribably beautiful, outshone by no one except maybe Max's Imp!Vega, because oh my god look at him~

@nortyourself: she/her

I don't think there's anyone who's not obsessed with at least one of Rachel's pieces; like, I believe she'll get to every Redacted man with the speed and beauty she works. Even Reticuli has gotten the Rachel treatment and been made hot af. Highlights: Technically, this Imperium!Damien just takes me breath away; like, it would be blown up and framed in his palace (for all of his short and tempestuous reign). Personally, her Hush has a dear and special place in my heart. He's just my favorite~!

@penncilkid: any pronouns

One of the most gorgeous and darling and non-stop creators in the space! They're a true triple threat, kicking our hearts in the butt with their art, their writing, and their audio roleplay series~ Highlights: With so many mediums under their belt, it's so hard to choose. If you're looking for purely Redacted content, their art is prolific and so creative, I've got to share the whole gallery. If you're in the market for a new VA to fall in love with, you've got to check out their youtube channel~!

@pycth: any pronouns

I dont have anything creative or profound to say here- all of pycth's designs are smoking hot and would render me selectively mute with a glance, 'nuff said. Highlights: How can I PICK? Ugh, hottest of the hot that comes to mind has got to be their President Moore art; like, this pose isn't FAIR. On the other end of the spectrum, if you want your heart kicked in the butt, I don't think any of us are over this Sam piece or ever will be.

@rainingcatsandjune: any pronouns

Another new artist who's only been here since April, and yet- I would die for his and his fine-ass, touchable Sam. Like, hell, render any man pretty like that, and I'll die for him. That's how pretty this art is. Highlights: Like, look at him. How does one do anything but look at him, especially in this pose? Again, look at him! Look at the hands. The soft, touchable glow and how it lights and shades his and Darlin's skin. The broad shoulders good god~

@sainthowlzon: they/he

You can't turn a corner on tumblr without seeing some of Howl's adorable Scribble Dolls or Icons! (Or any other social media actually. I feel like I've deffo seem some of Howl's icons on Tiktok too.) They're cute, they're iconic, and there's one for almost everyone! Highlights: Here's that full set of icons for your perusal; my personal favorite is Asset's. And here's the full set of Redacted Scribble Dolls; my favorite is Regulus, I think, because of his freaky vibes, but it's so hard to pick!

@sincerelywhistler: any pronouns

Like everyone with a working set of eyes and a beating heart, I am obsessed with all of Wes's designs; like, who wouldn't fall in love at first sight with all those beautiful and often shirtless people? Highlights: There's honestly too many to pick from, but I'll TRY. Their Gavin is an absolute must, I share it with the Discord on sight, he's that it girl if you will. Oh, and one cannot neglect Avior's HBS piece; I'm not even an Avior girlie, and I was like daaaaaamnnnnnnn~

@slushiepizza: they/them

Where would all the guy-lovers be without Slushie and their absolute cornucopia of Guy and Honey delights? Like, where else would we get our homemade, MacGyver'd serotonin? Highlights: The "Everyday" series is everything to me, and I mean everything; Guy has become too relatable and has struck me right in the heart. If you're not in a Guy mood, I'm also in love with their older, cozy Anton~!

@s0lairee: she/they

Jo's style is just so clean, so cute, and I really love it when they play with lighting in their pieces. Like, we are almost, almost there to making me stan Vincent if you're gonna drape him in moonlight like that... Highlights: ...thought, if I had to pick, I'd probably lean more towards Vincent's partner. They're rocking the red eyes, I love them! I'm also obsessed with their freckle-y, sweet Lasko, because who isn't?

@strawberrybouvine: he/they

The artistic equivalent of gourmet candy, I am absolutely obsessed with the gorgeous colors of Jasper's art and cannot get enough of the sweetness! Is this sugar running through my veins or unparalleled cuteness? Highlights: I'm not even a David stan but, like, jesus christ, the long hair and hairy chest makes me want to go feral. Don't even get me started on the cuteness of his chibi art, I really will start foaming at the mouth.

@theflowersaremine

I don't know exactly what medium Haylin uses or what colors or effects they use, but goddamn it makes those men so dreamy. I'm not even a Sam stan, but that's a smoochable man right out of Gilmore Girls /pos Highlights: Like, are you seeing the Gilmore Girls vision? That's a handsome man from a wholesome show geared for women- almost as handsome as this art of David. I see this smile in my dreams; it's so beautiful.

@venuslove-28: any pronouns

Venus's art is strawberry and vanilla soft serve injected straight into my heart; it's so familiar and cute, so charming, and I want to stim and bounce in excitement when I see it. Does that make sense? It'll make sense when you see it. Highlights: Personally, I have never and I will never stop thinking about this Huxley, I am simply not capable. Their Avior is also cuter than all get-out, I must admit.

@wingless-cupid

I don't think anyone does cute and colorful and pastel and kawaii quite like Cupid. You can't help but look and admire all the eye-catching colors and then want to hug their cheery, dynamic characters! Highlights: I'm highkey obsessed with their Freelancer and DAMNily and all their d(a)emons in general. Like, look at this! Minh is such a cutie and a simp, I love them! I'm also constantly thinking about this art in particular, because look at all these PRICELESS EXPRESSIONS!

@yoteako: he/it

Would you like stunning, high quality art and tragic, old man yaoi on your dash? That's a silly question; of course you do which is why we're going to follow and love on Yote. Highlights: See how beautiful, doomed, and intimate this multi-page comic is about two characters who've never canonically spoken? That's devotion. On the less forsaken side of the narrative, their Gavin/Lasko ship art is embedded into my heart.

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

[fee224]

Good thing you have me I can teach you

Rafe Cameron x tutor reader

MASTERLIST

Wrote from a innocent perspective on purpose

Rafe was counting his lucky stars the day his dad walked into his bedroom telling him he got him a tutor. Knowing there was only one girl in the school who needed the extra cred for all the colleges she yapped about when they sat in partners in science, while he would listen intently.

The knock came at three pm on a sunny Saturday. He answered the door with a welcoming smile as he stood aside to let you in.

“Ah we can go up to my room, if that’s cool?” He was rubbing the back of his neck and you couldn’t help but find it cute. You had found it cute since the start of the school year a few months ago when you were first partnered together in biology. You had found a lot of things cute.

“Yeah that’s cool” you giggle following him up, it sounded more normal when he spoke like that, the stairs with your stack of books you were holding divided, you now only holding a third of what you were before when he took ‘half’.

His house was so big. You counted thirteen doors before he opened his bedroom door. His bedroom was mostly what you were expecting, navy and dark yet neat and airy. You dumped your books onto the bed and following them with a plop.

He joined you on the bed and only now you let your eyes wonder to his clothes. A stripy blue and white button up that reminded you of the beach and white cargo pants. You were purposely wearing a white day dress and your lips quirk quietly at the fact you were accidentally matching.

“We can start with languages or biology, whatever you want, I know you’re good with numbers so you can eh decide” you smile. The energy is awkward but not the type you want to run away from, in fact you’d be intent staying here for a very long time, cross legged opposite rafe.

“Yeah let’s start with bio” he smiles, reaching behind on his desk for his copy book and pens. You seen a soft side to him and that caused a lot of issues. Your brushing off of genuine concern coming from your friends. But you really couldn’t see anything wrong with this version of the boy in front of you.

After a forty three percent in his last test you giggled pointing at it so he knew what you were referencing to “you need a lot of work Cameron, good thing you have me, I can teach you” you beamed. He just chuckled his cheeks tinting slightly.

“Yeah? You gonna school me?” His eyebrows raised.

“Oh definitely, I school everyone” you make an eesh face when you realise your bragging which unfortunately has become nature.

“Don’t worry, I reckon I could teach you a thing or two too” he smirked writing notes into his book.

“You could?” You giggle and he shakes his head at your innocence. You shrug after he doesn’t respond, chalking it down to, he can’t teach you anything. You smile back into your book.

You sit in mostly comfortable silence, it being broken every few minutes for him to ask a question but had eventually ended up with him lying dramatically on his bed as you try to make up Flashcards.

“Rafe do you want me to go home?” You roll onto his bed beside him.

“No” he groans “my brain hurts” his complaining makes you giggle for the fiftieth time today.

“I hope you’ll be more concentrated next session” you have a glint in your eye that he doesn’t miss as you reach up and start closing your books abruptly.

“I’m concentrating on something more important” he smirks leaning up to help clean up all the papers and pens off his bed.

“What?” You scoff. “What’s more important”

My future wife.

“Your freckles, they’re tanned” he brushes a hair behind your ear and you freeze packing up your belongings. Your body flaring in heat.

“My freckles?” You scoff trying to cover up your physical reaction. Brushing hair behind your ear only to collide with the hand already threading through your hair. Your saliva gets lodged in your throat and now you are really blushing.

“Thirteen” he hums and your eyes widen in disbelief as you stack your books on top of each other frantically, your flight or fight reaction kicking in.

Your legs swing off the bed and into your mini Uggs beside the bed. Picking up your books ignoring his inappropriate behaviour.

“You’re leaving?” He sounds disappointed and you don’t bare to look up at his face you just nod quietly. “See you at school then?” He confirms.

Only then you look back, at his doorway “yeah at school, bye rafe” you smile and don’t wait for a response before rushing past all open and closed doors, down the million dollar chandelier and staircase and through his massive oak door.

- fee xxx

[kaneaken]

author's note; we need more freminet content, and I'm happy to contribute whatever I can 🫶 enjoy!

content notes; modern!au, gn!reader, less cohesive than I thought, wrote this late at night so not proofread

Wednesday. That's the first time Freminet sees you on the bus. It wasn't planned. He promises. The second time was. The third one as well. Not the first.

He doesn't remember what he was wearing. It was cold that day. It was probably his hoodie. He does remember wearing his snow boots. You told him they were cool when you sat a seat away from him.

He remembers you complimenting Pers, the small penguin plushie hanging from his bag. He remembers smiling and telling you an almost silent 'thank you'. He remembers you smiling back. He remembers wanting to see you smile again.

"Oh, this is my stop. See you around!"

He remembers you leaving before he could speak again.

That's why he's on the bus again. It's Wednesday. The bus is a bit slower today. It makes him fiddle with Pers, tugging on the chain and squeezing the plush.

He hears the ding of the bus doors opening. He looks up, hoping to find you amongst the other bus goers. It's a sea of colors, thanks to the raincoats worn by everyone. It's a flurry of florescent. It makes Freminet turn his head away. He blinks away the colors. He stares at the gray tone of the bus seats.

"Morning." Freminet turns his head, coming face to face with you. The light filtering through the window becomes brighter as he stares at you.

"Good morning..." He mumbles out, turning his head back. He didn't think this far. He thought you wouldn't be here. As much as he wanted you to be. He wasn't sure where to go past this.

"I like your freckles." That startles him.

"Sorry?" He stutters out, his ears flushing red.

"Oh, sorry, that was a little out of nowhere." You chuckle. "I like your freckles. They're cute!"

"Oh, thank you..." It goes silent, only the rumbling of the bus filling the silence. What would Lyney do? Say?

"Tell them you think their eyes are pretty!"

"Eyes..." Freminet starts, causing you to turn your head.

"Eyes?"

"Pretty eyes..." He finishes.

"Pretty eyes? Oh, you do have pretty eyes."

"No, um..."

There's a beep, signaling a stop. You look up.

"Oh, looks like this is my stop. It was nice seeing you again..."

"Freminet..."

"It was nice seeing you, Freminet! I'll see you next time." You smile at him again before rushing to stand up and exit. The world goes gray again, but Freminet knows it won't be that way for long.

[s-awturn]

Karma Is A Bitch | MV1

summary: S/N and Max invented hate at first sight, they hate each other from the first moment they met and never tried to make things better. The hatred between the two is real and almost palpable to the point of becoming karma... In the dirtiest sense of the word.

cw: Conflict, verbal fighting, insults and name calling, suggestive, mild smut (very little), mention of accidents, and what else? Somewhat based on the discussion between Max and Esteban (no explanation needed). No real events will be taken into consideration here, so everything was taken from my head (duh)

a/n: I wrote this based on Max's headcanon in "Pilots and their romantic tropes", because it stuck in my head and I needed to develop it. It's my first time with Max (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°) heheheh so he's gonna be a little OC, don't take it too seriously pls. I just saw that I reached 101 followers, I'm going to shout it out (I'll think of something to celebrate, suggestions?)

Melbourne, 2023

"You're doing great, kiddo," Hugh said into the headphones. "We're down to the last ten laps, keep doing that and we could have a double podium today."

"Cool," she said through gritted teeth, focused on keeping Lando where he was: on her tail. "How's the car? Can we fight Verstappen for first place?"

Y/N heard Hugh's heavy sigh, and if she knew Hugh, she knew the engineer was rubbing his beard, as he always did when he was nervous.

The season was still in its early stages, it was only the third race of the year and the rivalry between Max and Y/N had already reached a dangerous peak, they competed more with each other than with other drivers. Luckily for the team, both Max and Y/N managed to keep the competition alive both among themselves and with the other teams — even if the two always took their internal rivalry more seriously.

"The wear on the tires has not yet reached a precarious level, so you can compete, but you need to be careful, there may be rubber debris on the track," he advised, hearing her click her tongue in agreement, Hugh knew he was stirring the hunger of a beast, and for all intents and purposes, Max had the prey she wanted. "God help us," he muttered, closing the communication channel.

Y/N smiled at the free pass Hugh had given her, she shifted gears, hearing the engine roar loudly and she smiled, there was a DRS zone. She was a few seconds behind Max, three maybe four seconds and with the possibility of overtaking in front of her, Y/N did what her instincts told her: she opened the rear wing and put her foot down on the accelerator, breaking the distance between her and Max and consequently stealing first place from the Dutch driver. She not only passed Max, but managed to establish the four-second gap between them again, with herself in the lead. Her smile under her helmet was wide enough for her to feel pain in the cheeks.

The rest of the race was fast and intense, she and Max fought aggressively for first place, Y/N didn't let Max take advantage of any opening, she broke all chances of Max regaining first place. Not even with DRS active was Verstappen able to retake the lead.

As the two entered the last lap, Christian, Hugh and the entire Red Bull team began to think they would have an accident, because the two were, literally, playing cat and mouse.

"Keep it up, girl" Hugh suddenly appeared on the comms, making Y/N laugh "you're going to win your first F1 race, keep it up"

She laughed with victory, feeling as light as a balloon as her car passed the checkered flag in first place. Everyone in the garage heard her happy screams, when Y/N parked the car in the spot reserved for the winner, she could barely see because of her tears. The girl didn't even have time to take off her helmet before she was engulfed in the team's hug.

"You did it, girl!" Hugh lifted her into the air, celebrating the victory. It all went through her mind like a torpedo, but she remembers well when her country's anthem played, Y/N cried. She couldn't even explain how light she felt without the weight on her shoulders.Being the only woman among drivers in the top category of motorsport was heavier than she thought and winning was not a dream, it was an obligation.

She greeted the champagne shower as if it were a blessing, laughing as she doused the other riders. If it were possible, she would be exploding like fireworks.

Victory tasted sweet, and she got addicted.

After Melbourne, what was already tense got even worse. Y/N discovered what victory tasted like and Max wasn't about to let her taste it again. But what he didn't know was that his teammate was just as stubborn as he was and was willing to commit atrocities if it guaranteed her a podium finish — just like Max himself.

The races became increasingly fierce, the other teams instructed their drivers to stay away from the fight between Max and Y/N. The possibility of the two RBR drivers putting a third person in an accident was immense, and no one wanted to risk it.

"You" Christian pointed at S/N, watching the girl play with the zipper of her jumpsuit, as if she wasn't being reprimanded "don't tease, I know how much of a brat you can be when you want and you" he turned to Max "calm your nerves, you'll end up causing an accident, and no one here needs any more punishment"

The team leader scratched the back of his neck, all his efforts to convert the hatred between the two into anything but... Harmful, but nothing worked. Frustrated because neither of them seemed willing to give in, so if neither of them would make the first move, Christian would.

"You two are going to stay here until you sort it out, I don't care how, if you want to be treated like children, I will treat you like children" he scolded, putting his hands on his hips "You have plenty of time to sort things out and when you leave here, I expect you to respect each other, at the very least!"

Christian left the room, locking them in there, Y/N snorted, aware that Horner wasn't joking and the sound of the doorknob locking made that obvious. From her corner of the couch, she glanced sideways at Max, making a disgusted face, which he scoffed at.

"If we're here it's your fault" he said, pointing his finger in her direction, S/N frowned in confusion and stood up.

"My fault?! You're the idiot who thinks everyone has to give you back the position! Do you know how to lose a race without crying in the team's lap?!" She yelled back, stopping just a few steps away from him. Both of them radiated pure rage.

"I wouldn't need to ask for the positions back if you weren't a treacherous snake!"

"And you're a crybaby!" She said angrily and soon a wicked smile appeared on her face "You hate knowing that there's someone really competing with you, threatening your title"

Max scoffed, stepping away from her as he adjusted his hat. "As if you were enough competition to threaten me with, cutie."

“You wouldn’t be so mad if I wasn’t,” she retorted, balancing on his ankles, being petulant enough to prick Max’s short temper. “It’s okay to admit you’re afraid of me, Verstappen.”

“As if I would fear someone who still smells of milk”

Y/N laughed, leaning closer to him. “Should I be worried about your nose being so close to my neck?” He clicked his tongue again, increasing the level of mockery, making Max even more irritated.

“I would never get close to you, under any circumstances,” he replied, with nothing less than raw disgust in his voice and Y/N would never be able to explain why that was such a hard blow to her ego.

“As if you had any chance,” she said, composing herself with dignity.

“Anyway, fuck you, stay out of my way, girl,” he warned, pointing his index finger at her, “or I’ll throw you in the gravel.”

“Do that and I’ll be your worst nightmare, kid.”

The two went to opposite corners of the room, leaving the entire place filled with animosity. They remained in the office for almost two hours until the public relations manager took them out, scolding them because they were late for their interviews.

When Christian saw them leave the office, he couldn't tell if his attempts had yielded any results, but from the way they existed near each other, he was afraid. Whatever would come after this conversation, he had the entire team ready, whether it was for a fight or, maybe, the apocalypse.

Spielberg, 2023.

The Austrian GP was an important circuit for RBR and S/N was excited, she really wanted to win at the team's home ground, it would be an important victory and she wanted first place as much as she wanted oxygen, perhaps victory was more important.

Since Christian's intervention, instead of her and Max strengthening their rivalry, it seemed to increase, which was great for the fans, the races became more exciting and fun to watch, but for the team, the atmosphere was unbearable. The fear of an accident between the two happening was real and increasingly possible; and the race at Red Bull Ring gave an extra weight to the competitiveness of the RBR drivers,

"Keep your head cool, girl." Hugh ruffled her hair as Y/N sat in the cockpit, reading the information on the monitor. "Do your race, stay calm and everything will be fine, you have a good score in the drivers' championship, don't let your problems with Max get in the way of the race, It's important for the team"

"Relax Hugh, we'll win the race and increase the points gap with the second team"

"You're in second, so try to preserve your tires until the pitstop, our strategy will come into play after the first stop, understand?"

"Yep Hugh, I understand."

"In other words, no pointless fights with Max." He said, giving her a stern look, Y/N giggled and held up her crossed fingers. "Y/N..."

"I'll try, I promise"

The minutes until the start of the race were spent fine-tuning the details of the strategy, meditating and listening to encouragement from the family. And as always, the moments until she positioned herself on the grid passed as if she were on autopilot, without realizing where she was or what she was doing until her engines roared. It wasn't until the lights came on that Y/N blinked back to the real world and she smiled, gripping the sides of the steering wheel. She glanced quickly in the rearview mirror, seeing her purple helmet gleam in the faint light of the weak sun. The forecast was for rain for the second half of the circuit, which made her anxious, she loved racing in the rain just like one of her greatest examples in motorsport, Ayrton Senna.

When the lights went out, she let her instincts take over and her focus was on one thing, the highest place on the podium.

In the second half of the race, the rain fell like a torrent, nothing that S/N wasn't used to and with this new obstacle, she held on, trying to have a safe race, even though he was still competing for victory with his teammate. She stepped on the brakes several times, trying to avoid any collision and as they were entering the forty-fifth lap, exactly at the Schlossgold Curve, in a fierce dispute with Max, where she tried to overtake him when a collision with the two front wings made S/N spin on the track until she was pushed against the barrier. The shock was strong enough to make her hit her head against the steering wheel; S/N was disoriented for a few seconds and shook her head, but the act made her grunt in pain and hearing Hugh's desperate calls in the dot in her ear only made her more nervous. She didn't even know when she was pulled out of the cockpit or when she was taken to the circuit hospital, but she knew exactly the moment the rage exploded in her chest.

Max threw her off the track, in a dirty move, Max took her out of the race.

"I'm going to kill him," she said as the nurse bandaged her forehead. The poor nurse gave S/N's companion a frightened look, who signaled for her to ignore it. "He threw me off the track, mom, I hit the barrier!"

"Honey, don't worry about it, you're fine, luckily the accident wasn't more serious" she tried to calm her daughter down and asked the nurse to leave, which she did in a hurry.

The driver's time in the hospital was spent hurling abuse and homicidal thoughts at Max Verstappen. So it was no surprise when she arrived at the Red Bull garage screaming and swearing. She shook off Hugh's grip on her, marched straight to Max, and pressed her finger against his chest.

"You scream that I'm a treacherous snake, but you're the most dishonest son of a bitch that ever walked this fucking earth!" She yelled, seeing Max's eyes widen until he understood what was happening.

"What? Did you really think I was going to give you my position? Wake up girl."

"Are you an idiot? That was a clean maneuver, I didn't attack you to get thrown off the fucking track"

"You wouldn't have gone off the track if you were a good driver, or an honest one" Jos Verstappen interjected into the conversation, pulling Max away from it.

"Maybe it's time for you to rethink your career, this profession isn't for everyone, including cute and delicate little things like you" Max said, and that made something burn deep inside her before it completely faded away.

She licked her lips and pulled away, playing with the zipper of her jumpsuit, a habit she did whenever she was nervous, she took a deep breath and said "You know what? Fuck it, from today you died to me"

And with that, Y/N retreated to her room, feeling her whole body tremble, since she was four years old, she never questioned herself, She always knew that she would race in F1. This was always a certainty in her life and she had the unconditional support of her parents; thinking about anything else for her life never crossed her mind, Y/N knew she would be the first girl in the highest category of motorsport.

However, being discredited in that way, especially after an accident, shook her convictions.

And for the first time in many years, she cried in fear that she would not be able to do it anymore.

São Paulo, 2023

After Spielberg, things in the RBR pit changed drastically, Y/N didn't just avoid Max, she literally pretended he didn't exist, of course the Dutchman didn't take it seriously in the first few weeks, he thought Y/N was just making a fuss to get attention, but he realized things were serious when Hugh started relaying her decisions to him. Of course, the PR team did best to keep things away from the general public, It was necessary for the pilots to maintain good relations, even if just a little, for the good of the team.

She did what she promised and it was as if Max didn't even exist.

And shit, that really bothered Max, because Y/N looked past him, she never spoke to him again, she never stayed in the same place as him again, even the races had changed, Y/N hadn't lost the will to win, but something had really lost its essence.

It was Saturday, almost eleven o'clock at night when Max's discomfort about Y/N became unbearable.

He didn't know why, but it was boring, really bad not having someone to fight with, to make things more exciting. There was a piece missing and he knew where it was.

Y/N was the karma in his life, to torment him, to make his life hell, but fuck it, Y/N was still his karma and he would deal with her.

He put on his slippers and got the room key, he didn't need to ask, he knew which room she was staying in, Max crossed the hotel like a caged lion that had found freedom and it was with all that frantic energy that he almost broke down the door to her room.

Max hoped that this would get some reaction from his teammate, but Y/N opened the door and remained silent, looking at him standing in the hallway.

"You can't fucking ignore me forever!" He yelled, expecting her to retaliate, but Y/N just prepared to close the door, but Max stopped her. "Talk to me, damn it."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" She said, too calm, too soft, and Max didn't like it.

"Fight, scream, do anything, but don't ignore me"

She reached out, checking her cuticles, a clear sign of disinterest that increased Max's disgust, she couldn't act like that.

"I can't ignore what's dead to me," she said dryly, "was that all?"

Max swallowed the lump in his throat, her indifference made him uncomfortable in his own skin, it was impossible to deal with it calmly. He took a deep breath, letting the act clear his mind, he let all his arrogance and pride fall away and allowed himself to be vulnerable; Max admitted to himself that he missed her, Y/N was a constant in his life, chaotic, disturbing and restless, but a constant, he knew she would be there to stick his ass in the races, to take everything he had and without it, things would get monotonous.

But still, he wanted a reaction, he wanted the white-hot, overwhelming anger that was always in her.

"Yes! I want you to stop ignoring me, acting like I'm nothing in front of you."

"I don't care what you want, Verstappen," she said, crossing her arms. "I couldn't care less about your desires."

"You think that makes you better than me? You're always saying how arrogant I am and what do you think that swagger is? Niceness?"

Y/N gave an exhausted sigh and pulled Max into her room, because in a little while longer, he would be causing a ruckus in the hallway.

"Why is this important to you, Verstappen? Unfortunately for you and your father I didn't change careers, but to your delight, as your father once said...?" she paused, resting her index finger on her lips as she pretended to think, "Oh yes, a hindrance to your brilliant career."

"And you gave in? Did you accept it so easily?!" He exclaimed and she pressed her temples, already exhausted from that conversation, feeling her patience drain away very quickly.

"Do you have some personality problem? You have to! Why the hell are you so bothered by this, damn it?!" She finally screamed, stressed out by the whole thing.

"I don't like it! I hate that you're distant, damn it!" He took over, making her posture break, Y/N looked at him in surprise, what was Max talking about?"

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"I hate you, I hate the fact that you are hard-working and intelligent, that you work on your strategies, the way you drive, the way you laugh" he spoke quickly, not giving her a chance to respond "I hate how you fill every space with your presence, I hate how nice you are to Charles, how you idolize Hamilton, I hate you for flirting with Lando because..."

Y/N's eyes were wide as she watched Max's monologue in his suite.

In return, Max found his breath — and the courage to finish what he had started, because hell, Y/N was more challenging than any race he had faced.

"Because I get jealous, I hate that they have your attention, I hate that they have any part of you while I have nothing"

Y/N rested her hands on her hips, absorbing Max's confession, God knows she never expected to hear that, not even in that circumstance.

"Fuck, that's something," she said, wanting to break the silence, seeing Max twist his fingers in pure nervousness. But nothing more was said for long minutes until she looked him in the eyes, peering into whatever he was trying to keep hidden. "Have you ever thought about talking about this in therapy?"

Max gasped, this was fucking not what he was expecting.

"Well, damn, that caught me off guard, you know?" She said, sitting on the bed. "That doesn't justify your shitty behavior towards me this whole year."

"I know, but you were a bitch to me too."

"And I ignored you"

"And I hated that shit, keep being a bitch to me, it's better than being treated like nothing"

"You deserved every second, you still do"

Max sat next to her, both of them staring at the huge black and white photograph of the capital of São Paulo.

"I'm sorry, you're a great driver, I never meant to make you doubt your potential and the sport would be a lot more boring without you in my rear view mirror" he said sincerely "You make a difference in racing and I wouldn't forgive myself if I ruined that... None of what I said was true, it was a bit of spite"

"You need to work on being forgiven... And if your father talks to me like that again, I'll throw my helmet at him."

"Okay, fair enough."

"And you need to learn to declare yourself, that was completely unromantic"

"Was that all you paid attention to?"

"And you're judging me for that?"

"Obviously, because I opened my heart here, "go fuck yourself, damn it"

"Why don't you come do it, you coward"

Before the two could process what was happening, Max and S/N were kissing, rolling around on the mattress. Grunts and curses were uttered in a confused manner and before long, the clothes were scattered around the suite and before long, the girl was riding the Dutchman, moaning insults as he bit her breasts and neck, leaving fingerprints on her hips, her thighs and ass. He swore in Dutch — and it made Y/N clench around him.

Maybe it was the euphoria, or the repressed feelings that led them both to orgasm in a violent way.

"Fuck," they said together.

The sky above her was so blue and bright it hurt to look at and behind her, Max was on her tail, nudging for any chance to retake the lead of the pack, but Y/N increased the gap, from four seconds to six. She knew he was cursing and that it would be harder to close the gap between them.

The fans screamed, fired up by the competition for first place, suddenly that fight, the anger had arisen again, making things interesting again.

"One more quarter of a lap and you'll win the race, firecracker." Hugh said into the headset, making Y/N laugh in excitement. "Things are in place again, that is great"

"I know you missed me, I missed you too," she admitted, changing gears at once, making the engine roar. "I love my job."

The podium featured Red Bull Racing twice and the last time anyone saw such a bright smile on S/N's face was in Melbourne, months before.

"You should make it easier sometimes" he said as they both waited for her anthem to start, Y/N giggled.

"As if you liked that," he retorted ironically and Max shrugged, yeah, he didn't.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! How have you been lately? I hope you sleep well and eat tasty food!

I wanted to participate in your new blog event. I want to see interaction between ~deadbeat dad~ Crowley and our dear uncles, ghosts from Ramshackle dorm. You can decide which topic they will be talking about, I just wanna see ghosts more in twst fandom. They're so rare to see and it upsets me(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) give more application to our ghosts! 👻👻👻

(I hope I wrote this right how it supposed to be wrote in this event. Sorry for grammar errors)

... I was going to include the Ramshackle Ghosts in the banner, but couldn't find any chibi sprites of them that were high res enough to use. That's it, that's my commentary 🙂

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Ramshackle was a marked improvement from its sorry state in the autumn. The cobwebs, dust, and mildew had been cleared away, as if done by the hand of a benevolent fairy godmother. Rotting wood had been replaced with fresh panels, and the walls were coated with a glossy new color. The paintings and furniture had either been restored or replaced, antiques polished and set back up on display.

It's almost like Ramshackle before its ruin, Crowley noted, shutting the door behind him.

He strutted a few paces in, his cane clacking sharply against the floorboards. Crowley cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the foyer, then called out. "Ghosts?"

A reply came at once, accompanied by a cool sensation spiderwalking down Crowley's spine. This, he knew, was the telltale sign of a supernatural being's arrival.

Three pale bodies materialized before him. One tall and scrawny, the second small and compact, and the third wide and squat. Each ghost--A, B, and C--wore a top hat and a cloak.

"Mweeheehee... You rang, headmaster?"

"Aaah, there's my lovely Ramshackle trio!!" Crowley cooed, spreading his arms out with a flourish. "Good afternoon! I hope you're doing well."

"As well as we can be in the afterlife," Ghost A cackled.

"We weren't expecting visitors," C remarked.

"What brings ya here?" B floated around Crowley in a circle. "Rare for you to drop on by for a casual visit."

"Ah, that." He thoughtfully stroked at his chin. "Today is Family Day at Night Raven College and--well--I figure that you three upstanding gentlemen count as the guardians of our dear Prefect and Grim-kun. You live under the same roof, share household responsibilities, and have a deep bond. You may not be related by blood, but this arrangement could classify as a 'found family'. That would make you eligible to sit in at parent-teacher conferences."

"Oooh, are we being invited to the event?" Ghost A asked excitedly. "I was popular with the ladies back in my day, but I didn’t have the chance to do something like this. Never did manage settle down..."

"Can we really be where the people are?" B chimed in. "It's been a while since we got to stretch our ectoplasm. When was the last time? Halloween, was it?"

"But all those meetings sound like a bore," complained C. "You sure we can't just scare the daylights out of the parents and siblings instead?"

"There will be NO scaring the daylights out of anyone!" Crowley stopped himself and smoothed down his feathers. "As you can imagine, I'm a very busy man and I haven't got all day! Please make your decisions now."

The Ramshackle Ghosts glanced at one another. Murmurs passed between them.

"Well... They don't have anyone else but us, do they? Because Yuu-kun is from another world and Grimmy doesn't remember where he came from."

"They've always been there for us when we needed them the most. We've had so much fun together too. Keeping us company, playing magift, celebrating Halloween and the winter holidays..."

"It'd be sad if they were the only ones left out of Family Day. No one likes being excluded from the festivities."

Silence. Then mutual understanding lit up their eyes. The answer was staring at them right in the face this entire time.

"We'll do it!!" the ghosts cried in unison.

Crowley's lips curved upward. "A most excellent choice. Yuu-kun and Grim-kun are so very fortunate to have a family as loving as this."

[ckret2]

I'd been meaning to do this since I found your account but today I read through the entirety of your Goldielocks fic (or at least, what's available) and all I can say is WOW !!!!!

You're really fucking good at writing these characters, capturing the lighthearted-yet-somehow-serious tone of the show, and the stuff you make up for worldbuilding fits right in with canon stuff. As a lover of making things canon-compliant and in-spirit-of-canon, this fic is like a dream come true. You're an amazing author !

I really look forward to your post-TBOB edits of the eclipse arc and the flatworld arc, I can already kind of guess where you're gonna go with it, but it's still exciting to think about what direction you might take things.

I'm also wondering, are you planning on changing anything about the Death Valley girls, what with the info we got about ciphertology and the like ? Or keeping them relatively the same ?

(I stayed up till almost midnight reading this - I'm so glad I don't have to be anywhere early tomorrow)

Thank you!! I've discussed my TBOB edits of the eclipse arc already, you can see some of them here if you want.

For the flatworld arc, I actually think basically nothing's going to change. Spoilers, but: Bill's world was never gonna be like Flatworld. It was gonna be a big reveal late in the fic ("big" for the characters, not the readers lmao) that Bill's world was actually pretty okay—like yeah, a few flaws, but not "barely-exaggerated satire of Victorian-era ableism/sexism/classism" flaws—and everything the kids read in Flatworld that made them pity Bill was 100% bullshit. It was going to turn out that Bill's world is actually...

... pretty much fucking exactly like Euclydia ended up being in canon—up to and including baby Bill getting medical trauma over having a super-rare cool-ass eye mutation that lets him see the stars of the third dimension.

I was gonna have Bill go "oh yeah, that's why I drove the author insane, I was that pissed at him for making my home world look that bad. I didn't correct you guys because I thought it'd be useful if you pitied me."

I did this because, before TBOB came out, I knew that no matter what I wrote about Bill's home dimension, probably a good 20% of readers would just push it to the side and automatically assume that his dimension was exactly the same as Flatland—like, occasionally readers were making comments about my fic talking about how triangles ***ARE*** oppressed in his home dimension like it was a canonical fact and taking it as a given that I was writing that. For that 20%, it seemed to me like the best way to ensure it got through to them that whoa, this isn't Flatland would be to have the characters assume his dimension is exactly the same as Flatland so that I could say, in story, "no that's totally wrong."

Post-TBOB, a lot fewer readers are gonna make that assumption. But having the characters assume his dimension is a lot worse than it really is is still a part of the story—it ties into the narrative of them slowly growing to expect him to be something more sympathetic/heroic than he actually is, a la Dipper's assumption that the Axolotl poem is a prophecy about how Bill will help save them—so there's no reason for me to take it out.

So yeah, tl;dr: Flatworld doesn't need to change because it was always going to be wrong.

I'm only gonna change the Death Valley girls a little bit. Everything I've currently written about them stays the same; except I'm also gonna mention that, yes, they are a Ciphertology sect, and yes, all the girls in the cult are Cipherwives.

So now I also get to crack jokes about Bill being both flattered and a little creeped out that even after he mostly ditched the cult they just kept inducting new recruits as "cipherwives" whether he showed up or not, like wow, you're just gonna marry him off in absentia to some lady he's never met??? What if he doesn't wanna marry her? What if he doesn't like her haircut?? Every time he shows up he finds out he's got a new wife! He loves the attention, but jeez, girls! At least send him a letter with his new bride's picture and wait for him to mail back an "OK" or something!

[yoredoesmore]

Hello yes me again 🫢, so how about this. Reader who has incredible sense of fashion like she dress gyaru (or smth similar). And when the 3rd division is fighting kaiju or having training she's always so serious and 'cold' (she's actually a sweetheart but she just has b12ch face). They go out cuz they celebrating something and they see reader but they are suprised that she has that kind of style? Like they thought that a person who is always neat and serious in her work would dress like 'plain' and not in bright colours and skirts? Expecially with those cute accessories hairclips, bracelets(I love them) Take your sweet time don't worry I will wait 💕💅

(I hope you understand what I just wrote cuz my mind was foggy writing this💀 Btw I love your work❤️)

a/n: if i could i would give you the biggest smooch!! your requests feel like a breath of fresh air, i had so much fun writing this! i apologize for the long wait tho ^^

pairing: Fem!Reader & Third Division

genre: fluff/comedy [wc: 2,2k ]

a/n: the third division has two vice captains in this ff ^^)

enjoy!

GAL is Mind! | Hoshina Soshiro

“Third Division!” Your voice echoed through the entire training room, ice cold and sharp. Everybody immediately halted in their movements, their bodies in perfect sync with your voice.

“Salute!” The sounds of boots clicking and body's straightening brought satisfaction to your ears. A smile, though short lived, formed on your lips as your eyes fell on the rows of cadets. One of them stepped forward, gaze lifted up high in the sky as she opened her mouth.

“Thank you for today's training, Vice Captain L/n!” She yelled out.

“Thank you for today's training!” Everybody followed her suit.

“Dismissed.” And with that said you stepped away from the front and began your journey to the dressing room.

“Vice Captain L/n really is something, huh?” Kafka sighed, hands reaching for his water bottle. Heavy puffs of air escaped his lips, the effects of the training still harsh on his body.

“Tell me about it. She's gotta be the third strongest on the base for sure.” Reno replied, copying his friend and reaching for his bottle as well. He too was trying to catch his breath. Whenever it was your turn to train the Platoon, even the strongest cadets would end up collapsing after the session. Yet you walked away unscratched, with no signs of exhaustion or weariness.

“I wonder what she is like off the field..in private, you know. Shinomiya's words caused a shift in atmosphere. Immediately all feelings of enervation were forgotten as the group tried to imagine you in a more casual setting.

“Off..the field?” Kafka's gaze fell on your disappearing form.

Most of the people at the base already had a set image of you in their mind. Your cold demeanor was engraved in their heads. The fearless Vice Captain who led every fight with precision and a cool head– that was the only version of you which they knew. But they knew better than to judge a person solely from what they decided to show to the public– and not to mention that most of the time, people were different in private than in their work life in general.

They wondered if that applied to you as well.

“Wouldn't Vice Captain Hoshina know? Or Captain Ashiro. As Captains they must spend lots of time together off field, I think.” Iharu suggested. His words made sense at first but upon consulting the other Vice Captain, it seemed that you were as isolated off field as at work.

“I never really interacted with L/n outside base grounds, besides out on the battlefield of course.” Hoshina admitted, surprising the entire group.

“No way! Ain't she your work partner? Don't tell me you never went out for a drink or two? Sir.” Iharu quickly added the sir after realizing that he was talking out of line.

He was quite shocked at the Vice Captain's words and it seemed like he wasn't the only one. The entire group stood in disbelief as Hoshina told him that you were as quiet and introverted as they came.

“No, because now I really want to know what Vice Captain L/n is like off duty!” A spark had been lit inside Shinomiya. Her determination was contagious, as the others soon started to feel the same way. Even Hoshina was starting to wonder what image laid behind your nonchalant facade.

Therefore they came up with a plan to get you to ease up around them without drawing any suspicion towards their real motives.

x

“You want to..hang out?” Your voice perfectly reflected the image on your face– you were confused.

“A little get together with the other cadets sounds nice, don't it? Allows the group to bond and stuff, get their mind off things.”

Hoshina was prepared for the rejection of his life. Despite sharing many great memories at the base together, neither he nor Ashiro knew you on a very personal level. You were a strong and dedicated fighter, that was a fact. Your skills were flawless and your performances during battles praiseworthy. Yet all they got to see so far was your work behavior. You were like a ghost, hovering around the base and gaining everyone's curiosity.

“Sure, why not.”

“But it would be– whaddya say?”

“I mean why not? Sounds nice, I'm down.” A cold gaze sat on your face as you arranged the files on your desk and even your voice sounded uninterested. It gave Hoshina the impression that you were forcing yourself to agree to this meeting. Five whole minutes were needed to convince him that you really stood by your words.

At the end he walked out of your office, carefully pulling the door shut behind himself. Only after you were sure that he had left the area surrounding your office did you manage to produce a small smile.

“Yay!”

x

“She said yes just like that?!” The squad could barely believe their ears. Hoshina simply shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to say. He himself still had to process the fact that you willingly agreed to this, without arguing or rejecting him. But then again, you never made a ruckus when having to pick up an extra shift or taking care about some more paperwork, therefore who knew what truly went through your mind.

“Am I the only one who is getting nervous?” Kafka asked into the round.

It was such a silly discussion, the mystery behind your personality, yet everyone involved found themselves curious to seek the answer.

“Vice Captain probably dresses really well! Like elegant and modest.” Shinomiya chimed in, clapping her hands together.

“I can definitely see that too.” Aoi agreed. The group began to chat and talk about the event of the night and how you were going to appear in front of them. They talked and talked, just for a little bit longer, before they returned to work.

x

A couple hours later and the time for the rendezvous came closer and closer. Throughout the day, Hoshina managed to ask Captain Ashiro if she too wanted to join the festivities and to everyone's surprise she agreed as well.

“I too want to see the Vice Captain in her casual glory.” Ashiro said with a straight face and sparkles in her eyes.

Everyone arrived around the agreed on time, some earlier and some later, but at the end they all gathered in front of the fine establishment.

“Oh, L/n just texted me that she is already inside!” Ashiro had a soft smile sitting on her lips, happy about the fact that you had texted her.

“Am I the only one who feels excessively excited??” Iharu looked around the group for validation.

“Nah, I'm just as excited” Izumo placed a reassuring hand on the other one's shoulders. “But I do feel like we are totally doing too much. I mean, it's just the Vice Captain.” The group was unsure if Izumo's words were directed towards everyone else or just himself, as he had quite the distressed look on his face. Shinomiya, Hoshina and Reno on the other hand carried a blank look on their faces. Their excitement manifested itself in the form of silence.

“Does anybody see her?” Kafka asked.

The bar was of decent size. It was most likely on the more fancier side. Not too many guests sat seated at the tables and from their point of view they should have had a clear vision of the whole place. Yet you remained to be discovered.

All they saw was another group of businessmen, a handful of couples, a person who seemed to be having a stroke in the corner and some young college students who were being a little too noisy..

Ashiro was about to ask a staff member for help, when all of a sudden a stranger approached them.

“Guys? I have been waving at you for the past two minutes, didn't you see me?”

Silence

In front of the group stood a woman, who's stroke turned out to be her attempt of getting their attention. She was dressed in attire that did not fit the establishment's vibe.

l

Her long eyelashes were a perfect match for the dramatic makeup she had put on. Half of her hair was put into a high ponytail, with the ends strongly curled. Although her head lacked charms and accessories, many of those were found on her long, white nails. The clothes she wore perfectly reflected everything that was going on in her face.

A skirt so short sat around her hips that the group feared that it would only take her one bad step to reveal herself. They just hoped that the golden star belt she wore was good enough to hold everything in place. What truly topped everything off weren't the dark fur leg warmers or the thick golden chains hanging from both her belt and neck, but rather the bold, off shoulder cheetah print shirt.

To put everything in simpler words– she was a looker for sure.

“...L/n?” Shinomiya was the first one to open her mouth.

“Yes?”

“WHAT?!” Kafka could barely contain himself. Shock wasn't even expressive enough to describe the sheer disbelief he was currently feeling. His eyes were stuck on the countless bracelets you were wearing, trying to count them all. Meanwhile Izumo and Aoi still had to pick their jaws off the floor.

“Ya gotta be kiddin me..” Hoshina cursed under his breath, his eyes still drinking in the image of you.

From all he had expected, this would have been the last thing. Seeing you in such revealing and bold attire, it was out of character for you. Even Ashiro found herself speechless as she slowly started to recognize your face behind all the accessories and makeup.

And let's not get started on Shinomiya who almost fainted.

“Do..I have something on my face?” Your voice was genuine and filled with confusion.

“Everything!” Iharu blurted out, earning a slap from Reno.

“This..is just very unexpected.” The white haired man tried to explain in the best words available.

“Unexpected is puttin it lightly! Shit, you sure this is our Vice Captain??” Iharu barely finished his sentence before the second slap from Reno came flying towards the back of his head.

“Oh. Yeah, I figured you guys would be surprised. I tried to tone it down a little and left some accessories at home but once I get dressed I can barely hold myself back.” You smiled softly.

For some it was the first time seeing you present such a sweet smile. It melted their hearts in an instant and forced them to question everything about you that they knew.

As you showed the way to the table, the group of people behind you silently fought about who got to sit next to you. Both power and authority were abused, as Hoshina and Ashiro ended up by your side with Shinomiya getting the seat right in front of you.

There it was, the moment they all have been waiting for. The silence was so strong that it became one of the loudest things in the entire place.

Their gazes poked holes through your outfit but you simply sat there, enjoying their attention. Such close interactions did not exist at work, as all were too afraid of you. They did not go unnoticed by you, the comments and whispers about your unapproachable behavior. There were obviously no ill intentions in their words but it still hurt you a little that nobody tried to get to know you on a personal level.

Your shyness and professionalism were labeled off as coldness on your very first day and ever since you had found it quite difficult to build more skin deep relationships. That is why you were beyond happy when Hoshina asked you to join them today.

“Have you always been dressing like this?” Shinomiya asked the question that has been on everybody's mind. The sparkle in her gaze returned, her eyes shining with nothing but admiration for you.

“Yes, pretty much. My mother was a Rokku Gyaru and taught me everything I needed to know. Started off as a Kogal and slowly found my way into the world of Tsuyome.”

Everybody listened with great attention as you explained your sense of fashion. It was the most talkative they have ever experienced you in, it was a memory to cherish. It made you feel awfully happy, their kindness and acceptance, that you temporarily lost yourself.

“Sorry Vice Captain, but I really didn't take you for the kind who would dress like that. So bold and carefree..but now that I think about it it suits you quite well!”

“Thank you a lot, Kafka.” You both exchanged mutual smiles.

“Same here. I first thought that you were gonna come in all formal and shit but this really hits the spot.”

“Your head will swell if I hit you one more time, moron.” Reno shot the red head a deadly glare.

“I know that I come off as cold sometimes, but I can't help it. I like to express myself with my appearance and actions rather than words and not to mention– in this field of work I just cannot afford to be as silly and expressive as my clothes.’

“It is very impressive that you are able to have these different sides to you.” The woman next to you spoke.

Much more time was spent talking about certain fashion styles, life and work at the defense force. The night was long and who knew when the next time would come where you got to talk the way you did now? Therefore you talked and talked, until all troubles and thoughts were taken off your minds.

a/n: i literally threw up couple hours ago and i got so mad bc i really wanted to upload this fic today so i swallowed a pain killer, took a nap and got right to the editing after waking up 😭 don't play with me stupid migraine (ง'-̀̀'́)ง

btw, if you want to get a better image of tsuyome (the gyaru subculture) make sure to google it! It is sooo pretty!!

[purerae]

teehee first ask thing :3c

i work at a movie theater and it sucks, literally the only thing that keeps me going is pretending someone going to see movies just to interact with me. tbh whenever i scan someone ticket and they’re cute, i’ll try to be at their theater whenever the movie end just to tell them “have a nice day!”

do what you'll want with this, i just wanna share my delusions ^^

hihi omg this is so cute, i wrote a little something about it !!

(i wrote this at like four am on a googles doc and didn’t proof read — pls forgive me for the kinda lame writing ;;;)

You’re tired. Extremely tired. If you got a coin for how many times somebody had asked you a stupid question — you’d be able to quit your job by now.

The smell of popcorn and off brand candy lingers in the air; you feel sick to your stomach as you look at the clock. 3 more hours of your shift left, god, you close your eyes for a solid minute — imagining yourself in your nice warm bed away from all the noise, smell and buzzing food machines.

Fortunately, it seems as the flurry amount of people had dispersed after the screenings of the new trending movie had stopped at a certain time. You hum a sigh under your breath, the theater was almost empty, You prayed to whatever was listening to you that a group of teenagers wouldn’t just burst in and charge towards your counter.

You decide to pass off some time by restocking the candy shelves by your desk, grimacing at the overpriced labels when you suddenly hear a small cough.

Looking up, you notice a very familiar customer beaming at you with a big smile. Their eyes light up, and you can't help but change your tired expression to one that matches theirs.

“Hey! How’s your shift going Y/N?” The man smiles, fidgeting with his hands as he eagerly looks at you.

“Good as a shift can get Matteo, how’s your day going? This is the third time you came this week — Must’ really like movies.. new world record huh?”

You respond back, with no malice in your tone, exchanging banter with your favourite customer. He comes so often to the theatre, that you guys are already on first name basis.

Honestly, the only reason he was your favourite customer was because of how how nice and pleasant he was to chat too.

Matteo would arrive with a warm smile, always making a beeline for whichever counter you were working at. You guys would chat about the latest releases, obscure indie films, and laugh over the messiness of children running around.

You’d remember the first time he came into the movies with his friends, his eyes would linger on you every now and again whilst ordering — you never really paid any mind to it.

Matteo raises his eyebrows as you question him. “…Really like movies?” A pause between the two of you as you nod awkwardly, before his eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh yeah— yeah! I love movies hahaha…! Movies are great.. awesome, spectacular, so fun!!” He says laughing, wiping his eyebrow and grinning extremely wide.

Rapidly changing the subject, Matteo places one of his arms on the counter. “The movie you recommended to me two days ago was so funny! I loved it, anything new for me today?”

To be frank, you could not recall what movie you told him to watch, and you doubt you even watched it yourself! However, seeing the gleam in his face — you didn’t have the heart to tell him so.

You shift your head slightly to see behind Matteos head, the small list of movies that were going to play soon. Selecting the most cool sounding one, you look back at him.

“There’s a movie called ‘Argan Gate’ that came out recently in theatre 3?”

His smile becomes even more radiant (which you didn’t know could be possible) as he looks through his bag, “Sounds perfect! I’ll take a ticket!”

Matteo hands you his money, your fingers brushed slightly, The man freezes as he just stares at your hands for a solid few seconds before zoning back in with flushed cheeks.

“…I’ll tell you how the movie was after, see you at your next shift?” He says with a flustered look. You mutter a small okay with a wave as he walks to the movie screening.

You wonder for a second on how he’d know when your next shift is, and why he watches every single thing you recommend him. Pausing as you stare at his back with a narrowed gaze before you shrug your shoulders, going back to restocking the shelves

‘He must just really really love movies.’