#Feel free to take this idea and write more with it :)

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Teacher's Always Right

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

Notes: Very self-indulgent of me as someone who teaches teenagers for a living and regularly gets questioned on my relationship status. They really do bully you (affectionately).

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You're in the middle of teaching your high schoolers about the fur trade in colonial Canada, mid-speech, arms spread wide as you gesture to your powerpoint when a teenage voice interrupts you.

"Miss, are you married?" It's David, sat at the back, legs stretched out as far as he can reach them. He's ironically enough wearing a Canucks jersey, specifically Number 43...a very, very familiar number to you. As is the question. In your years of teaching this isn't the first time you've been interrupted to be questioned on your relationship status, in fact it happens multiple times a year. Each set of students eager to know why you're a miss and if you'll be a mrs soon and are going to be leaving them to have a baby. When you were single, the questions were usually why?

"No." You've gotten rather good at deflecting or at least not letting slip the reality of your relationship, usually finding out you're not single is enough for them, but there's something about David's attitude that screams persistant curiosity. It makes you wonder why you bother teaching your subject at all when he's more curious about your love life than History itself

"Do you have boyfriend?"

"Yes, does this have anything to do with British colonisation or the fur trade or....?" You lean back on your desk, board pen landing gently on the surface, knowing that you're not going to be free of this conversation for at least another 2 minutes.

"What's your boyfriend do?" You breathe a deep sigh and look around the room, you don't want to get into who your boyfriend is. It's not like its a well known fact that you're dating the captain of the Vancouver Canucks and you try to keep it that way. Not because you're ashamed but because its your private life, school and home, those are as separate as you can make them. It would be impossible to do that if everyone was talking about your relationship, although you know eventually it'll become more public.

Stacy from one of the desk by the windows chimes in this time, curiosity peaked, dragging her away from her current hobby of staring out the window in boredom, "C'mon, miss, it can't be that bad? What? Is he like unemployed or something?" She says while chewing loudly on a wad of gum.

"Gum in the bin, Stacy." Her chewing stops and she slumps as she stomps her way to your classroom bin, spitting the gum in with a roll of her eyes.

"So? Is he unemployed?" You decide to answer the question, only because Stacy actually did what you said this time. You hated gum in the classroom, mostly because it always ended up on the bottom of your shoes and made them stick to the floor as you walked. You wouldn't mind it so much if they could all just throw it away normally.

"No. He's got a job, a good job." A really good job, a ridiculously good job actually. You didn't talk money with Quinn much, but the reality was that he made an amount in a year that you would never make in a life time as a teacher.

"Sooo???" David interjects, leaning forward now in his seat, clearly not happy enough to just know your boyfriend isn't some unemployed bum.

"He's a hockey player."

"Like beer league?"

"No. Like NHL." You watch your classes faces in what feels like slow motion, the series of disbelieving looks, wide eyes and raised eyebrows that are quickly followed by a chorus of objections and claims that you can't be telling the truth.

"Nah, no way! You're not here, teaching us, and dating a guy who makes millions, nah." It's actually frustrating, it shouldn't be. You've literally had students throw tables at you and yet, the idea that they think you are a liar is what makes you frustrated. Is it really that hard to believe that you enjoy your job and don't want to scrounge off of your pro-athlete boyfriend? Or that hard to believe that you managed to snag a pro-athlete in the first place?

"You don't believe me?"

"Nah, like if you are, he's gotta be in some really bad team in the US." You're already formulating a plan to prove to your students that you're not lying and not dating a shit NHL player. Sure, the plan involves a lot more work for you, but the idea is in your head and you can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

"He's a Canuck." You smirk a little, knowing the mention of the local team would get a response. Most of the kids you teach go to at least one game a year or watch it on TV. Some have even seen you at the games, but you always sit in the stands like a regular fan. Mostly because Quinn can't really talk to you anyway when he's locked into a game. You'd serve as more of a distraction if you sat front and centre every game.

"No, no way!" David stands, slamming his hands on his desk, "You're lying!" Half the class echo his claims that you must be lying and it makes you even more determined to prove them wrong. Do you really need to prove to a bunch of teenagers that you're dating an NHL player? No, do you want to? Absolutely.

"Fine, don't believe me, but i'm not lying. I'm dating a Vancouver Canuck."

It takes a little to get them all back on track with the lesson but you manage it. Although you're just as distracted. The moment the bell goes to signal lunch break and your classroom empties, you're on your phone calling your boyfriend, even though you know he's probably in the middle of practice.

He answers on the second ring, the sound of the rink in the background loud and clear as pucks hit the sideboards and skates scratch up the ice.

"Hey, baby, everything okay?" It's unusual for you to call him in the work day and you can hear the worry in his voice, even if he'll pretend he's not worried at seeing your name pop up when you should be working.

"Hey, I'm fine, don't worry...but...you know how you love me?" You fiddle with a little wooden bear that sits on your desk. Quinn bought you it after finding out your favourite animals were any type of bear, it's left ear is broken off and it's got a little bit of red paint where it fell on a floor one time, but you love it anyway.

"Uh huh?" The worry in his voice gives out to amusement at realising you're after something. On his end Quinn is stood at the bench watching the guys run drills, Tocc giving him a look as if to say 'hurry up'.

"And you know how you want to always make me happy?" He smiles at the faux innocent voice you put on, as if he'd deny you anything.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" There's zero hesitation, typical Quinn really, if you want something you've got it, if you need him to do something he's agreeing before all the terms are laid out. He's lucky you don't abuse that sort of power really, he'd spoil you completely if you let him.

"I need you to help me organise a school trip to see you guys practice and meet you all, so that I can prove to my students that I am actually dating an NHL player because they're calling me a liar and I will not be called a liar by teenagers who gaslight me all the time!" The faux innocent voice gives way to your rapid ramble, annoyance riding your tone as you pace across the front of your classroom.

You're greeted firstly by his loud and genuine laugh, so loud that it makes you pull the phone away from your ear. It takes a solid minute for Quinn to stop laughing, and he can see the looks he's getting from the ice, Brock throws him a questioning eyebrow raise, Petey perks his head up at the sound of his captain actually laughing that hard.

It's the dead silence on your end that makes him stop, "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes! They're telling me i'm lying and I will not be called a liar!"

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He runs a hand through his hair, before leaning against the side of the bench, "Your students don't believe you're dating a canuck, so you need me to help you organise a school trip-"

"For free!" You interrupt, knowing you won't get permission for a trip that costs the school anything more than a few buses and fuel costs, school funding being what it is.

"For free, to prove that you're dating me?" There are easier ways, Quinn thinks, to prove this. Like, him posting a picture of you together on the internet or him kissing you in front of the arena at a game, but it's kind of cute how much you're affronted by your students calling you a liar. It also sounds way more fun.

"Yup, is that...is that too much to ask? I'm being silly aren't I?" He hears it in your tone, the way you seem to start second guessing yourself, can hear you tapping a fingernail against your desk, probably messing with the little bear figurine he got you all those years ago.

"A little silly, but for you? I think I can pull some strings, honey."

You know Quinn will say yes to most things you ask, but you hadn't actually expected him to agree this time. It had felt too big, too much. Your normal requests were small, something like asking if he could get you a doughnut on his way home or could he put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You serious?"

"Yeah, i'm serious." It takes a beat before your almost squealing in delight down the phone at him, the realisation that he's actually saying yes hitting and he can't help but laugh even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

"I love you! Have I told you that today?" Your voice is sweet and happy, brighter than it was before. It makes him want to always say yes to you, the way you light up like a christmas tree.

"Mmm, not since 6am this morning."

"Well, I love you and you are the absolute best boyfriend I've ever had and I will never take you for granted."

He can see Tocc motioning him over, telling him without words that its time for the call to end and get back to being captain. Part of him just wants to keep talking with you, rare as it is to get to do during a working day, but he has responsibilities just like you do.

"I have to go, baby, I have practice...but we'll talk about this later, okay?"

He knows his evening is going to be spent planning out what you want this trip to look like before he goes away and tries to make it happen, but he doesn't mind. Anything to make his baby happy. Even if that is trying to prove a bunch of teenagers wrong.

Between the two of you it takes about 2 months to organise the trip. A lot of that time simply spent getting risk assessments done, approval from your administration sorted and organising parental consent. It also takes you getting the sports teacher on side because it was becoming difficult to find a justification as a History teacher for why you wanted to take kids to meet some hockey players. By the time you've organised it, most of your students have forgotten your claims. You have not forgotten their belief that you are a liar, however.

"I can't believe you managed to get us a trip to Rogers Arena! To meet the Canucks! Best teacher ever!" The hockey boys in your class are especially stoked, many of them playing in junior teams and following the Canucks closely as their team of choice. David is no exception to that rule, arriving to the school bus in so many bits of Vancouver merchandise that you're unsure how he's managing to walk weighed down as he is.

"I told you, my boyfriend plays for them." You remind him, ticking him off the register of kids and ushering him up into the bus.

"Miss, we all know that's not true." He turns to you just as he's about to dispear to find his seat. The scepticism written all over his face.

It makes you shake your head, waiting for the moment the puck drops.

The entire ride to the stadium features your students making fun of you for saying your boyfriend was a canuck, you let it slide simply because you're looking forward to seeing them eat their words. They think its funny right now, but you know you're getting the last and final laugh.

You're met at the entrance by, surprisingly, Tocc, who greets you with a warm hug, "Hey, how you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you for having us, Tocc." You like Tocc, he's a good coach and you like that he cares about how the guys are as people not just how they perform. You also can see how much Quinn appreciates him as coach, so you have a soft spot for the scary looking guy.

"No problem," You can feel the weight of 50 eyes on you, all varying shades of disbelief as they realise you seem a little too familiar when interacting with the Head Coach and its only the beginning. You can't help but smile simply because they're starting to realise that maybe they fucked up. Maybe their doubt was misplaced, maybe you actually were telling the truth all along.

"Are Quinn and the guys on the rink or in the locker room?"

"Rink, easier to fit all the kids, but we've got to get them booted up first." The famililarity with which you refer to Quinn and the guys, does not go past David and Stacy both of whom share a look that screams 'don't tell me that she actually knows them...'.

It takes a bit of time to get all 50 kids in skates, although at least 20 of them bring their own, as do you. You're not much of a skater, but dating Quinn meant you couldn't avoid him buying you a decent pair for family skate and the few times he manages to drag you on the ice each year.

You're about to put your own on when Quinn makes his way over to you clearly having just come off the ice, guards on his skates and hair messy from his helmet. He waves briefly at some of the kids before reaching you, taking your skates in hand without hesitation.

"Y'know I can do it myself, right?"

"When have I ever let you do your own skates? Besides, I thought you wanted the last laugh?" He nods his head in the direction of your students who stand gaping at the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks putting your foot in a skate and putting said skate between his thighs to help him tighten the laces with care. Not something one does for a strange teacher they don't know.

"I'm really enjoying myself already. The whole ride they were giving me all sorts of hell about it, and now I can see their little brains working hard to figure out if I was actually telling the truth or not."

You watch Quinn work, finishing tying off your first skate before reaching for the other, his hands are sure on your calf as he slips your foot into it. "The guys are looking forward to it, think this might be their favourite practice of the year. You might be their favourite WAG now."

"All I had to do was bring a bunch of teenagers to the rink to get them to love me?" Quinn stops mid lace pull, smirk firmly in place as he looks at you from underneath his eyelashes.

"Y'know they loved you already, right? Pretty sure Petey is your number one fan."

"That's because I bribe him with sweets." Specifically his favourite sour candy which makes his eyes water. The more sour the better.

Quinn huffs out a laugh, tying off your laces before patting your foot and setting it back on the ground. His hands reach out to help you to your feet and linger on yours a little longer than is strictly necessary.

"You ready for this?"

"Can't back out now, so I guess I have to be." There's a slight bubbling of nerves under your skin, the sense that your students might not think this is cool and instead think that you're undeserving of your relationship, but you shrug it off. After all, they're kids, their opinion on your relationship is genuinely not important.

"See you on the rink?"

"See you there." You watch him walk away and try to ignore the buzz of chatter you can hear from students, commenting on the fact that Quinn did your skates for you.

You get them registered, orderly and help them file onto the rink, the less sure of the bunch buddied up with someone who had more experience skating to avoid 50 kids bowling each other over on the ice. You did not want to deal with a pile of kids flat on the ice after knocking each other over, the paper work would be ridiculous.

You stand back and just watch. The clear awe on their faces as they step out onto the ice, the large rink impressive any day let alone for kids who had never stepped foot on a rink that size. It makes you smile, knowing you're contributing to their memories, providing something great even if it all started out of petty spite. Even if they don't believe you, you feel good knowing they're getting to enjoy this experience.

You skate nearer to the front, Brock and Petey giving you a bright smile and wave, a variety of nods of recognition from the others. Little things that once again tell your students you know these men better than they expected you to.

"Hey, guys. Welcome to Rogers Arena, it's great to have you here," Quinn starts the introduction, smoothly sliding forward on his skates and gesturing to the line of players as he proceeds to introduce each them by name and position, before finally getting to himself, "And i'm Quinn Hughes, Captain of the team,"

"And Norris trophy winner" You chime in, arms crossed as you watch your boyfriend do what he's best at. He's good with fans especially kids, even if he's terrible with the after game reporters.

He turns to you with a bright grin, "Hi, baby," You can see the twinkle in his eye as he drops the petname, you know he does it on purpose to get the reaction that he does from your students as a wave of muttering and murmuring goes through the little crowd.

"Hi, honey, thanks for having us." You throw it right back, more sickly sweet than you'd usually be, playing up to your little audience who practically gasp.

"Anything for my girl."

"No fucking way!" "What the hell?!" You watch each face drop, mouths open, eyes wide. Watch David as he swears loudly face aghast, almost horrified at the realisation that he might have been making fun of Quinn Hughes' girlfriend the entire time he'd been calling his teacher a liar.

"Language, David!" You tell him off even as you smirk, watching the murmurs die off as Quinn and Boeser talk the kids through skating techniques and how best to shoot the puck, the different techniques and ways to hit the puck with the stick. Half of it makes little sense to you but its nice to watch how the kids get engaged, how Quinn takes over a leadership and teaching role.

You mostly take a step back throughout, watching your students learn from Quinn and the guys, but every now and then Quinn finds you under the pretense of fixing your stance or giving you a tip or piece of advice.

Like now, as his hands reach out, fixing how you hold the hockey stick, foot kicking yours just slightly further apart to adjust your stance.

"So, think they believe you now?" You look over at your students, the joy they're having learning hockey from some of the best, but also at the looks they keep sending your way. You're certain they've learnt their lesson, the teacher is always right, at least when it comes to her own love life.

"I think I am offically the coolest teacher in school, so thanks for that." You reach up and kiss Quinn on the cheek, quick and chaste, nothing inappropriate considering you're both at work and surrounded by kids, but it's enough to make his cheeks flush red.

He rubs the back of his neck with that boyish smile of his and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, "Well, I couldn't have a bunch of teenagers calling my girlfriend a liar."

You're so stuck in the moment with him that you don't notice David and his friends until they're upon you and calling out to Quinn. The picture of respect when talking to who might just be their new favourite NHL star.

"Hey, Mr Hughes?" Conveniently half the kids surrounding you are the ones who claimed you must have been dating some beer league level player or some guy from the Chicago Blackhawks.

"You can call me Quinn, Mr Hughes is my dad. What's up, dude?"

"So when are we going to be calling teach Mrs Hughes?" It's your turn to flush, face warming harshly as Quinn's practically asked when he's proposing to you by a spotty 15 year old.

"David!" You might never be able to call your future child David at this rate, far too familiar with calling the name in admonishment. Definitely no David's in your future. Add that name to the list of names you can't use.

David looks at you with a wide grin, braces on full display. "What? I'm tryin' a help you get that bank!" It's actually mortifying, you thank your lucky stars that Quinn knows you're not actually after his money because if a 15 year old were to ruin your relationship you might actually become a super villain.

"I do not need a 15 year old wingman!"

"Baby, it's alright." Quinn wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side as if that will sooth the embarrassment of having a 15 year old try to help you get a rich husband, "Uh, to answer your question, it won't be too long now, bud."

"So, like 6 months? A year? Next week?"

"Oh my god..." You turn your face into Quinn's shoulder, your groan muffled by his jersey. You're certain you might actually pass away from embarrassment, even if deep down there's a little thrill in your stomach that Quinn basically just said he's going to propose to you sooner rather than later.

"I gotta keep it a secret, sorry, man! Gotta keep Mrs Hughes on her toes." Your toes curl at the way he calls you Mrs Hughes, a small smile on your face hidden by his jersey.

A little back and forth is exchanged before David and his friends decide their bored and skate off towards Boeser who's going over the finer points of 'get to the net' and 'just shoot the puck'.

You mumble into Quinn's shoulder as his hands run up and down your back in soothing strokes, "Are you really ganging up on me with a bunch of teenagers?"

"Hey, I just told you that I want to marry you and you're mad at me?" He's not serious though, grinning as pushes you back to look at him. It's adorable, the pout on your face as you glare up at him for making fun of you. Although, you're always adorable to him, so maybe he's biased,

"Correction, you told a 15 year old that you wanted to marry me."

"Okay, okay, I see the problem." He shakes his head solemnly, hands on your shoulders as he lowers his voice just a touch, "Baby, just so you know I want to marry you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" You watch as he stands, mouth agape at your casual response. You're sure he was expecting you to giggle or squeal, but you're determined to mess with him a little.

"That's...nice to know?" You grin at him even as internally you're screaming because your boyfriend wants to marry you and you definitely want to marry him.

"You're such a fucking nerd."

"You're dating a teacher, that's like my whole thing. I'm a professional nerd."

"Yeah... it's cute. It's why I want to marry you."

"Quinn!" You shove him away with a laugh. Maybe your students won't be embarrassing you anymore, but you think you might have a lifetime of Quinn doing it instead. Somehow that doesn't seem like the worst idea.

[reiding-writing]

For the Christmas fic, how about bau!reader never celebrated Christmas properly cause she had like bad parents so Spencer decides to change that with the help of the team

RESTORATION — SPENCER REID!

you’re not a big fan of christmas. spencer enlists the help of the team to try and restore your festive spirit.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — watch someone who doesn’t like Christmas, write about a group of people who do like christmas :)

You’re not sure how it happened, but suddenly, Christmas is everywhere.

Twinkling lights hang from every corner of the bullpen. Garlands wrap themselves around the stair railings like ivy. A Christmas tree towers near the kitchenette, its branches heavy with ornaments you suspect Morgan and Garcia argued over before agreeing on a theme. The air smells faintly of pine, cinnamon, and coffee, a warm combination that feels almost too comforting. Too safe.

You try not to let it bother you.

You never understood the hype around Christmas. Every year, you watched the world transform into a wonderland of twinkling lights and festivity, but for you, it was just another day. Another reminder of what you never had.

While other kids were unwrapping presents under the tree, you sat in your cold, quiet room, the sounds of your parents’ arguments drowning out the holiday cheer. Christmas wasn’t a celebration in your house—it was a chore, a duty, something to get through without breaking.

Even now, as an adult, you treat the holiday like it’s just another box to check. The gifts you give are practical and impersonal, and the ones you receive feel more like obligations than thoughtful gestures. You avoid the parties, the caroling, the incessant cheer. It’s easier that way.

At least, it was.

The BAU changed everything.

You weren’t prepared for how much they’d come to mean to you. They weren’t just colleagues; they were family in a way you’d never truly known. And Spencer… Spencer Reid is something else entirely. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment your feelings for him shifted, but now they’re impossible to ignore. Every shy smile, every ramble about quantum physics, every thoughtful gesture—it all leaves you wondering how you got so lucky to have someone like him in your corner.

Still, when he asks you about your Christmas plans during lunch one day, your walls go up.

“Oh, you know,” you say casually, taking a sip of your coffee. “Probably just a quiet night at home.”

Spencer frowns, his brow furrowing in that endearing way that tells you he’s already analysing your words. “You’re not a Christmas person?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent. “Not really. Christmas wasn’t… something my parents did growing up,”

That’s the understatement of the century, but you don’t elaborate. Spencer’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Well,” he says slowly, “maybe it’s something we can work on,”

You wave him off with a chuckle, but the idea takes root in his mind anyway.

—

A week later, you’re finishing up paperwork when Spencer approaches your desk, his face lit up with excitement.

“Are you free on Christmas Eve?” he asks, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You blink, caught off guard. “I guess so? Why?”

He grins, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. “It’s a surprise. Just… trust me?”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

—

When Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself in front of Spencer’s apartment, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in your chest. You’re not sure what to expect, but the last thing you anticipate is the sight that greets you when he opens the door.

“Surprise!”

The entire team is there, the living room transformed into a Christmas wonderland. There’s a fake tree in the corner, its branches laden with ornaments and lights. Garland and tinsel drape over every surface, and the scent of cinnamon and pine fills the air.

Hotch is standing by the fireplace, looking uncharacteristically relaxed with a drink in hand, JJ and Will are helping Henry hang a candy cane on the tree, Garcia flits around in a sequinned Santa hat, arranging plates of cookies and snacks, and even Rossi is there, holding a glass of wine and smirking like he knows exactly how overwhelmed you’re feeling.

And then there’s Spencer, standing in front of you with that nervous, hopeful look that makes your heart ache.

“You did this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “We did. You’ve never had a proper Christmas, and we thought it was time to change that.”

You look around, your chest tightening as the weight of their thoughtfulness sinks in. For a moment, you can’t speak.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” you finally manage, though your voice trembles.

“We wanted to,” JJ says, stepping over to hug you. “You’re family, and family deserves to be celebrated.”

The word family hits you like a freight train.

—

The night unfolds like something out of a movie.

You start with decorating gingerbread houses, a task that quickly descends into chaos when Garcia insists on bedazzling her roof with edible glitter. Morgan competes with Henry to see who can build the tallest chimney, while Rossi critiques everyone’s technique like it’s a cooking competition.

Spencer sticks close to you, guiding you through the process with his usual patience and a surprising knack for icing details. At one point, he accidentally smudges frosting on his nose, and the way he blushes when you laugh makes your stomach flutter.

Next comes dinner, a feast that Rossi and JJ clearly poured their hearts into. You sit between Spencer and Garcia, listening to Rossi’s stories and laughing until your cheeks hurt. Every now and then, you catch Spencer sneaking glances at you, his expression soft and fond in a way that makes you feel seen in a way you’re not used to.

Afterward, Garcia insists on a gift exchange. You’re hesitant at first, but when you open your gift from her—a beautifully wrapped box of handmade bookmarks featuring your favorite literary quotes—you can’t help but smile.

“How did you…?”

“I have my ways,” she says with a wink.

You’re equally stunned when Spencer hands you a small, carefully wrapped package. Inside is an antique copy of *Pride and Prejudice*, its leather cover worn but lovingly preserved.

“Spencer,” you whisper, running your fingers over the embossed title. “This is… it’s perfect.”

He shrugs, looking almost shy. “I remember you mentioned it was your favorite. I thought it deserved a spot in your collection.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to cry.

—

The night ends with everyone gathered around the fireplace, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jack preforms his reading of The Night Before Christmas.

You sit beside Spencer on the couch, his arm brushing against yours as he leans in to whisper little facts about the poem’s history. Normally, you’d roll your eyes at his need to share trivia, but tonight, it feels comforting. Familiar.

When the others start to leave, bidding you Merry Christmas with hugs and warm smiles, you linger by the door, hesitant to let the night end.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, his voice soft.

You nod, but the lump in your throat betrays you. “I just… I don’t know how to thank you for this. All of you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” he says, his gaze steady. “You deserve it.”

The words are simple, but they cut through you in a way you don’t expect. Before you can second-guess yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but then he relaxes, his arms coming up to hold you in return.

His cheek smushes lovingly against the top of your head, and it’s only once he catches the glimpse of white and green above the doorway that he pulls away.

Mistletoe. How cliché.

Spencer lets out a breath of a laugh as you follow his gaze with curious eyes, cheeks warming at the fluster on your face.

“Garcia must’ve put that there…”

You press your lips together between your teeth, a wave of heat rising to the tips of your ears as you glance back in Spencer’s direction.

But you’re not nervous. It’s almost domestic, the soft crackle of the dying fire across the room, the way Spencer’s arms linger innocently at your waist.

You cup Spencer’s cheek to bring it to your face, lips pressing deftly against the corner of his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” you whisper like you’ve run out of oxygen.

He smiles with his whole face, his voice warm and full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,”

[drewdoa]

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

⤷ # viktor headcannons • (a little modern..my bad)

⤷ a/n: hii this is my first post :)) these hcs don’t target any specific gender! though i will make small notes to those that do :D enjoy <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ *ੈ✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚

very much the type to bring you coffee, like all the time. i picture him to be almost reliable on coffee (cause of how he’s chronically in that damn lab), he doesn’t drink it very sweet. this doesn’t mean he won’t mix things up a little though! pouring new syrups and stuff he tries and bringing you cups throughout the day. (for afab readers he brings you iced coffee and chocolates/candy when it’s your time of the month too <3)

in his free time he shops for new clothes even if he doesn’t even end up purchasing any. he also looks at clothes for you, no matter the style he will bring you something. i feel like this could sprout an idea for a little outfit haul with you guys ;))

when he’s writing notes, he outlines sentences that start with the letter of your first name. eventually it turns into connect the dots with how much he does it. there was a time where he broke night and ended up sketching your name onto his forearm. unfortunately, you didn’t notice it till after he showered and it was almost gone :(

for masc readers, he takes your ties and wears them religiously. jayce even asked what brand it was once since viktor never took it off. (<- d1 gatekeeper) this also goes for your undershirts, you wonder why your scent is so strong in his lab.

for fem readers, he collects your hair ties like cards. usually one coordinated to his uniform. there’s always a decently used black one on his left hand, it looks familiar…he took it from your desk when you met

if you bite your nails/skin, viktor keep a wrap on his hands lightly with bandages incase your accidentally cut yourself. he would then tend to the cut as fast as possible, kissing your forehead everytime he’s finished.

definitely a pro a making you things as gifts. he usually makes you flowers out of scraps he’s done using. he once made a whole bouquet with crystals that glow! the next morning, actual flowers were placed on your bed.

100% practices witchcraft sometimes. and he owns tarot cards. that is all.

is good with food/spices and stuff. he would send you recipes for you to try along with helping you out in the kitchen <3

✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ • hi hello!! i hope you enjoyed these things i cooked up :)) more of my writing will be about things like this so if you liked this post feel free to check back for more of my stuff !! - drew •˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

{ by the way i am a new writer!! feel free to go to my asks and request anything <3 }

[quirekey]

Hi can I request for Orion Pax with femme s/o who acts like fluttershy from mlp

Hey, you're the B127 requester, welcome back! I love your silly concepts so i’m honoured to write for you again :3

[ ORION PAX ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ orion pax x cybertronian!femme!shy!reader ]

HEADCANONS

- The way you both met was when Orion was running away from trouble. You were just minding your business, resting against your stasis pod. Suddenly, Orion pushed you aside and hid behind you and your stasis pod. A high-guard confronted you and you were not made for this. The high-guard knew Orion was hiding behind you and Orion just ran off again with the High guard chasing from behind.

- Orion came up to you a while after the ‘incident’ happened, curious about you. He thought you looked way cleaner than the average miner, and he has never seen you before. Orion knew every-bot and every-bot knew him, but you. Orion liked this, it’s another chance to make a friend that won’t hate him for his troubles.

- At first, you were extremely quiet and timid. Orion was a ray of optimism and sunshine and his activity was a bit much for you. Orion caught onto your uncomfortable state pretty quickly and toned down his antics. Orion was way more patient and caring than others make it seem to be.

- Fast forward to you guys being together, you two were a pretty cute couple. Orion was a ray of sunshine who shined over the clouds while you were a bright star with potential who hid away from the others.

- Orion never would bring you into his troubles. He knew you didn’t do good when it came to authority and pressure. He only used you as a small excuse or a shield when it’s really needed. You do try to stop him from getting into so much trouble because it’s unnecessary, but it’s Orion so he doesn’t stop.

- You definitely call him pax just like D16. You saw D16’s habit with Orion, how he only called him Pax. You thought it was adorable so you slowly soaked into the nickname too.

- When Orion introduced you to D16, you both were really shy. D16 was an introverted fella and you were a shy one. You guys were actually pretty similar to a simple level. After some pushing and shoving by Orion, you both got along and actually had a proper conversation without Orion needing to fill in the silence.

- PDA ( publicly displayed affection ) is something you definitely and absolutely hate. You hated the thought of others seeing you and Orion show love to one another. You prefered to use love privately, like it’s a secret. When you two are far from other miners, Orion gives you a little nudge and you give him a nuzzle. Nobody but D16 knows about your little secret relationship, Orion enjoys the thrill of keeping such a big thing a secret.

- The dynamic with you both is a lot like an Extrovert x Introvert type of relation. Orion was always outgoing, loud and optimistic about his troubles, never taking anything seriously. You were afraid, considerate and preferred a quiet and mild environment. Though both of your flaws and traits were extremely opposing, you both stuck with magnets and it was very adorable!

I had many ideas but i am currently in a rush, if you wanna know the rest feel free to ask!

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x disabled!reader with chronic pain (not specified)

series masterlist - my masterlist

you should have known better than to go on the mission yesterday, but there’s nothing you hate more than feeling weak and patronised. charles had told you to sit it out if you were in pain, and you’d snapped back that you could handle missions just as well as any other x-man which, while true, doesn’t mean you should push yourself past your limits.

you can’t even get out of bed, every small movement making you whimper and groan as pain shoots through you, unforgiving. after so long dealing with chronic pain, you sometimes think you should be used to it, but no matter how many years go by and how many flares you experience, it never gets any easier.

logan’s upset with you, huffy and fussing, repeating over and over how you should have listened to charles, how the professor only wants what’s best for you, and telling you that it’s idiotic to let your pride take over. he’s being hypocritical, but you know it’s only because he hates to see you this way, hates to see you vulnerable, worries that one day something will happen and the x-mansion will be attacked and you’ll be in too much pain to effectively defend yourself.

so you let him take care of you, because you know it makes him feel better. it allows him a modicum of control over an uncontrollable situation. he, unlike you, has not yet given up on the idea of finding methods to lessen your chronic pain.

he helps you take your medication, brings you food and water, goes so far as to feed you so that you don’t even have to shift your body in case it’s too much. he waits by your side until the drugs kick in, refusing to leave until you tell him to go.

he asks jean to check in on you, asks if there’s anything she can do with all of her medical knowledge - the answer is no, there is no cure to a condition like yours, only techniques to lessen the pain temporarily. he searches for the few mutants in the mansion with healing abilities and practically begs them for help; it’s the only time he lets anyone see him vulnerable, because he hates to see you in pain and would do anything to bring your usual smile back to your face.

you groan in annoyance when he returns to your room with a slightly scared-looking teenager that you vaguely remember teaching last year, but she takes some of your pain away and so you thank the kid. she blushes and whispers “you’re welcome” before skittering out the room, and you’re now able to move enough to turn towards logan with your arms crossed over your chest, an unimpressed stare leveled at his face.

“she asked to help!” he protests, “he overheard me talking to jean about your pain and she offered. i didn’t force her to do anything.”

you sigh. chronic pain can’t be healed even with mutant abilities, you’ve tried it all before. it can take away the worst of it in the same way that some medication can, help with the inflammation that comes with a flare up, bring it down to manageable levels. but you’ll never be free of this burden.

“come here,” you say, and he does, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to give you anything and everything you desire. it’s ridiculous and you laugh, the first real smile you’ve shown all day, now that every breath no longer feels like a battle not to cry out in pain.

you stay in bed the rest of the day. it’s better to take it easy for a while than to risk anything. and logan stays with you, massaging at your muscles until they relax under his strong grip, leaving only to bring you more meals and your medication. he kisses you every time you complain that he surely has better things to be doing, covering your mouth with his large palm as he reminds you that you’re the most important thing to him now.

main taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I wish you would write a fic where Xaden accidently confesses his love to Violet in a casual conversation

Sure, anon! Have a 1k fic!

(some housekeeping: I don't know what "casual conversation" means, and I wrote this on my phone at midnight, so any typos...you don't see them. Set during the latter half of Fourth Wing, post sex scene #1. I don't actually know what else you're supposed to put with fics on tumblr, but!! here she is! Full fic below the cut)

When Xaden Riorson knocks on your door and tells you he’s taking somewhere, you listen. 

At least, Violet listens. She looks at it like doing a favor to the wing: no one likes a grumpy wingleader, and by hanging out with him while he gets tipsy in Chantarra, she’s avoiding just that perilous situation. 

He’s definitely not grumpy now. Not as he sits, whiskey in hand, eyes on Violet’s throwing stance. Not earlier, either, as he’d covered her in his cloak and coaxed her down Basgiath’s halls. It wasn’t even a Chantarra weekend for the upperclassmen who were allowed to go. Violet had zero reason to be here, in this Chantarra pub with Xaden Riorson. Xaden had his own reasons, but he was keeping them close to his chest, like everything else. 

She cocks her hand back, then throws the dart at the board. A perfect bullseye, nestled between her four other throws. 

She appraises her own work with a smile, though she takes care to keep it slight. She doesn’t need to get braggy now. Still, her cheeks are already pink, and they only grow more so when she hears slow clapping coming from Xaden’s seat at the closest table. 

“Excellent work, Violence,” he tells her, somehow sounding smug on her behalf. Under his breath, he continues, “Excellent.” 

He swirls his whiskey. The amber catches the low pub light. Violet’s eyes track his hands as they stretch around the glass, the veins shifting while he raises it to his lips, the bobbing of his throat that signifies his swallow. 

His glass clanks against the table. It’s rickety and sticky and she can’t believe he’s sitting there. The cheap wood doesn’t look right with him beside it. 

“Go on,” he says. “Give me another show.” 

She scoffs, but even as she does so, her feet march towards the board. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she insists, plucking her darts free. “It’s now a show for you.” 

She spins on her heel and backs up from the board once more. Doing so means she catches a glimpse of Xaden’s face, the upturn of his lips. 

“Can’t I enjoy myself?” 

His voice is rich. He doesn’t slur his words, but something in their quality makes it clear to Violet that the alcohol is making him be more honest, even if only slightly. 

She averts her eyes to the board. Heart racing, she throws her first dart. Just shy of a bullseye. 

“This can’t be your idea of an enjoyable night, Riorson.” 

He shuffles in his seat. She shouldn’t look at him—she should keep her eyes glued to the board. She should perfectly plot her next throw. 

She finds him staring at her, brows raised. He’d been awaiting her attention. 

“Can’t I?” 

She scoffs, refocusing on the board. Her next throw is better, but she’s still setting herself up to encircle the bullseye instead of truly hitting it. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Another throw, this one closer. “I just didn’t think you’d like to sit around and watch me play darts.”

Her next throw is her best. With every second, she gets better. Closer. Her heart has not calmed even a fraction.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He drums his fingers on the table Slowly, her eyes seek out the source of the sound, but Xaden makes a tsk-sound. “Finish your game, Violence. Let me see what you can do.” 

Her cheeks feel flushed beyond pink, and she hadn’t even had a sip to drink tonight. Xaden had offered—egregiously and at length—but she didn’t have a cent to her name, and she didn’t want to give the barkeep a good look at her hair. 

She throws her final two darts without further commentary. Finally, she gets her bullseye. 

She expects to hear Xaden’s voice. If not his voice, his applause, his raucous, ridiculous encouragement. But he’s silent, and because of that silence, she’s forced to look at him. 

He’s grinning, grinning at her. 

Her heart begins to seize in her chest. She feels it thrashing against her breast bone—it’s the only part of her that moves, that reacts in any discernible way. The rest of her is frozen.

Has she ever seen him grin? 

And suddenly, to top it all off, a chuckle slips through his lips. Her jaw drops, and he shakes his head, just as baffled as she is, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop laughing, and he doesn’t stop grinning. 

“What?” she demands “What is it?” 

“Nothing, Violence,” he insists, but she can hear the laughter in his voice, and the evidence is irrefutable. It can’t have been nothing. Not even close. “Go again. Let me watch.” 

She doesn’t go again. She approaches him, head held high, and orders him, “Tell me now.” 

His lips twist, but they stay upturned. She wants to glue her eyes to them, if not her own lips. She still remembers the searing burn of his kiss, how delicious that heat had been 

“I don’t think so, Violence.” He looks around at the pub behind her, the few patrons that line the stools. “Not really the time.” 

Fine, Violet thinks. She’ll make it the right time. 

She pulls out one of her knives from the sheaths at her ribs. A knife Xaden got her. Poetic justice, really. 

She slams it into the table, in the sliver of space between Xaden’s thumb and pointer finger. The blade sinks into the wood, splitting it. 

“You’ll tell me now.” 

Xaden only grins wider. His face practically glows with it, this foreign happiness. 

“You’re going to threaten me into telling you that I lo-”

His unfinished word hangs between them. Violet waits for those final two letters to come. She wants them out in the open so she can snatch at them, swallow them. 

He doesn’t give them to her. He stares at her face, lips parted. Xaden Riorson, who never makes a mistake. 

Of course, if he thinks that was a mistake, he’s completely and utterly wrong. 

Violet pounces on him. She bolsters herself with her dagger, but she doesn’t have to support herself for long. Her lips find Xaden’s and his arms find her waist, slotting her into the space between his legs. They kiss and kiss and kiss. She tastes his whiskey. He must taste her victory. 

When they part, it is only so that Violet can pant, “I am going to threaten you, actually.”  

She feels his laughter against her lips.

[biancadoes1]

I feel like some in the fandom might benefit from my shipping philosophy.

Are you feeling stressed out over any little bits we get from the mains or secondary characters that you can't neatly fit into your desired shipping outcome?

If so, I invite you to have a seat, so to speak, and read what I have to write.

Have you heard of schrodinger's cat? In layperson's terms: if something is unknown and cannot be analyzed, then all possibilities exist at the same time, until it is observed. Feel free to look it up if you want to go deeper, it's just a metaphor here though.

Stick with me, I know we already got weird.

The way I apply this to shipping is simply: we don't actually know anything in regard to the question of current romance between Nicola & Luke. That is the prime thing I always cling to.

Any picture, any quote, any rumor, any think piece (yup, including mine)... is not actually an observation of what we are shipping. It's just us knocking on the box that the answer (are N & L together or not?) is in.

And in this case, it's like we are mapping out the shape, size, color, weight, smell, even taste of the box. We are essentially kids trying to figure out our mystery gift under an xmas tree.

But... we will not know for certain unless Nicola & Luke open the box. Until that moment, everything is supposition and theory.

It does no one any good to be upset over unproven theories. Why make yourself ill over one photo that shows one second out of a whole year or more? Why are you letting someone else tell you what you "must accept" when it's still just a theory? Why let uncertain things affect you negatively?

If you allow yourself to accept that we don't actually know anything, that nothing we see is actual proof of what is in that box, then you will see that each new tidbit is just another way to figure out what the box is like.

That doesn't mean you have to say every single idea is equally likely though. You can still think some things are more likely than others. You can use logic and research to decide how likely or unlikely you feel something is. When you start to do this, and limit the direct influences of other people's opinions before formulating your own, you will feel less like a yoyo being yanked around.

It's a very even keeled experience, tbh. Join me?

This is advice some of you should really take.

[enlynstory]

⟢ No One Noticed

Shipping: non-idol Yang Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Yang Jungwon, a hopeful and kind young man, unexpectedly becomes the love interest of a girl who’s been struggling with rejecting people.

Warnings: self isolation, fear, betrayal, ex friendships. lmk if there are any more please and thank you :)

Wc: 605

It wasn’t unlike her to shut people out; in fact, it was something she did effortlessly. She wasn’t a people person. The mere idea of showing even a hint of care for someone especially when she felt no tendency to irritated her to her core.

She lived by a motto: "Better alone than surrounded by false connections." It was a belief forged from a painful past, one that had shaped her reluctance to let anyone in.

That was until she met him.

She met someone who shared kindness and cooperation, someone who didn’t care if she tried to push him away, someone who was willing to fight for her. She met Yang Jungwon.

The two had met in a college class. They were paired together for a three-week business project, and it wasn’t like she could turn him down—it was the final project, so she had no choice but to work with him.

He had noticed her before, in class. He always thought she was pretty and seemed kind, but he never had the chance to talk to her.

When the partners were announced by the professor, he waited, hoping her name would be called.

“Yang Jungwon and… Y/N.”

It was a relief to him when it was her, but what he hadn’t expected was that she barely spoke and seemed reserved when he approached her for the first time.

He noticed how she didn’t even look at him. She was silently staring down at the notebook on her desk.

“Y/N, right?”

At the time, he frowned, finding himself thinking about that encounter more than once. It didn’t take long for him to realize she didn’t like people.

One afternoon, the two of them sat in a coffee shop when a family with two loud kids walked in.

“I hate people,” she said.

He laughed at how bluntly she said it, and for once, he saw her smile.

He began to notice how she looked whenever someone tried to talk to her after class—how she seemed to disregard their presence. He saw the fear in her eyes when someone even walked by.

“I don’t like to intrude on people’s lives, but… why are you so afraid of getting to know someone?”

She was taken aback by his question. It was just another project session, the usual Mondays they spent together.

“My past,” she said.

It wasn’t like him to pry, but this time he did. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“My best friend betrayed me after she grew tired of supporting me. She shared my personal struggles with others for attention.” She sighed loudly. “It hurt more than any other pain I had felt before, so I decided to shut everyone out.”

If he had noticed that last project session would be their final one, he would have seen the sadness in her eyes.

She had grown accustomed to him, and it made her feel strange. The simple thought of being around him seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders. But in the end, she knew she had to let him go for her own sake.

The day after they submitted their project, she saw him walk into class. She immediately looked away, knowing their time together was over.

Of course, Jungwon noticed. He always did.

He saw how she immediately looked down at her notebook when he walked up to her.

“You’re not trying to get rid of me now, are you?” he asked with a grin.

It was just like Yang Jungwon to notice, because unlike everyone else, he didn’t want to be the one she pushed away.

[AN]

This is my first story, yayyyy!!!! I’m not sure…how but this was a quick thirty minute write, so if you find any errors please feel free to correct them!! All the help is greatly appreciated!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

Thank you for reading💖

[pretzel-box]

—[Main Information Post] MAIN BLOG: @misanthropy-official

🌟 A Second Chance Awaits You 🌟

Are you or a loved one battling a terminal illness? The Biosphere Foundation proudly presents the Rehabilitation Project—a groundbreaking initiative offering hope, healing, and a brighter future.

With cutting-edge treatments derived from our Antarctic research, we’re on the brink of curing diseases once thought untreatable. Join countless others who have already experienced remarkable recoveries and rediscovered the joys of life.

💙 State-of-the-Art Care

💙 Compassionate Experts

💙 A Path to a Healthier Tomorrow

Take the first step toward recovery today. Contact us at 1-800-REHAB-NOW or visit our website!

🌍 Biosphere Foundation – Innovating for Humanity’s Future 🌍

Welcome to MISANTHROPY

MISANTHROPHY is a project made by a group of people, including me. It features a deep world building around the biosphere's sister location and its twisted secrets.

This project includes lores on the different places, entities, npcs and even a potential future gameplay since we aim to release it as a game someday!

We will soon feature our own wiki page and an official discord!

If you are interested, feel free to give me a follow and write a comment. I'll update regularly about this project.

What exactly does our project feature?

Entities.

Entities in this project are creatures split in three classes.

The lowest order [Freshly infected.]

The middle order [Developing.]

The highest order [Next evolution tier.]

All entities have unique features and designs that are heavily leaned on angels and humanoid monsters together with a sprinkle of good body horror.

The picture features end state lowest class entities.

Lore.

We have deep lore, especially on the sister location. The place splits in 4 main parts.

The main area

The human worker class

The main task force

The research department

Each place has it's own troubles and secrets. Maybe it is time to explore them all.

Goetia.

A handy-dandy acquaintance that pops up from time to time to trade valuable items for less valuable trash. Goetia is an unique person that will be your closest partner, even with his rather silent and distant personality.

Those are some of the first sketches we have of him. He already has his own fanfiction too.

This is a project made by several people stated above. Please support the rest of the group as well.

@pompohills

@ghost-skull-trash

@splatting-stampede

The art above is made by our dear pom, we also feature more art by the others as well on our discord server that will be public soon!

SHORT LORE DOWN BELOW.

A group of young but determined researchers traveled to Antarctica with high hopes. Their mission was to study how global warming was affecting the icy regions of the Earth. Their goal was ambitious: to find ways to stop the ice from melting and save the planet from a worsening climate crisis.

For 27 days, the team worked hard. They drilled into the ice, studied the atmosphere, and collected data. But on the 28th day, something incredible happened. While digging into an ancient layer of ice, they found a large, frozen object that looked like a distorted, otherworldly wing. It shimmered faintly, almost as if it were alive. The strange discovery filled the researchers with both amazement and unease.

Word of their find spread quickly. It wasn’t long before the secretive Biosphere Foundation heard about it. Known for its advanced biological research and bold ideas about making humans adapt to extreme environments, the foundation immediately took action. A team from Biosphere arrived, took over the site, and forced the original researchers to leave. The group’s equipment and data were confiscated, leaving them powerless to stop what came next.

Biosphere wasted no time building a new research facility near the dig site. This sister branch was designed to study the frozen entity, which they named “Project Zero.” Months of study revealed shocking results. Project Zero wasn’t just a frozen creature—it was something that resembled the descriptions of biblical angels. It had layers of wings, glowing parts, and strange features like eyes embedded in its form. Despite being frozen, it seemed almost alive.

To Biosphere, this discovery was a miracle. They believed it could help humanity evolve, not just adapt to nature but rise to the level of this seemingly divine being. This became their ultimate goal: to recreate the power of Project Zero within humans.

However, this ambition came with terrifying consequences. Workers who had direct contact with Project Zero began to change. At first, they developed heightened senses and faintly glowing veins. But the changes soon turned horrifying. Some grew translucent wings, skinning , or extra eyes that stared blankly from their bodies. The mutations were uncontrollable and grotesque.

The problem spread quickly. What began as a few isolated cases soon affected entire sections of the facility. Workers were quarantined, but the contamination kept spreading. Communication with the outside world was cut off, and fear began to take over. Some whispered that this was punishment for meddling with something divine.

The leaders of Biosphere, however, saw the chaos as an opportunity. They believed the mutations were proof that humans could become more than they were. They saw their workers as stepping stones to their ultimate goal. Ethics no longer mattered. Rules were ignored. Workers were treated as experiments, pushed through cruel tests to force their transformations.

But they needed more test subjects to continue. When their own staff became too few, the leaders came up with a plan: The Rehabilitation Project.

[kiyo-cant-write]

ciel & sebastian w/ servant!reader around ciel's age ✧･ﾟ

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Hello! My writing blog was always meant to be multifandom, but recently I have had many twst requests. To keep up with my personal interests, here is a Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler post about my childhood bias/crush (when I was 11-12): Ciel Phantomhive.

While this post is tagged Sebastian x Reader, their relationship is platonic in this particular work because of the reader's design.

Please note that while requests are open, they will not be posted until after the 27th of December or more accurately into the new year (January 2025). Feel free to request anything within the parameters of my rules, but keep this scheduling fact in mind! Thank you!

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Summary: [Name] is a recent addition to the Phantomhive Staff, gathered by Sebastian and Ciel. They are around Ciel's age and this leads to some... shenanigans.

TW/CW: canon-typical darkness, manga compliant

Notes: pre-relationship (Ciel), explicitly platonic (Sebastian), the reader is human, the reader is 12-13 years old, they/them pronouns for the reader, take place explicitly pre-Campania

Guest Stars: Phantomhive Staff, Elizabeth Midford (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Ciel Phantomhive

Ciel is initially indifferent to [Name] similar to his feelings toward his other servants about half of the time (even Sebastian).

He doesn't see himself as a child so does it matter?

He honestly tries to avoid [Name] at first because he wants to be seen as an equal to the adults. Baldo commenting to "play" with his "friend" really doesn't help the early stages of the relationship.

Being persistent but not forceful will work well.

[Name] needs to prove their worth and use in the household.

[Name] will quickly prove themselves with "clean-up."

They will kill in the name of Earl Phantomhive.

Ciel notices their willingness to serve.

He admires their dedication to protecting him/the estate.

He is impressed if they do not hesitate to strike.

The more he realizes their use and loyalty, the more likely he is to speak to them or even allow [Name] to speak freely with him.

He doesn't like when Sebastian teases him for it, though.

Sebastian might be the biggest obstacle.

If Ciel feels that [Name] is being overbearing, they get sent to spend time with Finny (16) who is also relatively close in age to them. Though Finny is similar to a child brother at times.

Once they are closer, Ciel may become a bit irritable if [Name] gives Finny too much attention or coddling.

"He needs to act his own age."

Ciel cannot do anything about any possible feelings.

[Name] hesitates to do anything either.

They both understand the betrothal between Elizabeth and Ciel.

Finny had given them a suggestion that they weren't sure what to do with. Was it a good idea? No. Was it a curious one? Yes, indeed. They wanted to know what the master's response would be, but they feared it would only be anger for their disrespect. Still... tempting.

[Name] considered their options as they helped Finny in the garden.

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" they asked him.

Finny nodded as he attempted to gently weed the garden. The last time Finny did this he ripped out some important plants and Sebastian had been ready to skin him. Since that happened, and after the events of last night's clean-up, maintenance was needed and Sebastian chose [Name] as "Finny Watch."

[Name] accepted it as it was.

"I think it would do the young master some good to have a friend his age who calls him by name! He doesn't have any friends..."

Finny seemed sad about it. [Name] wondered why Finny did not try to be a "friend" to their master, but Finny seemed to sense their curiosity. He shook his head.

"It can't be me, I'm older than the young master for one," he explained, "And the young master doesn't think of me like that."

"And he thinks of me as a friend?" [Name] chose to ask.

Finny nodded.

"I can tell he thinks differently of you!"

The gardener beamed at them and they didn't want to crush whatever whimsy and joy this was giving him. They sighed and gave in, knowing they wouldn't hear the end of it otherwise, especially after Finny told Baldo and Mey-Rin about it.

"I'll try and see," they agreed.

[SEVERAL HOURS LATER]

At the end of the day, Sebastian asked [Name] to report to the young master directly about their supervision of Finny and the state of the estate's gardens. [Name] walked into the room and bowed to their lord, nodding to Sebastian a moment after.

"Good evening," they spoke, not making eye contact with either.

"Good evening, [Name]," Ciel greeted, taking a sip of his tea as he watched them, "I trust you kept Finny under control?"

[Name] nodded.

"Yes, he took care of replanting and weeding. There were no, ah, plant deaths," they explained in as succinct a way as they could, "We talked as we worked and completed everything Sebastian told us to."

They had to ignore the soft stifled laugh that came from Sebastian when they fumbled for a phrase and chose "plant deaths."

"I see, very good then."

He seemed pleased. The master was in a good mood? Hm. This might be their chance so they took it without hesitation.

"Master, if I may speak freely for a moment?" they asked him

Ciel raised an eyebrow but he nodded slowly after a moment of contemplation.

"You may but whatever about?"

[Name] felt bad for confusing him but it was somewhat refreshing to hear the master speak without that underlying darkness in his tone.

"Finny suggested something to me. I would like to try something," [Name] explained, hoping this wouldn't ruin whatever relationship they did have with the master.

"Something. Very specific," was Ciel's comment, "Go ahead."

Ciel seemed certain [Name] wouldn't hurt him and even if they tried, Sebastian would handle them swiftly like he always did.

"Ah, thank you for your permission... Ciel."

There was a silence that fell over the room as neither child spoke. Ciel was frozen in place, Sebastian seemed to be holding back another laugh, and [Name] was unsure if Finny's theory was true.

A faint hue of pink dusted Ciel's cheeks as he averted his gaze.

"Was," he began, "Was that all you wanted?"

"Yes," [Name] admitted, "I'm sorry, sir."

Ciel was silent once again and [Name] worried they really had crossed a line, but then he spoke again, softer this time.

"It isn't as though I care what you call me when there aren't guests around," he said, waving the hand that wore his family's crest, "Do as you like with the estate's image in mind... I suppose."

[Name] couldn't disguise the smile that took over their features.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Sebastian Michaelis

To be quite frank, Sebastian thinks children are brats.

He didn't want another child around but it cannot be helped because [Name] is useful for the estate's security.

Despite not liking them at first, Sebastian is always "nice."

He is never without a polite smile, it's a bit unnerving.

As [Name]'s work proves proficient, he eases up.

They make fewer mistakes than the others.

Because of this, they are not so annoying to him.

"Child, you would do best not to hinder my work. But if you would like to lend me your help, you may."

He refers to [Name] more often as "child" or "littlest one."

He means they are the youngest of the servants.

He often lets [Name] off easy with punishment, similar to how he never scolds Tanaka the way he does with Baldo, Mey-Rin, Snake, and Finny.

Sebastian likes to make fun of [Name] and Ciel's similar ages.

He allows [Name] to sit in for Ciel's lessons at times.

In the end, Sebastian might be fond of the human.

Still, he won't say that kind of thing. What use would kind words be from someone like him? He doesn't much care for anyone.

He is bound to his master until the end of their contract.

That is all. Right?

"What in the world are you doing?" Sebastian asked as he came up to them, essentially appearing from thin air.

The young servant jumped at the sudden voice in the silence of the cellar and whipped around to face him, dropping their cleaning rag on the floor in the motion. Noting it was Sebastian, they let out a relieved sigh and bent down to pick up the rag.

"Sebastian! You startled me!" they told him, brows furrowed, "Why do you like to sneak up on me like that?"

Sebastian chuckled softly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I don't mean to. Perhaps you are just easily scared, child?"

"I don't think so," they said softly before they moved to continue their task, "And, I'm not done with this task yet. Did you have something else for me to do?"

They couldn't believe they had more work to do now. That was always why Sebastian came to see them, to give them a task someone else had botched or enlist their help with something else entirely.

"I did," the butler told them, "I seem to require your help with a lesson for the young master."

[Name] paused.

"A lesson?" they asked him, giving a skeptical look though they tried their best to mask it, "Would I be expected to come with you now?"

They were unsure if he was telling the truth. Sebastian enjoyed messing with them, just a little. But it was enough to make [Name] wonder every time the butler told them much of anything. They wanted to go to the lesson, though. Learning was... fun.

Sebastian noticed the look, being a demon and all, but said nothing about it. Instead, he simply nodded and smiled at them as he always did to the guests the manor received.

"Indeed. I would need you to accompany me to the study."

They weighed their options. Sebastian was probably not lying.

"Alright," they agreed a moment later, "Do I need to finish this task first? You did give me a list of things to make certain of here."

Sebastian shook his head.

"No, that won't be necessary. I will take care of it."

They almost bowed to him but caught themself. It was hard to treat Sebastian as a butler when he held himself with as much pride as any man would. Still, the one time they had spoken too highly of him, the young master had gotten upset with them (and Sebastian too).

It had been an... ordeal.

"I see. Thank you, then," they told him curtly though they couldn't help but smile.

A lesson! How fun! They wanted to cheer but didn't.

Even if they were only cleaning the room to spectate, it was a chance to learn things. They would learn something and earl was learning! It seemed like a fairly good deal in [Name]'s opinion.

Too focused on rushing to put away their supplies and head toward Ciel's study, they did not see a softer expression adorn the butler's face as he watched them move past him.

Perhaps they would never know his true affection for his littlest one.

.

.

Imagine the rest yourself~

.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a kuro-only blog! ^^

[blackbackedjackal]

Soul Eater has always been a bizarre case. on one end of the spectrum there's characters like Kilik Rung, Mira Nygus, and even major manga antagonist Noah. on the other end there's the infamous bg jazz band that are straight up minstrels (they look identical in the manga. this was not studio bones' artistic liberty) and the death scythe repping Africa named Dengu Dinga who wears a mashup of "african flavoured" clothing. and then there's Sid, obviously i can't pass judgement on what's good or bad design rep but there certainly was a scene where Maka literally calls him a "mean blue gorilla"..

sorry for rambling, but Ohkubo absolutely takes inspiration from graffiti art and hip hop aesthetics in his work which makes the antiblackness even more disrespectful

Feel free to ignore that ask if the topic is bogging you down btw, I didn't see your last post if you're done engaging with the topic for now feel free to delete it. Looking forward to what you do with strawberry moon <3

Oh dude you're good. I just needed a nap before I answered more lol. I'll try and answer as many of these as I can because I'm honestly enjoying the discussion even though I have to step away from it for a bit. It's triggering to me but not in a way that I can't talk about it, just bogs down my mind ya know?

Anyway, I've never watched Soul Eater so I had no idea of the Black characters in the show! I had to look them up and I see what you're saying. Mira is a stereotype because I'd consider her a sexualized Black woman in this context. Kilik is like 100% fine to me at a glance, like he just looks like a Black guy though there may be some writing I'm missing that still makes him a stereotype.

I had no idea that he was influenced by graffiti art but I TOTALLY see it now in his shape language. Sid is by far the worst since he still has the big white teeth and a more 'gangster' aesthetic. Especially considering the time period Soul Eater was released, it's in poor taste at best and still perpetuating Black stereotypes at worse.

Anime is it's own sub-genre of racism in animation. White people LOOOOOVE to say "oh it's a different culture and they don't know" LMAO YES THEY DO DON'T PLAY stop infantilizing Asians you fucking sickos.

Colorism alone is such an issue in Asian countries. I've lived with people from China, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and the Philippines. I've heard first hand accounts of people from the Philippines being treated like lesser human beings just for having a slightly darker skin-tone and don't get me started on how Chinese imperialism has impacted Taiwanese people. I'm not going to speak for disenfranchised Asian people but it's easy to find if you look it up. But my point is if colorism is that prevalent, imagine how much worse it is when your entire culture has a history of being exploited to the point that blackface is a worldwide issue.

Also the Boondocks exists and though not a perfect example, it still has some of the best depictions of Black people in an anime style. There's no excuse to draw racist stereotypes when there's literally 5 seasons worth of overall solid Black character designs that can be referenced for other series.

[kindaasrikal]

The ninja only ever wear their gi unless necessary. Such as a super fancy event (dancing with your husband in a dance lesson), its their work uniform, or for undercover work.

So thats why I like to think they just don’t prefer modern clothing anymore, which then led me to think how they would react to wearing more ‘impractical’ clothing.

Kai wearing heels is something we all think he would be good at, but thats only after MONTHS of practice, and only because it was to better his balance. The second he has them on he’s trying to rip them off because feet are not supposed to bend like that. Bros stumbling, bumbling, and tumbling for weeks trying to figure how the work. And they ain’t normal heels either. They’re those tall thin ones, so maybe possibly he broke his ankle ten times. The problem was how he tried to act like he had it everything under control. As if he doesn’t need help picking up something heavy on the ground, or like he doesn’t need the walking stick Nya lovingly bought him. He did like showing them off though.

In some cultures, dresses can be incredibly heavy with the amount of fabric, jewels, diamonds whatever on them. When Nya has to go undercover at a wedding to protect the guy getting married, she had no idea a dress could weigh so much. That, plus the heels and jewellery, made it sooo much worse. She tripped multiple times, didn’t even attempt trying to use the stairs, and just sat in a chair in a corner near the guy she’s supposed to be protecting trying to resist the urge to itch her back.

Cole isn’t a small guy, but he isn’t super big in some areas either, so buying clothes in general that aren’t his gi is an impossible task unless he’s allowed to go tits out. Give him pants? It’s over the second he bends down. A small shirt? Just go shirtless at this point. A big shirt? Where are his arms. He even has massive feet, so its makes shoe shopping horrible for him because toes shouldn’t squish like what.

Zane…doesn’t like shirts. He’s fine with his gi tops because they’re easy to put on and off, they’re breathable, and they’re stylish. Give him any modern stay shirt that isn’t for some sort of uniform and he’s ripping it off and hissing in a fridge. However, Zane also dislikes purses. Any other bags are fine, but purses are just so annoying to him because either they’re too small or too big and in the way. The small straps also keeps getting into the little gaps on his body and its annoying.

Jay hates long socks and gloves. Long socks are such a pain to handle, he once had to stop a mission five times in the winter to pull them back up because God it doesn’t feel nice having them bunched up like that. He also hates gloves because electricity comes out of his damn hands, it causes this irritating sensation on his hands that gets worse until it almost hurts, so he takes them off and flings them at Lloyd’s face because he likes having free hands thank you.

Lloyd had a completely opposite problem to the ninja at first. He wouldn’t wear anything put his hoodies when he first became a ninja until he had to when he aged up. Ain’t no way did they have the money to buy Lloyd new clothes in the middle of a crisis. Then, later on, he would be very comfortable wearing any clothes as long as it’s considered some sort of uniform. Outside of that though, he hates anything with buttons on them. They’re so annoying to button up and then try unbutton and he has delicate hands okay, he doesn’t wanna mess them up more than they already are. He also has a hate love relationship with zippers because they’re fun to use but he may or may not haven’t accidentally broken the zip every time.

Is this me writing all this because i wore tall heels for the first time today? Yes it is.

[loolilyumm]

I CARE SO MUCH ABOUT YOUR CAP 3 PLEASE MORE IF YOU WOULDNT MIND???

JUMPING UP AND DOWN IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED I WILL SO HAPPILY YAP ABOUT HIM

THIS IS AGENT THREE! Most of the people in the NSS call him “Three” or “Captain,” but his real name is Reese.

(SIDE NOTE- I really have to do proper character sheets for them. Please stay tuned for that!!)

He was 15 when he was hired by Cuttlefish and 17 during the events of octo expansion. Now he is a mature 20 year old inkling. So so mature.

He mains the E-liter and typically uses chargers or shooters.

Despite his “cool guy” persona, agent 8 brings out a different side of him… the loser baby side…!!! In Splatoon 2 When the two of them fell underground, Reese was actually the one to find 8, and he had to rescue her from sanitization chambers (you know, the octoling selection screen at the beginning of octo expansion?) but couldn’t save her in time to restore her memory. But she was (relatively) okay! And since then he’s been really protective of her. 8 was registered as a test subject and Reese had to stay behind and watch as she went through rigorous testing.

At that point Reese was really descending into a dark place after realizing that he wasn’t really the big hero he thought that he was. But 8 helped him through it and they formed a really close bond deep in the underground. (Cuttlefish was also there third wheeling. LOL) Reese started to feel flustered and shy around her. He’d never felt that way before, and definitely didn’t expect it. And it CONFUSED HIM!! He was like wtf? Why is this happening to meeee waahwaahhhhh ueueueuee

And then y’know……the rest is history! The blender incident happened and it was the scariest moment of his life. Reese was about to lose the only two people he had ever cared about. He has a tendency to throw himself recklessly into dangerous situations, so he just THREW himself at the blender and well. It worked! In my version, he never got knocked out, and he travelled upwards with 8 and cuttlefish until about the 4th phase. Then he and cuttlefish got separated from 8 and attacked by Tartar - that’s how he was brainwashed.

The battle between agent 3 and agent 8 was BRUTAL. Reese harbors extreme amounts of guilt for what went down - he blames himself a lot and thinks he should have been stronger. 8 got really hurt but she managed to save him and THEN save the whole world. #girlboss! Period.

The two of them are working through the events of octo expansion together! If you want me to yap about 8 too I will gladly do that. (Also maybe I should write a fanfic about it. I am cringe but I am free.)

Cut to 3 years into the future - During splatoon 3, Reese becomes captain of the NSS. He doesn’t think he deserves the title but is honored to accept it.

The new agent 3 that they recruited reminds Reese a lot of himself. Her name is Margot. She’s the quiet kid that he used to be. He sort of takes her under his wing and teaches her how to defend herself and her comrades. She is like a younger sister to him. They bicker and bond just like siblings. I LOVE THEM.

I actually haven’t really thought through what happens during the events of splatoon 3. I’m running with the idea that agent 4 and agent 8 go missing during the events of side order. (I know it’s all virtual but like I might add other things to it IDK IDK) I don’t really know yet. But Reese is a good captain and he can find them ☺️☺️

BUT YEA. AFTER ALL THT IS SAID AND DONE - they’re the NSS! And they are all besties.

Thank u for coming to my ted talk.

[fanficbrewery]

How veil guard characters react to you sleeping on Assan headcanons

i've had this idea in my head for awhile now so i decided to go ahead and do it instead of waiting for requests lol

the intro takes place after the siege of weisshaupt where yall haven't confessed yet but the tension is there its kinda long you don't have to read all of it but i was excided to write it.

GN reader

Intro:

your head aches with an unbearable pain that comes and goes, maybe you were hit in the head by one to many darkspawn but you shouldn't be surprised, weisshaupt was hard one everyone not just for you. ....Weisshaupt... the screams of all the wardens dying replays in your head. Those people signed up to fight the blight and dark spawn not a god let alone 2.

Seeing Davrins defeated face at every new warden body you stumbled across makes you feel guilty. guilty for disturbing Solas's ritual and causing the gods to break free. Guilty for Davrin and Lucanis going at each others throats for messing up. You should have payed more attention to your team, made sure they were ready for this fight. But both Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain walked away alive. You replay the entire battle in your head over and over again trying to figure out what you did wrong with little success.

The blinding pain in your skull returns once more, You roll to your other side in your bed hoping to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The pain shoots from one side to the other making you sigh. "Well this isn't working" you say, getting up from your bed with difficulty. you stumble into the hallway to the railing of the second floor of the lighthouse. Quiet.. everyones asleep.

you push open the doors to the light house and step into the light of the fade. Right.. time doesn't move here.. its always light outside, your never gonna get used to that. As you suspected no ones awake its quiet almost to quiet. your starting to wonder why you came out side before

*squawk* you look around and see the young griffon standing a little away from you, right outside Davrins room as always. The little griffon tilts his head at you like asking what your doing up. "Hey Assan" you walk over to him, sticking out your hand to pet him, scratching behind his ear just how he likes. You realize just how soft his feathers are, your starting to get sleepy just petting him.

before you can get up to try to go to sleep again Assan gently bites on of your fingers before laying down almost trying to get you lay down with him. Does he know your having difficulty sleeping? is he smart enough to realize that?. He looks at you with these puppy eyes purring and gently gnawing on your finger. Aw what the hell he might just help you sleep. laying down on the hard ground and using Assan as a pillow is the last thing you remember before slipping into sleep

Bellara

Working on the Nadas Dirthalen was tiring. she had been working for HOURS trying to ask the right question and getting the spirit to cooperate with her but she's had no luck

maybe getting something to eat will help? yeah getting a snack sounds good. and then maybe a nap.

she leaves her room, walking to the kitchen when..

was rook curled up with Assan? or was she seeing something else in her peripheral?.

Turning around to see you sleeping with Assan is the cutest thing she's seen in awhile

after Weisshaupt she was honestly worried about you. She thought you might be taking what happened hard and blaming yourself for Ghilan'nain getting away but if it wasnt for you, you guys wouldn't have even killed her archdemon

she's happy your getting rest you deserved. you've helped her and the team so much she knows you deserve the rest and she doesnt dare trying to wake you up

she quickly goes to her room and grabs a blanket she wasn't using and carefully drapes it over your sleeping body, giving Assan a pet while he's asleep to

she gush's about how cute you are once more before you going back to her room to sleep herself, forgetting all about her snack

Davrin

when he wakes up the first thing he noticed was that Assan wasn't at the foot of his bed like usual. Where has his feathery companion gone?

getting up and seeing his door open was the first sign of trouble, when the hell did Assan learn to open doors??

he gets outside and immediately starts scanning for Assan

when he finds him he definitely didn't expect to see you as well

he comes over to inspect what's going on he finds you fast asleep face first in Assans feathers

he'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat or two

Davrin likes you, he hasn't tried to be subtle about it either. One of the things that draws him to you is how good you are with Assan even if he thinks you spoil him to much

seeing you like this with Assan might just solidify that fact for him

he decides he cant just leave you sleeping on the ground like this. Assan might be comfy but the ground beneath you sure isn't

he picks up your sleeping form despite Assans complaining squawk and takes you up to his room, Assan following close behind.

he lays you down on his bed. Assan jumps up and lays down right by your feet. "cute" Davrin thinks to himself

you didn't even stir when he picked you up, you must have been really tired

....maybe its because of weisshaupt or what happened after it.

he should go apologize to Lucanis, take something off your plate. he stands up walking to the kitchen leaving you to rest.

emmrich

he had been up late looking for any information he could find about the hand of glory you all had recovered from the Necropolis

it was old magic now a days forbidden from being preformed so his knowledge on it was limited

he had sent Manfred to recover a book he lent to Bellara awhile ago now. What is taking him so long?. Did he get lost around the light house perhaps?

he walked outside the light house to see Manfred hovering over something. His skeletal form blocking Emmrich's view but he could see somebody laying on the ground

was somebody hurt?!. he ran over to assist but it was just you sleeping on Assan

while he was happy you weren't hurt he thought that surely there were more comfortable places to sleep then on a messy griffon

*hiss* Manfred let out a concerned hiss while pointing at your sleeping forms

"yes i see them Manfred, what shall i do? i don't think sleeping on Assan is very sanitary but i don't wish to disturb their rest"

he asked Manfred Not expecting much of a reply. He already knew what he was going to do

he reached down gently shaking your shoulder. "rook, dear, wake up"

you wake up already missing the little sleep you were able to catch. "oh uh hi Emmrich" sleeping on Assan probably wasn't the best idea, your back was already hurting.

"rook are you alright? why are you sleeping on the ground?" his face was full of concern "i uh couldn't sleep I guess Assan looked to comfy"

Emmrich sighed at your response "rook do you remember me offering to teach Bellara some breathing techniques to help her relax?"

"yeah i do why?" you responded still a little disoriented

"why don't i teach you some as well to help you sleep of course. Manfred could make us some calming tea as well" he offered his hand to help you up

"actually... that be really nice Emmrich..thanks" Emmrichs face got hot at your sincerity but covered it with a smile

"of course rook its nothing, now lets get you inside"

you both walk into the light house Manfred trailing behind leaving a grumpy Assan outside

Harding

"Mmmm..Ahh" Harding stretched, standing up from her bedroll

she was finally starting to get used to having dreams now. Even starting to feel well rested after waking up

she was planning on going to Rivain and training with the lords of fortune to keep practicing her new magic. Weisshaupt was hard and she wanted- no needed to be better for the next fight with the gods

she wonders if maybe you would like to come with her. She knows you took Weisshaupt hard, it was hard for everyone but she cant even imagine what your feeling right now

it would be fun to get you out of the light house and doing something that wasnt trying to save the world

she leaves her bedroom, walks into the light house, up to your room and.. your not here? huh weird maybe your in the kitchen

she leaves and walks up the steps past the workshop and that's when she sees you and Assan

"... oh my gosh rook are you sleeping on Assan?" she chuckled walking up to you and Assan seeing you completely knocked out

... you looked so peaceful sleeping and pretty too..... ok she's just being creepy now isn't she

when she was in the inquisition she worked as a scout, she's slept on grass, rocks, pavement, and sometimes even trees. She knows that no matter what it ends in a hurting back and neck. It'd be best to wake you up now

"hey..hey rook" she gently shook your shoulder waking you up

"huh- oh uh hi Harding"

"morning sleepy head, what'cha doing sleeping on Assan?" she asked smiling down at you

"i uh couldn't sleep but Assan is just really soft" Harding giggled "well if you keep doing that your back is gonna hurt like hell, come on ill try making you some coffee, and ill make you my ham and jam slam"

"thanks Harding id love that" you stand up. Yup Harding was right your back is starting to hurt already

"I was also going to go to the lords of fortune to train again you should come with me yeah?" she asked walking to the kitchen

"yeah id like to spend some time with you Harding" ".....me to!" Harding replies smiling at you as you both walk into the kitchen.

Lucanis

he hasn't slept. All he can see in his head is Ghiln'nain. He was so close. There was no reason for why he missed. He was sure he could do this. "A crow never fails a contract." Those words from his grandmother replaying in is head from before she..

He's survived this night using coffee, he's on his fourth cup now. He needed to stay awake to make sure spite cant take control. Everyone should be awake by now, time to get ready for the day.

he leaves the pantry into the kitchen and starts to make a large pot of coffee for everyone. What should he make for breakfast?. His mind wonders to you. Maybe he should make your favorite breakfast but... oh he cant remember what it is.

cant kill, now he cant remember what else cant he do.

maybe he should just find you and ask what you'd like for breakfast

he walks outside and spots you and Assan immediately. strange.. what were you doing.

walking over he's able to tell your asleep. Your even breaths and eyes closed peacefully gives it away but why were you out here sleeping on the floor and not in your bed?

*sniffs* "smells like...guilt, regret, and the sting of failure" ah great he's awake. "What are you talking about?" he asks as the demon of spite materializes beside him looming over your sleeping form

"rook! obviously!. The old stench of failure is intense" ..."failure of what?" "WEISSHAUPT. they think they failed usss" "it wasn't them that failed it was me i had her so close.. and i missed"

"not to them no.. to them they should have fought harder, saved more, helped more!"

you shouldn't feel like this. it was him that failed. You were the only reason he even got close to Ghilan'nain.

He bent down reaching out to you. "NO DONT WAKE THEM" "why?" he pulls back surprised by the demons insistence "they just fell asleep despite the pain.. let them sleep" "why do you care spite?" "I like them... much more than i like you" He sighed looking back at you

he reach forward and brushed a piece of you hair away form your face. he stood up. "Where are you going?" "to make breakfast"

he'll wake you once breakfast is ready. And he'll work harder to make sure you don't have to feel guilty ever again.

Neve

notes, notes, and more notes. They were littered all over her desk, floor, and on her bed. As cute as they were the wisps had been no help, she even caught one trying to take her notes out the window into the fade.

She had slept very little with the idea of Aelia being back in Dock Town plaguing her mind. She needed to catch her before she caused more chaos but she had ran out of leads awhile ago.

Sitting here isn't going to help. But Coffee might. Then she can go into Dock Town and talk with some contacts.

Walking out of her room she spotted you and Assan immediately. She chuckled to herself, walking over to the two of you. "Well isn't this sweet" no response, "Rook?" still nothing

it was then that she noticed your closed eyes and even breaths. Why were you sleeping out here?. Just then Assan opened his eyes cooing softly at Neve

"hey Assan what are you and rook doing sleeping out here?" he squawked quietly in response. "Really?" she was talking to the griffon like she understood him, a Habit she picked up recently

"well come on Assan ill give you a treat or two before Davrin wakes up". When the griffon didn't follow her she was surprised, he's usually very food motivated.

she sighed crouching down to his level, scratching his chin.

She glanced over to you, noticing the heavy circles under your eyes. It was about Weisshaupt wasn't it?. You were much easier to read then you think.

as time passed you awoke groaning, sitting up and feeling pain shoot up your back. "Ow..." "morning sleepy head". Startled you look beside you to see Neve sitting on the ground Assan's head in her lap, drinking a cup of coffee

"oh uh hi Neve how long have you been there?" "long enough to notice you snore in your sleep. Had trouble sleeping?" she asked Taking a sip of her coffee " yeah I guess i just fell asleep on Assan but- did you stay here with me while i slept?" she turns her head away dodging the question completely and stood up.

"come on i made a pot of coffee for everyone. You should come down to Minrathous with me, ill treat you to some of Hal's fish fry" she said, walking to the kitchen. If you had been able, you would have seen the dark blush she was hiding with a smirk as she walked away.

Taash

they were sitting on the floor of their room, wraping the last rope of the Dar-saam ritual around their arm. They stood up and took a deep breath before walking out of their room.

They had another thing to do for their mother. "Taash, shokra toh ebra" the words from their mother was always in their head. They would probably be hearing more of it from her through out the day.

Walking out of the light house they weren't even able to take a step before noticing you on the ground. Taash walked over to you sleeping body. "you good?" they didn't get an answer. "...Are you asleep?".... That was a dumb question obviously you were asleep, but on the ground? seriously? that's gonna kill your back when you wake up.

Looking around they thought, should they take you to bed? the grounds pretty uncomfortable no matter how peaceful and cute you looked sleeping on Assan.

Before Taash could process their thoughts they were already picking you up from the ground, trying their best not to wake you.

They pushed the light house doors open with their back and quietly climbed up the stairs. Until one of them creaked to loudly and you immediately began to stir form your sleep.

"what- uh Taash?" "....sup" "what are you doing..?" Taash looked away from your face and instead faced off to the side "taking you to bed.. duh" "but why?" "sleeping on the ground is gonna kill your back. So im taking you to your room." they said very matter of factly, continuing up the stairs.

"... you could have just woken me up you know" you said heat rushing up on your checks. They were holding you like you were nothing more than a few grapes. "Yeah but then that defeats the purpose of you sleeping in the first place"

now you were at you room. Taash slid the door open with their foot, walked in, and laid you down on the couch that had been acting like your bed.

"hey im.. sorry that i woke you" They refused to meet your gaze "no its ok! i probably shouldn't have been sleeping on the ground anyway" "yeah.. next time you can't sleep just come to me, i can make you some tea... do you prefer lavender or ginger?" Taash finally looked at you, a small tinge of pink on their checks. You smiled "surprise me yeah?.. Thanks Taash"

the pink on their checks grew deeper "no problem" they smiled back at you before leaving your room. Leaving you to rest.

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

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. It genuinely took me 3 days to write this. Because this is my first fanfic i wanted to put like maximum effort into this and i really hope you like it.

just a reminder my ask box is open so feel free to send in a request and i will write it for you

other than that i hope you enjoyed and see ya next time

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 3

Summary: Now that you have a party to plan, you decide to start with the decorations... but Negan has a more exciting idea in mind.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being an asshole, reader being an asshole too ?

previous chapter can be found here

After your vow to stay resolute in your (accidental) decision to help with the Christmas party, you vanished on Negan. He half-expected you to ambush him first thing the next morning but nothing came.  

In a perfect world, you would have gone home that day, realized your pettiness and followed Negan’s original advice. You would have humbled yourself and gone straight to Gregory, petitioning for this pain in the ass party to be called off.

“Carl! That funky eye of yours doesn’t mean your legs don’t work!” Negan shouts at one of the students in his afternoon class “Run for the ball, damn it! Quit standing on the sidelines!”.

The whistle around Negan’s neck swings as he struts along the side of the basketball court, muttering to himself. Despite the chill in the air, it’s sunny outside and so they’re not all stuck inside the sports hall, where Negan would’ve been trapped in the thick air of sweaty, hormonal teens. 

But that’s not the only reason he’s glad to be outside on the courts. After Negan’s plan backfired and filled you with spiteful devotion to the Christmas party, he can’t bear to be in the sports hall, knowing it’s only a matter of time before his colleagues wreck havoc on his little slice of heaven.

A polite cough behind him pulls him out of his thoughts. Negan is about to grumble to some kid to cover their mouth but when he glances behind, he sees you instead. 

“Fan- fucking -tastic,” Negan says drily “my day has just got ten times better”.

The sight of a notebook pressed against your chest makes him want to groan. Hoping for some kind of a miracle, he asks “You get the party cancelled yet?”.

You join him by the sidelines, smiling mischievously. “Nope,” you reply cheerfully “I think I’d rather torture you by making you help organize it instead”. 

Negan scoffs, looking back at the game. You take it as your que to continue. Looking down at your notebook you read the small list you’ve made of the different categories you’ll both have to tackle. 

Food. Drink. Music. Decorations.

You read your small list out loud before thinking “Is there anything else a party needs? I guess we could have some kinda entertainment, right?”.

With a long exhale, Negan rubs his forehead “You want a bunch of middle aged teachers to play party games?”. 

You shrug “Well, I don’t know how else to keep them entertained…”

“Booze. That’s all you need, not charades or pin the tail on the donkey”.

You write that down, encircling the drinks category before continuing “Well, I’m free for the rest of the day so whenever you want to—“.

“Christ, Patrick! Follow through on your shot!” Negan interrupts, yelling at another poor kid “better fix that limp wrist for your sake!”.

You blink at the… uh… advice, if you could call it that. 

Negan begins making his way down the side of the court, following the action surrounding the basketball as he shouts more words of wisdom. You watch with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, suddenly feeling more confident in your own, calmer teaching style.  

When Negan finally turns his attention back to you, he raises an eyebrow, his tone turning sarcastic again.

"Class ends in about ten minutes. How about we talk afterwards, so you're not following me around like a damn shadow?" he sighs, checking his watch.

Before you can retort your own thinly veiled insult, he’s off shouting at the kids again, this time clapping his arms to really amp them up.

You shake your head, grip tightening on your notebook as you turn on your heels to leave. Your plan was to just wait in his office but once you get to the door, your eyes are drawn to the adjacent double doors of the sports hall. 

If this is where you’ll be having the party, you may as well get a lay of the land now. 

Creeping inside the barren hall, it’s the quietest you’ve ever seen it. The large room is almost eerie without the clatter of basketballs or the sounds of kids shouting. You pause in the doorway, taking in the empty space. Soon, it’ll be filled with noise— this time, for the Christmas party you’ve roped yourself into.

Walking deeper into the room, you wonder how much convincing it’ll take to get Negan up on a ladder to hang tinsel and string lights across the high ceiling. The hall is desperate for some holiday ambience and your brain aches as you try to figure out just how much tinsel will be needed.

Thankfully, your phone buzzes with a welcome distraction. 

Carol: You want to be a good samaritan and help me bake some cookies after school? Need them for the bake sale 

You: Have my hands full planning party 

You: but I could be tempted if I get to taste test some :D

After you informed everyone that you will be planning the party (and to hold off on the barrage of questions), Carol was the only one who didn’t give you a pitiful look when you mentioned it being you and Negan organizing it.

“Negan’s… complicated,” she told you this morning. Surprisingly, that was the most polite description of him you’ve heard.

“Just keep your distance, keep your head down and do the work” Carol listed “he’ll complain a lot but he will get the job done. Eventually”.

Given how much people seem to dislike him, hearing a neutral take felt like a welcome shift.

Carol: you’re starting to sound like my students

You let out a soft laugh before quickly typing a reply, letting her know you’re not sure if you’ll be finished with Negan by then. As much as you hate to admit it, you know how easily you two can fall into a back-and-forth, letting the time slip away without even realizing it.

Carol replies with a thumbs up, and to kill some time, you check the group chat. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at the new messages.

You don’t blame yourself though, not when it’s where you got yourself into this mess. It’s like returning to the scene of a crime but this time you know better than to hurriedly send in a text.

Gregory: WHO GOT THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS INSTALLATION VAN CLAMPED

Gregory: HOW? WHY?????

Sasha: I told you they shouldn’t park in designated spaces 

Rosita: they had their warning

Gregory: they want to school to pay the fee

Sasha: better than slashed tires

Gregory: go to principal Grime’s office , this needs to be sorted now

Rosita: I’m in the middle of teaching a class ??

Gregory: and you’re busy texting?!?!?!?

Gregory: both of you. Principal Grime’s office. NOW

A chuckle from behind makes you shiver and jerk away, hot breath fanning against the side of your neck. Negan peers over at your phone, having read the messages.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation” he snorts, offering you a smirk as you tuck your phone away “can’t say I blame Rosita though, Gregory’s definitely the type of asshat that let them park there”.

���Yeah and you wanted me to talk to that asshat about getting this party cancelled” you grumble, irritation creeping into your tone

“In the past, sweetness,” Negan smiles just to annoy you “now we’re a team, ain’t we?”.

“In the past?! Negan, that was yesterday!” you point out exasperatedly, wandering around the hall to burn off some of your already pent up energy.

“And yesterday is in the past”.

You shoot him a glare but all that achieves is a wider grin looking back at you. Damn him. You run a hand down your face, forcing yourself to stop— both physically and mentally.

Negan’s trying to get you to bite, to start bickering with him so you’ll lose focus on the party and storm off. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. Unfortunately, when you open them again he still has that cocky smile on his face that makes you want to throttle him.

“Do you have any decorations from the previous years?” Your tone is sharper than necessary but that’s what he gets when he’s being a jerk.

“Usually, they’d host this shit at a fancy little place called the Kingdom, so we don’t have much” he replies, his demeanor easing now that you haven’t taken the bait.

“Really?” you question, expecting at least a worn down Christmas tree “What about things for a nativity or Christmas carols?”.

“Yeah cause nothing screams party like having the fuckin’ nativity scene laid out in the middle of the room” Negan teases, fishing keys out of the back pocket of his sweatpants.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you match his sarcasm with a dose of your own “Well, no, I’m not suggesting we all get drunk in front of baby Jesus”.

Negan lets out a small chuckle, but it sounds unfamiliar. This isn’t the mischievous laugh you heard when he tried to set you up, nor is it the smirk he gave you when you were badmouthing him.

No, this is something else. It’s a rare, genuine sound– a laugh that seems to catch even him off guard. And strangely enough, it’s aimed at you. You try not to linger on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

“If you wanna have a look yourself, knock yourself out” Negan strides over to the small storage room door and you follow behind as he unlocks it.

You stand there, waiting for him to open it but he doesn’t. Instead, Negan pauses for a moment, then he turns to face you with that familiar, smug grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, letting the question hang in the air.

“I— ugh! Negan!” you scold, stepping forward and pushing the door open yourself. Negan doesn’t stop you, even flicking the light on as you go first. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” Negan says, grabbing one of the boxes to prop the door open. “This shit’s old... probably as old as me, so the door’s heavy and a real bastard to yank open from the inside”.

Inside, you’re met with a chaotic mess; boxes piled on top of boxes, cones and rackets scattered across the floor, and a jumble of balls stacked on a rack against the wall.

Technically, the room is large but with all the clutter, there’s barely enough space to move around. Inching your way across a small clearing, you almost wedge yourself between two tall stacks of boxes. “Any idea which ones might have the festive goods?” you ask. 

“Pretty sure it’s the two at the back,” Negan trails after you, clearly uninterested “y’can usually see a bit of tinsel shimmering through the box”.

“This is a good start… I guess,” you try to take an optimistic approach “at least there’s something here”.

You carefully navigate through the maze of clutter, sidestepping loose javelins and dodging stray tennis balls. The mess makes every step feel like a mini obstacle course.

As you finally reach the last stack, you tug the lid off the nearest box, the dust tickling your nose. Peering inside, you slowly begin to sift through its contents—a jumble of tinsel, some baubles that have no string and a few random holiday knickknacks.

Negan leans against the next stack of boxes, arms crossed, watching you with mild amusement.

“Oh wow, you’re just going straight for it, huh?” he commentates, unbothered to help “it’s like you’re on a treasure hunt… y’know if you want to find the real treasure, you’re in luck”.

You don’t bite, not believing his bullshit. Even with no response, Negan continues “I know exactly where to find the crown jewels”. He gives you a wink but you miss it, keeping your head down as you rummage.

”… hellllllloooooo?” he pokes your side.

You pull out a handful of mismatched ornaments and toss them at him. “Maybe you should stop doing nothing and actually help?” you suggest as he barely manages to catch them.

With an exaggerated sigh, Negan starts to search the second box. “I was doing something,” he protests, carelessly looking through the box “flirting, if you didn’t notice”.

“Yeah, well if that’s your idea of flirting, I pray I’m not your type” you jeer.

This time, Negan doesn’t reply. You wonder if he’s taking a page out of your book and ignoring you but then you feel his eyes land on you. 

Readying your disapproving look, you turn to meet Negan’s gaze. “What?” you ask, already annoyed by whatever shenanigan he’s about to pull. 

With the ghost of a smirk, Negan simply stares at you for a moment. He doesn’t let his eyes wander like how you expected, the action something you thought he’d do just to get a rise out of you. Wetting his lips, Negan teasingly pulls his hand out of the box, bringing with it a tattered piece of mistletoe. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out if you’re my type” he shakes the mistletoe, accidentally making one of the plastic leaves fall off.

“Oh fuck off” you don’t stop the words coming out of your mouth, turning on your heels to leave.

Flinging the mistletoe back into the box, Negan follows. You’re half tempted to kick the box that’s keeping the door open just to lock him in, but his long strides allow him to catch up with you in no time. 

“Awh, c’mon,” he teases “are you always in ‘teacher mode’ ?”.

“Only when I’m around immature people”.

“Very funny,” Negan comments as you storm back out to the empty hall. He can tell he’s almost got you; you’re so close to walking out, yet you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Negan knows how to push people’s buttons— it's one of his favorite hobbies. He enjoys testing how much people will tolerate, seeing what it takes to crack them. For some, a single remark is enough to make them fold, while others can take a whole barrage, letting it build up bit by bit. 

The most frustrating thing about you is that you can take a lot, all while throwing your own taunts right back at him. You rub your forehead, trying to will yourself into not punching him.

“You got any classes left today?” he breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly conversational considering the amount of teasing he’s been doing. 

Every question feels like a set up for some next lewd joke or suggestion and so you simply nod your head. 

“Perfect,” he says, locking up the storage room and tossing the keys up into the air before catching them “let’s go grab some new decorations”.

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but Negan doesn’t wait around. As he strolls out of the hall, you have to quicken your pace to keep up with him.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He glances over his shoulder, speaking to you as if you’re a three year old. “we go shop, buy new decorations, you happy, party less shit looking”.

“But don’t you have classes?” you badger him, watching as Negan makes a quick stop by his office. He drops the keys onto his desk, grabs his coat, and snatches up his car keys.

“Yeah, but Mark can cover for me,” he replies casually, clearly unfazed “it’s the bastard’s last day before his vacation, he can do some extra work”.

The last thing you expected was for Negan to suggest going on a quick trip together, especially with how little you two can tolerate each other. Negan lets out a short laugh when he sees your wary expression, clearly unconcerned. 

“He’ll figure it out,” he says nonchalantly, pulling out his phone to shoot a quick text to the other coach “it’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t give Fat Joey my class, don’t trust that fucker to teach gym”.

“Negan!” you slap his arm “Rude”.

He shrugs. 

The two of you walk out of the school and head toward the teacher’s parking lot. As you look around, a wave of hesitation hits you.

Even though you don’t have any more classes to teach today, you can’t shake the feeling that leaving early feels like you’re playing hooky.

Negan notices in an instant. With a small chuckle, he places both hands on your shoulders and gives you a gentle nudge forward.

“C’mon, Ms. Goody Two Shoes,” he teases, steering you toward his pick up truck “we won’t be gone long”.

You hesitate for a moment, still unsure. “Are you sure?” you try to look up at him as he directs you toward the passenger side “I don’t mind driving myself and meeting you there”.

“No need. I’ve got it covered,” he replies, taking his hands off you to open the door. With the automatic roll of your eyes, you get in.

The car ride to the store is a mix of awkward tension and playful banter. As Negan drives, he leans back in his seat with an easy confidence. Every now and then, he throws in a flirtatious comment but for the most part, he keeps it PG.

Surprisingly, Negan actually asked about you and why you’d move to “such a backend fuckin’ town”. You grabbed the opportunity to not argue or get flirted with and instead babbled on about why you needed a break away from your hometown (making sure to skip all the family rifts and drama). 

Pulling into the Target parking lot, the familiar smirk of the Negan you know resurfaces.

"I can always make time to give ya a real tour of the town," he says, and for a brief moment, you almost believe he's being sincere—until he adds, "With or without the extra stop at mine afterwards."

You let out an exaggerated sigh as he parks, shaking your head. "You're like a comedian that only knows one joke and no matter how many times it falls flat, you just keep saying it anyways".

Negan’s eyebrows bounce up as his truck comes to a stop, his tone dripping with cockiness “Oh it works real well, 99.9% success rate”.

“Wow, you’re just like bleach” you shoot back as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Getting out of the truck and heading into the store, he proudly replies “All I have to say is I have been told I’m killer in the bedroom, so maybe I am like bleach”.

Shaking your head, you opt for a small basket instead of dragging around a massive cart. The last thing you need is Negan laughing as you struggle to control one of those things. 

“Do you have an off switch?” You taunt. 

Taking the basket off you, Negan’s fingers brush yours. He takes full advantage, tilting to the side so his tall frame is closer to your eye level.

Lowering his voice to what you can only assume is what he uses in the bedroom, he seductively growls “Wanna try to find it?”.

The look you give him says everything, and with a sharp ‘hmph ,’ you head toward the holiday section, letting him trail behind.

As you pass the Christmas trees, you glance at them, already knowing you’ll need to check your budget before committing to one for the party. This trip feels more like a reconnaissance mission—just picking up a few affordable things if you find them while scouting what else they have to offer.

Meanwhile, Negan simply drifts by, clearly bored now that the playful banter has faded. He’s like a kid that’s been dragged into grocery shopping with his mom—picking up random items and staring at the ceiling, hoping for some kind of entertainment. 

Negan would’ve spent his time staring at your ass but he knows better than to risk it. You’d throw a nutcracker at him if you caught him perving on you.

“ Neeeeeeegan ?” You drag out his name, watching the man completely zone out.

As much as you want to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t say you’re surprised. You both knew this was going to be a pain.

The only reason you’re party planning is out of spite, while Negan’s just here because he doesn’t want his sports hall to be trashed by either terrible decorations or the teachers on the night.  

Shaking the wreath in your hands, the bells jingle and you call out again “Negan? Hello?”.

Looking back to you, his expression softens just enough to pass as a real smile rather than a smirk. “I heard you the first time, I just like hearing you say my name,” he says, his tone playful.

You scoff, fighting the urge to smile. Unfortunately, you’re human so when a handsome man throws you a compliment, it’s impossible not to react, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he can be.

… handsome ?

You quickly shove that thought aside, irritated that your brain so easily confessed that. He is handsome, but… he’s Negan. An asshole, in other words.  

Alright, time to stop thinking about that.

“I, uh…” you swallow, trying to get your thoughts in order “The wreath! If we drape a tablecloth over the desks and put one of these in front of each, that’ll look nice, right?”

Negan gives a casual nod, eyes shifting between the wreath and the rows of holiday decorations.

“I mean, the desks are just for finger food and drinks anyways but… it’ll be festive!” you find yourself rambling, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. 

He scoffs at how you try to justify spending some money a on wreath, taking a few steps toward the sales section.

“How about…” Negan starts, picking up a small pumpkin statue priced at just a dollar, “…we buy a bunch of these and throw a Christmas hat on ‘em?”

You pause, unsure whether you should dignify that with a response.

“You want to use Halloween decorations?” you drop the wreath into the basket, rubbing a hand over your face in disbelief.

“I’m getting it” he puts the pumpkin next to your wreath.

You look down at the pumpkin and purse your lips. As if this party hasn’t been doomed from the get go, you don’t think having pumpkins there will help. You don’t have to voice your concerns, Negan can read your face. 

“Hey, I’m just offering a little direction,” he says, wandering down the aisle “someone’s gotta take charge when you’re doubting whether you should buy wreaths for a Christmas party”.

A flutter of defensiveness stirs within you, a shift in your chest that spreads like a warm yet  uncomfortable pressure.

Picking up a box of lights, you drop them in the basket “I’m not doubting, I just don’t want to buy junk that we won’t use”.

Negan stops, ignoring what you just said as he picks up some balloons. “We should get these… just gotta make sure this side is at the back” he lifts up the packet, showing you the gigantic ‘Happy 60th Birthday’ printing on the front of each balloon. 

“You’re kidding,” plucking the pack out of his hands, you put it back on the shelf “and I don’t need you to take charge of this, especially when you’re doing such a half assed job”. 

Negan scoffs “Am not”.

The more you try to ignore the building in your chest, the more it festers, growing into a quiet but insistent urge to clarify, to defend and correct the narrative.

“That’s all you do! You want to be in charge but you’re not thorough enough whenever you are” you explain as calmly as you can. 

There was a small bit of you that hoped Negan would listen to what you’re saying but he’s not interested in the feedback, waving his free hand dismissively as he walks back up the aisle.

“It’s easier when I’m in charge because I get shit done, I don’t try to reason with myself why I need to buy something– I just do it,” as if to prove the point, he puts another pumpkin into the basket.

It's like he’s not even trying to understand your point, and that’s a realization that makes your patience unravel.

The calm concern starts to fade and is replaced by a barely contained annoyance. 

“But you don’t try to make things easier for others, you literally just left Mark to deal with the rest of your classes for the day and complained at the idea of Mark letting Joey help! You’re always pushing your own agenda and railroading people into going along with it” taking a firm stance against him, you do the unthinkable. 

You reach your hand into the basket.

And remove a pumpkin.

Negan gives you a pointed look, boring into your skull and not even watching your hand place the pumpkin back on the shelf.

“Sweetheart, calm down, this isn’t a military operation,” he asserts “we’re just planning a damn party so lighten up. Get festive!”.

It’s maddening. Now you’re making a mountain out of a molehill? You should just lighten up because it’s a Christmas party and nothing more?

His dismissive tone is like a constant poke to your patience, stretching it thinner with every passing moment.  To make matters worse, Negan carries on like usual, wandering over to the next aisle.

Begrudgingly, you totter after him.

“You can’t just do that!” you snap, absentmindedly perusing the scented candles “you can’t act like this is something silly when I’m giving you valid criticism! I’m trying to put in effort here and actually make this party bearable”. 

It hits all at once, a rush of raw emotion that floods your mind and spills out before you can stop it.

Your voice shakes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming need to be heard. You don’t even have time to think, to carefully choose your words; it all comes out, unfiltered.

Every bit of irritation, confusion, and disbelief tumbling out in one breathless rant.  

“All you want to do is skip school, wander around here, flirt with me– even though I keep rejecting you! And just buy stupid shit that we don’t need for this party!” you rant, gesturing to the lonely pumpkin still in the basket.

“You have to respect other people’s time and their effort too. Not everyone wants to half-ass this! You get your own way all the time and no one will say no to you or make you do it their way. It’s Negan’s way or no way. And people are so used to letting you get away with shit again and again just because—“.

You stop yourself.

Your mouth clamps shut, stopping your cathartic rant before it can say anymore but it’s too late. Negan stands next to you, waiting.

Shit.

“… I like the cinnamon one,” you say quietly, trying to change the subject as you sniff the candles  “sometimes, I think they make the gingerbread ones too strong and the ones that are supposed to smell like vanilla never do”.

Negan doesn’t budge. A small smirk creeps up on his face. Negan already knows what you were going to say, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him.

He’s attractive, good in the sac, can charm the legs off anyone within a ten mile radius and happens to have one swoon worthy smile.

He gets away with this because he’s sexy. Nothing he can do about that, it’s natural!

“Go on,” he implores, tongue peeking out as he wets his bottom lip “say it with your chest, doll”.

You want to stay quiet. You know for the interest of everyone, you should. 

“People let you be an asshole because your wife died”.

You’ve never seen a change in someone so quick. His face darkens, veins pulsing at his temples as his jaw clenches so tight that his teeth almost grind together.

Negan’s eyes narrow into a hard, unforgiving stare. Every muscle in his body seems to coil, as if ready to snap. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” he grunts. 

You’ve never seen him like this— not even when you’ve bickered with him. This is something different, something deeper.

His entire demeanor has shifted, like a switch was flipped, and all the previous irritation and taunting have been replaced by a quiet, seething fury that radiates from him in waves.

Your fingers curl around the candle but you barely register the sensation. Your eyes lock on him, wide and unblinking. He told you to say it, to be honest with him. 

Every muscle in your body feels frozen, as if something inside you has short-circuited. You’ve always thought you’d know what you’d do in a moment like this, whether you’d be a flight or fight type of person. But now, facing a full wave of intimidation, you realize the truth: you’re not the fight type. You’re not the flight type. 

You’re the freeze type.

It’s as if the air around you has thickened, the space between you and him narrowing to a suffocating stillness. You want to stutter out an apology but it’s all happened so suddenly that you forget how to. 

It feels like all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot. In an instant, he snaps out of his silent rage and rushes into action. 

Without warning, Negan lets go of the shopping basket, letting it drop to the ground with a violent clatter. The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot and you jump.

His hands are still clenched into fists as he takes a step back and his eyes flash one last time at you with an unreadable mix of frustration and something deeper.  And then, he spins on his heel and storms off.

“Fuck this,” you hear muttered under his breath as he goes. 

You’re left standing there, the abruptness of it all taking the air from your lungs. Your legs take jittery steps forward before you meekly grab the basket and try to follow. 

With only a pumpkin, some lights and a wreath inside, the basket somehow pulls at your arms, as if you’re carrying a thousand things. Trying to follow, the basket swings awkwardly in your grasp, banging against your shins with each uncoordinated step.

“Negan?” You call out, your voice sounding smaller than you mean it to. Your gaze darts nervously from aisle to aisle and across the registers until you spot a tall and imposing shadow going out the main doors.

“No, no, no, no, no,” your heart thuds painfully against your chest, each beat louder than the last.

You set the basket down gently, almost afraid it might shatter if you move too quickly, before rushing out of the store. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s no relief. This can’t be happening. He can’t just leave you here. Not like this.

You move fast, almost stumbling, your eyes scanning the parking lot frantically. Cars of every make and model line the pavement, but there’s no sign of his truck.

A pang of panic rises in your throat as you take a few more steps, searching the sea of vehicles, your stomach tightening with every second that passes. His truck should be here. It should’ve been parked right where you left it.

The realization hits you like a wave. It’s not here.

A soft whine escapes your lips, barely a sound and yet it carries the weight of everything that’s suffocating you in that moment. Confusion. Anxiety. Guilt. And an overwhelming sense of abandonment. You stand frozen, the noise of the parking lot fading as the panic surges again. 

He’s gone.

-------

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[httpsdana]

Maybe one for Xavi where he gets you name tattooed on his chest and you notice in when your in bed and he’s shirtless

Signed and Sealed~Xavi Simons

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

y/n and Xavi were sprawled on his bed, wrapped in a shared blanket as the two of them attempted to watch a movie.

Well, she was trying to watch it—Xavi, as usual, had other ideas.

“You’re not even paying attention,” she muttered, swatting at his hand as he lazily traced shapes on her arm.

“Why would I?” he teased, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re more interesting than whatever cheesy plot this is.”

“You don’t even know the plot because you’re not watching!”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I’ve got better things to look at.”

Rolling her eyes, she snuggled back against him, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her. But then he shifted beneath again, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“Ugh, why is it so hot in here? Are you trying to cook me alive?”

“Maybe I am,” she joked, smiling up at him. “What better way to test your resilience?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, sitting up and tugging his shirt over his head. “Let’s see how resilient you are when I make you walk home in the rain.”

“You’d never,” she quipped, but her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on his now bare chest.

There, inked just over his heart, was her name.

“Xavi…” she breathed, sitting up straighter as her gaze locked onto the tattoo.

He glanced down, his expression instantly morphing into a smug grin. “Oh, that? Took you long enough to notice.”

“That’s my name,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. “On your chest. My name.”

“Yup,” he said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t permanently marked his body for her. “Thought it was time to make my priorities clear.”

“Xavi,” she said again, her voice slightly shaky as she touched the tattoo lightly. “You got this for me?”

“For us,” he corrected softly, wrapping his hand around hers and pressing it against the ink. “Because you’re the most important part of my life, and I wanted a way to show it. Forever.”

Her heart swelled at his words, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Forever? What if I dump you for taking the last cookie again?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll tell everyone I got this tattoo because you make the best cookies. At least it’ll still be true.”

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone shifting to something softer as his free hand cupped her cheek. “Every time I see this, I’ll think about how lucky I am to have you. To love you.”

Tears prickled her eyes, and you leaned in, kissing him softly. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy about you,” he said immediately, grinning against her lips. “Come on, you set me up for that one.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she brushed her fingers over the tattoo again. “Did it hurt?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” he replied. “But then again, you’re worth any kind of pain.”

She groaned. “Stop! You’re so cheesy.”

“Cheesy? Me? Never,” he protested, though his grin only widened. “I’m romantic. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his. “I mean it, though. This tattoo? It’s because you’re my always. My everything. And if putting your name over my heart isn’t the best way to prove that, I don’t know what is.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and before she could stop hersels, she was kissing him again.

This time, it wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was full of the love she felt for him, love that words couldn’t always capture.

When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes sparkling. “So… do I win boyfriend of the year, or what?”

She laughed, swiping at the tears in her eyes. “You win. But only if you promise to never pull a stunt like this without telling me again.”

“fine” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “But just so you know, I’ve got plenty more ideas where this came from.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” he teased, pulling her back against his chest. “But admit it—you love it.”

She let out a content sigh, her fingers tracing over the ink once more. “I love it. And I love you.”

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Because you’re stuck with me now, name tattoo and all.”