#apparently we all thought it 😌

[bibastibootz]

[nobodybetterlookatme]

So anyway the date went well lmao

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. ���M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sense something strange when everyone pairs you with Spencer, and the one time you understand why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room. 

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table. 

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?" 

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body. 

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?” 

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?” 

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed. 

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile. 

"A table for two?" 

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...” 

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.” 

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

[moon-ttokki-x]

hello 🙊 for the prompt list thing may i request 17 + 28 with lino or jisung pls 😌 excited to see what you'll come up with heheh

i had fun with this request, anon. it's kind of sad so maybe i'll write a little part 2 to it but ig we all need some angst from time to time. i was actually going to write jisung for this fic but i'll save him for another ><

rose - lee minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

summary: you and lee minho, the smartest student on campus, get unexpectedly paired up to work on an assignment

genre: kinda angsty ngl, escalates quickly, college!au, mutual pining, mentions of being thrown out a window (it's a minho fic what do you expect)

a/n: this isn't really how i saw it going but fuck it we ball. dividers by @kodaswrld

⛓️ prompts: 17. "Why are you looking at me like that?" / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

"It doesn't make sense," you groan, dropping your head into your hands. Giving up completely, you drop yourself further into the mess of books and papers scattered across Minho's low desk.

Today, the sun is watery and filters weakly through the wide windows of Minho's dorm bedroom, making everything seem pale and slightly colder than usual. You rub your feet together under the desk, your fluffy socks providing some comfort, before it evaporates as you turn back to the part of the assignment you've been struggling over for the past hour.

Minho is sitting across from you, embedded in his own section of the assignment; his head is bent and he sits with his back straight, his elbows positioned so that they just touch the edge of the table. He is pale in the weak sunlight and the only movement he makes comes from the slight flicking of his wrist as he neatly scribes down notes, apparently unaware of your predicament.

He looks like a statue, you think.

"Hey, Minnie," you hum lowly, resorting to annoying him instead of re-attempting your part of the assignment. "Help me out."

"No. And don't call me that."

You groan, pressing your fingers down onto the table and pushing several miscellaneous papers his way. A couple of sticky notes go flying too, and Minho sighs irritatedly as he plucks one off of the collar of his pristine white shirt.

Your eyes follow the trail of his hand as he lowers it, before it creeps back up. His top two buttons are undone and you can see the attractive glint of a necklace, a sleek chain perhaps, against the perfect porcelain skin of his throat-

You sigh. Of all people, why him?

You wish you'd been allowed to choose your own partner for the project. But your professor had other ideas in mind and decided to pair up random people 'to facilitate teamwork and spark new connections' or whatever. Something like that.

Much to your disappointment, you'd been separated from your friends and teamed up with Lee Minho. You knew of him but had never actually talked. Unless you counted that one time where you'd run face-first into him as he'd been coming out of the college library. And all that had been was a rushed apology from you and a slight, huffy glare from him.

He was kind of strange, you thought. He always sat at the front of every lecture, always finished his work way before it was due and scored perfectly every time. Without missing a beat and without breaking a sweat. It was so incredibly irritating.

On top of that, he was popular, usually swarmed by friends and other students whenever he walked the halls. Not that he seemed to notice most of the time. Or maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he was a robot. It would explain his behaviour.

A really attractive robot at that.

You crane your neck a little, peering over the stacks of books between the both of you and see that he's almost done writing up his notes for his section. All without even so much as a glance in your direction. Your page isn't even half-full and you're stuck.

"Why'd you ask me to come to your dorm if you were just gonna ignore me?" You whine.

"Because," he says calmly, "it's easier than having to do it over the phone."

Little shit.

"What about the library?" You retort. "We could have just gone there."

Minho doesn't take his eyes off the paper and he doesn't reply either. Faint colour rises in his cheeks but you're too wrapped up in your own current problems to notice.

"Minho, come on. We're supposed to be working together." You tilt your head and fix him with a pleading gaze, half-despair, half panic. You're not dumb, and maybe not incredibly smart like Lee Minho either, but this assignment is difficult. And it's harder when he's refusing to help.

You don't take your eyes off of him, deciding to keep your gaze fixed on his face until he chooses to acknowledge you. You wait almost ten minutes before he looks up again, and he jolts slightly, like he hasn't realised you've been fixated on him all that time.

He stiffens. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because. I need help."

"You're clever. Figure it out on your own."

Your heart flutters from the rather direct compliment but you choose to ignore it. "Minho, please."

He smirks suddenly, a short bout of apparent confidence, teasing as he imitates you. "Minho, please."

You swear and lift a fist but he doesn't even flinch. He looks at you quietly and his smile disappears, then he gets up and crouches down beside you, poring over your page.

He hums. "You didn't write shit."

You groan. "Yes, I know. Thank you for clarifying."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, unfazed, eyes fixed on the page.

It's then that you realise how close he is; he's not sitting down fully, leaning on the balls on his feet, a temporary sitting position. One hand is on the desk and he's leaning in a little, his mouth moving slightly as he exhales out words, skim-reading your page.

He smells good, you think.

Minho is there for what feels like hours but is probably a few seconds, and then he leans back, fixing you with a stare. You feel the unusual warmth of his presence near you fade, like a mug of hot tea gone cold, and a bitter feeling rises in your throat. You open your mouth a little, maybe to prepare for whatever insult he's concocted, but it doesn't come.

What does come is an unexpectedly gentle explanation of your section of the assignment. He moves a little closer to point things out on your research papers, so close that if you turned your head, the tip of your nose would brush his chest. He's looming over you a little but you feel strangely protected, and you find yourself relishing in the almost-contact of Minho being there beside you.

So much so that when he leans back to clarify that you've understood what he's been saying, you find yourself as a loss for words. All you can do is gaze up at his stupidly perfect face, mind whirring with many thoughts but none as present as the fact that you hadn't been listening and now he will probably throw you out the window.

"Y/n."

You blink once, slowly, stupidly.

"You're looking at me like that again."

And maybe it's the fact that this whole thing feels unreal, or that the assignment has you so dazed, or that you're working with Lee Minho of all people, but you suddenly find your hand reaching up to brush a strand of soft hair out of his eyes. It trails down until your thumb rests gently in the middle of his plush bottom lip. You expect him to move back, chide you, glare, push you away.

But he doesn't.

Later, you will be embarrassed by this memory, and the fact dimly registers somewhere in the back of your mind.

It seems to register in Minho's mind too, because his eyes widen a fraction and suddenly you find yourself falling off the soft, ethereal cloud of fantasy into the real world, where consequences and rational thoughts exist, though they didn't several seconds earlier.

You jerk your hand back and he looks almost disappointed, but you don't notice. A strand of fumbled apologies leaves your mouth as you stand, almost tripping, and quickly collect your belongings.

Minho has his hands out, seemingly trying to stop you, but his face is burning and unsure and you brush past him, fleeing as your eyes sting with tears. You rush through the unfamiliar setting of his dorm and eventually find the door.

"Wait," Minho gasps, seemingly out of breath. From what, you don't know. He still has his hands out, but he doesn't move to touch you, maybe afraid that he might scare you or cause some sort of unwanted reaction. Not that you're not already having one.

"Please," he says, quieter. You're still fumbling with the lock on the door, back to him. And you're not listening, too dazed and afraid to turn and face him. Humiliation washes over you in waves.

You feel so embarrassed.

But Minho has yet to throw an insult or a glare. He's just standing there, his hands out, almost reaching, and an expression of near-worry on his face. It looks strange, like he's not quite sure how to move his features to express it. In other situations, you would have laughed. Now all you want to do is cry.

The lock on the dormitory door finally gives and you rush out, disappearing down the hallway in a blur. Minho lets out a last, frantic 'wait' and considers rushing after you, but his rationality tells him it would just make things worse.

He pushes the door shut in a haze and sinks down against it, his hair ruffling against the smooth, white wood. He finds himself out of breath again, like he's been running, though he hasn't, and his stomach feels funny. Like something is leaping around inside it.

It's not unpleasant, almost a nice feeling, but it's unfamiliar and Minho has learnt to recognise that unfamiliar is usually not a good sign. He's supposed to know things and the feeling won't stop, so he puts both hands on his stomach to try and press it out, maybe.

But it doesn't work. Flashes of you run through his mind and the feeling only intensifies. His face feels like it's burning and he is bewildered, rosy in the weak sunlight. And he has a sudden, strange longing, yearning, maybe, to see you again.

Is it because you touched his face like that and he kind of liked it, maybe? Is it because he enjoyed having you around even though you're not a friend, or is it because you're a familiar face at college, and familiar is good and familiar is safe? He doesn't know.

A rather raw feeling surfaces in his chest and he almost gags at the unexpectedness of it. Suddenly he's on a stormy ocean, waves ravaging and lightning flashing all around him. He falls off his boat and loses his grip on the anchor and sinks into the cold, dark sea.

It runs down his cheeks, staining them wet and salty. And he's not one to be overemotional or show much of it in the first place unless there is a real reason, but he can't stop.

Minho puts his head in his hands and cries.

a/n: part 2?

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part nine.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 714,148 others

tagged: yourusername

mclaren As we get closer and closer to the start of the 2024 season, we thought we’d take the time to introduce new fans to the team that works behind the scenes! Starting us off, we have Y/N L/N, our personal paddock photographer! Y/N has been here with us at McLaren since 2019, and is the genius mind behind many of the photos we’ve posted throughout the years. She’s an important part of our community and helps tremendously in not only capturing our drivers in action, but also in getting the other behind the scenes members of our team the recognition they deserve. We’re glad to have her back here with us in Bahrain, and we can’t wait to see what beautiful concoctions she comes up with this year! 🧡

view all 9,147 comments

user if there is 100 y/n fans, i am one of them. if there is one y/n fan, it is me. if there are no y/n fans, i have died.

user love love LOVE that mclaren takes the time to recognize the hard work of everyone who supports the drivers

↳ user i feel like f1 promotes the racers, team principals, and pit crew so much and forgets about everyone else that makes sure these teams are able to function so seamlessly

user CAN WE GET A MEET THE ADMIN POST TOO??? 👀👀👀

user i bumped into y/n back in silverstone 2021, like literally bumped into her, and she was so sweet!!

user she’s my photography inspo 🤩

user her dedication to the mclaren team is so apparent when you think about the fact that she DOESN’T get the same recognition as the drivers, but she has chosen to work for them for what will be 6 years as of this season. she could have easily move to a different formula 1 team or even another sport entirely, but she still comes back and that’s a dedicated artist

↳ user the fact that she did a little stint over at manchester city fc and STILL chose to come back to mclaren even tho i imagine f1 has a much harsher and stricter schedule with the intercontinental travel than football does

user this is who we have to thank for all those beautiful shots of lando??? cuz if so, bless her omg 🙏🙏🙏

user in this household we appreciate the crew that works tirelessly to keep us entertained

user so tired of seeing ppl disregard her skill as a photographer just bc of who she’s dating

↳ user OMG SAME

yourusername glad to be here, can’t wait to travel the world with these amazing people 🧡

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 214,051 others

tagged: mclaren

yourusername locked in and ready 😎

view all 1,514 comments

oscarpiastri so glad you’ve gotten over your temporary obsession with blue 😁

↳ yourusername so glad you haven’t lost your ability to get on my last nerve 😁

↳ oscarpiastri so glad you’re still insufferable even on your best days 😁

↳ yourusername now that’s a comeback i can be proud of 🥹

user MISSED THESE LADS OH MY DAYS

user ONE DAY UNTIL TESTING GUYS

user oscar looking fine asf these days 😩 that winter break treated him well

mclaren The boys are back in town!

↳ yourusername dare i say my milkshake brought them to the yard?

↳ mclaren It certainly called us 😍

↳ yourusername you flatter me mclaren admin 😌

↳ mclaren Only the best for our best 😘

user that’s some pretty intense eye contact from lando in the last image…

↳ user he ain’t even looking at the camera

↳ user nah bruv is def looking at y/n 👀👀

↳ user I NEED THEM TO GET OVER WHATEVER HAPPENED AND GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS CUZ I MISS THE BANTER IN THE COMMENTS

↳ user i think we should probably respect their privacy and understand that something happened (presumably in the off season) that we weren’t privy to. so long as they can both maintain professionalism around one another, they don’t have to do or “get over” anything. does it suck to see two very close friends no longer get along in the way they used to? absolutely. but we don’t know what happened or if anything even did happen. in the event that something did, we don’t know who’s involved or who, if anyone, is at fault. they’re both justified in choosing to end a friendship due to a falling out, or even if they just grew distant. but even as i say all of this, it’s still speculation.

↳ user we don’t actually know if they aren’t friends any longer or if they’ve just moved their friendship off of online platforms. it should be noted that y/n is very publicly dating someone, and idk about you, but i know firsthand how delusional fans can be. her bf’s fans could easily attack her over banter with another man, and lando’s fans could just as easily start reading into that same banter which runs the very real possibility of putting all three of them in an awkward situation where y/n is being shipped with a man that ISN’T her bf.

↳ user what about the banter she has with the mclaren admin? 🤔

↳ user context is super important here. the flirting between y/n and the mclaren admin is very obviously fake. it has been from the beginning, and when ppl “ship” the two of them together it’s for the bit and to play along with their fake bromance. lando and y/n have both been legitimately shipped together since they both started working with mclaren, which changes the undertone of the shipping comments bc ppl often genuinely misconstrue their banter as REAL flirting.

user why do comment sections related to y/n always turn into debate sessions

↳ user REAL like ain’t no way i’m reading all that

user oscar’s hair sticking up in every picture is my roman empire

user I’VE BEEN MISSING THE ORANGE I’M SO GLAD IT’S BACK 🧡🧡🧡

user wait i didn’t even realize until now that this is the first post in like a month that’s actually had public comments turned on

↳ user probably bc her bf’s loser fans have finally stopped harassing her

jackgrealish must be nice having all that sun 😒

↳ yourusername it really is, bet you’re jealous

Testing goes fine, until it doesn’t.

“A drain cover?” Lando’s voice echoes across the garage. “Another fucking drain cover?”

You purse your lips.

Yesterday, he’d been upset on Oscar’s behalf when they’d cancelled the remainder of the morning session after only a couple hours to solve the problem of the track’s dislodged pieces. He’d complained and cussed out the incompetence, and then reassured Oscar that things would be better for the third day.

But the third day is here now, and he’s even more upset now being told to pit after a measly thirty minutes for the same issue.

“This is the second fucking time━” he cuts himself off with an angry huff and runs his hands roughly through the curls of his hair, letting his fingers catch on the tangles and yanking through them in his frustration. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow. His cheeks are still flushed from the heat of the car.

It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him since you’ve come back.

The time you’ve already spent in Bahrain has been stilted at best. Lando continues to stick with his attempts at avoiding you, but it’s harder to do so here when your hotel rooms are on the same floor and you’re limited to the confines of the garage for most of the day. Even when he isn’t in the car, there’s not a lot to do wandering around the paddock and even if there was they’ve encouraged him to stay where he can easily be reached.

You’re trying not to be smug about it, but every time you glance over your shoulder and catch him watching you━ catch him quickly looking away when your eyes meet and he realizes he’s been caught━ you feel pleased.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Lando, it’s that he’s always got a limit.

If you wait long enough, stand your ground and prove that you really have no intentions whatsoever of giving in and breaking the ice between the two of you, eventually he’ll cave. When he realizes he won’t get what he wants, that he’ll have to actually put in the effort to repair what he’s broken rather than having it magically fix itself, he’ll have no other choice but to do so.

“They might not cancel the session,” Oscar chimes in, attempting to placate his aggravated teammate. “Since they already had to yesterday, I doubt they’ll do it again today.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t actually calm Lando down at all. If anything, it just reminds him again of the fact that this is the second time this same complication has happened which has him huffing angrily again and running his hands through his tangled curls even rougher.

You wince at that.

Andrea, McLaren’s team principal, steps forward. “Take a breath,” he orders, resting a heavy hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Go walk a lap around the garage or something, whatever, but I need you to calm down.”

You’re prepared for that to be the end of it, but then Andrea looks over and catches your eye. “Y/N,” he says, nodding his head towards Lando. “You go with him. Keep him out of trouble.”

Well.

You like to think you do a much better job at keeping your emotions off of your face than Lando, which isn’t hard when his features scrunch up into a pained scowl at Andrea’s words, but you can feel the pinch of your own eyebrows furrowing and the smile you send towards the team principal probably looks more like a grimace if Oscar pursed lips in your peripherals is anything to go by.

Lando storms out and you follow reluctantly after him.

He can’t really go very far, not if he wants to be within a reasonable distance when━ if━ they call him back to continue the morning testing session. So he paces back and forth and back and forth just outside the garage’s exit out into the paddock.

Your phone tells you that ten minutes pass like this. It’s the longest you’ve been alone with him in a while and his distraction lets you focus on the finer details that you’ve missed when he’s going out of his way to avoid you.

There are deep, dark, bruise-like circles that hang heavily beneath his eyes. His skin is sun-kissed and tanned from his time out catching rays during his travels, but there’s a pale pallor beneath the added color that makes him look sick. Despite his current anger and the tension coiled in his muscles just waiting to lash out and strike, his shoulders seem to droop beneath the invisible weight of whatever he’s carrying with him.

He looks small.

Lando’s always been on the shorter side, but he’s never before looked small. Not like this. Never like this.

The longer you watch, the more the back and forth pacing starts to transform into the anxious stride of a cornered animal.

You aren’t arrogant enough to assume he’s like this because of you entirely, but it does occur to you that maybe he’s having just as rough of a time as you are with the newfound distance between yourselves.

You watch him silently, for a little while longer, observing the way his stride hitches every few steps and he just barely manages to stop himself from stumbling over his own feet. He’s still running his hands through his hair. By the seventh time he practically claws his fingers through his curls you heave a sigh.

“Quit that,” you snap.

“Quit what?” He fires back with just as much bite.

You roll your eyes. “You’re gonna rip your hair out if you keep pulling on it like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you with a sneer. His words drip with sarcasm. “I forgot you must be used to Grealish now, right? And I bet he’s got at least a ten-step hair care routine. I wonder, does he use unicorn sweat and essence of rainbow to keep it that smooth and bright? There’s no other possible way!”

“You’re being an asshole, Lando.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he says. “How could I ever think Grealish would use unicorn sweat of all things? He uses pixies tears, my mistake.”

You’re not sure how a few words managed to turn into this━ you’d just wanted him to stop pulling at his hair. It looked painful and he’s always been a bit tender headed. Now, instead, you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you and it seems like Lando’s frustrations about the testing delay, and your friendship with Jack apparently, have made things worse.

Like throwing gasoline onto a flame.

You scowl, “Seriously. You’re being a fucking prick.”

He throws his arms up into the air, “Why not just run off to Grealish then? Since he seems to be your new best friend and you tell him everything.”

If your life were a movie, this is the moment in time when the stars would align and fate would force everything to position itself perfect in place. Like the pieces of a puzzle, it would all work out and you’d calmly explain to Lando what happened back in January with Garrett and Manchester City, and he’d understand immediately and apologize, and you’d hug it out and then both return to the garage just in time for them to announce the testing session would re-commence.

But your life isn’t a movie, and reality feels significantly different to the scripted perfection of fiction.

The precarious security of the perch you’ve settled yourself upon comes crashing down, and the tentative balance you’ve managed to maintain since the start of February when you were back in papaya again shatters with it. Something inside you snaps. The dam has burst and everything held back comes rushing to the front like a torrential wave.

“At least he was there for me when some prick blackmailed me into a relationship at the threat of my livelihood,” you snarl.

Lando pauses for a moment. He makes a couple different faces before settling on a mix between pissed off and confused, and his arms cross over his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Garrett Ward, Lando!” You exclaim. “He threatened that if I didn’t pretend to be his girlfriend, he’d fake some misconduct rumor and ruin my career and I was too afraid to say no because this is all I have!”

This isn’t how you’d wanted it all to go down. You’d always imagined you’d get the satisfaction of an apology, and that Lando would get drunk on cheap wine with you like old times, and you’d explain what all happened with the confidence of being a little tipsy and you wouldn’t feel ashamed because Lando’s your best friend and he’d reassure you that you did what you had to, and then you’d listen to him shit talk Garrett for the rest of the night. In the morning, he’d have some idea of how to fix it all without ruining your career, and then you’d be able to put it all behind you and go back to how things were before the winter off-season ever started.

This is far from that, but there’s a sense of relief that comes nonetheless from getting it all off your chest to Lando━ to the person you’ve wanted to talk to from the very beginning

You feel tears burning your eyes, blurring your vision. “I can barely pay my rent as is, and I’m only actually living there for a few dumb months out of the year anyway. Do you know how much worse it would be if I got kicked from McLaren too? Nobody else in the country would hire me if he followed through with what he was threatening.”

“Well,” Lando shrugs his shoulders, looking properly chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I fucking tried, you muppet!” You throw your arms up in exasperation and then wipe at your eyes in frustration when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I called you every day for a week and you ignored me! I sent you text after text after fucking text━” your voice breaks, “━and you didn’t even read them! Did you know I locked myself in the bathroom and cried every single day I had to work there?”

You glare at him.

“The only thing that made it better was Jack fucking Grealish coming into my office and telling me I could at least go to him if I ever needed anything,” you snap. “So fuck off with this whole holier than thou bullshit. You left me, and Jack took your place because I was drowning!”

“Y/N…”

Crying hadn’t been a part of your plan, but the tears won’t stop now that they’re going. It’s embarrassing. You’re already worried about just how many people heard you shouting, and now you’re even more worried about someone coming back to look for you both and finding you sobbing your eyes out.

“I’m sorry━”

Lando’s arms wrap around you, warm and strong and sure.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks. lando is finally back in the picture! this part was a lot of fun to write, because i've been waiting for this moment since the initial fallout in the beginning. on that note, i finished getting it all whipped up this morning while watching the qualis, so if there are any mistakes that i haven't caught that's why. i was a bit distracted, so please pretend they aren't there haha!

[natailiatulls07]

Sleeping Beauty; Yacht

2023 formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - The story behind the Sleeping Beauty yacht post

Warning - Nothing

Sleeping Beauty

-

"Hey, anyone else need a drink?" Charles asked the drivers sat around the table. He had invited some of the grid to hang out on his yacht during summer break. A few asked for another drink, craving the cold alcohol drink.

Walking into the yachts kitchen, Charles failed to notice the sleeping girl on his couch. Having failed to see Y/n asleep, he continued to make the drinks for the rest of the drivers.

-

It wasn't long after Charles returned with the drinks that they noticed the youngest absence. "Hey wheres the kiddo?" Carlos piped up, finally noticing the quiet atmosphere. At Carlos' question, the rest of the drivers looked around. Now only noticing that she was gone.

"How much do you want to bet that she is sleep somewhere?" Lando had the cheeky tone ligering in his voice as he turned to Oscar who had a smirk identical to his own.

"Nah she probably off already swimming back to shore. It wasn't long before she would get bored of us" The two laughed as they all got up to find Y/n.

Walking through to the kitchen was when they all fell into a collective laughter. She was laid on the couch clutching her phone in her left hand whilst her pair of sunglasses laid lazily across her eyes.

Their loud laughter and amusement had started to stir Y/n out of her sleep. She looked around confused of the sudden laughter. "Good morning kiddo, were we beginning to get boring?"

Despite her awoken and confused state, she still managed to reply to Pierre in her classic iconic tone. "Yeah I though I would be better in here then with a bunch of weird drivers" Every driver had amused smiles on their faces.

"We thought you swam back to shore" Oscar piped up from his place near the kitchen sink. Gesturing to himself and Lando.

"Yeah well I thought that it was too much effort in my opinion, decided this would better" Rubbing her eyes, she laid her head onto Daniels shoulder once he sat down next to her.

Looking down at his watch, Mick suggested to the rest of the group that they return to shore so that Y/n could retire for the night. Once everyone agreed, Charles started to turn his yacht back to the port where they would depart and retire to their individual home for the night.

"Goodnight Y/n!" Max waved to the young driver as she made her way home, to which he got a weak yet loving wave in return.

-

charles_leclerc

F1 get together got to boring for her apparently

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55 and 679,467 others

landonorris I won the bet!! Pay up Mr Oscar Piastri 😌

= oscarpiastri Dammit!

= username Them making bets on her sleep is the best thing I've seen all day!!

yourusername In my defence, it was really boring lol

= charles_leclerc Wait sorry don't blame, you went out the night before

danielricciardo Apparently she didn't want to go swimming with us

= maxverstappen1 Apparently so

-

[marengogo]

Are You Sure?! - #1: A Vampire’s Utopia

Who by Jimin focused playlist 

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Hello my JM & JK Loving Gurls, Bois and Enbys! 

How have we all been since Thursday? 😌 Who’s watched both episodes at least 3 times? 🤡 Who’s gonna keep watching the episodes until Thursday? 💜 Who’s been left marvelling, yet again, about how intricately beautiful human beings are 🙋🏾‍♀️…

Oh! Only me?! 👀.

... Well what can I say? If it weren’t for my undying love for movies I would have definitely chosen a job related to psychology. Now whether I would have turned out to be a help or a menace to society, is anyone’s guess, after all, there is no sense, or point, in speculating things that have no way of presently happening due to decisions made in the past. However, do y'all know what we can speculate on? The present based on actions that actually happened in the past.

I’ve admittedly rewatched both episodes of AYS for the fourth time yesterday for research purposes obviously, and what brings me here is that now very infamous moment there are presently ao3 books being written on this particular moment ? The one when my cutie-patootie twin-flame very concisely summarises his and JM’s “solo/chapter 2 relationship”, up to that point (which to be precise, is the period of time between 14 July 2022: Hobi’s Listening Party and 13 July 2023: AYS in USA… exactly 1 year: DAMN!) as per below:

First time I saw this part, the first thing I did was snort and then I immediately thought: DRAMA QUEEN and trust me, I would know. Oh, and let it be clear, I can only attempt to speculate on my twin-flame, especially in cases like this when I strongly feel that my boi has been … misunderstood. If it weren’t clear enough from the title, this is indeed a JK post you know JM-blood thirsting vampire etc etc etc.

Let's start with the fact that I beleive that JM was simply trying to start a simple bit of banter when he said:

And I would sincerely like to apologise to JM cause, indeed, this simple type of banter would have warranted a just as simple type of reply. Something like what JK eventually ended up saying after he allowed his thoughts to come forth and take the stage, but we will address this in a second:

But no.

You see, homeboi over here seems to be the type to hold on to things and will not let go until he’s cleared things, or situations, in the way he has known and/or perceived them to have happened, which tend to happen a lot when you are a very emotional person, who isn’t necessarily as eloquent. The most important thing to understand here, however, is the fact that whatever topic such people decide to discuss is all according to their most sensible account of facts and perceptions. They don't mean to offend or distort truths, they just ... emote for lack of better words. For example, it is a fact that, during that period, JK & JM were both busy, it is apparently also a fact that JK didn’t call, but according to JM it is not a fact that he himself didn’t call. 

Does that make JK a liar? In my opinion, not only can't I know what actually happened, but in fact, that is absolutely not the point of the case at hand. The way I see it, this is simply how JK has perceived this particular absence in his life, during that particular period. In fact, let’s dive even deeper.

Because of those two sentences, you’d I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT MANY DO ... think that JM and JK actually never met each other during that particular period of time 14 July 2022 - 13 July 2023. Now, I am sure we all remember him sorta/kinda pining on weverse during the period from 3 February 2023 and 14 March 2023, right?:

But let’s quickly look at a timeline of the 14 July 2022: Hobi’s Listening Party and 13 July 2023: AYS in USA period. Below are dates when they definitely met, with other members, that we are aware of. I’ve also inserted his most relevant weverse pinings, and the period of time they were busy at the same time, just for me to have a time reference:

・14 JULY 2022: J-HOPE’S LISTENING PARTY - OT6 (Yoongi was sick)

・1 SEPTEMBER 2022: JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY - JM waint with Hobi to celebrate his birthday

・15 OCTOBER 2022 - BUSAN CONCERT - OT7

・12 DECEMBER 2022 - JIN’S ENLISTMENT SEND-OFF - OT7 

・most likely FEBRUARY-MARCH 2023 - LIKE CRAZY DANCE PRACTICE - JK went to see JM practice

 3 Feb 2023 - 14 Mar 2023 ——— LIGHT WEVERSE PINING - The above collage period

・25 MARCH 2023 - MEMBERS MEET WITH JIN DURING HIS HOLIDAY - OT7

27 March 2023 ——— HEAVY WEVERSE PINING - JK posting “I miss you”, then watching Suchita and reacting to JM content.

・18 APRIL 2023 - HOBI’S ENLISTMENT SEND-OFF - OT7

April - May ——— both JK & JM are travelling around the world for work and/or pleasure.

・25 JUNE 2023 - D-DAY in SEOUL ‘DAY 2’ - VMINKOOK at Yoongi’s concert 

・13 JULY 2023 - AYS in NYC - JK & JM (and staff) have dinner at ANTOYA 

… If you asked me, it would appear that JK’s issue is actually the fact that they didn’t get a chance to go out alone, just the two of them. Yeah … My twin-flame seems to always have had strong, almost impulsive, reactions when it comes to anything concerning JM, it is actually probably the most vocal he becomes for a non-talkative guy that is.

Can you recall any other member, other than JM, he was ever upset about because he didn’t get to hear their music? Can you think about any other member other than JM, who JK would most likely be spending time rehearsing, eating, doing nothing during band activities? Can you think of any other member other than JM, for whom he’s made a bit more of an effort during birthdays and special dates? Once again ... If you ask me ... JK truly values his time alone with JM, which is why I think his perception felt so fatalistic/dramatic we all know that for example, JM did go to the Golden Listening Party in October ... 

And don’t get me wrong, I definitely don’t believe it to be a one-way affair. Are You Sure?! exist exactly because JM would seem to also appreciate his alone time with JK, be it in front of a camera, in a hotel room, or whreever. After all, they were supposed to only go for one trip, but not only did they magically whip out time to go on two more Jeju and Sapporo, but they are now talking about doing this until they are 50. LOL I’ll be in my 60s but I’ll tune in! . And then, to top it all off … They ended up enlisting together. The way JM wanted to “make a video of their adventures and freedom” before enlistment, you’d think they’d be apart for the following 18 months because of said enlistment 😒.  

It’s actually quite funny if you think about it. Between the two of them JM is most definitely the shiest, but JM is most definitely the better one at expressing himself. Y’all can obviously disagree with me, but from where I stand, my twin-flame is actually smart as hell one day people will finally acknowledge that, but he is not the best with words. I’m sure in JK’s Utopia, the world is a place where people sing to each other in order to communicate, instead of spoken words. Alas, this is not JM-blood thirsting Vampire Utopia, and in the world where we presently live, JK seems to be the type who’s first reaction to stressful situations is finding the funny side of things and when that fails then he needs to do something about it; anything.

Now, as always, everyone is entitled to their opinions, in fact, many have made it very clear that to them JK was feeling “off” in these episodes, but to me, not only he was being his typical weird self, but I also I discovered a few new aspects, for example, when he truly cares about something, his devotion has really no limits. But let me use some images, and some words, to better explain how I perceived JK in these two episodes. Remember how JK once substituted the word Love with Jimin, in a Boy with Luv lyric Jimin nothing stronger? Well I’d like to do the same thing and sub the word Love with JK in the following very famous biblical paragraph and associate specific moments in both episodes to each line:

JK is patient, 

If this is not the testament sequence of a man who’s been waiting to spend time with you, no matter what, then I don’t know what else is.

JK is kind.

He does not envy, he does not boast, he is not proud.  

He does not dishonor others, he is not self-seeking, 

LOL … one day JK will be able to pull a prank on JM; I believe in you.

He is not easily angered, he keeps no record of wrongs.

I shouldn’t have to say this, but ... there are no “wrongs” done between JM & JK, what they do with each other is joke, have accidents and play around - but gotta say this just in case!

Last but not least, though JK was coughing like there was no tomorrow, wouldn’t you think that JM being vehemently sick, would be grounds for the whole show to be cancelled? In fact, we didn’t even know there was going to be a show, so nobody would have missed anything and at some point they could have used the footage in a bangtan-bomb, or during Festa, or something. … The fact that they were willing to keep going and even show us themselves in such a vulnerable state, the fact that because of it JM was so worried and doubting almost everything, and the fact that JK ultimately wasn’t worried and regretted nothing, kinda reinforced for me just how much they truly wanted to be together on that trip at that time it was basically overdue. 

In conclusion, though my Twin-flame’s strongest suit isn’t communication, and his recollection of events may or may not be as accurate due to emotional perception, his heart is ALWAYS in the right place, sturdy, confident and ready to let JK be the best he can be, at all times. I mean, you don’t have to take my word for anything I've just said but below is JK a mere 10 days after they separated from NYC/Connecticut ... look at him ... giddy AF and hella playful if you ask me and once again … weverse pining.

I guess one alone trip wasn’t enough after all 😉.

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[skyfallscotland]

⚡️CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (and maybe my last public live-blog because I've thrown the book and my anxiety says people are throwing the book at me)

“Yeah, I picked up on that.” His brow knits as he nods. “I picked up on a lot of things he was thinking.” I blink. “That’s not how your signet—”

XADEN FUCKING LIARSON EVERYBODY

SORRY BUT I WILL NO LONGER BE ACCEPTING CRITICISM AT THIS TIME. BYE.

Like I am sorry but if he isn't a liar, then he's delulu, those are your only two options. You can't get exact phrasing from intentions or images or whatever, you can't!! I get that "he doesn't know what he is" is the line Rebecca's going with, but respectfully, that doesn't make any sense. The difference between words and not-words is distinct. Nothing bugs me more than worldbuilding that doesn't make sense. If his signet is growing, then how come Jeremiah could read thoughts in the first minute?

I'm tired, guys. How powers work in general is information we should have been given in book one. I'm glad some people can just read-all vibes, but I can't. It's different if the accepted theory around powers is changing in-world, but half of this is stuff that isn't news apparently to them, just to us...400k words later, and I really struggle with that. I'm getting whiplash.

Also, bye Aura, may you Be in h(e)aven 😌

[gamerwoo]

hansol/mingyu: the lovers playlist

characters: mingyu x female reader

genre/warnings: idol au, friends to lovers, sosososo much fluff

word count: 686

summary: come on, come on, we were one upon a time in love; we're accidentally in love

a/n: things in bold italics are song lyrics. this is the final part of tlp!!! im kinda sad it's over but im glad the story is finally complete 😌 i really wanna do another series styled like this but we'll see lmao. thank you sm to everyone who supported and loved the series!! 💛💛

previous song | back to playlist

"Here."

A black cassette tape was tossed onto your desk. You looked at it with furrowed brows as you removed your headphones and picked it up, glancing up at the man who was clearly trying -- and failing -- to hide a stupid grin.

You flipped it over. You recognized the smudged sticker that was meant to read Mingyu's Tape. Even though the boy in question apparently had the tape, he didn't relabel it.

"Why'd you have this?" you ask him.

He nodded toward you, "Just listen to it."

You flashed him a suspicious look before you stood up from your desk and walked over to Mingyu's nightstand. You were borrowing Wonwoo's laptop to do some editing -- all of his tech was a lot better than yours -- so you decided to just stay the night at their dorm anyway.

Mingyu had invested in one of those radios like the one you had at home because he wanted to hear some of your tapes. You popped the one he tossed at you in the player and then made yourself comfortable in his bed. Mingyu flopped down right beside you, already giggling to himself.

All of the songs were familiar to you. Obviously. You were the one who made the tape.

There was a pause after I Wanna Be Yours. Normally, that was where the tape had stopped, so you expected the silence. But then, you suddenly heard the sound of a drum, followed by a familiar guitar melody.

Almost immediately, you huffed and rolled your eyes. That cued loud laughter from your boyfriend.

"Shrek? Really?" you asked him.

"Baby, you love Shrek!" he insisted, trying to justify why that one Counting Crows song was suddenly added to the playlist. "But that's not why. Just listen."

So she said, what's the problem, baby? What's the problem? I don't know; Well maybe I'm in love.

Right. You'd forgotten just how sappy this song was. You never really fully thought about the lyrics because the song was connected with a Shrek movie.

"So you added to my tape?" you asked him, turning your head to look at him with a small smile.

He shrugged, "I had to. It couldn't just end where it did."

"Why not?"

"Because I am yours now. Duh."

Come on, come on, move a little closer; Come on, come on, I want to hear you whisper; Come on, come on, settle down inside my love.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he said it. It was no secret how excited and giddy Mingyu was ever since you said you accepted his confession -- even if over a year had gone by already.

"And why did you choose this song?" you wondered.

Come on, come on, we were once upon a time in love; We're accidentally in love.

He scoffed, "You don't think this song is perfect for us?"

Accidentally in love; Accidentally in love; Accidentally--

It kind of was. You never meant to fall for Mingyu. Actually, everything that lead up to you and Mingyu had started off as just you and Hansol. And yeah, you were good friends with him now, but if you had gone back in time and told yourself you'd end up with Mingyu, you'd probably laugh.

I'm in love, I'm in love; I'm in love, I'm in love; I'm in love, I'm in love.

"Alright, last question," you decided, rolling over onto Mingyu so you could look down at him with a sweet smile as you looked into his warm brown eyes. He never stopped looking at you like you were the best thing to grace the planet. "Why'd you add to the playlist now? I made this so long ago."

Come on, come on, spin a little tighter; Come on, come on, and the world's a little brighter; Come on, come on, just get yourself inside her love.

He just shrugged and said, "Better late than never, right?"

Then he rolled the two of you over so he was over you, planting kisses all over your face as he heard you laugh over the end of the song.

I'm in love.

── « ⋅ʚ ♫ ɞ⋅ » ───

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!!! =D

So. We Are ep 13. I don't how they do this, but they keep making every episode better than the last. At this rate, I'll not be able to survive episode 16.

Warning: long post 😊😅 (there will be a smol part 2 because 30 screenshots are definitely not enough.)

We have the Best Parents in BL, but now I present to you: The Best Aunt in BL.

Subtle, Aunt Pui, real subtle. 😭

I get her. She just wants a nice, handsome boyfriend for her nephew. 😌

First of all, the symbolism is hitting me right in the face, but it's also so subtle because no one else knows the whole story, so they wouldn't be able to figure it out.

Secondly. Yes, the red and blue do clash a bit, and it's not the prettiest little painting. But. Not every painting has to be "pretty" or perfect. Just like feelings or emotions in real life. Peem didn't willingly draw over his precious painting because he thought it'd look better; he did it because he wanted it to express his feelings. This also ties into Peem's insecurity at having (apparently) failed at being Phum's comfort zone because see, in the painting it looks like the sea is embracing the roses, or protecting them.

What I'm trying to say, is that what makes art beautiful is not just what you directly see on the canvas/right in front of you. And this applies even to the "pretty" ones. The David is not just famous because it looks very good, but also because of the amount of skill and talent Michelangelo had to be able to create such a thing from a block of marble. (I'm sorry I'm not good at examples or analogies 😭)

Sir. What business do you have, making an expression like that and giving me a heart attack.

If I haven't said this before: find a man who looks at you like Phum (Pond) looks at Peem (Phuwin).

Two sides of the same coin.

Phum still feels guilty (which is very clear from his reaction to what Peem says) about ruining Peem's painting, so he wants to do something to make sure nothing like that ever happens to Peem again.

Peem is long over it (you don't ever forget shit like that, but he has definitely forgiven Phum). He met Phum because of that Incident™, and he has a new, upgraded painting, so this is just a light joke for him. But the moment he sees it's too soon for Phum, he immediately goes to reassure him he's just kidding, and he absolutely does not hold it over Phum.

A simple pinky promise, but how much does it mean to Phum?

He's never had someone to make a pinky promise with; Fang was in a similar situation as him, and Beer knew better to make a promise and have it broken by forces outside his control.

So this, this small, childish gesture means quite a bit to him. (Which is also probably why having broken it hurt him so much.)

And yet Peem, you're smiling so wide while saying that. Almost like *le gasp* you actually like it!

Let's be real here, Peem. You don't mind at all. In fact, you sounded unbearably fond saying this. You were quite literally giggling and kicking your feet. (Which fits my headcanon of him pretty well actually.)

This shot. Just >>>> (actually thinking of making it my header-)

Ma boy never misses a chance 😭👍🏼

And if he doen't get a chance, he makes one and nails that too. <3

SO CUTEE 🥺🫶🏼

Oh the teasing is on.

Pun: I did that 😌

Beer: Idiots in love. Again. *exasperated sigh*

[From this point on, I am extremely sleep deprived, so most comments made will probably (definitely) be forgotten by the time I wake up (I'm going right to sleep after posting this.]

Well, Chain, I'm sorry to be the one telling you this, but Phum moved into Peem's heart like 6 episodes ago.

Well, yeah, but Peem has to act at least a little bit like the tsundere he is, right?

Chain: "Well, can a cupid shoot an arrow at himself?"

Toey: *very telling side-eye*

Q: You really think one flirty line will trigger his half braincell to understand what he didn't in the past however many years? ...go on, I wanna see how this turns out

Pun: *pikachu meme face*

Beer: Oh damn here goes another one, we must be nearing the last episode

Phum: ????

Peem: Don't say anything don't say anything DON'T SAY ANYTHING DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY A SINGLE WORD- (internally: Idiots. They're idiots.)

Ah, I love the sibling energy here. Also, initially I was like nah you're more like Tan. But then I gave it some thought. And had a Realization: he really is the Fang in their relationship, and Q really is the Tan. (I do not have the brainpower to explain rn, but tell me if you want me too, I'll include it in Part 2.)

Phum can't wait. (And neither can Peem, because I didn't see ya denying anything, babe. Instead, you gave him the softest shoulder bump in the history of soft shoulder bumps and that bigass (smitten) smile.

Oh boy this scene.

Right before this, when Peem called Phum immediately after the last brushstroke, I was smiling so hard and giggling like yesss do boyfriend-y things with each other!

Him waiting on the porch: still big smile. Here comes Phum! Ooh are they gonna flirt in the car??

My smile started dimming as the seconds ticked by and no Phum appeared on screen.

Until I finally realized what was happening.

I almost stopped breathing.

And as the scene went on my heart broke a little more with every text and every call, and I was watching that mall scene again. Except it was much much worse this time.

So long story short, I was heartbroken for both of them. Especially when Peem showed up alone with the saddest lost-kitten face ever.

But, at this point I knew Phum must have had something really urgent/unaviodable to miss his meeting with Peem because 1. He really really loves that boy and 2. He was very much looking forward to doing this with Peem.

Unfortunately, I will have to end Part 1 here (please don't kill me), and I'm loathe to end on a sad note, but I promise the next part will be much happier. It will hopefully be posted a little later today.

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a pudding 🍮

My previous We Are posts.

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: trucker!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: It’s always a time when uncle Ari comes around

⚠️: uncle!Ari (just as damaging as dad!Ari and regular Ari lol) mention of nightmares, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: Hey guys! Another Halloween themed fic but this time with a softer Ari😌. This will serve as atonement to myself (and others who might be affected) for daring to make my fave dark in my last post lol. Hope you guys like it!!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pics used as they were all found on Pinterest*

As expected, four year old Grace had been attached to Ari since the moment you both arrived to babysit for the night. You wouldn’t say you were upset seeing that he was her uncle and that they’ve talked nearly every day since she could babble, but there was still a little sting every time you were greeted with a quiet “hi” or short wave before she was gone and you long forgotten.

Like now as they dug through their shared pumpkin emptying it’s stringy contents while you were in charge of decorating the sugar cookies waiting on the cooling rack.

“S’cold!,” she squealed dumping out her handful of pumpkin guts.

“Be careful of the seeds, you swallow one and a huge pumpkin’s gonna grow in your belly,” Ari warned to which little Grace quickly shook her head.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“No uncle Ari, we can eat. See?” Before either of you can say anything, she’s quick to set one on her tongue happily chewing until she can swallow it down rubbing her belly. “I’m fine.”

“I guess you showed me huh,” he chuckles tapping her nose and leaving some juice from his finger on her skin successfully turning it light orange. Grace is quick to retaliate though rubbing her hands on his cheeks to leave behind tiny pieces of string as she giggles - and you do too from the other side of the kitchen.

Honestly you couldn’t blame her for picking Ari over you as her favorite. You’d choose him too if you had to pick between the two of you.

“Alright, it’s pretty much cleaned out now. You want scary or funny?,” he asks watching as she adorably tapped her tiny finger to her temple in thought.

“Hmm…funny!”

“Got it,” he nods. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and help your aunt with cookies?”

“I got everything we could ever want Grace,” you smile reaching in your grocery bag full of decorating goodies. “There’s sprinkles - three different shapes I might add - glitter, edible stickers, and stencils to help us draw shapes!”

The way she gazed at the sprinkles with her mouth in a little “o”, you think you’ve got her. Finally able to bond with her over a shared love of cookies like you were in one of those Hallmark movies. Like a little happy family.

“Um..wanna stay with uncle Ari.”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh okay,” you answer successfully hiding your hurt behind your nonchalance. Ari still notices though giving you a sympathetic smile and mouthing, “sorry.”

You appreciated him trying, but maybe you were just meant to be the fun uncle’s wife that barely got a hello. And who tends to go overboard with cookie decorating supplies.

•

“Alright ladies are we ready?,” Ari asks sitting on the navy blue sectional between you and a bouncy Grace nodding yes. During your spaghetti dinner - made by Ari since apparently his was the best although he used your recipe - he suggested that you all watch a movie afterwards.

Specifically, Gremlins.

His thought process being what better way for everyone - more so you and Grace - to spend time together than to watch a movie? Especially a spooky one seeing that it was the night before Halloween. You, on the other hand, had a few concerns on his niece potentially being scared of the little troublesome creatures.

“She’ll be fine. It’s not that scary,” he assured kissing your cheek.

Freshly bathed and in her appropriately themed pumpkin pajamas, Grace couldn’t wait holding on tight to her Mickey Mouse blanket as she watched her uncle press play.

“Share with me!,” she smiles just as Ari spreads the bigger, cream blanket over both yours and his lap.

“I’m not gonna fit though bug.”

“Uh huh! Watch,” she states crawling into his lap and neatly spreading the grey blanket over her legs and his thighs. You - again - casted off to the side with your blanket as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “We fit!”

“Y-Yea, looks like we do.” He gives you another sympathetic smile draping his arm around your shoulders while you bundle deeper under the blanket.

“I’d rather be by myself anyway. Little does she know her uncle is a blanket hog,” you think trying to make yourself feel better.

•

Ari appeared to be right on Grace not being scared. She even fell asleep towards the end with her upper half on the cushion next to them and lower half still on his lap; mouth wide open pointed towards the ceiling. Ari was the one to tuck her in bed, while you cleaned up the blankets and plates of cookie crumbs left in the living room.

You were the last to enter the shared guest room to finally get ready for bed yourself. Your love struck husband taking turns gazing at you and the last period of some hockey game as you strode back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom. A small, dopey smile on his lips watching you wash your face and apply all your products.

“Share with me?,” he pouts with those puppy eyes making you giggle while sliding into the full sized bed.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I feel like Grace is gonna somehow come in saying how she wants you to sleep in her room instead because that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

Yes probably a little petty, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His tattooed arms bring you closer into his body pecking the top of your head as you settle between his pecs. A low “aw” vibrating in his chest while his hands rub along your back.

“I know I probably sound jealous, but I’m not. I love how you have a great relationship with your niece! But it’s like she hates me and I have no idea what I did.”

He knew that had always been a bit of a fear for you. Kids hating you for whatever reason, thus meaning you shouldn’t have them although you did desire to be a mother one day. It’s why you were nervous meeting Grace all those years ago, afraid that the smallest mess up would ruin everything.

It didn’t help that the minute Ari passed her to you, she began whining and squirming. Your coos of comfort and gentle rocks didn’t seem to help, only making her more agitated not getting what she wanted. She didn’t stop until she was back in Ari’s strong arms and you kept your distance the rest of the visit cautious of a repeat interaction.

If only he could get you to ignore that fear and really see how everyone you met - adults and children alike - had no issues with you. Some even left enchanted by the charisma you thought you lacked.

“I promise, she doesn’t hate you gorgeous.”

“She said so?,” you quietly ask lifting your head with a hint of hope.

“Well…no. But she didn’t say the opposite either.” He tried to soothe your qualms, but it’s not helping the way he hoped watching your head fall back to his chest with a light huff. “Trust me sweetheart. I guess she’s just attached to me because-,”

“You’re amazing and clearly the favorite,” you mumble making him chuckle.

“I was gonna say because I talk to her more, but I’ll take the compliment.”

It’s not long after that you’re both falling asleep lulled by the shared warmth from holding each other. Ari’s soft snores vibrating the side of your face still lying on his chest.

You think you’re dreaming when a mix of a whine and cry hits your ears disrupting your rest and making you groggily sit up. Hearing feet shuffling outside your door though confirms those sounds are in fact real, giving you more motivation to investigate.

Your husband’s too far gone in his own dreamland to be affected by your moving; still lightly snoring with an arm over his forehead and the other out by his side.

Quietly opening the door, you wrap your arms around yourself in your thin pajama set feeling the chill of the night air seeping into your sister in law’s house before carefully padding out to the living room. There, you notice something on the couch moving under the blanket you folded earlier causing you to freeze in place. It was then you realized you probably should’ve woken Ari up so he could be the one playing detective or at least grabbed something you could use to defend yourself.

“H-Hello?,” you call out to the dim space only lit by a couple plug in nightlights in the walls.

“Hi,” Grace’s soft voice responds with a short sniffle.

You also realize how you’re sleepy brain might not be fully thinking straight unable to conclude earlier how it could just be your own niece sitting there on the couch.

Stepping closer, you sit on the cushion next to hers peeling back the cotton throw until you see her splotchy face and red eyes. Water attached to her curled lashes and some still threatening to spill over. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream…gwemlins,” she answers using the blanket to wipe her eyes. You immediately hug her close as you coo and assure her everything’s okay.

And surprisingly, she hugs you back.

Her tiny arms wrap tight around you - well, as far as they could with her adorably short reach - almost refusing to let you go.

“Yea, when they get angry they can be scary huh?”

She nods. “And have very very sharp teeth.”

“They do, but luckily they’re not real so there’s nothing-,”

A crash from the back room startles both of you making Grace scream, with the six year old nearly choking you now having her arms around your neck.

“It’s them!,” she cries hiding her face in your shoulder just as Ari limps into the living room holding his knee and appearing half asleep.

“Damn dresser,” he grumbles wiping his eyes that quickly fill with concern seeing both of you on the couch and his niece upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace had a nightmare about Gremlins,” you answer pointedly glaring at him as if saying, “I told you so!”

The slight wince on his face isn’t just from an uncomfortable knee as he walks forward to perch on the coffee table. “I’m sorry bug. I didn’t mean to show that to you to scare you.”

“Not nice uncle Ari,” she mumbles still attached to you.

“Forgive me?,” he pouts holding his arms out for a hug. “Peas?”

Wiping her eyes one last time, a small smile begins to spread on her lips as she moves from you to Ari. A fit of giggles rapidly escaping her mouth as his larger body practically swallows hers in a bear hug and he attacks her cheeks with kisses. A dramatic “mwah” sounding every time he made contact causing you to giggle as well.

And fantasize the undoubtedly joyful future you’d both have with your own children.

“Don’t do it again!,” she chastises when he stops. Wagging her finger inches from his nose making him chuckle. She was definitely her mother’s child.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Alright guys,” you sigh, “Since it’s gonna be a bit difficult to go back to sleep, I say we watch something happy.”

“Not Gwemlins!”

“No definitely not,” you chuckle. “I was thinking..Aladdin.”

“Yay! I love Aladdin!,” she claps in Ari’s arms as he picks her up so they both can sit on the couch. To both of your surprise, Grace crawls from her uncle’s lap and squeezes between you and Ari. “You like too?”

“Mhm, I even went as Princess Jasmine for Halloween when I was little.” You have to admit, seeing that gleam of admiration in her eyes as she gazed up at you made you silently thank Ari for showing her that movie. It was the reason behind this bonding moment that you didn’t think would happen.

As the movie played, you and Grace talked about the scenes and of course sung along to your heart’s content not caring if you were off key. All the while Ari watched you both with a soft smile on his pink lips loving how fast of friends you’d become.

And when you both fell asleep - you leaning on his shoulder and her across your lap - he couldn’t help but sneakily take a picture with his phone. Sending it to you with a message saying “looks like you’re amazing and a clear favorite too😉”.

[yonderghostshistories]

Random Find of the day

I was in art class today and we’re currently doing a model project thingy, and we were using old newspaper and magazines and scrunching them up and making them into balls as part of the modelling process

I was scrunching some random bits of newspaper to make into balls, left and right, when I suddenly saw the face of Mark Gatiss (aka a member of the British Comedy Troupe, The League of Gentlemen) on one of the piece of papers….

I then spent a bit of my time of unscrunching the paper and also finding the bits that I ripped out to stick it all together, well…most of the bits I was able to find anyway

And APPARENTLY-

This bit of the page of the newspaper was about a Channel 4 drama from 2015 called “Coalition” (in which it was about the 2010 general election and the formation of the coalition government that same year) in which Mark Gatiss played Peter Mandleson?!??

Yes you heard me…..

MARK GATISS PLAYED PETER MANDLESON

I then took this beauty home cuz it was TOO good to leave at school 😌

(also the OTHER reason I brought this baby home as I thought @right-stopthat-its-silly might appreciate this special Lil find tbh <33 as she’s THE Biggest Peter Mandleson Fan that I’ve ever known! Hope you enjoy this special lil newspaper gem @right-stopthat-its-silly 😉❤️)

[mncxbe]

I just had a cute Idea, How do you think Yosano, Tecchou, and Jouno (and anyone else you want to hehe) react to a child genuinely complimenting them? That would be so cute ngl-

Omg yes this would be so cute. Enjoy♡♡

Side note: ik Jouno can't see but I included descriptions for literary purposes😌🤝🏻

°☆○

You think... I'm pretty?

𝑻𝒆𝒕𝒄𝒉ō, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: slice of life/ silly♡

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

so let's assume a kid bumps into him on the street and then they engage in a staring contest (he defo would you cannot me convince me otherwise)

then the kid compliments his hair or points out how tall he is or something

at first he's there like 😐 but then that sweet smile of his makes its way to his lips and omg he's so happy

probably thanks the kid tbh

compliments them back and he's so sweet fr; just protect him

Tecchou's eyes narrowed as he carefully observed the colony of ants that crawled its way on the edge of the sidewalk; along the stretch of shade provided by the nearby building.

'Interesting...' he thought to himself 'So they purposefully avoid walking in the sun.'

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a sudden nudge on his side.

"Ouch" voiced a little girl as she pressed a hand to her forehead "Why are you sitting in the middle of the road and woah! Is that a tattoo? It looks so pretty"

For a moment Tecchou's face remained expressionless. He simply held the girl's gaze, trying to make sense of her words. And then it hit him: the cherry petal marks on his face. He gently traced his fingertips over the markings, a warm smile rising to his lips.

"Oh thank you" he beamed, looking at the child.

The girl blushed furiously and stuttered for a moment before turning on her heels and running away, leaving Tecchou alone. He frowned, seemingly unaware of why the kid reacted in such a manner.

Just then Jouno walked out of the building and smacked him over the head.

"Why are you crouching, idiot?" he asked in an annoyed voice "Don't you have work to do?"

Tecchou rose to his feet, still gazing in the direction where the young girl left.

"Say, Jouno. Am I scary?"

"What the hell do you mean by that? Of course not"

"Then why did the girl run away?"

Jouno took notice of the hint of sadness and worry in his colleague's voice and raised a brow "What girl?"

"The girl. She said my marks looked pretty" he said, pointing at his face.

Jouno only scoffed "She was just a kid right? Stop wasting time and let's get back to work"

With that Jouno began walking down the street, snaking through the sea of people; Tecchou following close by. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the kid's words out of his mind. Were his markings really that cool? He always saw them as a part of himself, like his hair or nails, not some adornment, but apparently they were something beautiful, something that made people smile. And that was enough to make Tecchou smile too.

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐

we all know he's high on praise already, although I feel like he has a hard time accepting it

appreciates any compliment he gets but when its from children or elderly people it kinda hits different

he tries not to smile, really tries to but inside he's melting

gently pats the child on the crown of his head

The white haired man wiped the blood off his sword with a swift movement; there was a certain grace to this motion that only came from practice.

"Lowly scum" he mumbled under his breath "Really thought he could steal that woman's purse."

Suddenly, a gentle tug on his crimson cape caused him turn around and face a young boy, who didn't seem older than eleven years of age. The kid's gaze was filled with adoration, chocolate brown eyes glimmering with joy and a wide smile stretching his lips.

"Sir if I may..." he began in a hesitant tone "You're so cool. The way you slashed that man was insane!"

The boy spoke with such fervour, mimicking the blade of Jouno's sword with one of his frail arms. "I wanna be just like you when I grow up"

For a brief moment memories from Jouno's dark past resurfaced in his mind. How could this kid say such things? He doesn't know what a cruel person he was and the despicable things he had done and yet... Maybe he had actually changed since he joined the Hunting Dogs, maybe he was a now a better person; worthy of appreciation.

A warm smile tug at the corners of Jouno's lips as he placed a hand on the boy's head and ruffled his chestnut hair.

"Then make sure to stay out of trouble and work hard, kid." he said with a gentleness that surprised even Jouno himself.

The boy nodded eagerly before a woman's voice called out his name.

"Coming mom!" he replied happily, waving the white haired man goodbye. "You'll see how great I'll become sir. Just like you" added the kid as he made his way towards a middle-aged woman carrying a bag of groceries. He took her free hand and soon the two of them got lost in the sea of people swarming around the shopping centre.

Jouno took a deep breath, attempting to push down the rush of emotions that bubbled up inside him. This was all he needed: confirmation that he was doing something good, that his hard work actually paid off and his actions didn't go unnoticed.

Turning on his heels, the man walked towards the revolving doors and out of the mall, heart swelling with pride.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she's so happy honestly

knows that little kids are super honest so they mean what they say

depending on the mood she's in she may ruffle the kid's hair a little, affectionately of course

she would remember that moment for such a long time and always go back to it when she's feeling down

"Wow mommy look. She's so pretty!"

Yosano stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing these words. On her right, a little girl pointed one of her little fingers in her direction; her other hand was clutching the summer coat of an older woman.

"You're so pretty miss" said the girl again in the same cheerful voice.

"Oh, Hira. Don't say such things so strangers!" scolded her mother as she bowed deeply. "I'm sorry miss. My daughter is at that age, I'm sure you understand."

A gleeful smile rose to Yosano's lips as she shook her hand dismissively.

"Oh it's quite alright ma'am, I don't mind it at all. She's adorable."

The little girl beamed, her face turning a faint shade of red. Just then a train pulled on their platform and the woman grabbed her daughter's wrist gently and pulled her towards the opening doors; before they left, Yosano overheard the kid asking her mother if she could get her hair cut like her.

The doctor watched the sliding doors of the speed train close, blocking her vision of the girl. Her heart fluttered from happiness. As someone who never actually had a woman to look up to as a kid, she was thrilled to play that role in someone else's life. Combing a hand through her charcoal hair, her fingers lingered upon the golden butterfly clip; a comforting reminder of her past.

Soon after the arrival of her train was announced by a static voice that echoed through the entire underground station. Sweet memories of this day are still living in the back of her mind.

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter two | the lights are so bright but they never blind me

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

summary: you have to adjust to life in the public eye as ben’s supposed girlfriend...and ben has to adjust to the sight of you wearing his chelsea kit to a game

A/N: thanks for more lovely messages, they really encourage me to update faster lol! i’m sorry this one’s a bit shorter, the next update will definitely be longer 😌 chapter title is from welcome to New York

previous chapter | view all chapters

The morning after the gala, you wake up in Ben’s guest room feeling relaxed and refreshed.

You always seem to get a better sleep when you stay at his, though you’re not sure if that’s due to his comfy mattress and expensive sheets or the fact that he lives out in Cobham and it’s significantly quieter than your own flat.

This state of relaxation lasts for about five minutes, or until you get a text from your friend Valerie asking if you’ve been on Twitter today.

Bracing yourself, you open the app and already see Ben’s name trending.

You’ve gained some followers over the years when Ben has posted you on his socials, but it’s nothing compared to the way people are currently talking about you all over the internet.

It’s not just on Twitter - your Instagram following count has already grown exponentially, and your comments are filled with everything under the sun, from praise to cruelty.

You know Ben gets shit like this all the time, and Mia warned you it would be coming your way, but it’s still surreal to read about yourself online.

Especially when none of it is true. Even the nice tweets about what a lovely couple you make are based on a lie.

You can’t resist going down the rabbit hole for a few minutes, reading pages of tweets from Ben’s fans speculating about your relationship, some negative and some positive. Eventually, you can feel your brain starting to hurt, and you know it’s in your best interest to shut your phone off for a while.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and face the day. You make your way downstairs in your pyjamas, stretching your arms out as you enter the kitchen.

Ben is already awake, like he usually is at this time, and he’s standing by the stove in joggers and an old Nike sweatshirt, flipping pancakes that you know are not a part of his diet plan.

“Pancakes?” you question, startling Ben a bit as he turns to face you.

“Morning,” he says with a small smile. “Yeah, with blueberries. They’re for you. Figured it’s the least I could do since-“

“Since I’m being torn apart online by football fans?” you joke - or, at least, you mean it as a joke.

Ben’s face falls, his eyes wide with concern, and he sets down the spatula to walk over to you.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” he says seriously. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I’ve obviously never had a real girlfriend before, so I didn’t think about it.”

“Ben, it’s-”

“I called Shreya as soon as I saw everything and had her prepare an exit strategy, she’s already confirmed our relationship to the press but she thinks we can back out of it if-“

“Ben,” you say a bit more firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “Why would we need to back out of this? Does she not think it’s working?”

Ben just blinks at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, no, actually. Apparently I’m getting great press from it, and you’re the one getting all the shitty comments. But I-”

“I’m fine with it, then,” you shrug. “I’ll just make my Instagram private, you know I don’t really care about social media anyways. I’ll be fine.”

Ben still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure? I hate the thought of you having to read that crap,” he mumbles. “I’m used to the pricks, but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“It’s fine, Ben, I swear,” you insist, squeezing his shoulder. “Actually, some of your fans seem to like me. Or they like that I supposedly keep you grounded or whatever bullshit Shreya fed the press.”

“Well, that part’s not total bullshit,” Ben says with a small smile that makes your cheeks flush slightly. “Thank you again for doing this. And you can still change your mind at any time, you know.”

“I know,” you say, mirroring his smile. “Now hurry up before you burn my pancakes.”

“Oh, shit!”

-

By the next weekend, you’ve gotten pretty used to “dating” Ben.

You go private on your socials as you discussed, with the official statement from Ben’s publicist being that you two ask for privacy as a new couple. Naturally, this only makes everyone more interested, including the media.

As Shreya hoped, the headlines now describe Ben as a “man in love” and someone ready to “settle down with a nice girl.” There are tabloid articles with pictures of you two - some from before you were even pretending to date - and all the information they could dig up on you, including your job.

It’s all a bit weird, but the weirdest part is definitely when you have to actually corroborate your story of being Ben’s girlfriend. Which, as far as everyone outside your inner circle is concerned, you now are.

It definitely feels strange lying when, for example, one of the doctors you work with congratulates you on your relationship. (Turns out her son is a Chelsea fan and she wants to know if you could ask him to sign a kit or something, which you promise to make happen.)

You’re relieved when the only event you have to attend this weekend is Ben’s game, which you would’ve gone to anyways. You’re also going with his sister Alex, who is obviously in on the whole thing, which makes it easier.

She meets you at your flat, which is conveniently only about ten minutes away from Stamford Bridge on the tube, an hour before the game.

After you tightly embrace Ben’s sister, who is like a younger sister to you as well, she grins and passes you a small gift bag.

“You got me a present?” you ask in confusion.

“It’s not from me, it’s from Ben,” she chuckles. “He also said to say he’s sorry and that it was Shreya’s idea.”

You open the bag and pull out a familiar article of clothing - a brand new Chelsea shirt with Ben’s name on the back.

Of course, as Ben’s girlfriend, it would make sense that you be wearing his kit.

“Oh, god, let me go change.”

Once you’ve replaced the plain blue t-shirt you were wearing with the shirt Ben sent over, you walk back out and find Alex with an amused look on her face.

“How do I look?” you ask a bit sarcastically as you do a twirl.

“Like a proper WAG,” Alex laughs. “Let’s go, my future sister-in-law.”

You groan as Alex grabs you by the arm and you depart for the match.

Although you’ve come to see Ben play at the Bridge more times than you can count, you have never felt this many eyes on you as you make your way to your seats. There are people not-so-subtly taking your photo as you walk up, probably made all the worse by the Chilwell kit you have on - though you suppose that’s the point.  

The match begins, and you cheer at the top of your lungs for Chelsea, just as you have from the day Ben signed for them. You never really cared that much about football, and you didn’t support any particular club growing up, but you’ve always been Ben’s number one fan.

Today, he’s playing well, making you as proud as ever. It’s not hard to pretend to be the supportive girlfriend when every flawless pass or run forward has you leaping out of your seat with unrestrained enthusiasm.

At half-time, Chelsea are up by 1 against Newcastle, and you and Alex are happily chatting and catching up over a beer.

“I saw all the pics of you guys at the gala on Twitter,” Alex says with a smirk on her face, lowering her voice so nobody overhears. “I know it’s weird to say since you’re basically part of the family, but you actually look quite good together.”

“Ew, Alex, there’s no way,” you insist, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks. “He’s…Ben.”

Alex just laughs and drops the subject as the game resumes and the boys come back out of the tunnel.

Around the 85th minute, with the score now tied 1-1, Ben comes running up the side and makes an excellent pass to Conor, who scores and secures the win. You jump out of your seats to cheer as the guys celebrate on the pitch, you rolling your eyes with affection as Ben and Conor jump up and down with excitement.

The whistle blows shortly after with Chelsea leaving victorious, and you and Alex make your way down to the tunnels to meet up with Ben. With this being their fourth win in a row, the atmosphere at the Bridge is electric, a far cry from last year’s rough season.

It’s so nice to see Ben so happy again, and the smile on his face only seems to grow tenfold when he spots you and Alex making your way over to him.

You can’t resist picking up your pace to a light jog as you move toward him, and his arms are already open to pull you into a tight hug that lifts your feet off the ground and makes your heart soar in a similar fashion.

“That assist was brilliant,” you murmur into his shoulder before he sets you down.

Ben pulls away, still beaming at you, his sweaty hair curled down over his forehead.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles, his eyes wandering to the shirt you’d almost forgotten you were wearing.

It’s not the first time you’ve worn his kit - his England debut and the Champions League final come to mind - but those were special occasions, with the rest of his friends and family wearing it too. This is obviously different, and although Ben sent it over for you to wear, his eyes are locked to you like he’s trying to memorize every thread of the fabric.

You can’t figure out why he seems so transfixed, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before you’re interrupted.

Alex clears her throat, snapping Ben out of whatever trance he was in, and he pulls her in for a hug.

“So, to celebrate the win and Ben’s assist, I’m thinking he should take us out for a nice dinner?” Alex suggests, smiling and nudging your arm.

“Shouldn’t you be buying me dinner?” Ben raises an eyebrow. When you both just laugh, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll go shower, you make a reservation somewhere.”

After you and Alex have picked out the fanciest-looking sushi place you could find online and collected Ben from the changing rooms, you make your way to his car. Just like after every game, the paparazzi are out trying to get videos and photos of the players leaving the stadium.

This time, however, most of the attention seems to be directed at you.

The lights begin to flash the moment you exit the building, and Ben reaches down to take your hand without a second of hesitation. Whether it’s to flaunt your “relationship” further or just to comfort you, you’re not sure, but it’s definitely working either way.

“Y/N, did you enjoy the match today?”

You know you don’t have to answer any of their questions, but you’d rather not be branded as cold or rude as the media loves to do when a woman ignores them.

So you squeeze Ben’s hand and nod, smiling at the man recording you.

“Of course, the team played really well.”

“And what did you think of Ben’s performance?” they fire back at you.

“He was amazing,” you say without missing a beat. “I always love watching him on the pitch.”

You can see Ben smiling at you as you speak - a genuine smile that you know has nothing to do with the cameras surrounding you - but he startles you slightly when he leans in to peck your cheek and lets his lips linger there for a moment. They’re soft and warm against your skin, and you feel significantly colder when they pull away.

You’ve clearly spurred on the media even more with this sudden display of affection, but Ben begins to pull you along with him and help you into the car before either of you has to answer any more questions.

You breathe out a sigh of relief as you settle into the passenger seat, Ben and Alex entering the car moments later.

“Nice show, you two,” Alex laughs, obviously still amused by the sight of you and Ben pretending to be a couple.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ben asks, looking over at you. “Sorry if the cheek kiss was too much. I know it’s a bit awkward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine. Of course it’s gonna be awkward sometimes, but as long as it’s helping with the PR plan, right?”

Ben nods gratefully and smiles at you once more before asking Alex for directions to the sushi place.

You’re grateful for her chatting away about how hungry she is, and for the song Ben is playing loudly through the speakers as you drive to the restaurant, both of which are helping to distract you from how alarmingly not awkward this all feels.

A/N: let me know what your thoughts are after this chapter!! things start to heat up in the next one i promise ;)

tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ (let me know if you would like to be added!)

[marimayscarlett]

I know it's by now an exhausted topic but I wasn't around for that era so hopefully you can enlighten me about Richard's wedding. From the few photos that I've seen I'm so confused. It looked a beach wedding but then also very public? Lots of random people and then in one photo there was a whole film crew? Not like wedding videographer but a boom guy and a huge shoulder camera..? Also, do we know where it was? New York? And lastly, did only Till attended? I know it was a rough time for the band and maybe emotions were too high for some to attend but idk. Richard said he proposed after just 3 days so I always thought the wedding followed very soon after.

Hi 👋

I also wasn't really around for this era, since Richard married when I was about 5 years old, but I try my best to gather the information I have 😌

First of all, here's an article about the wedding by the German magazine Bravo including an English translation:

Caron and Richard married on the 29th of October 1999 and indeed had a beach wedding at the Montauk Beach in Long Island, New York. Since Caron is jewish, they had a jewish ceremony performed by a rabbi and Richard composed the music for said ceremony - apparently quite sad music, of which he said he maybe subconsciously foreshadowed some events in his marriage 👀 (mentioned here around the 10 minute mark).

The wedding was somewhat big with about 100 guests in attendance (so I guess the 'random' people you recognised were just guests), and except for Flake, everyone of the band attend with Till being Richard's best man. I think the 'rough time' for the band only started after the wedding, since Richard left New York three days after the ceremony to work on a new Rammstein album which turned out to be the 'Mutter' record. We have to be careful not to make the infamous 'Mutter era' responsible for everything we see in this time period and apparently, everyone was still quite friendly with each other here 😊 I could be totally wrong, but I don't quite think the conflicts where already there/that high as they turned out to be later.

And wedding movies were a thing back then, so maybe that's the reason for the camera man?

Caron and Richard seemingly were introduced to each other in the summer of 1998, other sources state they dated for 9 months before the wedding. Richard took Caron's name and used the double name Kruspe-Bernstein until their divorce was finalised in I think 2005.

Here are some pictures of the ceremony, including the bride and groom, Khira Li and Margaux: