#if you’ve seen the stuff added to the story

[bandkidcentral]

The Experiment AU / Facility of Sick Dreams

Also known as: Wave can’t catch a fucking break

@dontvap0rdawave

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

[amirasainz]

What about amira was watching a show and it had steamy scenes and Carlos walk in as had a fit, quickly turning it off saying your just a baby, how dare someone make u watch this

Hi my loves. Enjoy reading and send some requests.

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

P.S.: Shoutout to the person complaining anonymously about how I tag my stories in my requests 😘😘

Just a Baby

Carlos was home for a rare break between races, enjoying some time with his family in Madrid. His sister, Amira, had returned home from university for a few days, and they were both relaxing in the living room. Carlos was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack when he heard the unmistakable sound of a dramatic TV show playing in the background. Amira was deeply immersed in the latest binge-worthy series, curled up on the couch.

The show, however, had taken a rather unexpected turn. A spicy scene appeared on the screen, one that was definitely more "mature" in nature. Just as Amira’s eyes widened, both from surprise and perhaps slight embarrassment, Carlos walked into the room, munching on an apple.

“Amira! What are you watching?!” he exclaimed, nearly choking on his bite.

Amira fumbled with the remote, trying to skip ahead or find the mute button, her face flushing a bit. “It’s just a show, Carlitos. Relax! It’s nothing,” she said, desperately trying to act nonchalant as she struggled to fast forward through the scene.

Carlos marched over and snatched the remote out of her hand. "Nada?! Amira, I saw what was on the screen. You shouldn't be watching things like this! You’re still just a baby!"

Amira rolled her eyes, already anticipating what was about to come. “Carlos, I’m 21. I’m not a baby anymore,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Carlos shook his head, pacing in front of the TV like a concerned father. "21? Oh, please. You still have a teddy bear in your room!" he pointed out, hoping to strengthen his case. "This... this stuff is for adults."

“News flash, genius,” Amira shot back, “I am an adult.”

Carlos’ eyes widened dramatically, as though she’d said something preposterous. “You? An adult?” He let out a chuckle. "Amira, come on. Last week you were asking me to help you change the light bulb in your room because you were scared you’d break it. That doesn’t scream ‘adult’ to me!”

Amira glared at him. “That was because it was really high up and I didn’t have a step stool!” she defended herself, her cheeks turning even pinker. “Besides, what’s the big deal? You’re acting like I haven’t seen—”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Carlos interrupted, waving his hands in the air like he was trying to ward off evil spirits. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve seen anything like that. It’s disgusting. Unbelievable. You're practically a baby. You should be watching cartoons or... or... I don't know, baking shows!”

Amira couldn’t help but laugh now, the absurdity of the situation catching up to her. “Baking shows? Are you serious, Carlitos?”

“Or documentaries!” Carlos added, as if he’d had a sudden epiphany. “Something educational, you know. Not… this.”

Amira threw her hands up. “Fine. Next time, I’ll be sure to watch ‘The History of Bread’ just to satisfy you.”

Carlos squinted at her, pointing the remote at the TV and clicking the power button. “You know what, I think I need to start reviewing your shows before you watch them. Like, as a precaution,” he said, sounding very serious.

Amira was now completely exasperated. "What, are you gonna start putting parental controls on the TV?"

"Don't tempt me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The following weekend, Carlos was back in the paddock for the next Grand Prix, catching up with his fellow drivers. During a quiet moment in the hospitality area, he found himself relaying the entire incident to his teammate and good friend, Lando.

“So I walk in, and she’s watching this... this show,” Carlos explained animatedly, “and there’s this completely inappropriate scene playing. I mean, come on, Amira’s too young for that stuff.”

Lando listened with a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying Carlos’ overprotective older brother antics. “Wait,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Carlos mid-rant. “Isn’t Amira 21 now?”

Carlos nodded vehemently. “Sí, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still practically a child, Lando.”

“Practically?” Lando’s grin grew wider. “Mate, she’s an adult. You know that, right?”

Carlos folded his arms and huffed. “She’s not mature enough to be watching that kind of content. I need to protect her.”

Lando chuckled mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “So… you think she’d do that with me?” he said casually, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.

Carlos’ reaction was instantaneous. “¿Qué? What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

Lando, who knew exactly what he was doing, leaned back in his chair and stretched nonchalantly. “I mean, if she’s watching stuff like that, maybe she’s… you know… open to trying things. I could—”

Before Lando could finish, Carlos had already lunged across the table, his hands outstretched toward Lando’s neck. “¡Eres un idiota!” Carlos shouted as Lando sprang to his feet, barely avoiding Carlos' grip.

Lando’s laugh echoed down the paddock as he sprinted away, Carlos hot on his heels. “It was just a joke, mate!” Lando called back over his shoulder, dodging past a stack of tires.

“I’m going to kill you, Norris!” Carlos yelled, weaving through a group of engineers who quickly parted, sensing the chaos approaching.

Drivers and team members looked on in bewilderment as the scene unfolded. Lando dashed past Max, who raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?” Max asked dryly.

“Nothing!” Lando managed to get out between breaths. “Just complimented Carlos’ sister!”

Max’s face broke into a rare grin. “Good luck with that,” he said, stepping aside to let Carlos barrel past.

The chase continued all the way to the garage area, where Lando finally ducked behind a stack of equipment cases, hoping Carlos would lose sight of him. But Carlos was relentless, storming up and down the aisle.

“Come out and face me, coward!” Carlos called, his voice filled with mock fury. “Or are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”

Lando peeked out from behind a tire rack, his face still lit up with that boyish grin. “Okay, okay, I surrender! You win!” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Amira’s off-limits, I swear!”

Carlos, still catching his breath, pointed a finger at Lando. “If you so much as look at her, I will personally make sure you have to drive the car with three wheels, understood?”

Lando nodded, unable to keep a straight face. “Got it, boss,” he said, giving Carlos a mock salute. “You’re such a protective big brother, though. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Carlos groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Cute? I’ll show you cute,” he muttered, giving Lando one last glare before finally walking off.

As Carlos walked away, Lando whispered under his breath, “Bet Amira would say I’m cute, though…”

Carlos spun around one last time, but Lando had already disappeared, leaving Carlos shaking his head and muttering something about British troublemakers.

[pretzel-box]

You can choose to ignore this or take as long as you want but if it's ok to get a Sebastian x sea angelreader ??

This things here if your wondering what the tendrils is on the second photo. Those are used for catching prey like kinds grabby tongues in a sense

And maybe like the reader is like the one Sebastian always gets confused by cause they seem innocent but can do a 180 and be very feisty . Also like reader appears to be a normal expendable until the transparent tail and wings in their back is seen in the water. Also again just love your stories and hope you have a lovely day :)

Words: 1,5k

Tags: Established Relationship, Sea Angel! Hybrid, mentions of tearing apart a wall dweller

“You’ve got plenty of them in your hair…” Sebastian muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and something softer, almost fond. His claw-like hands carefully sifted through your hair, deftly picking out the strands of algae that had tangled in it during your last dive. Despite the gruffness in his tone, his touch was gentle, as though he’d done this countless times before—and indeed, he had.

It had become something of a ritual between you two. In fact, it was the very reason you had grown close to Sebastian in the first place. The first time you met, you had appeared in his shop out of nowhere, crawling through a vent with a quiet determination that startled him. He’d turned around to find you standing there, big round eyes staring up at him, your expression as flat and unreadable as your entrance had been. What threw him off even more was that you weren’t dressed like the typical Urbanshade personnel; instead, you wore a mismatched collection of second-hand clothes, each piece seeming to tell a different story. 

And then there were the algae plants—strands of green clinging stubbornly to your hair, likely from an adventurous, helmet-less swim around the facility. At the time, he had been more bemused than anything, the sight of you so unexpected that he couldn’t help but smirk. “Algae head,” he’d teased, flicking your forehead with just enough force to make you blink in surprise. The nickname had stuck, along with the habit of his good-natured ribbing.

But as time went on, the teasing gave way to something more. He began to offer his help, his initial mockery turning into a routine act of care. Perhaps it was the sight of you—this curious, determined person who seemed so out of place yet so at ease in the murky depths of the Hadal Blackside—that softened him. Or maybe it was something else, something unspoken that drew him to you. 

Now, as you curled up on his tail, you could feel the tension in his usually stoic demeanor ease, his movements slow and deliberate as he carefully untangled each piece of algae. There was something soothing in the ritual, in the way he was always so careful, so meticulous, as if this moment mattered more than he’d ever admit.

You spent a lot of time like this, together. It had become an unspoken agreement—a part of your strange, shared life in this unsettling place. The silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the soft rustle of his hands through your hair, the quiet hum of the facility around you. It was in these small moments, the ones filled with mundane tasks and quiet companionship, that you felt the depth of your connection.

“I have to get some stuff for the shop,” Sebastian finally broke the silence, his deep voice rumbling through the air. His claws, which had been gently untangling the last bits of algae from your hair, wandered down to your torso. With surprising ease, he lifted you up like a long, lazy cat, setting you back on your feet with a gentle plop that made you blink in slight irritation.

“I’m running out of good stuff to sell,” he added with a huff, his tone a mixture of practicality and mild annoyance. You knew exactly what that meant. He was planning another dive, a journey into the deeper, more dangerous parts of the facility to scavenge for anything of value. It was a necessary risk, one he took often to keep his shop stocked with the odd, eclectic items that kept the small sense of normalcy in this dark place.

Your eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of joining him. Without a moment’s hesitation, you reached for the small, worn bag that Sebastian had given you on one of your earlier outings. It was a simple thing, but it had become something of a trusted companion, a sign that you were ready for whatever strange and unsettling adventures awaited in the depths of the facility.

“You joining? Fine.” He sighed, the sound laced with a mix of resignation and something that might have been affection. He knew there was no talking you out of it, not when your mind was set. “Stay close, Algae Head,” he added, the nickname softened by the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

As you slung the bag over your shoulder, you could feel the familiar thrill of anticipation mixed with a twinge of nervousness. Diving with Sebastian was something new but you expected it to be full of strange sights and unexpected dangers. But there was no one else you’d rather be with, no one else who made you feel as safe in such a place. With a final nod, you followed him out of the shop, sticking close to his side as you both prepared to face whatever the dark waters had in store.

The cold embrace of the facility’s murky depths surrounded you as you and Sebastian plunged into the water, descending toward the forgotten rooms below. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional creak of metal and the muted rush of your movements. The world above felt distant, almost imaginary, as if it belonged to a different reality altogether. Here, in the dark waters of the Hadal Blackside, survival was the only thing that mattered.

Sebastian was in his element. His long, serpentine tail moved with effortless grace, propelling him forward with a fluidity that belied his size. He was a master scavenger, his sharp eyes always alert for anything of value among the debris. You followed closely, your own movements practiced, though today, Sebastian would witness something different about you.

The deeper you went, the more the water seemed to welcome you, making you feel comfortable.

Your limbs began to change, becoming more fluid, your skin taking on a faint, ethereal glow. From your back, delicate, translucent wings unfolded, their movement smooth and natural as they propelled you through the water. 

You glanced at Sebastian, blinking to check if he had noticed, your heart pounding, but he hadn’t noticed yet. He was too focused on the task at hand, his attention fixed on a half-buried crate that he was attempting to pry open.

For a few minutes, you worked in tandem, relaxing more and more in the water. The water felt more alive around you, more responsive, now that you were in your actual element. You sifted through the debris with your tendrils, gathering small but valuable items, all while trying to keep your transformation indirectly hidden from Sebastian.

But then, the peace was shattered.

A movement caught your eye—a shadow emerging from the ruins, slithering through the water with predatory intent. It was a wall dweller, a grotesque creature with elongated limbs and a twisted humanoid form. Its eyes glinted with malice as it spotted you, its maw opening to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

Time seemed to slow. The creature lunged, its powerful limbs propelling it toward you with terrifying speed. Instinct took over. Your tendrils shot out, wrapping around the wall dweller’s limbs with a force that doesn’t surprised you. The creature thrashed wildly, trying to break free, but your grip only tightened, fueled by a strength you always had possessed.

Sebastian finally looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene before him. He froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion as he watched your tendrils constrict the wall dweller, pulling it toward you with an almost effortless ease. The creature let out a guttural shriek, its struggle growing more frantic as it realized it couldn’t escape.

Without hesitation, you tore it apart.

Your tendrils ripped through its flesh, severing limbs and rending its body into pieces. The water around you darkened with blood, the wall dweller’s final, pitiful screams silenced as it was reduced to nothing more than floating, lifeless chunks. The entire encounter lasted only seconds, but to you, it felt like an eternity.

When it was over, you slowly retracted your tendrils, your body trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. The water settled back into its eerie stillness, the only evidence of the violent encounter the drifting remains of the creature you had just destroyed.

You floated in the water, your eyes meeting Sebastian’s with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. His expression was difficult to read, a blend of shock and something else that you couldn’t quite place. The silence between you felt thick, almost tangible, as if the very air around you was charged with unspoken words.

Finally, he broke the silence with a smirk, his eyes softening just a bit. “Wow, algae head,” he teased, the nickname laced with affection. “Should have told me sooner that I’m dating a feisty little angel.”

There was a hint of pride in his voice as his hand moved up to gently pat your head, a gesture that was both comforting and approving. The touch sent a warm feeling through you, a sense of reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you had done something right.

“Good job, angel,” he said, his tone softer now, but still carrying that edge of pride. He looked at you like he was seeing you in a new light, and for the first time, you felt like you belonged—like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[bloatedandalone04]

To The One I Love - 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which your parents come to see you, and you quickly realize how many moments you’ve forgotten in not only your life, but theirs as well.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You slept for longer this time, Tyler knew that because he fell asleep after you and woke up before you did. 

It was now day three, and your parents had finally been able to sort out a way to get here. They would be driving instead of flying, so it would take them a bit longer, but at least they were on their way. 

He plugged his phone in and was just about to close his eyes again, but a soft knock sounded on the door, followed by Dr. James poking his head in. “Bad time?”

Tyler glanced over at you before shaking his head. “No, she’s just sleepin’. We talked a lot yesterday, I think it may have worn her out,”

“That’s alright,” James nodded, “It’s good that she’s responsive and awake. It’d be a different story if she were still asleep and hadn’t woken up yet.”

Tyler didn’t even think about that. You hit your head pretty hard, what if you had never woken up? He didn’t even want to picture that reality, especially since he was still trying to get used to his current one. 

“Anyway,” the doctor continued once he realized that Tyler hadn’t said anything back. “I’ll have to wake her up so I can check her stitches and replace the bandage.”

Tyler nodded, reaching over to grab and squeeze your hand, taking it upon himself to wake you up. A quiet call of your name and another squeeze of your hand did the trick, and soon enough your eyes opened. 

Dr. James quickly rounded the side of your bed, a new, clean bandage in his gloved hand. “Hi, Y/n,” he greeted with a smile, and you smiled back before looking over at Tyler. “I’m just here to change your bandage and check on your stitches, is that alright?”

You nodded slowly, still waking up as you shifted higher against the pillow. “Will it hurt?”

Tyler felt a small smile form on his face at your question, and he moved the chair closer to your bed as he laced his fingers with yours. “It shouldn’t. I’ll remove it slowly in case the stitches are stuck to the bandage,”

You bit your lip and nodded again, more hesitant this time. “It’ll be fine,” Tyler assured you, and you glanced over at him again with a nervous look on your face. “You’ll be fine, baby.” 

James slowly loosened the bandage around your head and pulled it away, and the edge of the stitches were a bit stuck to it. Your hand squeezed Tyler’s at the faint tug, but then the used fabric was successfully removed and set aside. 

This was the first time Tyler has seen your head injury since the day you got it, and it already looked a lot better. Granted, he saw it a mere few minutes after it happened, and he couldn’t see much since you were bleeding profusely, so really, what did he know?

He hadn’t realized how big it was, with one end starting in the middle of your forehead and the other going past your temple and nearly halfway on the side of your head. Your skin was bright red and irritated, and there were a few spots of blood here and there, but the stitches were looking good. 

Tyler let you hold his hand with a death grip as Dr. James gently cleaned up the skin around your stitches, then he rubbed some clear stuff over them before reapplying a new bandage. “There we go,” he commented, stepping away from you as he discarded his gloves. “That’s better. It should be time for your medication soon, too, so I’ll send Nurse Karson in within the next few minutes.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“Thanks,” Tyler added as James left the room, then he turned back to you with a grin. “You did so well, babe. Only broke two of my fingers.”

You blushed at his tease, looking down to see just how tightly you were holding his hand. “Sorry,” you mumbled, loosening your grip. “I was nervous.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured, “You can squeeze my hand whenever you want.”

You smiled at him, pressing your lips together. “I’m really glad I have you here with me, Ty…” you trailed off, and Tyler felt his heart swell at the nickname you haven’t given him in three days. Before this, you always called him Ty and rarely called him Tyler, so to hear it now was nearly enough to bring a few tears to his eyes. “I don’t know what I would do if I was here by myself. I don’t want to be alone.”

Tyler shook his head, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You’ll never be alone, baby,” he promised, “Not as long as I’m alive, you won’t.”

Your expression softened as your fingers gripped his tighter. A faint pink blush coated your face as you gave his hand a soft tug, murmuring, “C’mere…”

He stood, letting your hand pull him closer so his thighs were pressed against the side of the bed. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as you reached for his other hand and pulled him so he was leaning over, and when he was close enough, you released both his hands in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Tyler felt himself begin to melt against you, but he still made sure he wasn’t putting too much of his weight on your body as he gently hugged you back. He buried his face against the side of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent that only belonged to you. It felt like it had been weeks since he last touched you, not a mere three days, so he wasn’t holding himself back too much. 

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” you whispered, gently pressing your face against his shoulder. “God, I’d be lost without you, Tyler. Literally.”

He smiled against your hair before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’d be lost without you,” he murmured, and he meant it with every inch of him. “The fact that you’re willin’ to stay with me even though you don’t remember what we were…Your trust in me is everythin’. You’re everythin’.”

You pull away and Tyler had to force himself to let you go, sitting next to you on the bed instead of going back to that God awful chair. “Tyler…did you and I…did we have a bonfire at some point? I don’t know if it was a dream or real, but I remember a bonfire, and you and I were really drunk and all over each other,” you hesitantly ask, playing with your fingers as you look over at him. 

Tyler’s eyes widened a bit as he thought back to a few summers ago, when he and the gang had one of the biggest chases ever and you suggested he throw a get together the next night to celebrate. 

He spent a good portion of the next morning gathering logs and branches, and he invited over a bunch of people to your house. That was the first summer you spent living in that house, and it was definitely a great way to start off that chapter of your lives. 

You were right, you and Tyler did have too much to drink and were practically the embodiment of the word ‘PDA’ as nothing was off limits. Boone teased Tyler relentlessly the next time they saw each other since Tyler couldn’t keep his hands off you that night and ended up taking you to bed before the party even ended. 

Tyler felt himself sit up straighter, “You remember that night?” He asked for clarification, and you nodded slowly. 

“I think so…we were celebrating something I think,” you trailed off then you sat up straight, too. “Wait, so that happened? That wasn’t a dream?” 

Tyler shook his head, a hopeful look on his face. “No, baby, that wasn’t a dream,” he murmured, taking your hand in his. “That was real. It happened a few years ago.”

You squeezed his hand, your eyes never breaking away from his. “What does this mean?” 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, reaching over to softly grip your chin. “But it’s a good thing. It’s a really good thing.”

Your eyes were looking a bit brighter now, and you looked more lively. It was a glimpse of who you were before the latest storm, and Tyler knew he missed that version of you, but he wasn’t aware of just how much. But he loved you before, and he loved you even more now. 

“Ty,” you start, opening your mouth to continue but before you could, the door opened and Nurse Karson walked in with a grin. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” she apologizes, making her way over to the other side of your bed. “I have your medication. How are you feeling today?”

You watched as she set the cup of pills onto the table before your eyes met Tyler’s again. “Better,”

After that, your pain medication kicked in real quick and soon enough you were sleeping again. Tyler had retreated back to the chair and had his legs propped up on your bed as he scrolled through the channels on the TV, the volume muted so he didn’t wake you up. 

But the quiet didn’t last long as the door swung open and hit the wall behind it with a soft thud, and you jolted awake as your parents came stumbling into the room. “Oh, Y/n,” your mother gasped as she ran over to you, her hand reaching out to gently caress your face. 

“We came as soon as we could, honey,” your dad said as he stood behind your mom. “How are you feeling? How’s your head?”

You were clearly still a bit shaken up at the sudden wakeup, but you relaxed once you took your mom’s hand. “I’m okay…my head is okay today,” 

“Thank God,” she let out a deep sigh, looking back up at your dad. “We were a nervous wreck, sweetheart. We couldn’t find someone to watch Louis and your fathers boss was being a real prick about the whole thing and-”

“Who’s Louis?” You asked as you looked between your parents. “Do I have a brother I forgot about?”

Your dad’s eyes widened and a strangled scoff left his lips as he shook his head. “God, no,” he grunted. “Louis is the Aussie mix you got us as a going away gift.”

“I got you a dog?” You gasped, looking over at Tyler. “We got them a dog?”

“It was your idea,” he raised his hands and sat up in the chair. 

“Where’s our dog?” You asked with a pout and Tyler laughed. 

“We don’t have one,” he answered. “Yet.”

You give him a hopeful look before your mom brings your attention back to her. “I guess that means your memory isn’t back yet?”

“No,” you quietly reply, looking down at your hands. “But I remembered something from a few years ago earlier today. It’s a good thing.” You repeated Tyler’s words, and he glanced up and shared a look with your dad.

“How are you doing, Ty?” He asked as he placed his hands on your moms shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

Tyler forced out a smile, feeling his eyes burn at the sudden question being directed at him. He preferred it when the attention was solely on you, so he could suffer in silence. “I’m good,” he lied, a tight grin on his face. 

You looked over at him again and it was like you knew he was faking it, and somehow that comforted him. “Tyler’s been my rock,” you say, reaching over to take his hand in yours. “He’s been here the whole time.”

Your father locked his jaw as if he, too, was holding back his emotions. “I’m glad you have him,”

“We’re so grateful, Tyler,” your mom added, tears fully streaming down her face. “You were there for her when we couldn’t be.”

“Hey,” you sternly said, softly glaring at your parents. “Don’t say that. You couldn’t have known.”

Your mom shook her head, taking the tissue your dad held out to her with a grateful smile. Your parents reminded Tyler of you and him, and they were also high school sweethearts and still going strong. He knew that you and he could do it, too. “I know, but still. I feel terrible that we weren’t here when you needed us,”

“Mom, it’s okay,” you whisper, squeezing her hand. “Really.”

She nods, wiping at her eyes before leaning in and brushing your hair out of your face. “You just focus on getting better, sweetheart,” she murmured, pressing a faint kiss to the bandage on your head. “We’re here now, okay?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” your dad agreed and you gave them both a tired smile. 

You whispered, “Thank you,” before turning to Tyler. “And you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he mumbles, “You know I’m here for you. Always.”

Your dad clears his throat, wrapping his arm around your mom’s shoulders. “Get some sleep, honey,” he said, “The doctor said you need your rest to recover.”

You nodded, leaning back on the bed. “Can you find out when I’m allowed to leave? I hate being stuck in this bed. The sheets are scratchy,” 

He laughed, “I’ll see what I can find out,” 

Your mom followed after him then stopped to look at Tyler. “How’s the coffee here? Is it any good?”

Tyler gave her a regretful smile and shook his head, giving her all the information she needed. 

“Damnit,” she muttered, giving you a sheepish smile before scurrying back over to you and kissing your cheek multiple times. 

“God, mom, really?” You whined, gently pushing her away. 

“Don’t ‘mom’ me,” she scoffed, wiping at her eyes again. “You don’t know the hell your father and I went through when we found out what happened.”

Your expression softened as you bit your lip. “Sorry…”

Your mom waved you off, placing a comforting hand on Tyler’s shoulder before making her way to your dad who was still hovering by the door. “Don’t be,” she shook her head. “Are you hungry? Maybe I can find you something nice in the cafeteria.”

Tyler looked down, knowing she most likely wouldn’t be able to find a damn thing that looked nice in that cafeteria, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that. “We’ll be back, honey. And we’ll try not to scare you this time,” your dad grinned before guiding your mom out of the room so they could start on the tasks you’d given them. 

You stared at the door for a few more seconds before letting out a breath of air. “Holy shit, Ty,” you gasped in disbelief. “My dad has a full on beard now.”

Tyler laughed, realizing that you were probably so used to seeing your dad with a shaved face since he only started growing his beard two years ago. Before that, his face was hairless, and Tyler could see how odd that would be for you. “Yeah, he’s been workin’ on that for a while now,”

“He’s gotten so scruffy,” you laugh quietly, and Tyler could see your eyes start to water. “And my mom’s gotten so skinny…and I don’t remember any of it. They’ve been living their lives the last ten years and I don’t remember it.”

Tyler’s face softened and he knew that you had hidden your true feelings from your parents. “Baby,” he trailed off, not knowing what he could say to make you feel better. There was nothing he could say to make you feel better. “I know things are hard right now, but you just need to focus on gettin’ better, like your mom said. Those memories are still there, somewhere inside that gorgeous head of yours, it’ll just take time.”

He hoped, anyway. But if you truly never got back all your memories, he would be able to accept that, because at least he still had you. 

You nodded and cuddled under the scratchy sheets of the hospital bed. “I’m going to try to sleep for a little longer, okay? My head’s a mess right now. Well, more than it was before,” 

Tyler hummed in understanding, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. 

He stayed beside you while you slept, and around fifteen minutes passed before the door opened and Dr. James walked in. “I saw that her parents are here and wanted to check on her, make sure she isn’t overworking herself,”

“No, they were easy on her,” Tyler answered and James nodded. “Hey, um…before they got here, she remembered somethin’ that happened kinda recently. A bonfire party we threw a few years ago…”

The doctor raised his brows and stepped further into the room, being careful not to make any unnecessary noise. “Well, based on her recent memory tests we did and now this, it seems like it’s improving,”

Tyler didn’t want to get his hopes up, so he just shifted casually in the chair, keeping his voice low. “So she’s gettin’ her memory back? Slowly?”

“While there are signs of improvement, nothing is certain,” he explained and Tyler didn’t feel as deflated as he would’ve had he allowed his hopes to overtake the rational side of him. “Recovery isn’t always linear. There will be setbacks and periods when progress feels nonexistent. But, the fact that she remembers something from a more recent time in her life is a big step in progress.” 

“So it’s possible for her to remember our relationship? Most of it, anyway?”

“That might take a bit more time,” he answered quietly. “Memories of loved ones are deeply rooted in emotional connections. While her short-term memory is improving, moments from a few years ago or more will likely start to return. It’s an unpredictable process that can’t be rushed.”

Tyler wasn’t sure if he properly understood a single word of that, but he knew that you remembering the bonfire was a good sign, and that’s all he needed to hear. “Did her father happen to ask when she is allowed to leave?” 

James laughed quietly. “Oh, yeah. He mentioned how eager she is to get out of here, and I don’t blame her. She’ll have to stay here for another couple days,” he told Tyler. “Since we’ve concluded that her head was the only severe injury she received, and since we can’t do much about her memory loss, we can’t keep her here for much longer.”

Tyler held back a smile as he nodded, glancing over at you. “Thank you,” he whispered, his attention fully on you now since he knew he would be taking you home soon. “I’ll let her know when she wakes up.”

Dr. James nodded before leaving the room, and Tyler moved the chair closer to the bed. He couldn’t wait to go home. He hadn’t been there since your accident, and he missed the familiarity of the house he shared with you. He hoped that maybe being in a new (but technically old) environment would trigger something in your mind and it would lead to you remembering the moments you and he shared in the home. 

Ten minutes go by before your dad enters the room, a cardboard box in his hand and a timid look on his face. “She asleep?”

“Yeah,” Tyler answered and watched as your dad slowly closed the door before making his way to the other side of your bed and sitting down on the chair near the window. A smile formed on his face at the logo on the box, and he lifted a brow, “You couldn’t find anythin’ in the cafeteria?”

Your dad shook his head as he placed the takeout box on the bedside table. “No, nothing good enough for her. I just grabbed something nice from the place down the road. Doctor said it was okay,”

Tyler hummed, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while you slept, “She can go home soon, did he tell you that, too?”

“Yeah, I meant to tell her before I left, but thought you might’ve asked about it, too,” he grunted, his eyes softening as he watched Tyler sit back in the chair. “You’re part of the family, Ty, you know that. You’ve always been. I need you to know how grateful her mom and I are that you were here for her as soon as it happened. You were the one who found her and brought her in, right?” 

“Yeah,” Tyler mumbled, not wanting to relive the moment he saw you with that open gash on your head. “It was me and Lilly. She kept me sane while we waited.”

Your dad gave him a tight smile. “Tell her I said thank you. And thank you, Tyler. Knowing she wasn’t alone for a single second while we weren’t here…it means the world,” 

Tyler’s eyes stung a bit as he shook his head. “No need to thank me. You know how in love I am with her. I can’t live without her,”

“You and me both,” your dad laughed, his own eyes a bit watery. “Anyway, I do have to thank you. I want you to know that we appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”

“‘Course I do,” Tyler mumbled, sniffling and quietly clearing his throat as he felt himself get a bit annoyed at the fact that he didn’t have control over his emotions right now. “And you know I’ll be with her everyday once she’s back at home. We’ll take it slow.”

Your dad gave him a firm nod as your mom walked into the room, a frustrated look on her face. “How’s she doing?” she asked just as your eyes slowly opened. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, shifting so you were sitting up against the bed. “Why do you look so pissed off? And why does dad look like he’s crying? Why are you crying?” You directed that last question to Tyler, and he quickly looked away and tried to subtly wipe at his eyes. 

“I’ve been trying to get some time off work so we can stay here with you, but now my boss is being  a prick,” your mother mumbled, “You’d think after seven years of not complaining, working overtime and going above and beyond, I’d get a little sympathy. Son of a-”

“Okay, mom,” you quickly cut her off, a laugh escaping you after. “It’s okay. You guys don’t need to risk your jobs for me. There’s not much you can do, right? My head will heal, and no one can control my memories. Please, stay as long as you can, but don’t get fired for me. Please.”

Your dad opened his mouth to protest, but sighed instead. “We’ll stay as long as we can, honey. But you know I don’t give a rat’s ass about my job, right? You’re my daughter, you come first,”

“I know, and I love you both more than words can explain, but I can’t be the reason you lose your jobs,” you murmur. “You both know there’s only so much you can do, the rest is up to me.”

Your mother nodded, her angry expression softening as she looked down at her phone. “Oh, here he is again,” she muttered. “Hang on, sweetheart. Eat some of the food we got for you, okay?” She gestured towards the takeout box before stepping out into the hall, and you looked over at the table. 

“You guys got me actual food?” You asked in disbelief as you reached for it. 

“Yeah, I promise it’s better than the shit they serve here,” your dad grunted before standing up. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Then it was just you and Tyler in the room again, and you looked over at him with a sad smile on your face. “I feel terrible for making them come all the way here,”

“Don’t worry about that, babe,” he mumbled, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I don’t think they’d be anywhere else right now. They love you so much. And so do I. Besides, I don’t mind sharin’ you for a bit.”

A blush takes over your face as you press your lips together. You meet his eyes and smile, and he loves you so much. Your eyes, your smile, your personality, all of it. 

“That smile,” he whispered, leaning over towards you. “I’ve missed it.”

You blush again and forget about the takeout box as you pull on his hand. “Come here…” you mumble and he stands up. “I just want to be close to you for a bit.”

Tyler sat down next to your thighs, “Is this better?”

“It’s perfect,” you grin up at him. “Are we one of those super touchy couples?”

A smirk formed on his face as Tyler settled next to you. “You mean, are we a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah. We’re definitely one of those couples.”

You smile and look down at the bed. After a few seconds, you let out a sigh. “I wanna go home,” you say quietly, looking back up at him with teary eyes. “I don’t even remember it, but I want to go there. I wanna go there with you.”

Tyler reached over and wiped your tears away, his brows furrowing in barely-concealed anguish. “You will, baby. Soon,” he promised. “Dr. James said you’ll only be in here a couple more days, then I’ll take you home and look after you myself.”

“Really? I can go home soon?” You asked, a hopeful look in your eyes as you gripped his hand tightly. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Real soon. For now, eat some dinner and let me do all the worryin’.”

You nod and smile at him, wiping away your tears before reaching for the box again, and Tyler held your hand the entire time you ate.

[lxvsiick]

CRUSH ON HIS TUTOR | KIM WOONHAK X READER

PAIRING: younger! tutee! kim woonhak x two years older! tutor! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Woonhak has a cute crush on his two years older tutor, Y/n.

GENRE: fluff, crush, imagine

WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

A/N: just a cute short imagine about woonhak having a crush on someone who is older -- i’m still on campus and i really want to go home ( ￣＾￣) i am writing notes but at the same time thinking about story ideas so at one point i wrote down my story idea into my notes 🧍🏻‍♀️welp, enjoy!

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Laughter echoed around the small dorm room as Leehan and the rest of the group were in the middle of a chaotic video game session. The air was light, filled with jokes and playful banter, but Woonhak barely noticed any of it.

He was sitting on the couch, controller in hand, staring blankly at the screen. His thoughts, however, were nowhere near the game. They were on her—Y/n, his tutor, and Leehan’s friend. His mind kept replaying little moments with her: the way her lips quirked up when she caught him making a mistake during their study sessions, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating.

"Why do I keep thinking about her?" he wondered, frustrated at how easily she occupied his thoughts. "She’s two years older... She probably doesn’t even think of me that way."

“Yo, Woonbaby!” Jaehyun called out, waving a hand in front of his face. “You alive over there?”

He blinked, startled, and realized all five of his friends were now staring at him. He hadn't said a word in the last ten minutes, and clearly, they’d noticed.

“Seriously, man,” Riwoo laughed, “you’ve been completely zoned out. What’s up?”

“Did you even hear anything we said?” Leehan added, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

The tips of Woonhak's ears turned red. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to shrug off the attention. “I—I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff.”

“Ohhh, thinking about stuff?” Taesan said with a teasing grin. “Does this stuff happen to be a girl?”

The room immediately erupted in laughter and catcalls. Woonhak's face heated up even more as he tried to wave them off, but his friends weren’t having it.

“Look at him! His ears are red!” Riwoo pointed out, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on, dude, who is it?”

“Yeah, spill it,” Taesan chimed in. “You got a crush or something?”

“No, I don’t!” Woonhak blurted, his voice a bit higher than usual. He knew denying it only made them more suspicious, but he couldn’t help it. His flustered reaction only fueled their teasing.

Leehan leaned back, smirking knowingly. “You know, Y/n mentioned something the other day. She said you’ve been spacing out a lot during your tutoring sessions.”

At the mention of her name, Woonhak stiffened. “She—she said that?” he stammered, his heart racing.

“Oh yeah,” Leehan continued, clearly enjoying the situation. “She said she’ll ask you a question and you’ll just sit there, staring at your notes like you’ve never seen them before.”

His friends burst into laughter again, and Woonhak wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. He could feel his face burning as he tried to play it cool. “That’s—she’s exaggerating...”

Jaehyun wasn’t letting it go, though. “Yeah? Then why’re you turning red just hearing her name?”

Before he could stop himself, Woonhak blurted out, “Did she say anything else about me?”

That made the room go silent for a split second, and then all hell broke loose.

“Aha! So there is someone!” Sungho shouted triumphantly, slapping Jaehyun on the back. “I knew it!”

Leehan grinned, crossing his arms as he gave Woonhak a teasing look. “So you’re interested in what she thinks, huh?”

“I’m not—I mean—” Woonhak sputtered, feeling more flustered by the second. His mind was racing with possibilities, wondering if Y/n had noticed him the way he’d started to notice her. He thought about the way she’d laugh softly when she caught him spacing out during their tutoring sessions, how she’d patiently explain things again even though she must have been annoyed.

“Dude, you’re so obvious,” Riwoo teased. “You’ve got it bad for her, huh?”

Woonhak threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine, whatever. Yes, maybe I’ve been... thinking about her. A little.”

The room exploded into cheers and shouts of “I knew it!” and “Finally!” Woonhak sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.

But underneath all the teasing, a small part of him wondered—What did she think of him?

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the distant hum of air conditioning. Woonhak sat across from Y/n, his books spread out in front of him, but his attention was far from the math problem she was explaining. Instead, his gaze kept drifting back to her—how her lips moved as she spoke, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, and how effortlessly confident she always seemed.

“Are you even listening?” Y/n asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts.

Woonhak blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word. She was now waving a hand in front of his face, her brows furrowed in slight concern.

“Uh, yeah—sorry,” he stammered, sitting up straighter and pretending to refocus on his notes. “I’m listening.”

She wasn’t convinced. Leaning back in her chair, Y/n crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been spacing out a lot today. What’s on your mind?”

His heart raced at her question. What’s on my mind? You. Always you. But there was no way he was going to admit that. Instead, he quickly waved it off, trying to sound casual. “It’s nothing, just... tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it but deciding to drop the subject. “Alright, fine. Let’s move on to the next topic.”

As she began flipping through her textbook, Woonhak felt a surge of boldness. His mind raced with possibilities. Maybe now was the time. They were alone—or at least he thought they were. Taking a deep breath, he decided to go for it.

“Hey,” he started, his voice a bit too casual, “just out of curiosity... what do you think about younger guys?”

Y/n paused, her pen hovering over the page. Slowly, she looked up, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she caught on to his line of questioning. “Younger guys?” she repeated, a teasing smile forming on her lips.

He nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, though his heart was pounding. “Yeah, like... would you ever date someone younger?”

Her smile widened, clearly enjoying his attempt at subtlety. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin as though giving it serious thought. “I don’t mind younger guys—younger guys who can pass their exams, that is.”

Woonhak felt a spark of hope. His confidence surged, and before he could think twice, the words were out of his mouth. “Okay, so... if I ace my next exam, will you go on a date with me?”

The question hung in the air between them, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Y/n blinked in surprise, and then, to his relief, she giggled softly, shaking her head.

“You’re cute,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alright, Woonhak. You ace your exam, and I’ll go on a date with you.”

His heart leaped. He couldn’t believe it. A date. With her. He tried to play it cool, but his grin betrayed him. “Deal. I’ll study harder than ever.”

Just as he was about to bask in his newfound confidence, a chorus of whispers and stifled laughter erupted from behind a nearby shelf. Before he could react, five familiar faces popped out from behind the bookshelves—his group of friends, who had clearly been eavesdropping the entire time.

“Whoa, Woonbaby! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Jaehyun teased, clapping him on the back.

“Did you really just ask her out right here in the library?” Taesan added, grinning from ear to ear.

Woonhak's face turned bright red as his friends swarmed around the table, throwing in playful jabs and comments. “Shut up, guys!” he hissed, trying to wave them away. “Go away, you weren’t supposed to hear that!”

But they weren’t about to let it go. “Woonhakie's got a date! He’s in love!” Riwoo sang in a mocking tone, while Sungho pretended to swoon dramatically.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the scene unfold with an amused expression, trying—and failing—to hide her laughter. She looked at Woonhak with a teasing smile, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club.”

Mortified, Woonhak buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this...”

Leehan leaned in, smirking. “You’re really going to have to ace that exam now, Woonhakie. No pressure.”

Still blushing, Woonhak groaned. “Can you guys just leave?”

His friends finally relented, walking away while still snickering among themselves. Woonhak let out a sigh of relief, but the embarrassment still burned on his face.

Y/n, clearly entertained by the whole situation, leaned forward and gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ll be fine. Just focus on passing, okay?”

He nodded, still flustered but more determined than ever. “Yeah... I’ll do my best.”

And as they returned to studying, Woonhak couldn’t help but feel that, despite his friends’ teasing, the day had turned out pretty well.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[fadingdaggerr]

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear. 

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap. 

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath. 

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can  respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her. 

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.” 

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

[the-lambda-archives-ai]

Statement of : Gordon Martinez Freeman, 30 year old MIT graduate,Regarding a peculiar video game he’d found.

Recorded direct from subject, May 16, 200-

Statement begins.

Pt 1 > here

ABOUT 👇

Hello! I am the author of this AU, you can find my main at @inkzectz , for more meta questions about this AU, or for general comments about it, please go there.

What is the AU about?

LA : AI is a crossover AU of sorts, in the simplest way put, it’s TMA but with HLVRAI characters, TMA stuff happens but altered to fit the general HLVRAI narrative, and with my own changes, headcanons, etc. added

I will be updating/editing this post as I progress.

Will it have spoilers?

Disclaimer!!

The AU will have a lot of the original themes of hlvrai and more so TMA, more so, horror themes, this will include gore, body horror, worms, decomposition, cult themes, psychological horror, arachnophobia,flashing imagery, etc.

(Will update as I go on)

I also feel it is important to mention this is the first time I have ever made a ask blog/ web comic/ published a story online, I will make mistakes, please bare with me as I am trying to figure things out.

English is not my first language, I do my best to grammar check and write well, but at the end of the day I will also be making mistakes.

Please be patient with me.

This au is a passion project of mine that I am doing on my free time because I want to, it is important to remember as a reader, I do not owe you anything.

It is best if you’ve seen it but as of writing it right now (early ep 4) there aren’t any spoilers. Once I am a little further ahead then you may want to listen to it.

Yes, not a lot, but vague/mild spoilers about how the world works, plot points, and character.

Again the spoilers will be vague and mild at worst, as it progresses I would recommend listening to tma, but it’s sort of like how while half life knowledge is helpful in hlvrai it isn’t exactly necessary to enjoy hlvrai bc it’s different enough from it to not really matter (?) I hope that makes sense.

Asks rules

- No telling [ player ] exactly what happens ex : “omg [ player ] when you weren’t looking [ npc ] said this very important thing that is supposed to be kept secret for lore reasons”

- Please avoid asks like “tell this character they’re pretty” while I appreciate the compliment, I am trying to write a story and want to keep things as on topic as possible. Instead tell me on my main if you like the art, I’ll probably reply with a doodle or something, just not on here.

- Less so of a rule but more so of a general statement, I will be avoiding asks that either are too close to what happens or if answering would mean progressing the story too quickly, there’s a lot I want to happen and I want time to do it all.

- Another one that’s less of a rule and more of a general thing, if I don’t like what you said I won’t be answering.

- I also sometimes just don’t know how to answer some things.

- Please be respectful of the ships I choose to include and don't force your own, ship wars and such will not be tolerated.

- Please be respectful of others and do not spoil anything, not everyone has listened to TMA and knows it's themes.

I will not be answering everything, I cannot always get to every message so please be respectful of that.

Select character

Character abouts! [ Will be updating as I continue to work on the story ]

[ select ] > Mr. Freeman

> Gordon Martinez ‘Martini’ Freeman

30 y.o . 6’0 . 230lb . Romani / Puertorican . male [ he/him ] . bisexual

[ PLAYER ]

> Lives in Seattle, MIT graduate, left Black Mesa, works as a librarian IRL but also makes money via streaming video games occasionally, in real time it is 2018.

> Believes in the paranormal out of fear but tries to rationalize out of denial, he will never admit something is supernatural and will jump through hoops to rationalize even if deep down he does believe.

> Has a son named Joshua Medrano Freeman, who is 6 years old, Gordon and his old partner met in college but split up before Joshua was born, they remain civil but are nothing more to each other than Joshua’s other parent.

> Gordon rents an apartment with 3 rooms, his own room, Joshua’s room, and a third that used to be a guest room but he has so little visitors he’s just chosen to revamp it into a gaming room.

> Gordon works primarily in a library for now as he’s looking for a better job.

> Gordon often wears hoodies, sweaters, t-shirts, crew necks, and any general outfit one would wear at home, long curly hair that is beginning to grey due to stress, unkempt goatee, and almost always wears green tinted glasses [ he doesn’t need glasses he just thinks they’re cool ]

> His hair is usually pulled back in a ponytail but can also be found in a bun or just down.

< [ select ] > Mr. Coolatta

> Thomas ‘Tommy’ Coolatta, primary researcher, and technical head of the institute.

39 y.o . 6’7 . 190lb . Chinese/filipino . Male [ he/him ] . ???

[ NPC ]

> His father owns the Lambda institute and he grew up in it, he officially started working in the archives when he was 24, and of all the employees in the entire institute he has worked there the longest.

> No one knows who his father really is, Tommy being the only one who’s ever actually seen / spoken to him, his father is the real head of the institute but gives most his orders through Tommy, so Tommy is also technically the head as well.

> Not much is actually known about him, besides his father he doesn’t appear to have any other family, nor does he ever speak of his personal life much.

> Tommy primarily works as an archival assistant, specifically in research, he is the one who will verify details regarding statements or do further investigations into aspects of the statements.

> Tommy is quite the colorful character, often wearing colorful clothing and accessories, he seems to think doing so brings some cheer into an otherwise boring environment, he often wears patterned polo shirts, cheap company bracelets, pins, lanyards, pant chains, but is never without his signature multicolor propeller hat.

[claritys-silly-things]

It’s that time again yall

Headcanons! It’s a long one this time

Emetophobia tw

- (I think I can classify this as modern) Rip sodapop curtis you would’ve loved saying “I’m just a girl 🎀”

- Soda never liked haircuts. When he was a small feral child his long hair would get tangled a lot, but he’s tender headed as FUCK so he would scream and cry when his momma brought the brush out. Darry put sodas hair into braids sometimes just for fun and soda didn’t mind bc it kept his hair from getting tangled, and then it didn’t hurt to brush. He’s always had really soft hair and it grows super fast.

- Jealous little soda asksjks (this was about soda being jealous over pony getting attention as a baby but I don’t wanna edit the original ramble I wrote down)

- When ponyboy was born he just kind of STARED. No crying or anything just 👁️👁️. Even Darry cried when he was born. Soda cried a lot.

- Adding on, Darry and pony were pretty quiet babies. They still cried for food and stuff sometimes but not a lot. Soda was a LOUDDD crier, and a frequent one too. It was the type of crying that sounds like it hurts the baby’s throat cause they’re shrieking their head off. Also soda would cry for, like, the first year of his life if he was ever handed to his dad.

- If Johnny survived the fire and got a wheelchair, he’d be running over people’s feet. Constantly. Just because. Or bc they asked for it. Either way, the moment he gets a hang of that wheelchair it is OVER for yall. And probably before that too.

- Ponyboy gets the same. Goddamn. Thing. At EVERY restaurant. Partly because it scares him to order anything else, partly because he’s picky asf. He makes sure it’s there on the menu and has his order memorized by now. “Chicken tenders, fries, and a Pepsi please.” He’s tried to ask for other things in the past like eggs, cuz he likes those, but the moment they asked him “how would you like them done” he just stared at Darry because he didn’t know what all the different types of eggs were, and now he’s scared bc he’s taking longer, and the server is still there, so he just got sunny side up eggs and they were slimy and he wanted to go home and cry (based on a true story sadly)

- Basically pony has anxiety and probably autism (so me)

- Ponyboy likes avocado. That’s it that’s the headcanon. It’s like one of the only healthy-ish things he’ll eat.

- Soda gets suuuper nauseous really easily, and pony gets carsick on occasion. So the first time pony went to a theme park, his family was scared that he would throw up like soda. They go on a ride and he’s like “yall im fine dawg.” Soda is jealous bc pony can go on rides unaffected (soda will still go on rides anyways, he just throws up afterwards)

- Pony is the most PALE ASS BITCH you’ve ever seen. He burns soo easily. His face gets red really quickly, no matter what’s going on. The only time he gets the slightest bit darker is when he burns and tans. Two-bit has been like “you ain’t white you translucent” multiple times because in the right lighting you can see pony’s veins. It’s even worse because soda and Darry tan so wonderfully, and pony looks like he had an allergic reaction if he doesn’t reapply his sunscreen when he’s supposed to. I feel like Mrs Curtis is the reason for this, she didn’t tan. Mr Curtis did tho.

- Pony has mild (severe) ocd

- Marcia’s last name is smith she is white-Hispanic on one side and Native American on the other thank you for coming to my TED talk

- Marcia is Cuban and Native American

- Marcia’s full name is Marcia smith that’s it that’s the end

It’s funny cuz I listed these things like three times and just forgot about the other two

- Twobit is Brazilian end headcanon

- Mr Curtis had autism and Mrs Curtis had inattentive adhd

- Mr Curtis was half Mexican on his mom’s side and half Irish on his dad’s side. Mrs Curtis was full Italian-American.

- Darrys the typa guy to make pony and soda turn off a show or movie if it talks about possession or like demonic stuff/soul stealing stuff

- (Modern au) Darry will get a text from ponyboy about something, like “can I go in your room rq” and he sees it but doesn’t actually open the text message until later and like, two hours later he’ll just respond “no” and thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It’s time! I have unblocked the tags, seen the movie, and have thoughts about War of the Rohirrim!

There are some extremely generalized thoughts here, and then more specific and detailed thoughts are below the cut to shield them from those who want to avoid all discussion of plot. Also, I have literally *just* seen it, and it’s a lot to take in what with visuals, story, music, etc. So I reserve my right to change my mind later!

I liked it! I thought it was fun and engaging, and getting to revisit treasured sentimental things like the visuals of Meduseld or the Rohan theme from the original LOTR score are just like cheat codes to my heart.

It has canon deviations. In some cases, I can see why they wanted to make changes for purposes of effective movie storytelling (changing the location of certain events, for example). In others, I think it was probably just a desire to throw in something that folks will recognize from the movies/books even though the story didn’t need it. It doesn’t upset me, but your personal mileage might vary.

There’s been a lot of attention paid to Héra as the main character, but there are other cool women characters that have been added as well. That being said, I think the movie is still a little confused/confusing in what it thinks about the role of women in Rohirrim society and leadership. And, you know, Tolkien was confusing about it, too, which is why we are still having the “what really is a shield maiden?” discussion in 2024. But it’s notable to me nonetheless.

I went to an AMC but, alas, they did not have the war hammer popcorn buckets. ☹️

More specific opinions, kind of firehose style:

I liked Héra a lot and the old lady from the Hornburg, but I really liked Olwyn! I wish they would have made her Helm’s wife/Héra’s mom so that we could have avoided the Dead Mom trope. That would have also explained how/why Olwyn was wielding such significant authority/command over the defense of Edoras and the Hornburg even though she was positioned solely as someone in service to Héra.

They went WAY easy on Helm in the opening sequence with Freca. I can understand why — they don’t want to make Helm unlikeable right from the jump — but Helm of the books was more of an instigator of that mess than Freca (Helm swung first!!!) and he was a much bigger dick about it. I think it would have been interesting to see the other iteration, which would have been a more complex, nuanced take on Helm and given him even more chance for emotional growth.

That being said, I really liked how they handled the whole “Helm wanders off into the snow each night and scares the shit out of Wulf’s army” stuff. I thought it was really cool and very effective. Two thumbs up.

I was very appreciative that they made the Dunlending general who was aiding Wulf (Tragg? I think? Nope, Targg!) a real person — smart, strategic, not bloodthirsty, with real humanity — rather than the one dimensional “savage wild man” stereotype that has so often been the Dunlendings’ narrative fate.

OKAY Fréaláf!!! Loved that guy. Handsome, noble, loyal, progressive, showing up on the ridge with the ringing of horns just in time to turn the tide of a battle. Legend.

Miranda Otto says in the opening narration that you won’t hear about Héra in the histories and legends from that time (which you’ve gotta say, right, since she’s an invented character that is literally not in any of the histories and legends!). But I wish they had followed up on that directly at the end with a more concrete explanation for WHY she’s not remembered. Fréaláf loved her and respected her! He wouldn’t have erased her from the story even if she had ridden off to some uncertain adventure with Gandalf and never returned again! So I was left a little bit wondering still, “what happened???”

EDITING TO ADD: I cannot believe I forgot to say how glad I was that the movie seemed not to care about Héra’s romantic life at all. She says very clearly that she’s not interested in getting married, and of course Wulf doesn’t like that. But we don’t spend time delving into what she actually means or why she feels that way and we don’t have her reach some weird heteronormative realization along the way that she DOES want a man even if it’s not Wulf. It’s just stated and then we move on. Maybe she’s a lesbian, maybe she’s aro/ace, maybe she just has other priorities and concerns right now. Whatever her deal is, the movie is content to let it be without drama or judgment. And I liked that.

Stopping there because this could get quite long and I’m still thinking things over, but that’s my start!

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

[sebstanaddict]

Filming Frenzy

Sebastian Stan x Reader Unhinged One Shot

Summary : Reader is an actress who just got cast to be in an action comedy movie opposite the Hollywood heartthrob Sebastian Stan. But her perception of Sebastian being a cool and broody man like the Winter Soldier was dashed as Sebastian was proven to be an ultimate dork who loves pranking his co-stars. One prank lead to another and the pranks turn into an all out war. Who will win the war and cement themselves as the king or queen of pranks in Hollywood?

A/N : This story is inspired by Sebastian's story of pranking his co-star back in the day and how it seems he loves pranking 😆 Two of the pranks actually happened, can you guess which ones? 😁

Warning : none, just an all out funny and hilarious story 😁

Read more Sebastian Stan and Bucky Barnes one shots here.

---

The first day on the set of Spy Harder was a sensory overload of blockbuster proportions. The hum of power tools mixed with the clang of metal, as the crew put the finishing touches on an elaborate spy lair. Fake smoke wafted dramatically through the air, making everything look ten times more intense than necessary. Even the catering table seemed impossibly glamorous, with artisanal pastries glistening under the lights like they’d been spritzed with movie magic.  

And there, in the middle of it all, was Sebastian Stan. 

Y/n spotted him instantly, leaning against a stack of crates like he had been ripped directly from the pages of GQ. Leather jacket. Perfectly tousled hair. Aviator sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He exuded effortless cool - the kind of aura that could only come from playing a Marvel superhero or owning a yacht.  

“Oh my God, it’s really him,” Y/n whispered to herself, her heart doing an embarrassing tap dance in her chest.  

She had rehearsed for this. She’d envisioned herself walking up, shaking his hand with just the right amount of confidence, and delivering a witty yet professional introduction that would make him instantly respect her as an equal. This was her moment.  

Instead, she found herself walking over like a starstruck fan. “Hi, oh wow, um, hi,” she stammered, immediately regretting every life choice that had led her to this point.  

Sebastian turned, lowering his sunglasses with the kind of precision that seemed pre-programmed for dramatic effect. “You must be Y/n,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with movie-star charm as he extended his hand to her and she shook it. 

“Yep! That’s me!” she blurted, practically vibrating. “Wow, it’s so great to meet you! I’m such a huge fan. Like, huge. Like, I’ve seen everything you’ve done. The Covenant! Loved it. Totally underrated. And don’t even get me started on Monday, so artistic! And The Bronze! Incredible. I mean, hilarious. The.. flexibility thing? Genius.”

“Wow,” Sebastian said, eyebrows raised, clearly trying to keep up with her verbal avalanche. “Thanks. That’s.. really nice of you.”

She realized she was still holding his hand and let go abruptly, trying to play it off like she hadn’t just confessed to memorizing his IMDb page. “Anyway! Yeah. Excited to work together. Totally professional here. Zero weirdness.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, clearly amused. “Totally professional,” he repeated, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. “Looking forward to working with you,” Sebastian added, his smile somehow both humble and dazzling.  

She nodded rapidly, her cheeks burning. “Same here. Totally. Looking forward to.. whatever cool, broody, mysterious stuff you bring to the table.”  

For a second, she was convinced this man wasn’t even human. He was too suave, too polished, too..

“Hold that thought,” Sebastian interrupted, raising a finger. He turned toward the catering table, where a tray of muffins sat innocently. “You see that?”  

Y/n followed his gaze, confused. “The muffins?”  

“Not just muffins,” he said cryptically. He reached out and grabbed one, holding it up like he’d just discovered fire. “Blueberry muffins. Nature’s perfect snack. These bad boys are fuel for greatness.”  

Before Y/n could say anything, he took a huge bite.. and immediately started choking.  

“Hold up!” Sebastian coughed, pounding his chest as crumbs flew everywhere. “Why is it.. why is it so dry?! Who made this?!”  

Y/n stared, horrified, as he frantically tried to swallow, looking less like a Hollywood heartthrob and more like a man who had been betrayed by baked goods.  

Sebastian grabbed a cup of coffee off the table, downed it in one gulp, then immediately gagged. “Who the hell puts cinnamon in coffee?! Are we on a Hallmark movie set?”  

Y/n clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”  

Sebastian finally recovered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Totally fine. Just.. testing the limits of my taste buds. You know, for the craft.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “The craft involves choking on a muffin?”  

“Sometimes,” he replied solemnly. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed another muffin and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “You know. For later.”  

Y/n’s awe evaporated faster than a CGI explosion. “You just pocketed a muffin you nearly died eating.”  

He shrugged. “Never give up on a second chance.”  

As if that weren’t enough to shatter the image of “cool Sebastian Stan” she’d built in her mind, he turned toward the crates he’d been leaning on earlier. “By the way,” he added, “check this out.”  

With zero explanation, he picked up a wooden plank and struck what she assumed was supposed to be a ninja pose. “Been practicing my moves for weeks,” he announced proudly.  

Before she could stop him, he swung the plank at a nearby punching bag. The plank snapped in half instantly, and the momentum sent him spinning, arms flailing, until he tripped over his own feet and landed in a heap on the floor.  

The entire set went silent.  

From his position on the ground, Sebastian held up a finger. “It’s cool. I meant to do that.”  

Y/n stared at him, torn between horror and hysterical laughter. “You’re.. not at all what I expected.”  

He grinned up at her, completely unfazed. “Good. Expectations are overrated.”  

Her first impression of Sebastian Stan - the brooding, mysterious Hollywood megastar - was gone. In its place was a muffin-hoarding, plank-wielding disaster who somehow made falling on his ass look charming.  

She sensed that working with Sebastian was going to be a lot more chaotic - and a lot more fun - than she’d bargained for. 

—-

First Week

The first week on set felt like summer camp for adults with a multi-million-dollar budget. Between the constant boom of test explosions and stunt doubles flipping off cars like caffeinated ninjas, it was clear this wasn’t going to be your average work environment.  

Y/n was slowly settling in, though she was still grappling with the reality of working alongside Sebastian Stan. Every time she caught sight of him, she couldn’t shake the image of the broody, badass Winter Soldier. But after a few days, she realized the man behind the character wasn’t broody at all.  

No, Sebastian Stan was an agent of chaos.

It started with small things: the way he couldn’t walk past the catering table without stealing a croissant and stuffing it in his pocket “for later,” or the time he accidentally knocked over a prop barrel, tried to catch it, and ended up pulling down an entire fake wall in the process.  

And then there was the smoothie incident.  

Y/n was sitting in her trailer, flipping through her script, when she heard a commotion outside. She peeked through the window just in time to see Sebastian holding a blender, arguing with a production assistant.  

“Listen, all I’m saying is, protein powder is boring,” Sebastian insisted.  

The assistant looked exasperated. “Because it’s a protein smoothie.”  

“Exactly!” Sebastian said, as if this were the most logical argument in the world. “Which is why I added Pop Rocks. For texture.”  

“And the gummy bears?”  

Sebastian shrugged. “For morale.”  

Y/n snorted and shook her head. By the time the smoothie exploded in a sticky, rainbow-colored mess, she wasn’t even surprised.  

Later that day, she was on set, running lines with him between takes. It was a relatively quiet scene, involving a tense exchange over a fake briefcase.  

“You know, you’re pretty serious for a comedy,” she teased, slipping into character.  

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “And you’re too trusting for a spy.”  

She frowned, puzzled, but before she could ask what he meant, the director called for a break. Y/n plopped into her director’s chair, taking a sip of her coffee..

Ffffffrrrrttttt!

The noise echoed across the set, loud and obnoxiously wet.  

Y/n froze, her coffee halfway to her lips. “What the..”

She glanced down and spotted the unmistakable shape of a whoopee cushion, its pink plastic barely visible under the cushion of her chair.  

Sebastian was already doubled over, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against a table. “Oh my God, your face!” he wheezed. “I thought you were going to spill your coffee!”  

“Sebastian!” she shrieked, grabbing the offending object and hurling it at him.  

He dodged, still laughing. “What? It’s a classic!”  

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, standing up to inspect her coffee. Thankfully, it hadn’t spilled.  

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “And you just got initiated. Welcome to set.”  

“Oh, it’s on now,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.  

Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying, keep your head on a swivel. You never know when I’ll strike next.”  

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, despite herself. It was in that moment she realized two things:  

1. Sebastian Stan wasn’t just a Hollywood heartthrob, he was a dork in disguise.  

2. She was going to spend the rest of this movie trying to outwit him.  

—

Second Week

The film set buzzed with energy that Monday morning - a controlled chaos that somehow fueled the creativity of everyone involved. Lights hung overhead like glowing trapeze artists, cameras rolled with practiced precision, and stunt coordinators barked commands while actors in ridiculous harnesses dangled mid-air. The smell of fresh coffee and pancake syrup wafted from the craft services table, mingling with the sharp scent of pyrotechnics and fake blood.  

Sebastian Stan lounged in his director’s chair, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Across from him, his co-star Y/n was mid-rehearsal, delivering a sarcastic one-liner to a green-screen stand-in shaped vaguely like a mutant robot. Though the script was packed with high-stakes action and snappy dialogue, the atmosphere on set was relaxed. That was, until Sebastian decided to shake things up.  

The opportunity presented itself at the craft services table. Y/n, bleary-eyed, was yawning as she reached for her caffeine fix.  

“Man, if I don’t drink this, I’m gonna be useless by scene three,” she mumbled, tugging at the mug. It didn’t budge.  

She frowned and tried again, her grip tightening. Still nothing. “What the hell? Did I suddenly lose all my upper body strength, or is this mug stuck?”  

Across the table, Sebastian leaned casually against the counter, barely hiding his grin. “Weird. Maybe it’s just you? That’s a lot of gym selfies for someone who can’t lift a coffee cup.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “You did this, didn’t you, you glue-gun psychopath?”  

He gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Who, me? I’d never!” He paused, smirking. “Okay, I would. But this one wasn’t me. Honest.”  

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Sure. And I suppose the glue still on your fingers is from.. what? Your arts and crafts class?”  

Sebastian glanced at his hand, then back at her, deadpan. “No. I’m making a scrapbook of all the times I’ve outsmarted you.”  

Y/n didn’t laugh. Not outwardly, at least. But as Sebastian strolled away, she was already planning her revenge.  

The next day, Sebastian’s smug grin vanished when his voice suddenly blared over the set’s sound system during a quiet moment.  

Y/n, determined to get him back, managed to swipe his walkie-talkie and sneakily tune it into the sound system so now his voice was blaring all around the set.

“Testing, one-two - wait, why is this so loud? Uh.. whoever is in charge of snacks today, can we get some more of those tiny sandwiches? And maybe a fresh batch of guacamole? This is Sebastian Stan, signing off.”  

The crew dissolved into snickers as Sebastian emerged from behind a prop truck, eyes narrowed. Y/n stood nearby, biting her lip to keep from laughing.  

“Wow, Stan,” she called out. “Demanding much? Is this the Hollywood diva arc we’ve all been waiting for?”  

“Oh, real mature, Y/n!” he shot back. “You just wait.” He threatened.

By the third prank, Sebastian decided to escalate. With a bribe and some charm, he convinced the hair-and-makeup team to rig Y/n’s hair dryer with a harmless - but hilariously messy explosion of glitter.  

In the privacy of her trailer, Y/n flicked on the dryer, expecting a gentle blast of warm air. 

“Finally, some me time,” she muttered when a loud *POP* was followed by a glittery storm of pink and gold cascading over her.

Sebastian poked his head into the trailer, his grin wide enough to rival a Cheshire cat’s. “Wow. I didn’t know you were auditioning for My Little Pony: The Musical. Bold choice.”  

She turned slowly to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and menace. “Sebastian, this isn’t a prank. This is an act of war.”  

He doubled over laughing. “Oh, come on. You look magical! Like a unicorn had a midlife crisis and exploded.”  

Y/n rose to her feet, glitter cascading to the floor with every movement. “Hope you enjoy finding glitter in your socks, your cereal, and your soul for the next ten years. Because that’s what’s coming for you.”  

The crew had caught on by now, whispering about the escalating prank war between the two stars. The stunts and explosions in the script were impressive, sure - but they had nothing on the chaos unfolding behind the scenes. 

—-

Third Week

By the third week of filming, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had reached legendary status. The cast and crew were now unwitting accomplices, silently choosing sides or pretending not to notice the chaos brewing behind the scenes. 

The first day of the third week began innocently enough - or so it seemed. Y/n strolled onto set, a cappuccino in hand, savoring the comforting aroma of caffeine. She took a sip and immediately froze.  

Her eyes widened, and she stared into the cup as if it had personally insulted her. “What the actual hell?”  

Sebastian, leaning casually against a prop table, suppressed a grin. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of artisanal flavors?”  

“This tastes like someone drowned a fish in my coffee!” she spat, clutching the cup like a weapon.  

“Oh, come on,” he said, barely containing his laughter. “It’s a cappuccino.. with a twist. You know, surf and turf for breakfast.”  

Y/n glared at him, then turned to a nearby crew member. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”  

The crew member pretended to adjust a light, whistling nervously.  

“Enjoy your laughs, Stan,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. “Because I just remembered that karma works fast.”  

Sebastian should have been suspicious when he found a frothy green smoothie waiting for him at the craft services table later that afternoon.  

“Wow, someone really stepped up the catering game,” he mused, picking up the glass. Y/n watched from a distance, trying to suppress her grin.  

He took a generous sip and immediately gagged. “Oh my God! What is this?!”  

Y/n appeared at his side, feigning concern. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of umami smoothies? It’s Sprite and soy sauce. Very trendy in some circles.”  

Sebastian doubled over, wiping his tongue with his sleeve. “You’re psychotic!”  

“Me?” she said sweetly. “I just thought you’d appreciate a taste of your own medicine.”  

Later that evening, Y/n walked to her car, exhausted from a long day on set. She climbed in, started the engine, and waited for the GPS to load.  

“Turn left in zwei hundert Metern,” the robotic voice announced in crisp German.  

Y/n frowned. “What?”  

“Turnen links jetzt,” the voice insisted.  

She groaned, smacking the steering wheel. “Sebastian! You switched my GPS to German?”  

The sound of muffled laughter came from nearby. She rolled down her window to find Sebastian leaning against his own car, clearly delighted with himself.  

“You’ve got this, Y/n,” he called. “Just channel all those European art films you’re always bragging about watching!”  

“Enjoy being lost in Seoul, you jerk,” she snapped.  

He froze. “What?”  

“Your phone. I switched the language to Korean. Good luck calling your agent!”  

The next morning, things got weirder. Y/n bit into what she thought was a chocolate croissant from craft services, only to discover it was made entirely of foam.  

She spat it out, glaring at the culprit. “Fake food? Really? That’s so amateur, Sebastian.”  

“Is it, though?” he said, unwrapping his sandwich. He took a bite - and immediately realized it was made of rubber.  

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.  

“This war is getting out of hand,” she admitted, still laughing.  

“Never,” he replied. “We’re just getting started.”  

But the real coup de grâce came during wardrobe fittings.  

Sebastian emerged from his trailer, his costume pants visibly tighter than they should have been. He tugged at the waistband, trying to make them fit. “What the hell? Did they shrink my pants in the wash?”  

Y/n, watching from the sidelines, smirked. “Oh no, you look great! Very.. form-fitting. It really shows off your quads.”  

“I can’t even sit down without risking a wardrobe malfunction!” he protested.  

“Then don’t sit,” she said innocently.  

His payback didn’t take long. Later that day, Y/n was supposed to wear an elegant evening gown for a pivotal scene. She stepped out onto set, only to realize the dress had been altered to include an exaggerated train that stretched a good ten feet behind her.  

She tripped on it almost immediately.  

“What the.. why am I suddenly starring in Gone with the Wind?” she shouted, glaring at Sebastian.  

He shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I thought you’d appreciate the drama. You know, it’s giving very red carpet moment.”  

“You’re dead,” she hissed, hiking up the ridiculous train and stomping off to wardrobe.  

By the end of week three, the entire cast and crew had taken sides in the escalating prank war. The director, at his wit’s end, tried to address it during a production meeting.  

“I’m begging you two to call a truce,” he said, rubbing his temples. “We’re behind schedule, and..”  

“I’ll call a truce,” Y/n interrupted, “when Sebastian admits he can’t fit into his own pants anymore.”  

“And I’ll call a truce,” Sebastian retorted, “when Y/n stops hoarding glitter like it’s the cure for all her problems.

”The crew groaned. The director sighed. And the war raged on. 

—-

Fourth Week

By week four, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had surpassed the realm of playful antics and entered the domain of pure chaos. The crew was now fully invested, taking bets on who would break first. The set had become a battlefield of wits, and there was no telling where the next blow would land.

The week began with a surprise for Sebastian: his car, once a sleek black beauty, was now covered in neon Post-it Notes from bumper to bumper. Each note bore a poorly drawn stick figure of him, along with captions like “World’s Okayest Actor” and “I Heart Tom Hiddleston.” 

Y/n stood nearby, coffee in hand, trying to keep a straight face.  

“Y/n,” he said flatly, inspecting the chaos. “Do you have any idea how long this is going to take to clean?”  

“Oh, I do,” she replied, smirking. “That’s why I’m staying to watch.”  

“Careful,” he warned, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You’ve awakened the dragon.”  

Y/n stepped out of her trailer the next day, script tucked under one arm, getting ready to go home after a whole day of filming without Sebastian for a change. 

She made her way to the parking lot, humming to herself, until her gaze landed on her car.  

Her brain needed a full five seconds to process what she was seeing.  

Googly eyes.  

Googly eyes everywhere.  

Her entire car had been transformed into some kind of cartoonish nightmare. The headlights each sported a massive pair of eyes, complete with fluttery lashes. Smaller googly eyes were stuck all over the doors, windshield, tires, and even her side mirrors. There were hundreds - no, thousands - of them, ranging in size from dime-sized dots to the kind that belonged on giant stuffed animals.  

“What the..” Y/n approached the car cautiously, as though it might start talking to her in a squeaky voice. She reached out and poked one of the larger eyes on the hood. It wobbled unnervingly.  

A voice from behind her broke the silence.  

“I call it The Car That Sees All.”  

Y/n spun around to find Sebastian leaning casually against a nearby golf cart, arms crossed, grinning like a kid who just got away with stealing the last cookie.  

“Sebastian,” she said, her tone deadly calm, “what did you do to my car?”  

He gestured to the googly masterpiece with a sweep of his hand, as if unveiling the Mona Lisa. “You’re welcome.”  

“Welcome?!” she shouted. “It looks like a Muppet had a midlife crisis all over it!”  

Sebastian gasped, feigning offense. “Muppets are a national treasure, thank you very much.”  

She narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hips. “How long did this take you?”  

“Hours,” he admitted proudly. “Had to get the right mix of big and small googly eyes, you know? Balance is everything.”  

“You balanced my humiliation?”  

“Y/n,” he said solemnly, “you don’t humiliate art. You appreciate it.”  

She snorted, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I appreciate it, all right. Just wait until you need a ride somewhere and I pull up in this thing.”  

“Are you kidding? This car’s a legend now!” he said, circling it with admiration. “People are gonna turn heads when they see this rolling down the street.”  

“They’re going to call animal control because they think it’s possessed,” she muttered, shaking her head.  

Sebastian tilted his head, considering. “Fair. But admit it - this is the best prank yet.”  

She gave him a long, hard look, then finally cracked a small smile. “Fine. I’ll admit it. This is.. annoyingly clever.”  

“Thank you.” He bowed, smug as ever.  

“But don’t get comfortable,” she added, stepping closer. “Because payback’s coming. And when it does? It’s going to have twice the googly eyes.”  

Sebastian grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can’t wait.”  

Sebastian returned to his trailer after a long morning of rehearsals later that week only to stop dead in his tracks. Every available surface of his trailer - walls, ceiling, furniture - was covered in glossy, high-resolution pictures of Tom Hiddleston.  

Tom in a suit. Tom in Loki gear. Tom smirking. Tom dramatically staring into the distance.  

The pièce de résistance? A life-sized cardboard cutout of Hiddleston perched in the middle of the room, holding a sign that read, “#TeamTom.”  

“Y/n!” Sebastian roared, stepping inside and ripping one of the pictures off the wall. “Really? Hiddleston?”  

Y/n strolled by his trailer, sipping a coffee with the most innocent expression she could muster. “Oh, hey, Sebastian! Did you get my little.. tribute?”  

“You’re a menace,” he said, holding up a photo of Hiddleston holding a Golden Globe award. “This is personal.”  

She smirked. “I thought it might inspire you to aim higher.”  

Sebastian, of course, wasn’t going to let that slide. The next morning, Y/n found her trailer transformed into a bubble wrap fortress. The walls, the furniture, even the floor were wrapped tightly in layers upon layers of bubbles. Her chair popped loudly as she sat down, and her makeup mirror was completely unusable under its bubbly cocoon.  

“Really, Stan?” she muttered, stomping around and popping bubbles with every step.  

Sebastian leaned against a nearby production van, watching her with smug satisfaction. “What can I say? Safety first.”  

“Oh, I’m going to get you for this,” she called out, snapping a strip of bubble wrap in his direction.  

“Take your time,” he said, walking away. “I’m sure Tom Hiddleston could help you come up with something.”  

But Sebastian wasn’t ready for what came next.  

During lunch break the next day, a small group of women suddenly appeared at the edge of the set, armed with signs that read things like “Justice for The Covenant!” and “Why did you do Monday?” They screamed and waved frantically whenever Sebastian walked by, calling out, “Sebastian, we still love you - despite your terrible career choices!”  

Y/n leaned casually against a food truck, grinning ear to ear as she watched the chaos unfold.  

Sebastian squinted at her, ignoring the fans chanting, “Fresh Start! Fresh Start!”  

“You recruited my craziest fans?” he asked, incredulous.  

“Yep,” she replied. “Turns out, they’re a very passionate bunch.”  

“Y/n, this is insane. You can’t just weaponize fandom!”  

“Oh, I absolutely can.” She sipped her smoothie, then added, “They’re staying for the whole day, by the way. Better keep your head down.”  

Sebastian smirked despite himself, already plotting his retaliation.  

Y/n had been bragging about a new, "fancy" perfume she’d bought, claiming it was "exquisite" and "unique." Sebastian, knowing that she’d never expect him to go after her precious fragrance, decided to make his move.

He waited until she was filming a scene, and the moment she left her trailer, he crept inside like a ninja.

Y/n’s perfume was sitting on the table, practically begging to be tampered with. Sebastian had an idea. He went into the trailer’s tiny kitchen and grabbed a bottle of garlic oil, along with a few other suspicious ingredients he could get his hands on. Then, he carefully swapped the contents of her perfume bottle with his concoction. A mix of garlic oil, a dash of motor oil, and a hint of something that could only be described as “fishy.” He carefully sealed the bottle, gave it one last glance of satisfaction, and slipped out without leaving a trace.

When Y/n returned to her trailer and reached for the perfume, she didn’t think twice. She was in the mood to smell fabulous.

Sebastian hid outside, watching through the window like the deranged mastermind he was.

Inside, Y/n spritzed herself generously with the perfume, took a deep breath, and then - her face froze. Her eyes darted to the bottle, then to the air around her.

What.. the hell?

A wave of disturbing scent engulfed her. It was like someone had bathed in expired garlic bread, motor oil, and that weird smell that comes with rotten fish. Her face contorted in disbelief as she recoiled, nearly knocking over the perfume bottle in shock.

She took a few steps back and sniffed again. "Oh, no." She looked down at the bottle with horror. "What.. did I just do?"

Sebastian could barely keep his composure. From the outside, he could hear her gagging.

Y/n rushed to the mirror and sniffed her neck in disbelief. "I smell like I just rolled in a dumpster fire mixed with a pizza that's been left out in the sun for two weeks!" She grabbed a cloth to try to wipe it off, but it was like the scent was bonded to her skin.

She stormed out of the trailer, holding the cloth to her face in a desperate attempt to neutralize the stench. "Sebastian!” she yelled, looking for him like a predator.

Sebastian, pretending to act innocent, leaned casually against her trailer. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You,” Y/n hissed, narrowing her eyes. “You did something to my perfume!”

Sebastian grinned, fighting the urge to laugh. “What are you talking about? That perfume smells great!”

“No. No, it does NOT,” she snapped, “I don’t know what sick magic you’ve cursed me with, but I will get you back for this. I’ll make sure you never smell like roses again.”

Sebastian tried, and failed, to keep a straight face. "Hey, if you’re going for something unique, that’s a one-of-a-kind scent."

“I smell like I’ve been marinating in a vat of industrial waste,” she growled. “I hope you enjoy my revenge because it’s going to be epic.”

—-

Fifth Week

By week five, the prank war between Sebastian and Y/n had spiraled into absolute chaos. What had started as harmless fun was now a full-blown production nightmare, with the entire cast and crew living in constant fear of becoming collateral damage. Nothing on set was sacred anymore - not props, not food, and certainly not personal space.  

It was as if they were in a live-action Tom and Jerry episode, except Jerry was armed with glitter bombs, and Tom had a talent for sabotage that bordered on genius.   

Sebastian should have known something was up when Y/n was too quiet during lunch on the Monday of that week. Her mischievous grin - hidden behind a fake veneer of innocence - should have been the first clue. But Sebastian, ever the professional (and occasionally gullible), had shrugged it off.  

The scene was a critical one: his character was supposed to leap off a skyscraper in a dramatic escape. It required a harness and rigging, and the entire crew was abuzz preparing for the perfect shot. Little did he know, Y/n had spent the previous evening plotting the most spectacular prank yet.

Sebastian stood at the edge of the set’s mock skyscraper, adjusting his gloves and glancing down. “Alright, let’s get this over with. One take, people!” he called out confidently.  

“Don’t forget to make it epic, Seb!” Y/n shouted from below, barely able to keep a straight face. She was stationed with the crew at ground level, holding a walkie-talkie like she was an important part of the operation.  

Sebastian gave her a playful glare. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Unlike you, I nail my stunts.”  

“Bold words for someone about to become internet famous, ” Y/n muttered under her breath, smirking.  

The crew members, who were in on her plan, exchanged knowing glances as they prepared the rig. Hidden within the harness was Y/n’s pièce de résistance: a full-blown unicorn costume. Complete with a rainbow mane, sparkly hooves, and a long, flowing tail that would flutter majestically in the wind.

“Ready?” the director called out. 

Sebastian nodded, rolling his shoulders. “Born ready.”

As the countdown began, Y/n gripped the walkie-talkie tighter, barely containing her glee.

“Three… two… one… action!”  

Sebastian leapt off the platform with a dramatic yell, his arms outstretched like an action hero. The harness engaged smoothly, suspending him in midair as the cameras rolled.  

But then - whoosh!  

The hidden compartments in the harness deployed, unfurling the unicorn costume in all its sparkling, pink glory. In an instant, Sebastian transformed from a rugged action star into a mythical creature, complete with a glittering horn atop his head.  

“What the.. ?!” he bellowed mid-swing, realizing something was very, very wrong. He twisted to look at himself and nearly lost it when he saw the rainbow hooves dangling in front of him.  

The crew burst into laughter, some doubling over while others frantically filmed the spectacle on their phones. Y/n was on the ground, practically wheezing.  

“SEBASTIAN THE MAJESTIC!” she yelled through the walkie-talkie. “THE HERO WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED!”  

“Y/n!” Sebastian roared, his voice echoing as he dangled midair. “What the hell is this?!”  

“It’s called artistic flair, Seb,” she shouted back, tears streaming down her face. “You’re finally reaching your full potential!”  

Sebastian tried to glare down at her, but it was hard to look intimidating with a sparkly horn bobbing on his head. “When I get down from here, you’re DEAD!”  

“Oh, come on,” Y/n teased, doubling over in laughter. “You look so majestic! I bet you’ll trend on Twitter by lunchtime!”  

“Cut!” the director called out, wiping away tears of his own. “Oh my God, I needed that.”  

When Sebastian was finally lowered to the ground, still wrapped in his unicorn ensemble, he marched straight toward Y/n. She held up her hands in mock surrender, still giggling.  

“Okay, okay, don’t kill me!” she pleaded. “It was too perfect to pass up.”  

Sebastian stopped inches away from her, leaning down so they were face to face. His voice was low and dangerous, but his lips twitched with a suppressed smile.  

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, Y/n,” he said. “Because I’m coming for you.”  

Y/n grinned wickedly. “Bring it on, Unicorn King.”  

And just like that, the Unicorn Leap Incident became legendary on set - immortalized in behind-the-scenes footage and memes that Sebastian would never live down.

But just days later another legendary prank courtesy of Sebastian happened. After the Unicorn Leap Incident, he knew he had to up his game. No glitter, no costumes - this time, it had to be bigger. So naturally, he turned to the special effects team, who were all too happy to assist in pulling off the most chaotic prank of the century.  

It was late in the evening, and Y/n was wrapping up a scene in a dimly lit alley set. Exhausted, she dragged herself toward her trailer, yawning and muttering about the world’s need for longer naps. What she didn’t know was that Sebastian had been plotting for days.  

Hidden in the shadows of the lot, Sebastian and a crew of conspirators were armed with remote controls, fog machines, and, most importantly, a massive inflatable alien spaceship.  

As Y/n approached her trailer, she noticed an odd mist creeping around the base. She paused, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell..?

The faint hum of something mechanical started, growing louder and louder. Her head whipped around as flashing green lights illuminated the area.  

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, already suspicious.  

Before she could react, an enormous inflatable UFO descended from the top of the set, complete with spinning lights, glowing tentacles, and a deep voice that boomed:  

“YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN, EARTHLING.”  

Y/n screamed, instinctively ducking as the UFO hovered precariously close. “WHAT THE HELL?!”  

From a hidden speaker, Sebastian’s voice - disguised by a hilariously bad alien accent - blared out. “WE REQUIRE YOUR *GLITTER-BASED ENERGY* FOR OUR PLANET.”  

“SEBASTIAN!” Y/n shouted, spinning in circles to find him. “I SWEAR TO GOD..”  

Before she could finish, the UFO shot out a giant net, which ensnared her in a ridiculous tangle of inflatable tentacles.  

“HELP!” she cried out, half-laughing, half-panicking as the net tightened around her.  

The fog machine intensified, surrounding her in a haze. Suddenly, a group of extras in full alien costumes emerged from the mist, their heads bobbing comically as they marched toward her.  

“Oh, come on!” Y/n wheezed, struggling against the net as they began to chant in an absurd alien language that sounded suspiciously like someone reciting a Taco Bell menu.  

One alien stepped forward, holding a silver scepter. In a deep, melodramatic voice, he proclaimed:  

“The Glitter Queen shall ascend to our mothership!”  

“GLITTER QUEEN?!” Y/n shrieked, doubling over in laughter.  

From a safe distance, Sebastian was clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face as he controlled the inflatable UFO with a remote.  

“She’s losing it!” he gasped between laughs.  

“SEBASTIAN STAN, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!” Y/n hollered, caught somewhere between hysterical laughter and actual rage. “WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS NET -”  

“Bow to your alien overlords, Y/n!” Sebastian called out from behind the fog, his voice nearly cracking from laughing so hard.  

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”  

Eventually, the UFO slowly “ascended” back into the sky, the aliens retreated, and the net released Y/n, leaving her sitting on the ground, disheveled and gasping for air.  

Sebastian emerged from the mist, still laughing as he offered her a hand. “Peace offering?”  

Y/n glared up at him, though her grin betrayed her. “You’re dead to me, Unicorn King. Dead.”  

Sebastian shrugged, smirking. “Admit it - you’ll never forget this abduction.”  

Y/n took his hand, pulling herself up before smacking him on the arm. “Oh, I’ll remember it, alright. When I turn your trailer into a real crime scene.”  

The crew, watching from the sidelines, erupted into applause. The Alien Abduction Prank became a legend on set, rivaling even the infamous Unicorn Leap - and the prank war was far from over. 

Y/n had spent days orchestrating her pièce de résistance: convincing Sebastian his trailer was haunted. With the help of the effects crew and some horror-movie-level theatrics, she turned his cozy retreat into the set of Paranormal Activity: Actor’s Edition.  

The speakers were rigged to emit creepy whispers, the lights wired to flicker unpredictably, and, the crowning glory - a life-sized animatronic ghost ready to scare the living daylights out of Sebastian. She even got fake blood to drip from the bathroom mirror, spelling out ominous messages. Y/n was particularly proud of the fog machine that turned the bathroom into a misty portal to another dimension.  

Sebastian walked into his trailer in the evening, several days later, blissfully unaware of the chaos lying in wait. He tossed his bag on the couch, humming a tune, when suddenly - BANG! The door slammed shut behind him with the force of a WWE wrestler.  

He jumped, glancing over his shoulder. “Weird,” he muttered, shrugging it off.  

That’s when the whispers began.  

“Seeeebaaaastian...”  

He froze mid-step. His eyes darted around the room. “Y/n, if that’s you, I swear..”  

The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then plunged the trailer into darkness.  

“Oh, hell no,” Sebastian muttered, pulling out his phone to turn on the flashlight. Before he could, the bathroom door creaked open, and a cloud of fog billowed out like a gothic villain’s entrance.  

“Y/n?!” he called out, voice an octave higher than usual.  

No response.  

Instead, the whisper returned, louder and creepier: “Leeeave... NOW.”  

Sebastian backed up, eyes wide, when suddenly, the animatronic ghost floated out of the fog, its glowing eyes locked onto him.  

He let out a scream that could’ve shattered glass.  

“OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!” he yelled, grabbing the nearest object - a throw pillow - and chucking it at the ghost.  

The ghost advanced, arms outstretched, emitting a low, guttural moan.  

“NOPE. NOPE. I AM DONE. I’M DONE!” Sebastian scrambled to the door, yanking at the handle, which had mysteriously “jammed” thanks to Y/n’s prior tinkering.  

Behind him, the bathroom mirror began to drip with fake blood, spelling out: *GET OUT NOW.*  

Sebastian froze. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” He tugged harder on the door, cursing under his breath. “Why won’t this damn thing open?!”  

Meanwhile, Y/n and the crew were outside, watching the hidden camera feed and laughing so hard some of them were on the verge of collapsing.  

Inside, Sebastian was still fighting for his life. The ghost let out a sudden, piercing shriek, and the fog machine blasted a fresh cloud of mist.  

Sebastian panicked, grabbing his bag and flinging it at the ghost. “I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL SUE THIS TRAILER!”  

Finally, Y/n burst in, flipping on the lights and yelling, “Gotcha!”  

Sebastian froze, looking like he’d just run a marathon while being chased by rabid dogs.  

“YOU!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at her.  

Y/n was doubled over, tears streaming down her face as she howled with laughter. “Oh my god, Seb, your face! I can’t breathe!”  

Sebastian glared, his chest heaving. “You’re evil! Legitimately evil!”  

“Worth it,” Y/n choked out, barely able to stand.  

Sebastian glanced at the animatronic ghost, now harmlessly slumped in the corner. He groaned, rubbing his temples. “I’m never trusting you again. Ever.”  

“Oh, come on,” Y/n teased, grinning. “You have to admit, it was a masterpiece.”  

Sebastian narrowed his eyes but couldn’t suppress a reluctant smile. “Alright, Y/n. You win this round. But just wait. The king of pranks always gets the last laugh.”  

“Bring it on, Unicorn King,” Y/n shot back.  

And with that, the prank war escalated to a whole new level of chaos.

His payback came on a Friday - the day of Y/n’s birthday.  

Y/n stepped into her trailer that morning and immediately froze.

The door creaked open, and she was met with.. chaos. Absolute chaos.  

A chicken clucked and strutted across her carpet. A pair of rabbits hopped over her shoes. A duck waddled by, quacking indignantly.  

And in the corner stood a llama.  

“Larry,” a sign around its neck read. “Please take care of me.”  

“SEBASTIAN!” she bellowed, stepping inside as a lamb tried to chew her purse strap.  

From behind her, he appeared, holding his phone like a proud dad capturing her reaction. “Happy birthday, Y/n!”  

“Are you INSANE?!” she yelled, dodging a goat that had somehow squeezed under her table.  

“It’s a mini farm,” he said with a grin. “You’ve been talking about wanting to adopt a dog, so I thought, why not start big?”  

“Big?!” she repeated, gesturing to the llama. “Sebastian, there’s a llama in my trailer!”  

“Larry,” he corrected.  

“And ducks! And - oh my God, is that a sheep?!”  

“Technically, it’s a lamb,” he said.  

She buried her face in her hands, half-laughing, half-crying. “You’re insane.”  

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “But admit it - you’re impressed.”  

“Impressed?” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m..”  

“Admit it,” he interrupted, smirking.  

“Fine,” she said, sighing. “You got me. This is.. hilariously absurd.”  

“Good,” he said softly, his tone shifting. “Because I have one more surprise.”  

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “If this involves glitter, aliens, or another llama. ”  

“Nope,” he said, cutting her off. He held out a small gift bag, grinning at her. 

Y/n took it, and peeked inside. It was a box of chocolates - real ones - and a handwritten note that read, “You’re the only person who could survive five weeks of this madness with me.”

When she looked up, his expression had softened.  

“Listen,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “This prank war has been fun - okay, it’s been ridiculous - crazy even - but.. I was wondering if we could call a truce?”  

Her brow lifted. “A truce? You mean you’re finally admitting defeat?”  

“Not exactly,” he replied, grinning. “I’m proposing we redirect all this energy into something.. else. Like maybe dinner? Just the two of us?”  

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Wait. Are you asking me out right after you brought a llama into my trailer?”  

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of timing.”  

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“Is that a yes?”  

Y/n glanced at Larry, then back at Sebastian, her smile widening. “Fine. But only if you promise to clean up this farm.”  

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “And for the record, Larry stays.”  

“Absolutely not.”  

As they walked out of her trailer together, the crew cheered then let out a collective sigh of relief, knowing the prank war had finally - and mercifully - come to an end.

Larry, however, was spotted lounging in Sebastian’s trailer later that afternoon, party hat still firmly in place while Sebastian and Y/n finally went off set as dates and not enemies.

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw: none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Twelve: Reminded me of You

You leaned against the table, watching a few other people walk in and out of the room. Although it was after class hours, there had more people in the studio than usual, though thankfully nothing too overcrowded.

“Hey, here’s your stuff, i’m sorry we had to meet up kinda late again,” Ino spoke as he handed you the folded shirt and pants. “Thanks, and don’t worry about it, I was gonna come in to work on Yuki’s dress anyway.” You fixed the outfit into your bag, and began walking off, Ino following behind. “Good luck on your project Ino, from what you’ve showed me I think it’s going really well.” From the short time you’ve been around him, you could tell Ino was very optimistic and social. When you met with him he’d usually go off talking about whatever to keep the conversation going, and it always seemed to work.

“Thanks y/n, I really hope so, though I think i’m just gonna go get something from the shop outside my dorm building and sleep. I’m done for today. What about you?” You two continued making your way out as you talked. “I’m visiting my friend, the one that’s helping out Yuji with his project.” From past conversations you had found out that Ino knew Yuji, and apparently Megumi too.

“Oh cool, you gonna go help them too?” “No, just bringing them some stuff from the store, Nobara sent me the location.” “Oh nice, well if we’re heading the same way I don’t mind walking around with you.” “Sure that’s fine.”

Unlucky for you, once you bought everything you wanted, two large bottle sodas and a couple bags of chips and candies, the cashier had told you they had just run out of bags. You tried your best to carry it, putting a couple in your bag, but not much could fit and the sodas were becoming uncomfortable to carry. You started considering just leaving some of it behind. “Need help?” You turned your head to see Ino, who only had a bag of chips in his hand. “If we’re going to the same building I can help you drop it off.” “um well.. that would be helpful, yeah.”

Yuji opened the door, only to find you and Ino, both with hands full. “Hey Yuji, surprise!”

“Y/n, Ino what are you guys doing here?” “I’m just helping out, but it’s nice to see you man!”

“Who is it?” you heard an all too familiar voice ask from behind Yuji. He whipped his head around to face Megumi who had shown up beside him. “Hey Megumi, long time no see!” Ino announced.

“Hey Megumi!”

Megumi got up from the small living area and walked to the kitchen island in the shared dorm between Junpei and his roommate, who was currently out somewhere. He saw Yuji excitedly grab a bag of chips and rip it open. Junpei leaning against the counter laughing at his behaviour.

“Megumi, I got you something, I remember you said you liked things that pair with ginger, and I saw these and thought of you, I don’t know if you’ll like it but there’s other chips if you don’t want them.” You held up a bag of some type of Lay’s flavored chips with ginger, he had never really seen them before, but just the fact that you had bought them with him in mind was enough for him to give them a try. “Thanks, these are actually my favorite.” A white lie never hurt anyone. Yuji spoke up, “Really I thought that-” “These are my favorite.”

Author’s Note: when i was writing the chip part i had lays wasabi and ginger chips in mind, they’re low key good ngl i recommend if anyone likes those flavors

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv

[amethystarachnid]

SOULMATE BOND

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): stupid rumors go around because Tony is famous, not really anything serious

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the Avengers were formed

ᯓ★ Request: This bingo is absolutely adorable, can you write Soulmates + Tony Stark/fem!reader, please? ❤️ ( @ccbsrmsf1 )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

In this world, the soulmate bond manifests in the form of tattoos, inscribed on skin at the moment when you first meet your destined person. Not just any tattoo—it's the first thought they had when they saw you. A sentence or a phrase etched in permanent ink, completely out of your control, tied to the moment your eyes meet.

You've always found the idea romantic in theory, but after your mark appeared, you're a little less enthused. The thought branded on your wrist is definitely not the stuff of fairy tales.

I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt.

It's funny, sure, but you can’t help but cringe every time you think about it. What kind of first impression did you make that day? You don't even know who your soulmate is, just that somewhere, out there, someone’s first impression of you was that you were a mess. It’s become a running joke among your friends, something you laugh off, but in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that when you finally meet them, it’s going to be awkward.

For years, you've searched crowds, looked at strangers’ tattoos, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that might give you a clue. No luck. Life moves on, and you stop looking quite so actively, focusing on your own career instead. After all, it’s not like you can control when or how you meet your soulmate. It'll happen when it happens.

But it does happen.

You’re at a charity gala in New York, your company hosting a benefit for technological innovations in renewable energy. As someone involved in the development sector, it's part of your job to represent the company, socialize, and network. That’s how you end up near the bar, scanning the room for anyone who looks like a potential business connection.

And that’s when you see him.

Tony Stark.

He’s hard to miss, obviously. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, Avenger, and all-around larger-than-life personality. You’ve seen him on TV and in interviews, but there’s something different about seeing him in person. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, drink in hand, looking amused by something someone just said.

Your first thought?

Huh, he’s taller than I thought.

Then, just as quickly, God, how does his suit fit that well?

You’re about to turn away and rejoin the group when, out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance in your direction. And then he starts walking right toward you.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you quickly glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious. Is there something on your face? Hair out of place? Ketchup stain?

“Hi,” Tony says, stopping in front of you, looking at you with a smirk. "You look like you're about to sprint off somewhere."

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out for a second. You're so stunned that Tony Stark is standing right in front of you, speaking to you like you're someone worth noticing.

“Uh—hi. No, just… thinking,” you manage to say, your voice sounding much calmer than you feel.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Well, careful with all that thinking. Could lead to dangerous places."

You can’t help but laugh. It’s a stupid joke, but it lightens the mood, easing some of your nerves. Tony Stark is surprisingly… not intimidating? Maybe it's the easy confidence, the humor that makes him feel less untouchable.

“You’re here for the renewable energy thing, right?” Tony asks, leaning casually against the bar. “What do you do?”

You quickly tell him about your work, grateful that you're able to form coherent sentences again. The conversation flows surprisingly naturally, and before long, you’re actually enjoying yourself.

“So,” Tony says, eyes gleaming as he takes a sip of his drink. “Soulmate tattoo. What’s yours?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden question. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go there so quickly.

"Uh, well…" You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure, why not? It’s not like he’s going to see it. “It's… kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Oh, those are the best kinds. Now you have to tell me,” he grins, leaning in with mock curiosity.

You laugh again and hold up your wrist, showing him the words you’ve grown so familiar with.

“I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt,” you say, reading it out loud for him.

Tony bursts out laughing, a genuine laugh that lights up his entire face. “Wow. That’s… that’s actually amazing.”

“Yeah, well, I try not to think about it too much,” you reply with a self-deprecating smile.

Tony’s laughter dies down, but the smile lingers. "You never know. Could make for a great story when you meet them."

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug. “What about you? What's your tattoo?”

Tony hesitates, something almost unreadable flickering across his face. For a split second, he looks vulnerable, which is strange to see on someone like him. Then he smirks again, the mask of confidence snapping back into place.

“Oh, mine’s ridiculous,” he says, holding out his wrist.

You glance down at his tattoo and freeze.

Huh, he’s taller than I thought.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up. It’s your first thought. Your words. The exact thing you thought the moment you saw him across the room.

Your heart starts pounding. “Wait, this is…”

Tony looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. “Yeah. Looks like we’ve got a match.”

You stare at him, speechless, as the weight of the realization sinks in. Tony Stark is your soulmate.

“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer. “When did you…”

“When did I think you had a ketchup stain?” he finishes for you with a wry smile. “About five years ago. Tech conference in Palo Alto. You walked in with a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. And, well… you had a ketchup stain on your shirt.”

You blink, the memory slowly coming back to you. You remember that conference. You remember spilling ketchup on your shirt. But what you don’t remember is Tony Stark being there.

He watches you closely, almost like he’s waiting for something. “I didn’t think you’d ever find out,” he says softly.

“I—" You look up at him, everything finally clicking into place. "I can’t believe this.”

Tony shrugs, but there’s something tender in the way he looks at you now. “Believe it, sweetheart. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a story.”

You take a moment to process what just happened, your mind racing. You never imagined meeting your soulmate would be like this, in a crowded gala surrounded by the elite, and especially not with Tony Stark.

“So…” you say, trying to regain your composure. “This is kind of a big deal, right? I mean, we’re soulmates and all.”

“Big deal? That’s an understatement,” he replies with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “But you have to admit, the ketchup stain part is pretty entertaining.”

You laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, it really is. I suppose it could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t think I was a complete disaster when you first saw me.”

Tony grins, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve seen worse. And I’m pretty sure I was the one who looked like a disaster when we first met. You, on the other hand, were effortlessly charming.”

Your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Effortlessly charming? You must be joking.”

“Nope.” He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You had a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other and you still managed to look amazing. That’s not something everyone can pull off.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “I appreciate that. But what are we supposed to do now? I mean, how does this whole soulmate thing work?”

Tony leans back against the bar, his expression turning thoughtful. “Well, there’s no manual for this kind of thing. But I guess we could start with getting to know each other better.” He gestures to the gala around you, where people are mingling and enjoying themselves. “Want to escape this place for a bit? I know a great rooftop view.”

Your heart races at the thought of spending more time alone with him. “Are you sure? Won’t people wonder where you’ve gone?”

“I’m sure they’ll be just fine without me for a little while,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I’m sure they’re all busy trying to impress each other. And I’d much rather be up there with you.” He grins, and the sincerity in his eyes makes you want to take a chance.

“Okay,” you agree, surprising even yourself. “Let’s go.”

You follow Tony through the crowded room, weaving between groups of people, past waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres, and up a set of sleek glass elevators. The ride is quick, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You can’t believe you’re about to spend more time with him—your soulmate.

When the doors slide open, you step out onto the rooftop, greeted by the cool night air and a stunning view of the city skyline. The stars twinkle overhead, and the lights of New York stretch out like a sea of diamonds.

Tony leads you to the edge, and you lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking scene. The city buzzes below, alive and vibrant, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

“Wow,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath. “This is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he says without missing a beat. His tone is playful, but the way he looks at you is serious, intense even.

Your heart skips a beat. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s true,” he replies, moving a bit closer, so you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “It’s crazy to think we’ve been living in the same world for years and didn’t even know. I mean, the odds of us meeting here, of all places, are wild.”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I always thought when I met my soulmate, it would be all fireworks and fate and romance.”

He chuckles softly. “And here we are, talking about ketchup stains and fancy suits. Very romantic.”

You smile at that. “It has its charm, I suppose.”

Tony turns to face you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “So, what do you want to know about me? I mean, besides the obvious—that I’m a genius billionaire superhero.”

You can’t help but laugh again. “Okay, let’s skip the superhero part. What’s something about you that no one else knows?”

He thinks for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’ll give you a fun one. I have a massive fear of failing. It’s part of why I push myself so hard. If I’m not the best, then what am I?”

You blink in surprise. “Really? I would have never guessed that. You always seem so confident, so in control.”

“That’s the façade,” he admits, looking out over the city again. “Most people don’t see the doubts that keep me up at night.”

“Wow. Thanks for sharing that with me,” you say softly. “It’s refreshing to hear something real.”

“Your turn,” he insists, turning to face you again. “What about you? What’s something that keeps you up at night?”

You take a breath, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “I worry that I won’t ever be enough. That I’ll never make the impact I want to make in the world. It feels like I’m always chasing something, you know?”

Tony nods, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But you’re doing something amazing. You’re involved in renewable energy. That’s huge.”

“I suppose,” you say, a little shyly. “But I still feel like I could be doing more. I just want to make a difference.”

“You already are,” he says, his voice steady. “And now you’re my soulmate, which is a pretty big deal in itself. We can make a difference together.”

Your heart swells at the thought. “Together, huh?”

“Yeah. Together,” he repeats, stepping a little closer. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I think we could figure it out. What do you say?”

You look into his eyes, and it’s as if the world around you fades away. It’s just you and him, standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, two souls destined to find each other. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, a smile breaking across his face. “Because I definitely plan to keep you around.”

With that, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and for a moment, everything else fades away as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, exploratory, but then deepens as the realization hits that you’re sharing this moment with your soulmate. The world is electric, and you feel the connection between you ignite.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you know this is only the beginning. There’s so much more to explore, to learn, and to discover together.

“Wow,” you breathe, your heart racing. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, a teasing grin back on his face. “I know. Better than a ketchup stain, right?”

You can’t help but burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

And in that moment, as you stand together on the rooftop, laughter spilling into the night air, you realize that this was only the start of your incredible journey together. Soulmates, destined to make each other’s lives a little more colorful, ketchup stains and all.

For the next few weeks, life is a whirlwind. After that rooftop moment with Tony, things between you and him move fast but not in the way you expected. You see each other regularly, grabbing dinners, texting late at night, meeting up when you can. The chemistry is undeniable, and every time you're together, it feels like there's something bigger building between you two. But Tony's life is complicated. It comes with a lot of attention, and soon, the press starts to notice.

It begins with whispers, rumors on social media. Photos of you two at events surface, and the internet goes wild, speculating about who you are, what your relationship with Tony is, and, most importantly, whether you’re his new girlfriend or just another passing fling.

At first, it’s just gossip. But then it escalates.

One morning, you wake up to your phone buzzing uncontrollably. Texts, emails, and missed calls flood your notifications. You sit up in bed, confused, before your eyes land on one of the headlines plastered across your phone screen:

"Tony Stark’s New Mystery Woman: Another One in a Long Line of Flings?"

Your stomach drops. Another headline follows:

“Who is Y/N L/N? Stark’s Latest 'Arm Candy' or Something More?”

The articles are brutal. Some of them dig into your personal life, questioning your background, even speculating that you might be using Tony to further your career. Others call you names you can’t even bear to read. Worse, they paint Tony as a playboy who moves from one woman to the next, suggesting that you’re just the flavor of the month.

You throw your phone down on the bed, your hands shaking. How did it escalate so fast? It was just a few dinners, a couple of public appearances. You didn’t ask for this.

Later that day, you sit at a café, your mind buzzing with everything you’ve read. You're sipping your coffee when Tony shows up, his presence always commanding, but today there's something different in the air. He sits down across from you, the usual playful spark in his eyes replaced with concern.

"You're upset," he says simply, cutting right to the point.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Have you seen the headlines?"

Tony leans back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I saw them. Look, this happens sometimes. People like to talk, especially when they don't know what's going on. You just have to ignore it."

“Ignore it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Tony, they’re tearing me apart online. They’re acting like I’m some… some gold-digger who's using you, or worse, just a fling in your long history of flings."

His jaw tightens, and you can see the frustration building behind his calm exterior. "You know that’s not true. I know that’s not true. Who cares what some gossip sites say?"

“I care! I’m not used to this, Tony. This isn’t my world! I didn’t ask to have my life dragged through the mud because of who I’m spending time with.”

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. "I know this is hard. But people are always going to talk. I’ve been dealing with this for years. It sucks, but it doesn’t last forever."

You pull your hand back, frustration bubbling up. "But it’s different for you. You’ve been in the spotlight your whole life. People expect this from you. For me, it’s… humiliating. My colleagues are seeing these headlines. My family. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be called a fling? To be dismissed like I don’t matter?"

Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not dismissing you. I never would."

"It’s not about you dismissing me. It’s about everyone else thinking that’s what’s happening." You bite your lip, looking down at your coffee cup. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. The attention, the gossip. I wasn’t prepared for any of it."

“I can’t make the headlines go away,” Tony says softly. “But I can stand by you through them. If this is too much for you, I’ll understand. But if you want to stay, if you want to try… I’m not going anywhere."

There’s an honesty in his eyes that makes your breath catch. You can see the vulnerability there, the rawness he’s trying to share with you. Tony Stark, the man who is larger than life, standing before you and offering something real.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision you’re about to make. "I don’t want to walk away from this, Tony. I just… I need to know that you’re in this for real. No games, no casual flings. If we’re doing this, it has to be serious."

“It is,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “I’m in this for real, Y/N. No games. No flings."

The sincerity in his voice melts some of the fear inside you. You nod slowly, your shoulders relaxing just a bit. "Okay. Then… let’s do this."

A smile spreads across his face, that familiar Stark confidence returning. "Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily."

You smile back, feeling some of the tension lift. For the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, this could work.

But as soon as you begin to relax, your phone vibrates again. You glance at the screen, and your stomach tightens as you see another headline flash across the notification:

"EXCLUSIVE: Sources Claim Stark’s ‘Soulmate’ is After His Fortune—Friends Warn He’s Being Played."

You feel the blood drain from your face. Tony’s brow furrows as he notices the change in your expression.

“What is it?” he asks, but before you can answer, his phone buzzes, too. He pulls it out, glancing at the screen before cursing under his breath.

“I’ll handle this,” he says quickly, anger flashing in his eyes. “This is just some idiot trying to stir up trouble. I’ll talk to the press. I’ll clear this up.”

But it doesn’t feel like it’s just gossip anymore. It feels personal, and it feels like whoever is behind this wants to tear you apart.

“Tony…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if this doesn’t stop? What if this just keeps getting worse?”

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer to you, determination hardening his gaze. “I told you, I’m not letting this come between us. Whoever’s behind this, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Tony doesn’t waste any time. The moment he sees the new headline, he’s in action mode. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow with determination. He’s dealt with attacks like this before, but this time, it’s personal—and he’s not going to let someone mess with what the two of you have.

“We need to find out who’s feeding these stories to the press,” he says, already typing away on his phone. “There’s no way this is just random gossip. Someone’s deliberately trying to stir things up.”

You sit there, still shaken by the headlines, but his confidence is a bit reassuring. “How do we even start? I mean, the media… they don’t just reveal their sources, do they?”

“They don’t. But I have people. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”

Over the next few days, Tony taps into every resource he has, which, unsurprisingly, is a lot. He calls in favors from friends in the media, tech experts, and even digs into security footage from recent events you’ve attended together. The digging takes time, and while Tony handles most of the legwork, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. His usual carefree attitude fades into something more serious. He’s laser-focused on protecting you, and it makes your heart ache to see how much he’s willing to fight for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Tony gets a lead.

“Got it,” he announces one night, barging into your apartment with a determined look on his face. “It’s someone on the board at Stark Industries. A guy named Victor Lanning.”

“Victor Lanning?” you ask, the name unfamiliar to you.

Tony nods, his expression darkening. “He’s been pushing for more influence within the company, and apparently, he didn’t like that I’ve been ‘distracted’ with personal matters lately. Decided to use our relationship to try and weaken me publicly. Classic power move.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “So, this was all about business? About him trying to make you look bad so he could… what? Get your job?”

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. He figured if he made me look like I wasn’t focused, the board would start questioning my leadership. And what better way to make me look distracted than to spin it like you’re using me? It’s a dirty move, but it’s not the first time someone’s tried to pull something like this.”

Your stomach churns with a mixture of anger and disgust. “All of this because I’m your soulmate? Because he thinks I’m a distraction?”

Tony steps closer, his hand finding yours. “He doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re going to set the record straight. I’ll deal with him. But first, we need to clear your name.”

You nod, feeling a spark of hope. “What do we do?”

Tony smirks, that familiar glint of mischief back in his eyes. “We go public. Officially.”

The next morning, the press conference is set. Tony’s team works fast, organizing everything within hours. You’re nervous as you stand beside him backstage, waiting for your cue. Tony notices your fidgeting and gently takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning in close. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

You nod, feeling a little steadier with him by your side.

Finally, it’s time. The two of you walk out to the flashing lights of cameras and a sea of reporters, their voices buzzing with curiosity. Tony stands tall, confident, as always, but there's a gentleness in the way he holds your hand.

“Thank you all for coming,” Tony begins, his voice firm yet calm. “I wanted to address some recent rumors about my personal life. It’s no secret that I’ve been in the headlines recently, and a lot of the things being said are completely false. Someone from my company decided to spread lies because they didn’t like the fact that I’ve been spending time with Y/N. But the truth is, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And if people want to attack her to get to me, well, I’m not going to let that happen."

You glance at him, and he gives you an encouraging nod before continuing.

“But more importantly, I want to clear up something that actually matters,” Tony says, his tone softening. “The woman standing beside me, Y/N L/N, is not just some ‘fling’ or ‘arm candy.’ She’s... well, she’s my soulmate.”

A wave of murmurs spreads through the crowd, but Tony keeps going, his eyes steady on yours. “Yeah, you heard that right. We’ve got the tattoos to prove it.”

The reporters lean forward, the flashes of cameras intensifying as you and Tony raise your wrists, showing your matching tattoos. There, in plain sight, are the words that started it all. Your tattoo reads: "I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt." and his reads: "Huh, he’s taller than I thought."

The room falls quiet for a moment, the weight of the reveal sinking in. Then, slowly, Tony speaks again, his voice quieter but more intimate, as if he’s speaking just to you, even though everyone can hear.

“The first time I saw her, I wasn’t thinking about business or my reputation or anything else. I was just thinking about how she had this charming, messy moment, and it made me smile. She was real. And that’s the thing: Y/N makes me feel like I can be real, too.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile.

The room erupts in questions, but Tony raises a hand to quiet them down. "That’s all we wanted to say. The rumors? Ignore them. The truth? It’s right here."

He turns to you, his eyes soft, and in that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you again. “So, are we done with the press?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a playful grin.

You laugh, relieved, and nod. “Definitely.”

As you walk off the stage, hand in hand, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. The truth is out there now, and it’s your truth. No more hiding, no more rumors.

Once you’re out of sight from the cameras, Tony pulls you into a gentle hug, his lips brushing against your temple. “Told you we’d get through this.”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “I know. I’m just glad it’s over.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, a soft smile on his face. “It’s not over. This is just the beginning.”

And in that moment, you know he’s right. Together, you’ve faced the storm, and now, with the world finally knowing the truth, you can move forward. Together, as soulmates.

Flaws, ketchup stains, and all.

[notbecauseofvictories]

My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.