#me: …but I don’t have to write a fic for today

[awordsmith]

tangled up 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer join forces to babysit both Jack and Henry.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s6 category: novella content warnings: not proofed, contains nothing but pure fluff, reader and spencer get mistaken as Jack and Henry's parents... reid with warmth !!  word count: 4.9k a/n: first novella fic whaaaa....i've been wanting to write this one for a while, but i knew it wouldn't be that long, so this is perfect for my first novella fic!!; enjoy!

The morning was cold and frosty, and the only thing able to mend it: a large, hot latte. Hotch approached your desk as you set your things down. He leaned over and whispered conspicuously, “Are you sure you can come tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, just as secretive, and perhaps some more to show how dramatic he was being, “Yes, Hotch,” you saluted him, “Jack will be in good hands.”

A gruff sound came from his throat–as if signifying his disbelief, “If you say so, do you remember what time?”

“Hotch?”

He looked around, glancing back at you with pressed lips. “Yeah?”

“I got this,” you pushed his hand–gripping your desk–off.

“Right,” he nodded, “no I know.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “so why are you stalling? Is this about your date? Because if you don’t want to go–”

“No,” he dusted his suit off, “I’m–I’m walking away.”

“Uh-huh,” you biot back a smile, feeling Spencer slide up next to you, “and what was that all about?” He kept his inquisitive gaze on your boss.

“Hotch had a date,” you stated, turning to look at him, “I’m babysitting Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded–but when Penelope called you to the roundtable room and you began to walk away with her, you could hear him mutter, “Why didn’t he ask me?”

JJ rushed in, she apologized for being late as she took her seat. The team watched her; she was flushed, but her face showed clear urgency. She rolled her eyes, “Please do not question me today, I already have enough explaining to do.”

It was silent, but then you just couldn’t help yourself, “...JJ?” She looked at you with a slight warning, but you still asked, “What happened?”

The air in the room evaporated as JJ sucked in a breath, then deflated against her chair, throwing her head back, “Henry’s babysitter quit this morning.” You kept quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Will and I were going to go out tonight, we’ve been planning this for weeks now.” she huffs, running a hand through her hair.

Spencer caught your eyes, and though you shook your head, knowing it’d be a bad idea, he still said, “Well, hey, you know I could watch him for you–if you still wanted to go.”

JJ raised a brow and began to shake her head slowly, “I don’t know, Spence–”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” you noted Hotch raising an eyebrow as Spencer motioned toward you, “— is watching Jack, we could babysit them together.”

JJ glanced at you, then at Hotch–hopeful, “Would you both be okay with that?”

Hotch eyes Spencer’s grin for a moment, “Fine, but — has to keep an eye on Reid too.”

“Uh–what?” Spencer threw his arms up, “I’m a great babysitter–are you laughing?” He glared slightly at Morgan.

“Sure you are,” you reached over and patted the top of his hand, you held his gaze for a split second–the both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

You could hear giggling inside. Jack clung to Hotch, he was eight, and yet he still adored his father. The night was young, but starting to grow darker. Today, you had only been called to air a case, so you worked from the office, which you didn’t have the pleasure of doing most days, making it pretty unique.

“Oh, hey guys,” Spencer called, walking up behind you. You frowned, noting his relaxed attire.

“And I didn’t think you owned anything but sweater vests.”

He sighed, “Oh–you just had to comment.”

“That I did,” you nodded, “that I did.”

The front door opened right as Hotch checked his wristwatch, “you guys made it!”

“Would you believe it? Hotch hasn’t canceled yet.”

Your boss glared at you, but your remark earned chuckles from the others, “Yep, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

JJ stepped out of the house and moved aside, “come on in.” Henry popped his little head out from behind Will and motioned for Jack to follow.

Hotch leaned to the side, eyes only leaving Jack once the boys disappeared behind a corner. “Okay,” JJ approached you, hands on your shoulders, “I am trusting you.”

“Hey–uhm Hi!” Spencer waved, sticking his head over your shoulder, “I’m here too.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m telling her to be careful.”

After a bit of teasing Spencer, Hotch, Will, and JJ left in their cars. “Come, on, it’s freezing out here,” you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your zip-up.

“Let the night begin…”

Spencer stayed, feet glued to the floor for a moment as he watched you wander into the house. He couldn’t help the small smile that grazed his face; he covered it with a hand, closing the door behind him.

Inside you were asking the boys what they wanted to do. Hotch had picked you up from your apartment and you, him, and Jack drove over together–so when Henry suggested the movie theatre, you could only glance at Spencer, wondering if he’d be willing to drive.

He huffed, rolled his eyes, and fell back on the couch in the living room. “We can see what movies are playing, I guess.”

You huffed a laugh and gripped the couch with both hands as you learned over it, watching Jack and Hnery jump on top of Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” He pushed Henry’s foot out of his face and shot you a look when he heard you cover up a snort with a cough.

Upon scrolling through the nearest movie theatre, you found the newest Spider-Man movie was playing, but you had already missed the 7 o’clock one and the next showing was at 8:30. You, Spencer, and the boys agreed to that time, which left you about an hour before you had to leave. Spencer offered to pay and though you had debated with him about going half–he insisted.

You agreed, but only if he let you pay for the snacks. Spencer wasn’t a boyfriend and he wasn’t one of the girls, so it felt weird letting him pay for everything. He was older than you yes, but only by a couple of years, and though you had to remind him of that several times, he never once failed to pull that card over on you.

“What’s that?” Spencer motioned toward the bag you had brought–that you were now unloading on the kitchen counter.

“Ingredients,” you shrugged, “it isn’t real babysitting if you don’t bake something.”

“You bake?” He sat up, throwing something on the television to distract the boys before he made his way toward you.

You brushed it off, “Somewhat.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rounding the counter and meeting your hip with his, “so what are we baking tonight?”

“We?” You raised a brow. He nodded, lips forming a thin line to suppress a grin. “Oh, no,” you huffed a laugh, “we are not–do you even know kitchen etiquette?”

His face scrunched up, “I’m a quick learner.”

“Sarcastic Spencer never fails to amuse me.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “what’s first?”

You shook your head, a grin escaping you. You snatched the butter he had picked up and smacked him on the shoulder as you went to go find a bow for it, “Wash your hands.” 

“Something smells good.” Jack rounded the counter.

“That would be the cookies.” You spun around and bent to your knees, pulling the oven open. 

“When’s the movie?” Henry came waddling in, Spencer not too far behind.

You glanced at him, expecting him to answer for the both of you. You smiled to yourself, pulling off the oven mitts when he said, “uh…we have about five more minutes before we should leave.”

You nodded and began searching for a container to put the cookies in, “boys, do you wanna go outside and help Uncle Spencer start the car?”

“Awesome!” Henry shouted, running off to find his coat.

“Can we really start the car?” Jack looked between you and Spencer.

“Of course,” you smiled, nodding.

“Cool,” he too ran off.

“If either of them wrecks my car, I’m holding you responsible.” He jabbed a warning finger in your direction.

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “right. Spencer, you drive a van.”

“An SUV,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem the type to care about messing things up.”

He held a hand to his chest, mock hurt flashing across his face, “–and what is that supposed to mean.”

You shrugged, but a cheeky smile pulled your lips upward.

“I’ll see you in the car,” he wandered off in search of the boys. You grabbed three cookies and set them aside on a napkin.

When you walked toward the door, you found Spencer and the boys already secure in the car. You locked the door and made your way down the drive.

“I have something delicious,” you handed each boy a cookie, promising to help Spencer clean out his car if it turned out they made a mess.

You took the third cookie and bit into it. Spencer watched you and he pulled off, turning onto the street. He hit a red light when you were halfway done with it, “were you not going to offer to share?”

Your eyebrows shot up momentarily, “you like sweets?”

“Half you met me?” he shot back.

You huffed, yanking his hand from the steering wheel and toward you, placing the cookie into his hand. The light turned green, so he steered with one arm and used his other to eat the cookie. It was a darling sight, truly. You giggled when a few crumbs fell onto the floor.

“I blame you,” he muttered, his mouth full of cookies as he made his proclamation.

Spencer had bought the tickets online, so as you parked, you made a game plan with the boys. Spencer and Henry would go to the bathroom because he forgot to say something back at the house and you and Jack would stand in line. There were a few games around–and of course, the boys asked to play when they saw them–but you only had ten minutes till the movie began, so you promised when the movie was over, you’d stay a bit longer to play.

There were only three lines open and from what you could tell, pretty long. Jack stuffed his hands into his tiny jacket pockets–he looked comfortable. “Do you know what you want to get?”

He pressed his lips together and notably looked around at the freezers and small box-like shelves separating the lines. They were only about two inches higher than him, maybe three or four higher than Henry.

“I’ve never been here.” You frowned. Jack had never been to a movie theatre or he had never been to this theatre? 

“What do you mean?” You stepped forward as the line moved up. A father and his daughter–probably around fourteen–stepped behind you. You took notice, but only because you’ve programmed your brain, they weren’t really important.

Jack shrugged, “What kind of snacks do they have.” You understood Jack didn’t want to speak more on the subject and because you cherished him, you dropped it–but you made a mental note to speak with Hotch about it later.

“Well, I think they have…gummy bears and–oh look–they have cornetto–personally I prefer the cup version–but that’s just me.” Jack laughed and stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the ice cream flavors.

You caught Spencer walking toward you, Henry skipping a few feet in front of him. He caught your wave and nodded toward Jack, who now stepped to the side of the counter–looking through the glass. “How much time do we have?”

Spencer checked his watch once more, his casual attire contrasting. He wore his glasses–which you absolutely adored–a pair of blue jeans substituted his normal khakis, and he wore a black hoodie with red writing on the back. He wore tenashoes instead of his work shoes and his silly socks were hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. It made you frown slightly: you couldn’t tease him about it.

“Do you want anything?” You asked as the boys began listing off candy to the cashier.

“No, I’m good.” He shook his head, stuffing his hands into the singular pocket of his hoodie.

“Wanna share a bowl of popcorn?” You pleaded and eventually, he gave in.

You asked for two smaller bowls so you could split the large bowl between you, Spencer, and the boys. Spencer physically winced when you swiped your card–you saw it happen. It sent a flutter through you and your face reddened as much as it could. You covered it up with a laugh, hoping Spencer didn’t find it weird, though the look he threw you said otherwise.

You found your seats, the boys settled in the middle of the two of you. You separated the popcorn between the boys, but then realized it’d be an issue sharing with Spencer if he was all the way on the other side, so instead, you gave him one of the smaller bowls, filled his and Hnery’s, and shared the big bowl with Jack.

You made it in time for the credits which you hated, but Spencer loved. It put a goofy smile on his face as he explained every ad,s aying how they were trying to tug at your heartstrings or logical side. “But we’re too smart, aren’t we?” He met your gaze.

The boys turned toward you, where you now adorned a serious nod, “oh, yeah, we’re way too smart to fall fo that, right boys?” 

“Yep!” they nodded triumphantly. 

“And why is that?” Spencer rounded the question back to him.

“Because we’re profilers,” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Exactly,” you jabbed a finger at him, messing with his hair a little. He laughed and leaned away, pushing your hand toward the popcorn bowl.

Spencer watched you–but not just your person. He wanted your actions, your facial expression, the way you interacted and spoke to Jack, the way you joked with Henry, the way you took every opportunity you could to tease him about absolutely anything. 

He felt his heart tense and then fall to his stomach once he realized what was occurring. Was he falling in love? Was this what that feeling was? Was this how falling in love happened? You noticed minuscule, insignificant things about a person like the way they laughed? Or the way smiled? You analyzed them so thoroughly that you could tell what they would say before they said it. Or know the action they’re about to take before they make it?

He couldn’t tell. Spencer had never been in love before. He had never fallen in love. But was that what this was? He didn’t have a definitive answer, he just knew he wanted to be closer. To you. To you in every way. He wanted you to want to be close to him and he wondered if that was love.

Because if it was, wouldn’t that mean he’d already fallen? But it didn’t feel right.  It felt…like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he had been searching for an answer he knew was somewhere in his brain, but hadn’t figured it out until just now.

The movie played and he tried his best to watch it–he grasped the general concept, but he was more focused on, well, you.

Did he love you? Could he say that with genuine confidence? He wouldn’t know until he tried it out, but he couldn’t. Because what if he didn’t? What if what he felt for you was simply pure friendship–he’d be making a crucial mistake, one) if you didn’t like him you’d be weirded out and if you did he chanced hurting you, two) you worked together, that was an issue in and of itself.

He jumped when you stood, watching as you stretched. “What?” You raised a brow, a tired smile forming you mouth.

He found himself smiling back, his stomach flipping, “nothing. Just…tired.”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, yawning, “me too. We should head back now, it’s pretty late. We need to take them baths.”

“Yeah,” Spencer glanced at Jack, who was now standing, and Henry, who was fast asleep in his seat.

Spencer tried waking him slightly, but he wasn’t budging, “just carry him,” you suggested.

Deciding it was the only option, Spencer gripped Henry’s armpits and heaved him upward as gently as he could. You watched him as he laid Hnery’s head on his shoulder, the boy snuggling into the crook of his neck, hugging your coworker tightly. 

“Awww,” you sounded like Penelope but you didn’t care, this was too cute a moment not to capture. Whipping out your phone, you ignored Spencer’s pleas and snapped multiple photos from every angle.

Heading to the lobby of the theatre, you nudged Jack, “I’m guessing you don’t want to play some of the games anymore?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no. m’just tired.”

You nodded, pulling him into your side as you walked, “Me too, buddy, me too.”

You passed an elderly couple on the way out, Henry slightly waking up when the cold air hit his face. “Are we home?” He asked.

The elderly couple snickered and said, “You’re a cute family.”

You opened your mouth to correct the woman, but her husband added, “You look just like we did, don’t they?” before you could. He turned to his wife, made clear by the matching rings.

“Oh, they do,” then she bent over and asked Jack, “What movie did your mommy and daddy take you to see.”

Instead of correcting the couple, Jack glanced at you, then Spencer, and grinned–though it was sleepy– “Spider-Man 2.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t seen that one, is it good?”

“Really good,” Henry answered from Spencer’s arms.

They laughed again, then apologized for keeping you and made their way inside.

You and Spencer said nothing as you made your way to the car. Jack and Henry were silent as well. You wondered just what was going through Jack’s head. Maybe he was too tired to understand or care about the women’s words. Yeah, that must have been it.

You decided you would ignore it just as you would ignore the flutter that continuously courced through you the entirety of the night.

With much prodding, you were able to get Henry into the bath. Jack didn’t take much convincing, but he assured you he could do it himself, which you shouldn’t have believed because he ended up getting shampoo into his eyes.

Spencer finished helping him, though it was hard because Jack insisted on showering. Eventually, the two boys were tucked into Henry’s twin-sized bed, and you and Spencer had a little free time before the others arrived.

You grabbed the bowl of cookies that you’d tucked on the counter near the fridge before you’d left. You meant to eat them at the kitchen counter, but Spencer wanted you to watch some movie he had put on. You would blame and hold him responsible for any crumbs that didn’t land in the bowl.

His chuckle was low and light, just like every other time you found yourself making him laugh. It sent a flutter through your chest and you had to turn away to keep from letting him know just how flustered that one sound could make you.

You shivered, you typically brought a sweater with you everywhere just in case, but you were going to JJ’s house, and you knew she’d let you borrow a few blankets. 

“Where are you going?” Spencer caught your wrist as you stood. Your heart jolted and you couldn’t help but stare at it. You blinked a few times before he let go. He sucked in a breath as if you’d stung him. You weren’t sure what he meant by that or if he meant anything at all by it. Spencer was normally an awkward person, but this didn’t feel like something he’d be awkward about, in fact, Spencer would never be put in this situation simply because Spencer hated physical contact.

Maybe that’s why he had such a reaction. You brushed it off, letting a shy smile replace the longing frown, “Just the hall closet to find a blanket…want one?”

Spencer shook his head and wanting to escape the atmosphere, you bottled toward the hall. You retrieved the first blanket on top. It was white with little blue bunnies. Cute. You thought, it must be Henry’s. 

“I’m back,” you hopped on the couch, keeping a cushion between the two of you, for fear of making him uncomfortable.

He declined your offer of a cookie and opted to lean back. It might have just been your imagination, but you were sure Spencer kept sneaking glances at you. You thought he must be bored, he’d put on a '90s romcom. Though you loved the, you were surprised when Spencer put it on. But then maybe he put it on for you and that’s why he kept glancing at you.

You huffed under a cookie, that’s so like him. 

Halfway through the movie, you’d discarded the bowl of cookies with four left and began to feel the lights dim. Or maybe it was just you. You took a moment and laid your head back but it was uncomfortable. As you shifted on the couch, a yawn escaped you. 

Spencer caught it, attention now fully focused on you, he smiled at your dreary state. He moved one leg under him and without really thinking much about it–if it’d make you uneasy or not–he took you by the shoulders and lowered your head into his lap. You noticed, but barely. He pulled the blanket over you as your arms wrapped around his thigh. Your head snuggled into him and when a satisfactory hmm released itself from your throat, he snorted a little. 

He loved you, or at least he thought he did. Spencer had never loved anyone. Well, he loved his mom, but he knew he was programmed that way. He loved quantum physics and math and chemistry and psychology, but those were very broad terms, and still not a being. He liked cats, but he couldn’t love a cat–well, he could–but that was a different discussion.

You, on the other hand, he always wanted to be around. You, on the other hand, he always wanted to talk to. You, he fell asleep thinking about; you, he dreamt about; you, he woke up to.

You were always on his mind, there was no way around it. In every conversation–though he rarely voiced it–he could always draw back to you. Penelope bought a new pink fluffy pen? You loved pens. Dereck couldn’t sleep at night because of his neighbor. You could sleep anywhere–it was a skill. Spencer couldn’t sleep at all, really, and when he did–well, he’d already know what he’d dream about.

He couldn’t escape you–but well, he didn’t want to.

The biggest evidence of his feelings for you? He hated–absolutely loathed–the thought of you talking to/dating/marrying anywhere else. He made a face, the thought disgusted him;; it made him sick.

The front door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts… how long had he sat there watching you? Going back and forth in is mind? His mind began wondering and the lights began to fade. His shoulder drooped and he began pushing you backward, fixing you until you were both comfortable. 

“Just for…a bit…” he yawned before the lights went out.

Spencer jerked when he heard the front door unlock. He was always keenly aware of his surroundings–it was a bad habit he picked up in his years at the BAU.

JJ and Will stepped through the door as quietly as they could, the credits were rolling. The movie must have just ended. 48 minutes?

“Hey–” JJ whispered walking toward him.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but was weighed down, and upon looking–found you still sound asleep. He smiled, but when he realized JJ could see him, he fixed it to a plain expression.

Spencer held up a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes widened slightly in concern when he looked down at you. Which was ridiculous, he couldn’t stay in this position the entire night, much less on JJ’s couch. You both had work in the morning and you needed to get home. Right…but where was Hotch? How would you get home?

He was startled by your shifting movements. Upon glancing at you again, he found you stirring. JJ covered up a small laugh, and turned back to Will, shushing him as he stalked over.

“Hotch texted, he should be here soon,” JJ whispered.

Spencer nodded as you lifted your head, he raised his arms just enough for you to have free reign, if you pushed out of his hold, he’d have no choice but to let go.

But you didn’t, you pulled him closer and buried your face into where his thigh met his hip. “Five more minutes.”

JJ snatched her phone from her pocket and began snickering, “Penelope is going to love this.”

“Hey–come on, JJ–don’t–” Spencer’s protests went ignored as JJ clicked a few photos and slipped her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans.

A knock sounded on the door not a moment later, Will went to open it while JJ sat on the arm of the couch and smiled down at her two coworkers. “Do you think she can hear us?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say no, but raised a brow and glanced at you questioningly, he wasn’t sure you knew where you were, let alone could make sense of a complete sentence. “I’m gonna go with probably not.”

They chuckled to themselves. Hotch waved, before following Will down the hall toward Henry’s room. You yawned and rolled onto your back, stretching over Spencer. “Hi,” you blinked up, a slow smile turning up your lips.

He met your sleepy gaze with one of his own, “hi,” he answered.

Hotch came back out with a very asleep Jack, calling out your name, You sighed, forcing yourself upward. “Guess I better go.”

Once again, Spencer felt his subconscious take hold of his body as he held an arm across your stomach, “I could take you…I mean I wouldn’t mind, besides,” he nodded toward Hotch and Jack, “he should get Jack home.”

JJ watched in silent awe. It was one thing for Spencer to shake hands with someone let alone hug them, so when she stepped through her doors and found you snuggled up to him, her suspicion-radar was going off. Spencer definitely had a thing for you, or at the very least felt most comfortable with you. In her mind, you were his person, and that didn’t have to be romantic, it was just how it was.

Now, though, watching his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. Spencer Reid was in love. She wondered what kind of catastrophic event occurred for this to happen.

“You sure?” You murmured, rubbing your eyes. You were halfway leaning against his chest, and halfway using his shoulder to stay steady.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hotch seemed to get the gist of the conversation, whispered a few goodbyes, and headed out the door.

“You made cookies,” JJa noted.

“Yep, there’s four left, but they’re probably all stale now.”

“Well, maybe you two can babysit again and make me fresh ones.”

“I helped, you know,” Spencer added.

“Yeah, ‘helped’ so much I almost had to buy you a new pan.” After a good laugh, you stood and stretched, catching Spencer’s yawn, “well, it’s getting pretty late, we should head out.”

“Alright then, drive safe.”

“I’m always a safe driver.”

“I know you are, Spence.” She pressed her lips together, glancing at you, wondering if you even felt a smidgen of what Spencer felt for you.

The car ride was smooth, Spencer had been over a few times, and with his memory, he knew the way by heart. “Thanks for doing this.” You grabbed his hand as he pulled into your complex.

Spencer jolted, his head jerked down: his focus on where your hands connected. “Oh–sorry, I forgot–”

You snatched your hand away, but Spencer was quick to grab it back. “No–no it’s…” he stared at you. He could lose his mind and still be able to put a name to your eyes. They were like none he’d ever seen–which is opinionated, of course, in his mind, you were all there ever was. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I…know how you hate people touching you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged sheepishly, “but when it’s you it’s okay.”

Your heart leaped at that and maybe it was because you were half-awake and when you were half-wake you became even more delusional than you were daily. “So, you don’t mind if I touch you?”

“No, not at all.” He replied immediately as if he had been programmed to.

You couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way onto your face, “good to know.”

You opened the car door and started exiting his vehicle. “Hey, —?”

“Yeah?” You yawned again, the sky a blue-black kind of color.

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” You frowned.

“You know,” he tried motioning with his hands, which only made you snort.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “no idea.” You spun around, starting the path to your apartment, “see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

Spencer frowned, he knew he would think about this the rest of the night, if he could sleep he’d probably dream about it, and when he woke up, it would most definitely be the first thing on his mind.

a/n: lol i've been working on this forever (like a month) and i cried in my maths a few days ago because i couldn't understand it–#mathisnotforme

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act III

“Firstly, happy birthday. It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Hint: Mis-Directed was released on February 4.

"’I’m making some changes,’ Hattie sipped from the glass. ‘And I’ve updated my skincare routine.’"

"‘Is that actor-code for hooking up with my costar,’ [Hattie’s] sister asked with great interest."

"And Hattie swallowed her drink, wincing as it burned down her throat. Looks like a liquified Barbie Dream House, tastes like one hundred proof vodka."

“’He’s the absolute bane of my existence,’ Hattie said.”

“’And I’ll stake my entire and beloved earring collection.’"

"Dee’s eyes went covetously to today’s selection. A miniature Victorian inkpot and quill.”

“’The entire family’s been reading the tabloids, have they?’"

"‘Reading, discussing, dissecting in a private WhatsApp chat.’”

“They’d touched each other before under the heat of cameras and watching eyes, but this was different. It was them and them alone. It was for them alone.”

“They watched where he entered her, where she enclosed him.”

“’I’ll never be a person who courts tabloid speculation about my private life,’ [Hattie] said at last. ‘But I understand the role that the press plays in this industry and the present attention is likely to be short-lived.’”

“’That might be true,’ he said in a slightly unreadable tone. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily make it easier to deal with in the moment.’ A point she couldn’t argue, especially since they’d remain hot headline property for quite some time yet, if their names were linked. The Victor and Iris affair hadn’t even hit screens yet. They were doing their first joint promo on Monday, at which point the speculation would fire up considerably.”

“’And when did you know it was more than a friendship you felt for Mr. Rafe?’"

"Despite everything, Hattie couldn’t repress the bubble of humor. ‘I don’t recall ever being friends with Mr. Rafe,’ she said, her gaze switching to her other side. Anthony was watching her with utter blandness in his expression and an emotion in his eyes sent all the butterflies in her stomach spiraling. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s infamously insufferable.’”

“But at last, the show’s PR manager stepped in and brought the prying to an end.”

“’I love you.’ They were Iris’s [played by Hattie] words but the slight crack in her voice wasn’t scripted nor was what she saw in Anthony’s eyes. Their fingers tightened on each other as he leaned forward, and his lips touched hers and the ground dropped from under them.”

“’Do I,’ her voice cracked again, ‘have your heart?’"

"‘Do you,’ his body was incredibly tense, ‘love me?’"

"Her eyes burning with sudden tears. She couldn’t speak. She simply nodded as he said with a thick rasp and as little composure as she’d ever seen from him, ‘For a long time now.’”

“Anthony also looked to the nosy reporter before his gaze returned to hers. She read the question in his eyes."

"‘I don’t care,’ she said and realized it was true, with no longer even the slightest twinge of anxiety or reservation. This was the right person. The right time. And she was ready for all of it and it was worth everything and anything. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. This means so much more.’"

"A last tear slipped free."

"‘This is everything. That’s just background noise.’"

"His arms tightened.”

P.S. “She just wouldn’t touch the fan fic or the fan art of Leicester Square with a ten-foot pole. The idea of people writing sex scenes while picturing her face or sketching not safe for work drawings in her image was unsettling at best.”

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)

- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.

- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.

- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)

- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.

- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!), and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.

- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.

- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.

- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.

- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.

- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.

bonus facts!!!:

- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)

- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.

- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.

[vettelsvee]

THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany. 

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over. 

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you. 

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part one - "you wish i'd miss you,"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, mean boss - yeah no she sucks, flirty!jk, dense af!jk, shy!oc, ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, yeah i guess thats it...for now hehe

notes: hello everyone!!! hehe its my first fic on tumblr and my first ever jk fic so i really hope you guys like it. im writing after so mant years so please ignore some mistakes. its kinda based on my experiences so yeah. its intentional whatever you are reading hauahahah, things will only get interesting as well progress.. lots of characters will come in the next chapter, this is just the base. It picks up from the second chapter!! anywho lets get into it!! <3

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The first thing you saw when you unlocked your phone this morning was a text from Jungkook. That in itself was weird—he wasn’t the type to be up this early, let alone texting people.

jaykay (work) [8:50am]: hi :)

you [8:50am]: oh my god. what did you forget?

jaykay (work)  [8:51am]: have some faith in me. i was texting for something entirely different. 😒

you[8:51am]: are you sick? held hostage? blink twice if you need help.

jaykay (work) [8:52am]: how da hell are u so dramatic in the morning

you [8:52am]: come to the point jungkook

jaykay [8:52am]: fine. 🙄 don’t bring lunch today

you [8:53am]: why?

jaykay (work) [8:53am]: lunch is on me. taking you, shane and mingyu out for ramen

you [8:53am]: 🤨🤨🤨

jaykay (work) [8:54am]: see you in office🥰

You squinted at the screen, trying to process the words through your morning haze. This man barely made it to work before noon on most days, always breezing in with an iced americano and a sheepish grin. And yet here he was, awake and making lunch plans at 9 AM? Suspicious. Very suspicious.

It’s fixed, you know? Him being late to work, getting sarcastic remarks from the bosses - Natasha, the reporting manager (god did she love micromanaging the team) and Kim Song, the director of your company.

But whatever, free ramen was free ramen and, on that note, you finally woke up and went to get ready for the weird day that was ahead of you.

By the time you got to the office, the usual chaos had already begun. Natasha, wasn’t physically present today, thank the lord for that, you thought, but her presence loomed over Zoom calls like a dark cloud. You had barely set down her bag before her laptop screen lit up with an incoming call. Does this woman ever chill?

“Good morning, team,” Natasha’s clipped voice rang out as the screen loaded. “Let’s go over the deliverables for today.” Her screen was hidden and she was on a holiday like she had very explicitly mentioned the week before she left.

You suppressed a groan as you saw Jungkook and Mingyu joining the call too. Shane, their CS intern, looked half-asleep. Jungkook, though, was oddly quiet, his usual playful banter nowhere to be seen. His leg bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

You shot him a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

Okay that was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked towards Mingyu and Shane to see if they noticed Jungkook being a little off today but to your surprise they were engrossed on what Natasha was instructing on the upcoming event which was the luxurious Cartier dinner.

Classic Natasha, putting her work on us while she sips on pina coladas on the beach after this 10-minute meeting. You wanted to be as carefree as her sometimes, how easily she just threw her tasks on others.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jungkook which thankfully he didn’t notice.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

Jungkook knew you. He knew how curious you got sometimes and he also knew currently the wheels were turning in your head wondering why he was being so awkward. He smiled internally, thinking how much you knew him and how much he was going to miss you.

If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to crack. He just hoped you wouldn’t figure it out before he told you himself.

Once the meeting was over, you quickly went towards the design studio in the office, greeting Yuna and So-hee who seemed like had just come to office with the way they were switching on their systems for the day.

“I really need the final design renders for the stage setup and the seating plan for Cartier, Yuna,” You said worried knowing that if you don’t get these renders in next half an hour then the costing would delay and then Natasha…yeah no.

Its as if Jungkook got a sign, he entered the design studio greeting Yuna, So-hee, and Dae and standing next to you as if to ease the tension you had going on.

“Babe, give me 10 minutes, the renders are ready. I’ll email it to you, Natasha and Namjoon,” Yuna said as she started working on her system. You nodded your head and gave her a worried smile.

“Mark me in the email too,” Jungkook said instantly and you gave him a pointed look. Yuna seemed to mirror your thoughts and raised her eyebrows towards him.

Seeing that you both were confused, Jungkook chuckles and says, “__, you should be happy that I am willingly asking to be marked on emails,” which makes you roll your eyes playfully and smirk.

“Also, I don’t have nothing big going on currently, project wise, so I’ll follow up for the costings and Natasha will stay away from my ass,” Jungkook continues and laughs with Yuna, So-hee and Dae.

You looked at him as he was sort of back in his carefree self but something still felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on what this feeling was.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. The second Natasha’s second call for the day wrapped up the call, you shut your laptop and turned towards Jungkook who along with Mingyu and Shane was joking and was waiting for you to get done.

“Okay, spill. What’s with the mystery since today morning?” You immediately asked him and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Mingyu slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane, ever the observer, just raised a brow. “Is this about work? God I can’t wait to dig into some good ramen after hearing Natasha ramble since past 15 mins. 15 mins with her feel like 2 hours,” Shane continued rambling earning laughs from the three of you.

Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get to lunch first.”

That didn’t help your growing suspicion, but you let it slide—at least until the 4 of you reached the ramen place.

The aroma of rich broth and sizzling garlic filled the tiny ramen shop. Shane and Mingyu were already practically vibrating with hunger, menus discarded, ready to order. You, however, were still scanning the options, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. Just as you were about to decide, you and Jungkook spoke in unison: “Japchae.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up. “You wanna have japchae too?” you asked, a little thrill of connection sparking despite the weirdness of the morning. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, and ordered for both of you.

Minutes later, steaming bowls of ramen and the shared plate of japchae arrived. The savory scent made your mouth water. You took a tentative bite of the japchae, the noodles perfectly chewy, the vegetables crisp and flavorful. It was delicious. But Jungkook just sat there, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. He had a strange expression—not quite annoyed, but… something. You knew that look. It was his tell when food was exceptionally good. That’s just his weird trait.

You took the second bite yourself to see if it was and it was really good.

“I got another job.”

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

Then, Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, avoiding their gazes. “I got an offer from an event company. They handle production for A-list musicians—concerts, world tours, all of it.” But you could see how proud he was. This was his dream.

“Oh, shit, that’s huge,” Shane said, eyes wide and dramatically keeping his chopsticks on the side.

Jungkook looked at you trying to gauge for your reaction.

You swallowed, gripping your chopsticks a little tighter. “Wow. That’s… incredible, Jungkook.” You said genuinely but why did it feel so off? Why did it feel like you were losing everything? People leave jobs all the time and this is no different, so why was it feeling all to different suddenly?

When you congratulated him, you meant it. You really did. He deserved this. But there was a weird, hollow feeling in your chest. Something tight that you couldn’t quite name.

Jungkook was watching you and asked, “You okay?”

You forced a smile but to everyone it looked genuine. “Of course. This is a big deal. I am so happy for you, Jungkook!” Mingyu and Shane mirrored your smile and congratulated him to which Jungkook threw an honest smile.

His eyes still lingered for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to his food. But you could tell he didn’t fully believe you.

Mingyu and Shane immediately started asking him the questions about his new company and the new job and Jungkook excitedly answered them all and you were interested too to know all the details.

Once the 4 of you were done with the lunch, you asked him, “So when are you telling Natasha?”

“Next week, and then 2 weeks’ notice,” He said looking at you as if he was trying to find an emotion out of you.

“Damn bro, you are leaving us so soon.” Shane said and you looked at Jungkook.

“Now at least I will have some proper desk space at the office,” You tried to joke which earned you a playful eye roll from Jungkook.

“Oh my god, I have to plan a farewell party for you now,” Mingyu joked and you laughed. For the whole lunch, this is the first time Jungkook noticed you genuinely smiling and it was all thanks to Mingyu’s dramatic nature.

The rest of the workday felt strangely off-balance. Even though nothing had technically changed yet, you felt the weight of the upcoming shift pressing down on you. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook wouldn’t be here anymore—wouldn’t be there to roll his eyes at Natasha’s ridiculous demands, wouldn’t be crashing at her desk with an iced coffee and a new piece of gossip, wouldn’t be around to share those unspoken glances when things got too absurd.

You had started hating how much that realization unsettled you.

It was Jungkook who got you out of your dazed thoughts when he said, “___, I have asked Namjoon hyung for the Cartier costing and he is working on it,”

You threw a sincere smile towards him and nodded while he went back on his desk and worked on some small projects he had going on.

gyu (work) [3pm]: are you okay?

Once you read the text, you immediately looked at him but he acted to be so engrossed in his work and you couldn’t help but look back into your phone and text back

you [3:01pm]: yeah, why?

gyu (work) [3:01pm]: you sure about that? ever since jk dropped that bomb, you have been quiet and so has he.

That got your attention. Were you that obvious?

you [3:02pm]: no nothing like that. im happy that he got this. he deserves it!! also when is the blue label bottle engraving costing going to the client? natasha has been on my ass about it since morning. send it asap please <33

gyu [3:03pm]: girl i gotta give it to you, nice attempt to change the convo but we aren’t done yet. ugh why are you my senior? im sending it in 5

By the time the day ended and finally the costings for Cartier had gone out (thanks to Jungkook and Joon), you had convinced yourself you were just being dramatic. People left jobs all the time. This wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mingyu and Shane had already left for the day and the design studio was also empty leaving only you and Jungkook in the client servicing department. For a Monday, people had left earlier than usual, you thought to yourself.

You looked at the clock and saw it was 7pm already.

While you packed your bags, like routine, Jungkook waited for you. He dropped you home everyday given that you both lived nearby and your apartment came on the way to his.

However, the silence between the two of you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said as the two of you entered the elevator.

You forced a laugh and adjusted your purse, trying to look anywhere but at him. “So are you.”

The two of you exited the elevator and sat in his car, he started the engine. For the first time ever, the silence between the two of you was uncomfortable.

Jungkook sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he took the familiar route and said, “Are you really happy for me?”

You immediately turned to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Yes, I am. Why would you think I am not?”

His smile was small, a little sad. “Alright. You and I haven’t spoken much since lunch,”

You didn’t know why, but something in your chest ached at that. But you ignored it,  and looking towards and giving him a smile and said, “Jungkook, I am so happy for you. I am. I know you wanted this and now you have it,”

For the first time in the whole day, he smiled genuinely at you.

“Will you miss me?,” He asked as he stopped the car right out of your apartment and looked at you with his doe eyes that carry the sta-

Wait what?!

You ignored whatever that thought was and quickly composed yourself and laughed at him. “You wish I would miss you,” You joked playfully and he rolled his eyes.

“On a serious note, yes I will. Who will I tolerate Natasha with?” You continued and he let out a small chuckle.

“Anyway I have to go. See you tomorrow boss,” you finally said, and then you were gone, disappearing into the building.

Jungkook sat there for a moment, staring after you.

He knew you better than you thought. He knew when you were genuinely happy, when you were just pretending, when you were holding back something you didn’t want to say. And tonight, you were definitely holding back.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the car seat. Leaving this job was supposed to be exciting, a step up, an opportunity of a lifetime. And it was.

But why did it feel like he was losing something, too?

© foreignjaykay

[hellodarling1357]

More Than A Moment: Part 1 - Cassian x Reader (AU!)

What? A post? A whole new fic? After months of broken promises (rip me)?

I sporadically got the inspo to write today and this idea just flowed on out and all but wrote itself!

Is this a stand alone? A multi-part (I hope so)?

Who knows!

Either way, I hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: After a drunken night between friends, just friends, nothing more, Y/N and Cassian’s lives end up changing forever. But maybe not in the way they had originally expected.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Cassian!” You shout through the door, one fist pounding on the wooden frame as the other, hidden away in your coat pocket, held tightly to what had felt like a lifeline since you had raced to the store just over an hour ago.

“Cassian! I swear to god if you don’t open the door right now…” You took a step back as your fist met the air, the words dying in your throat as a girl with sleep mussed hair, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that you knew belonged to Cassian, stared back at you with a look of distaste.

“What?” The girl asked, stifling a yawn as her eyes blatantly looked you up and down, a smirk spreading across her lips as she took in your frazzled appearance. “We’re a little busy here, so…”

You blinked at her before pushing past and making your way inside the small apartment, ignoring the girl’s protest as you beelined for Cassian’s room, stopping momentarily as the door opened before you could reach it.

“Y/N. Hey,” the man in question was straightening out a tight black t-shirt, having clearly put on the closest items of clothing he could reach. “I didn’t expect to see you today, especially not at 8 am on a Sunday morning…”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay, alright. Could this not have waited until a more reasonable time?”

“Cass, please…”

Clearly picking up on the slight plea in your voice, he nodded, a slight furrow to his brow as he studied you a moment longer before turning to the girl who remained bristling by the front door.

“Hey,” he started, beckoning the girl towards him, you cringed as you took a seat on the couch, not wanting to be a part of the scene that was about to unfold. “So last night was fun, yeah? But I think there’s a few things I need to deal with here so we should probably wrap this up for now?”

“Oh? So you want me to leave?” You rolled your eyes as she clung to him, battering her lashes in hopes of changing his mind as he led her back into his room to help her collect her things, not missing the daggers she sent your way when Cassian’s back was turned.

“It’s not that I want you to leave… But I’ll call you. Soon, alright?”

“You better.”

Barely managing to conceal your scoff you busied yourself with your phone as she pulled him down into a lingering kiss.

“Alright, well get home safe and thanks again for last night…” Cassian trailed off and your attention flickered over in disbelief as he clearly tried to scramble for the poor girl’s name.

“Rebecca. My name’s Rebecca.” Her icy tone was a stark contrast as she moved out of his grasp.

“Of course, I know your name. How could I forget? I was just deciding whether I wanted to start calling you babe or baby.”

You didn’t attempt to hide the disgust at your friend as he shot the girl a charming smile that had her swooning as she said her goodbyes - all iciness melting into a flirtatiously shy smile as she stared up at him from under heavy lashes.

“You really can be a pig sometimes, you do realise that?” You said without looking up from your phone once Cassian had shut the door behind the girl.

“What?” He asked, voice laced in indignation as he slumped onto the couch beside you.

“Oh I dunno, do I call you babe or baby? Of course I remember your name, random-girl-I’ll-never-actually-call.” You lowered your voice into a mockery of his own before being met with a pillow to your face as Cassian got up and headed towards the bathroom.

“Hey, I just got rid of a perfectly nice girl for you. No need for the disrespect. What’s so important anyway? You know I love to see you and all that, but usually not at this time.” He leant against the bathroom door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he stared at you waiting for an answer.

Right.

You had almost forgotten that you were here for a reason other than witnessing one of your closest friends be a complete dick to a girl he’d spent the previous night with.

“Oh… Um yeah it’s all good. Get dressed or whatever then we can chat.”

Cassian stared at you for a moment longer before shrugging and returning to the bathroom. You slumped back as soon as you were out of sight, squashing the pillow Cassian had previously whacked you with against your face as your thoughts raced through your head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

By the time Cassian was ready, you had had enough time to work yourself into a somewhat frantic state as you paced back and forth, trying to figure out how to even bring up the reason why you had almost knocked down his door on a seemingly normal Sunday.

“Jesus, what’s up with you this morning?” Your head whipped around to face Cassian, freezing mid-pace to stare at him like a deer in headlights. When the only reply you could muster was the very unsubtle opening and closing of your mouth, Cassian let out a sigh as he reached for his shoes. “Well, seeing that you appear to have a whole heap of pent up energy, we’re walking to the cafe down the street. Your shout for waking me up and prematurely ending what was sure to be a very satisfying Sunday morning.”

You scrunched your nose but nodded all the same as you silently headed towards the door, missing the concerned look on Cassian’s face as his eyes trailed your retreating figure before he jumped up to follow you out.

——

The ten minute walk was silent except for the slight crunch of autumn leaves under foot as the pair of you narrowly avoided the early risers who were jogging past along the footpath and manoeuvred around the copious stream of families with young children enjoying the crisp morning air; your heart rate soared as you tried to control your breathing

Cassian managed to score a secluded table tucked away by the window, thanking the waiter for the menus and water as you stared past him in a daze, your mind reeled of how to approach telling him what had happened, what had resulted from…

A large hand waving in front of your face had you blinking in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Yep. Hi.”

Cassian gave you another quizzical look but was halted from saying anything else as the waiter returned, asking about coffee and food orders.

“Just a long black for me, thanks.”

You could hear your heartbeat and wouldn’t be surprised if everyone around you could as well.

“Y/N?” Cassian gave you a soft kick under the table, pulling your attention to the waiter who was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, um… Just a latte. Thank you,” Shit. Could you even have coffee now? “Wait. I mean, no. Just a tea. Peppermint, please. If you have it. Sorry.” Your voice trailed after the waiter as he nodded and walked off with a shake of his head. So far, this was not going well.

“Alright, what has gotten into you?” The immediate retort of ‘um you?’ was held back by a bite of your tongue. “You better not be here confessing your love for me. I mean we spoke about this, right? It was just a one off, drunken night between two friends who both happen to be very attractive.”

Some of the tension left your shoulders as you offered a small smile in appreciation of Cassian’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“You’re not actually in love with me are you?” You rolled your eyes at the slight panic in his expression, deciding not to take it as an insult. “I mean, I love you, but, you know, as a friend. Because we’re friends. We’re all friends; me, you, Rhys, Az, Feyre, Mor…”

“Cassian,” you let the smile grow a bit as he prattled on. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh, thank god. No offence.” He offered you a guilty looking smile which softened as he nodded in encouragement for you to continue.

“But I did want to talk about that night…” You trailed off, trying to gauge Cassian’s response as he quirked his head to the side and furrowed his brows in confusion. Well, here it goes. Taking in a deep breath, you reached into your pocked and placed the pregnancy test on the table.

“Cass, I’m pregnant.”

----------

I have so many ideas for this and how I want to continue it but would love to hear your thoughts!!

[thebunnednun]

Kiss me!~Kiss me!~ 💐

Y'all ain't ready for ALL this here.

Based on my mha “Fuck it, I got you,” mha story au’s. Some of these ladies haven’t graced the screen yet so you’re meeting new girlies today!! The only two cannon series out right now are Katsuki’s and Aizawa’s. I don’t wanna write for more characters until I finish at least Katsuki’s. 

Why am I letting the girls out now then? (THey scaRe mE—) Because as Elizabeth Bennet said, not having the younger sisters have their share of fun because the eldest is not yet married hardly encourages sisterly affections. Plus, they crazy.

BUT— For this month alone, you will meet them and hopefully fall in love. Every fic is going to have bonus facts about the reader and how she met her man at the end of the fic. These ladies walked into my mind fully formed so I hope you love them as much as I do. 

None of these women are ‘OC’s’. They are you, with big personalities and crazy brain power/quirks/whatever. If y/n can be a pretty princess one moment then throw her hair into a messy bun using her orbs and take 5 dicks like a pro and keep it kicking at work the next day, you can have a discernible personality and strong powers in a fanfic. 

I will be hosting a poll that lets you, mi amor, vote on who you want to see get posted first. Make sure you cast your vote because poll times are going to be airtight. I will also take requests for a character that you desperately want to see added to the list. Remember to reblog with extra tags so more people can see this!

If you like my writing please feel free to follow, like, reblog, whatever. My fanbase is called the, “Cheesy potatoes,” and I do have a community link. Feel free to interact with me here on my blog, that’s what tumblr is for! I also have a Ko-fi if you’d like to tip me or commission a fic. I write for other fanbases too, but if you like my mha stuff in particular, please give my current works and series a look over and show them some appreciation. I’m also on ao3 and comments are love. 

Enjoy your reading!!

And Happy Valentines Day~~🌹

-Angie

P.s. All the little icons are clues to what the stories will be about, byebye!~

Remember to give the post a like if you vote.

Remember you are loved.

[tinyproprodigy]

"Tumbling into You" - Nanami Kento x playful reader (nb)

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

You’ve always marched to the beat of your own drum—even when it comes to something as simple as a hug. You remember that early day all too well: Kento had asked for a proper embrace, and you, with that trademark mischievous glint in your eye, sidled in for a half-hug instead. Leaning against him just enough to spark a smirk, you teased, “What? Something wrong?” Though his features momentarily clouded with puzzlement, you could see the warmth behind his eyes as he learned to appreciate your defiant playfulness.

Years have passed since those first awkward, yet endearing, encounters. Now, you and Kento share a quiet life defined by a dance of teasing banter and tender moments—a love built on your polar opposites finding common ground. On this particular afternoon, the light streams softly through your living room, casting gentle shadows that mirror the playful mood between you two. Kento, ever the composed one, looks at you with a mixture of fond exasperation and affection as he asks for a kiss in that low, earnest tone you know so well.

Of course, your first instinct is to stick to your rebellious streak. With a quick, almost imperceptible smirk, you tilt in for a fleeting peck, then—true to form—bolt away before he can properly savor the moment. But today, things don’t go exactly as planned.

In your haste to escape your usual routine, you find yourself perched precariously on his lap. When you make your move, you try to dodge the comforting weight of his arms as they instinctively reach out to hold you close. Instead of your practiced, graceful retreat, you overestimate your dash. Your legs scramble for balance as you simultaneously attempt to slip off his lap and sidestep his enclosing embrace. The result? A comical collision of momentum and gravity sends you stumbling backwards until you land with a soft, ungraceful plop on your butt. A whine of frustrated surprise escapes your lips as you sit there, a mix of indignation and sheepish amusement washing over you.

For a brief, suspended moment, Kento simply stares at you in disbelief. His eyes, usually so reserved and stoic, soften as they crinkle at the corners. Pressing his lips together in a vain effort to hide the smile threatening to break free, he shakes his head slowly, a silent declaration that despite your antics, he finds your every quirk utterly irresistible.

With tender care, he steps forward and helps you back onto your feet, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, familiar embrace. In that moment, the playful chaos of your defiance melts away into something far more sincere—a quiet, unspoken truth that says, despite all the teasing and the playful disobedience, you are exactly who he loves.

And as always, with that gentle, knowing look in his eyes, Kento seals his affection not with words, but with a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes—a promise of understanding, of acceptance, and of a love that finds its strength in every playful misstep along the way.

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

Thought of this after coming across this fic and had to write this asap!!! I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this is, in fact, how I act. I can't help it mahn (●´ε｀●)

Me and Kento darling rn:

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

© property of @tinyproprodigy . please don't claim, copynpaste or translate my work on this and / or any other platforms. Like, repost or request please!! Love u!! ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

[obsidianpen]

I'm cheeky snippet anon. I was particularly hoping for a glimpse of the Draco pov in B&G but I'm a fan of all your fics I'll take any snippet and be incredibly grateful 😍 or I'll take nothing and be grateful too! Thanks for writing!

“Floor two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” announced the cool, female voice.

Draco rushed out of the lift as soon as the doors opened. A few interdepartmental memos flanked him before fluttering off in different directions. 

He knew his way around, having come here with his father on more than a few excursions, so Draco made his way to the Auror offices quickly. He kept his head down. He avoided making eye contact with anyone, and somehow managed not to draw attention to himself. 

He heard him before he saw him. 

Draco was just passing one of the large sections of walled-off cubicles when the much too familiar sound of Potter’s voice reached his ears. “...feels like a Friday, you know?”

“You said that yesterday, Harry.”

Weasley. After glancing quickly up and down the narrow hall he found himself in, which was, blessedly, empty at the moment, Draco made a split-second decision. He pressed himself up against the wall of what must have been Potter’s cubicle and eaves-dropped.

“It does, though. Feels like this week has dragged on forever already.”

“I know. It’s the paperwork.”

“It’s always the paperwork. I’m losing my damn mind.”

Perhaps you made a grievous error in your career choice, Potter, Draco thought amusedly. 

“You might have made a bad career choice, then,” said Weasley. Draco glowered. It sounded much less funny coming from him. 

“Yeah, well, at least you’re stuck in it with me.”

“Don’t think I’m not considering quitting every time a new case to file gets dropped on us. George said his door is always open.”

“You’re not allowed to quit. You’re nowhere near funny enough to help run a joke shop. You’d ruin his business, and then my Triwizard Tournament winnings will have gone entirely to waste.”

There was theatrical sigh followed swiftly by a banging sound, which was then followed by some swearing and some good-natured laughter. Draco rolled his eyes. He was about to turn the corner and finally announce his presence when Potter spoke again.

“It’s… Today is Hermione’s birthday, you know.”

Draco froze and held his breath. Her birthday? Today was her bloody birthday?

“...Yeah. I know.”

A stretch of silence so uncomfortable that even Draco felt awkward. More awkward than he already did, at any rate.

“I, er. I owled her, Asking her to meet me out later. I think she will.”

You think incorrectly, Potter, Draco thought darkly. 

“Yeah? That’s… Good. That’s good.”

“I told her I got her something. A gift.”

“That is traditionally what one does on someone’s birthday, yes.”

Potter sighed even more dramatically than before. “It’s you. You’re the gift. You and a giant, heartwarming, much-needed apology speech. You’re coming with me to the Three Broomsticks, and we are finally going to hash this whole thing out and move past it. Okay?”

Draco had to cover his mouth to prevent the awful laughter that threatened to escape. Weasley? Potter was bringing Weasley to Granger, as a present? Her estranged ex-boyfriend? To hash out his cheating behavior from over a year ago?

Wherever she was, Draco was certain that Granger would feel nothing but relief knowing she had missed out on this birthday surprise. She’d probably prefer to be ripped apart by the turbulence of time-travel, really.

“I… what?” Weasley said weakly.

Draco decided he’d heard more than enough. Granger would not be meeting anyone out for birthday drinks, because Granger was likely in mortal peril, stranded in the wrong decade, and that was looking at things optimistically. Channeling all the dignity he could manage, Draco straightened his posture, fixed a contemptuous look on his face, and turned the corner to reveal himself. 

“Potter,” he said stiffly. 

It worked too well. 

As it happened, Potter was leaning back slightly in his chair, lifting the two front legs off the ground. Upon the unanticipated arrival of Draco Malfoy in his cubicle, he startled so badly he yelped and kicked the chair right over, sending himself tumbling backwards to the floor–and good thing, too, because he also happened to have his wand in his hand. A bright yellow spark shot from its tip, missing Malfoy by a distressingly small amount as he fell and striking an interdepartmental memo mid-flight instead. The little paper airplane promptly exploded in a burst of golden confetti. 

“Hope that wasn’t important,” Draco said drily, not allowing the panic of nearly being hit by a hex show on his face.  

“WHAT THE FUCK, MALFOY?”

“FUCKING HELLS!”

Both Potter and Weasley yelled at the same time. Potter–in a move that was, admittedly, impressive–had turned his fall into a sort of tumble-roll, and was back on his feet in a flash, his wand aimed much more precisely on Draco’s face. Weasley had pulled his wand out as well, and now that Draco looked around properly, he saw that there were at least five other wizards and witches who had popped their heads up over the cubicle wall, all of which were now doing the same, looking alarmed. 

Probably wasn’t the brightest idea, spooking a bunch of aurors, Draco admitted in the privacy of his mind. 

[teslasucks37]

READER TEACHING CHARLIE HOW TO FINGER HER??? YOUR WRITING IS PHENOMENAL

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), sub!Charlie, inexperienced!Charlie, fingering, squirting, afab!Reader (no gendered pronouns)

A/N: Charlie is deffo experienced enough today where he doesn’t have to learn, but if we were to go back in time before he did… 🤤🤤🤤 ALSO THANK U FOR THE COMPLIMENT ON MY WRITING IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!! For a long time I haven’t been able to post any fics of mine cause I thought they weren’t good or was worried that people would be sad that they weren’t done, but Tumblr has been helping me write more often and be okay with what I’ve written, so here’s this 🤭

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Teaching Him Hcs!!!

In the past you’d told him to just “do whatever feels right”.

You were simply too horny and needy to explain it to him in the moment.

He’d been a virgin before then, never having much experience with sex in general.

And of course when he did finger you for the first time it didn’t feel AMAZING, but it wasn’t bad by any means.

Well, he must have caught on because the next day he turned to you on the couch while you were watching a show.

“Can you… Teach me? Please?” He practically begged. “I want to know how to make you feel good…”

The question made your thighs clench.

Within seconds, you were laid back on the arm of the chair, your shorts and panties were discarded on the floor.

Charlie sat between your legs, staring in awe at the apex of your thighs, holding them like they were made of gold.

He’s practically silent, so shy and not wanting to miss a single instruction.

You grasp his wrist, separating his middle and ring finger from on his hand. “Use these two.”

Slowly pulling his hand to your pussy, you place the pads of his fingers on your slit and release his wrist.

He sighs, sliding his fingers over your entrance, slipping between your folds gently. “You’re really wet.”

“Cause I like it, Char~” You say with a smile, making his face flush.

He watches how you breathe, squirm, moan at his ministrations.

“But how do I…” He chews at his bottom lip in thought, before slowly turning his hand up and slipping his fingers inside your pussy.

“Fuck…”

He freezes, eyes wide and worried.

“Good.” You reassure him. “So good, Charlie~”

He cautiously moves his fingers in and out, constantly looking up at you to gauge your reactions to what he’s doing, to see what makes you feel the best.

“Curl your fingers up.” You plead, grabbing at his bicep and feeling his muscles flex as he moves.

Instantly, he changes his angle to reach that spongy spot inside you, taking note of the different feel.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, fuck~”

God he’s such a good learner for you.

His fingers and hands are so big he doesn’t even need a third.

And they’re so fucking long he can immediately reach that spot you struggle to with every thrust.

“Other hand.” You reach out with an open hand.

You drag his fingers over your clit, jolting at the sensation. “Feel that?”

He nods, his motions inside you slowing.

“That’s my clit.”

His eyes widen in recognition as he swipes his middle finger over it again.

“Ah~” You breathe out as he circles it all on his own. “Yeah, just like that.”

Charlie’s fingers press harder, just slightly, making your back arch.

“Mmm, keep using your other hand.”

He’s so mesmerized by your reactions he hadn’t even realized he’d stopping fingering you.

You moan out as he starts to finger you again, curling his fingers into just the right spot. “Faster~”

He obeys you perfectly, pounding his fingertips quicker into your gummy walls.

His finger on your clit becomes two fingers, circling it brutally in a way that hurts just the right way.

“Yes, don’t stop!” You moan, your head falling back over the arm of the couch. “Just like that, baby~”

Charlie’s eyes stay on your face, unable to look away from how you squirm.

His fingers feel so good, his combined motions making your vision go white

He feels your walls flutter around him, squirting around his fingers as your thighs shake around his waist.

Your orgasm wets his hands, his wrists, your thighs, his clothes, the couch.

It’s fucking everywhere.

You practically collapse where you lay as Charlie’s hands slow to a stop.

He blinks, almost scared to move.

He’d never seen someone squirt before.

Or cum in general.

Porn didn’t count, half of it probably wasn’t even real.

He watches you come down from your high, panting and shivering. “Was that… Okay?”

“Okay?” You joke, glancing up at him with glassy eyes. “That was amazing.”

Charlie smiled, filling with pride that he’d made you cum with just his fingers.

“Do you wanna be done?”

You grin, poking at the visible erection in his pants. “Not unless he wants to be…”

You guys weren’t done for at least a couple hours.

[ieetbeez]

Small Rant About RE

Hello gang... This has been on my mind for awhile. Today we're talking about Resident Evil and particularly Leon stans. Now I'm gonna come out and say I am one of them! I love that silly little blonde man and he's like number 1 on my favorite capcom white boy tier list next to Cody from Final Fight/SF.

tw: mentions of rape, pedophilia, incest, abuse, and my opinion

Let me make it clear, I'm not kink shaming, I'm not advocating for censorship. Art and literature shouldn't be censored. Sex is cool. Kink is cool (when safe and consensual).

I'm gonna be one of those fans real quick and say, I've been an RE fan since I was like 7. That doesn't really mean much since I can't drink legally but I've been in love with Leon since elementary school. I watched my Dad and brother play RE6 co-op and man... Aka I've been in the fandom for a fat minute. Before the RE2 remake came out I'd see the occasional Dead Dove fic but that's whatever. But I have never seen this much dark romance about Leon of all people!

Like. Call it the T-Virus the way it's everywhere I swear I can't scroll down the damn tag without getting hit with a sexual crime. And let me say, I'm not new to fandom culture. I take don't like don't read to heart (I'm super picky LMAO). And I understand that, that's just how big fandoms are, more people, more bad eggs. I'm sure the majority of y'all are sweet people.

BUT I feel like I shouldn't have to say that romanticizing things like pedophilia, rape, abuse, and incest is disgusting in the big year 2025 but here we are. Honestly, I feel this way about a lot of the fics of other fandoms I'm in. I feel crazy seeing it everywhere and it makes me feel like some sort of sexual puritan. Am I insane for wanting freaky smut and not ...freaky smut??

There for sure is a bigger conversation here about how easily accessible porn is and how quick people to fall into these pipelines. Or how booktok caused a rise in the normalization of dark romance troupes and just pure porn writing (I still hate icebreaker). Or how quick form constant content is slowly leaking it's way into everything. But we’d be here for forever…

And like, it's just completely out of character?? Like if you're gonna write about that can it at least be in character? Wesker fits the dark romance thing LEAGUES better. But LEON?? THE POLICE OFFICER?? Did you even watch a walkthrough? Leon is a sweet upstanding guy with lots of trauma, that is the last thing he'd do to ANYONE! Not saying fics have to be completely accurate all the time but there's literally nothing fun about "Omg what if Leon RAPED you!?" HES NOT THE EVIL RESIDENT HERE GUYS! At some point it's not even about Leon (or whoever the fic is about) anymore, it's just someone wanting to share their sexual fantasies online.

These topics are almost never written with any care and are insanely insensitive to the survivors of these acts. I don't know, sexual crimes are literally some of the most deplorable acts of hatred and depravity someone can do onto another person. I can't imagine getting off to the suffering of others (in a heinous crime way not BDSM way) (BDSM is cool). Have some fucking empathy and stop thinking with your goon wad guys <3

Like at least take it to AO3 so that I can filter it out or smth...

Edit: I just woke up and remembered what else I was gonna say.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their fictional characters. Another thing I don’t like are the Gooner mods for the games. Like they’re fun every once in a while and like if it’s a capcom game you have to expect it. At some point though, it just stops being sexy and feels gross or uncomfortable.

Idk maybe I’m in the minority here but there has never been a single time where I was playing any RE game and thought to myself, “man… I wish I could see Leon’s end rod whipping in the wind rn…” Obviously, I wanna see that man oiled up butt booty naked doing jumping jacks like as most normal people do but… zawg…

That’s also like an actual person?? At least for the remakes. Maybe this just isn’t my dove to eat but the treat Leon like some sort doll. I know it’s kinda weak to be like this for a fictional person but yeah </3

[eddisfargo]

Not a Day Will Go By (13/14)

Well... I thought it had been over a year since I last updated, and I was feeling pretty bad about it. But apparently it's been... over two ??? I owe you all a huge apology, especially my giftee, @resident-of-storybrooke, and I will give you that apology! In the form of another 4K words, and a change from 12/? chapters to... 13/14. But wait! There's more! I already have most of the next chapter written! And it's the LAST, unless I split it, because it is lorge. Thank you so much for every comment y'all left. I didn't want to reply until I could reply with good news, but every time someone left a comment or a kudos, it gave me hope that there were still people who wanted to read this story, and set a writing fire under me. I cannot tell you how much each comment made my day! And thanks above all to @motherkatereloyshipper for immediately agreeing to beta again after all this time!! And once again for the gorgeous banner. Okay no further ado, hope you enjoy!

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12 Ch 13

Fic summary: Captain Hook wakes up in a strange bed, next to a woman he does not remember. He finds nothing particularly unusual about this situation. But the woman seems to know him very well.

In Storybrooke, there’s only one surefire way to get back a lost memory. And it’s not going to work until he loves her.

Chapter summary: Hook confronts some things. And some people.

As the door of the shop loomed nearer, Hook’s nerves returned. Whatever Emma had said to the contrary, he needed to focus on finding a way to enact his revenge. At least his promise to do no murder today took some of the immediate pressure off. 

Emma turned to him, noticing that he’d paused. She gave him an encouraging smile. “Let’s go see if that knock on the head jogged any of his memories.” That got a reluctant smile out of him, and she waited another moment until he nodded before opening the door. 

At the chime of the shop’s bell, the Crocodile turned – expressly, it seemed, to sneer directly at Hook. “Oh good,” he said flatly. “They’re back.” 

“Anything?” Emma asked, addressing her question to the Queen. 

It was the Crocodile who answered. “Shockingly,” he drawled, “I don’t break under interrogation.” 

Hook glowered at the imp, who looked contemptuously back. Emma squeezed his hand once, and turned the full force of her attention to her adversary. 

“You’re right,” she said. 

Hook raised an eyebrow behind her, but she continued. 

“That’s not your MO, is it? So how about an incentive?” 

Eyes widening, Hook stepped towards her. “Emma…” he warned quietly. Even Regina was raising an eyebrow. Emma turned briefly back to face him… and winked. 

“Look, did you slip Killian a memory potion?”

“Precisely what agenda do you think I’d be furthering by–”

“Is that a no?”

The imp rolled his eyes. “Yes.” After a short pause, during which Hook weighed the ambiguous response, he deigned to clarify. “It’s a no.” 

“Good,” said Emma, seeming to take his word for it as if lying weren’t the little man’s bread and butter. “Then our interests align.” 

“Do they, indeed.” 

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Hook with no memories is kind of a loose cannon. Sneaking into your shop, scattering all your junk… chatting up your wife…” 

It took a startled moment for Hook to recall that she’d mentioned a new wife, and had not , in fact, been referring to Milah. He opened his mouth to protest that he’d never even met the woman, but the delay in comprehension had been long enough for Emma to meet his eyes significantly. So rather than speaking in his own defense, he gave the Dark One a malevolent grin. 

The Crocodile adjusted his hands on his cane. “Convincing me I’d rather be rid of your husband is a bold gambit, Miss Swan. Surely there are other ways I could accomplish that than by�� helping.”

Hook bristled. Emma had said something about having kept her name, but surely she wasn’t a Miss . Also, the man seemed to be threatening his life, which, in retrospect, Hook supposed was more of a reason to take offense. 

Emma crossed her arms. “There are,” she agreed, showing no sign of concern, “but wouldn’t it be sad for little Gideon to grow up fatherless? Again?” 

Now who in the bloody hell was Gideon? Was Hook supposed to have a child too? He could make nothing of the “again,” but he had more than enough to start sweating. Surely, surely any spawn he might’ve sired would’ve come up in conversation before now. He wanted quite badly to ask, but he didn’t want to admit ignorance in front of enemies. He’d bring it up later.

“Don’t you think,” Regina broke in, sounding bored,  “that if threats were all it took, he’d have sung by now?” 

Emma sighed. “You’re right. Regina, are you sure he knows anything?”

“Positive. He usually keeps a stock of Oblex residue, but today it’s mysteriously out of stock. Someone must’ve bought it. If it had been stolen, I’m sure he’d have made you do something about it before now.” 

“What the hell is an Oblex?” Emma asked. 

“Something you don’t want to meet,” Hook answered, bloody overjoyed to finally, finally know something that Emma didn’t. 

Regina looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. The Crocodile looked as if he wished he could. He’d almost expected Emma to be surprised he knew something, but in fact, she looked expectant. Almost as if his actually possessing relevant knowledge was not unusual. Huh. 

He cleared his throat. “An oblex is a sort of sentient ooze. They’re clever little beasties. Had to fight one off years back, off the shores of the Sword Coast. Near lost the ship’s doctor.” He saw that he had, at the least, Emma’s undivided attention, and he didn’t much care for the others. “You don’t want to lose a fight with one of those. Nasty blighters will eat your –” He froze, and finished more quietly. “...Memories.” 

“And that’s why,” Regina concluded, “their residue is the primary ingredient in a forgetting potion. It’s not easy to get, which is why I’m pretty sure you’d notice if some went missing. ” 

“And if–for the sake of argument–I’d sold some…” the Crocodile began, oozing insincerity. “The ingredient is not only usable in forgetting potions. In fact, I recently heard that it can be combined with certain herbs to create a tea, to ease a troubled mind.” 

Emma raised her eyebrows at the Queen, awaiting confirmation. Regina looked skeptical. “Oh? And where did you hear that, I wonder?”

“Now that you mention it, I recall a strapping young gentleman who came into my shop some time past, looking to make such a tea for his ailing aunt, or great aunt–something to that effect.” 

“Oh?” Emma said, with thinly-veiled interest, as if they were each playing their parts in the conversation. “Did he find what he was looking for?”

“One never knows what one will find in my shop.” It was incredible how such relatively inoffensive words could still make you want to knock someone’s teeth out. Maybe it was just his voice. 

“And what would be the price of such a valuable ingredient?” Emma asked politely. “If you found it?”

“As it happened, the young man’s relation had a few recipes I did not already know–a rare thing indeed.” 

There was a short pause, as everyone in the room considered.

“If I were to ask you for the surveillance footage…” Emma attempted.

“I don’t keep it longer than a week.” 

“Of course,” Emma said, sounding unsurprised. “That would’ve been too easy. Well, what did he look like?” 

The imp shrugged. “Not especially notable.” 

“Anything you remember? Anything at all? Hair?” 

“He wore a hat, but I believe it was dark.” 

“Build?”

“I wasn’t selling him clothes.”

Evidently, he was determined to make her pry any piece of information out of him. 

“You called him a strapping young man. What does that mean, exactly? Muscular? Athletic? Bulky?” 

“I suppose. I really didn’t take any special notice.” Hook wondered if the man would take any special notice of a hook in his throat. 

“Any notable facial features?”

“He may possibly have had a larger than average chin.” 

“Okay… anything else?” 

“Not particularly,” he said flatly. “Well, that does seem to be all I can recall about any recent customers. Now, if you would kindly vacate the premises, I would very much like to close for the day. It seems my shop could do with some… reorganizing.” Without turning his head, he leveled a glare Hook’s way.  

Without conscious thought, Hook found himself looking at Emma to determine their course of action. She turned to him, seeming satisfied with the day’s work. She exchanged a glance with Regina, who nodded. And, without taking their leave of the shop’s owner, they left. 

Somehow, Hook didn’t notice until the shop was well behind them that his hand was in hers. 

They walked in a companionable silence until they were far enough from the shop that Hook could breathe freely again. Hook sorted through all the questions with which the interview had left him, and tried to decide what to ask about first. He wanted to ask about Gideon , but the dread of finding out who he might be–not a son, surely not a son–made it difficult to form the words. 

Finally, he made himself open his mouth. “Swan,” he blurted, with no clear idea what he’d say next. She blinked, as if he’d pulled her out of some intense concentration, but after a moment she turned to him with a smile.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. 

Who is Gideon? “Did we…” have a child? He cleared his throat. “...actually learn anything from that interview?” He held back a sigh. Coward . 

She grinned. “Enough to get started with. We have a profile on our potential perp. Maybe the great aunt is real, maybe she isn’t, but it’s a small town. And at least Gold’s condescended to narrow the playing field a little. If they’ve got ‘recipes’ Gold’s interested in, they’re probably not out-of-towners. And I have a kind of vague physical description, if he was being forthright about all of it. I’ve definitely got enough to search with. Finding people is…” Her smile was lovely, and behind her modesty, he could see some pride. “Kind of my thing.” All at once, Hook became aware that Emma was caressing the hand she was holding. “Want to come?” 

“I–think I have some business to attend to,” he said, perhaps less firmly than he’d intended. She looked a bit crestfallen, and he added, “Sorry, love,” before thinking to question why he was apologizing. He didn’t owe her a bloody apology for being busy. He searched his mind for a story she’d accept for what he was busy with that didn’t involve searching for a weapon against the Dark One. 

“OK,” she said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home. Love you!” She hesitated before leaving, as if she was expecting something, but then smiled ruefully and walked away. It didn’t take much in the way of context to figure out what she’d been waiting for, once he gave it a moment’s thought. But surely she couldn’t expect it of him. 

He stood for a moment, watching her walk back to her brightly-covered conveyance. As he pulled his hand slowly from the cheek her lips had touched, he considered the fact that she had not, in fact, demanded his plans. The word trust flitted through his mind, leaving a feeling suspiciously like guilt. 

Well, there was nothing to be done. He had promised her no murders today, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plan. As for the wager with the Queen, that was easily dealt with. If she rightfully owned the Jolly Roger, he could win it back the way a pirate usually won his booty. And what was one extra murder once the bet was lost?

He began to walk, allowing his feet to choose the direction–they hadn’t steered him wrong so far. He spent a pleasant moment picturing the look of surprise on Regina’s face just before his hook pierced her heart. He could see the rage turning into fear, as the man she erroneously believed was no threat came for his reckoning. And behind her, there stood Emma, eyes wide and full of tears–

A loud, dissonant noise brought him to his senses. He realized he’d stopped cold in the middle of the road, and one of those wheeled metal contraptions–a bug, had Emma called them? But this one was red, and rather larger than hers--stood behind him. He made eye contact with the person behind the glass at the front. It was a man he didn’t recognize–hardly shocking, at the moment–who threw his arms wide in a gesture of impatient disbelief. The man slammed his hand in front of him, and the awful noise repeated. 

Suddenly in quite a foul mood, Hook gave his most menacing scowl and approached the conveyance, raising his left arm to make his namesake conspicuous. As he reached the side door of the bug, less than a foot from the wide-eyed man inside, there was a loud squeal and the contraption sped away. Ahh, well. If he was going to lose the bet– when , rather–it would be for more significant reasons. A blond-haired face with a look of abject betrayal tried once more to encroach upon his imagination, but he pushed it roughly aside. He walked quickly out of the road, in no particular hurry to repeat the confrontation. 

He tried to keep his focus on what was most relevant–forming a plan. Kill the crocodile, and leave this strange place, with all of these strange people. Unfairly attractive people with soft hands. Children with Baelfire’s eyes. Complete strangers who smiled at him, like the woman across the street was doing now. How on earth she could be smiling at him despite the thunderous scowl he was–

Hook stopped to take stock of his face, to find that his scowl seemed to have abandoned him, in favor of an expression with which he was unfamiliar. His lips were turned up very slightly, but not in a smirk or a leer. And his eyes were half-closed, when they ought to have been wide open and paying attention to his bloody surroundings, because now the woman was pushing her covered cart towards him, and she looked familiar. Ahh, she was the woman he’d seen earlier, just outside of the cursed pawn shop . Except that she’d looked familiar then, too, hadn’t she? But no, her cheerful smile was not striking any chords in his mind now. 

Not only was she smiling, she was actually walking toward him. 

“Hello,” Hook said cautiously. He was dealing with an unknown quantity, and he wasn’t sure how to approach her. 

The moment he spoke, something began to strike the covering of the cart from the inside. He managed to keep from visibly startling, looking with a raised eyebrow from the cart to the woman. 

The stranger laughed. “He heard you!” She pushed back the covering on the cart, which folded as it seemed designed to do. 

From the violence of the striking, Hook had been half expecting some sort of small but fierce wild animal. What appeared, however, was a very human baby. And it was looking right at him. Its expression might charitably be called a smile, although its teeth were largely absent. 

The baby looked at the woman who was presumably its mother and had some sort of semi-verbal communication. 

“Down?” the woman said, in the tone of someone repeating what they’d heard, although to Hook’s ears the baby’s word had sounded more like “aaa!” 

Without further ado, she leaned down and set the baby loose. To Hook’s surprise, rather than toppling over immediately, it took some rather wobbly steps in his direction. He controlled the urge to back away. He was certainly not afraid of an infant–even one that seemed determined to barrel toward him. What on earth made him so nervous? It wasn’t as if the tiny thing could hurt him. On the contrary, it was so small it looked as if a rogue breeze might damage it irreparably. He gulped, reflexively moving his hook behind his back. 

“Iiiiihggh,” burbled the baby, whose strong apparent desire to continue its headfirst forward motion was beginning to lose the battle to gravity. Well, it was awfully close to the ground. 

“That’s right, darling!” the mother said encouragingly. “That’s Killian!” 

Hook started. He hadn’t been anticipating his given name from this woman. And despite what she might be pretending, the child had most certainly not said it first. 

Hook’s sudden movement was the last straw for the baby’s momentum.Killian watched in confused fascination as the little thing paused for just a moment, looking nonplussed, and then fell remarkably slowly to its bottom, where it bounced slightly. Whatever it was wearing, it clearly provided some padding. 

Hook wondered for a moment if the infant was going to start bawling, in which case he decided he’d find a reason to be elsewhere. And, indeed, the small face worked for a moment, appearing to consider the possibility. But it was distracted in the nick of time by something shining on the ground, which it examined for a moment before managing to grasp the item and beginning to bring it towards its mouth. 

“GIDEON, NO !” the woman shouted, startling Hook, who’d almost forgotten she was there. He looked quickly back at her, and in that moment, he recognized her face. It hadn’t meant much to him when she was smiling at him, but in her distress, it came back to him. 

A cell. An interrogation. A blow. 

He’d wanted to use her for information. She hadn’t known anything, so he’d… 

He caught himself grimacing, and then frowned at his own reaction. Well, and why shouldn’t he have struck her? She’d been of no use to him. But why had she looked at him just now as if… as if she was pleased to see him? Women hid their children from him. They certainly didn’t encourage those children to run to him, shouting an admittedly mangled attempt at his true name. 

The woman had picked the baby back up–he supposed it must be a lad, if its name was Gideon–and removed the shiny object from his hands, with what looked like a surprising amount of difficulty. Honestly, how much grip strength could those tiny hands possess? Still, she seemed to be struggling to keep the baby in one hand and hold the item out of his reach in another. He considered how he would accomplish such a feat with only the one. 

He shook away the ridiculous notion. When would he ever be called upon to hold a baby? 

The baby was crying in earnest now, and Killian racked his brains for an excuse to make a hasty retreat. He had just recalled the fact that he didn’t actually need an excuse–he was free to leave at any time, social niceties be damned–when he realized a few things in quick succession. The child’s name was Gideon. Gideon was not Emma’s child, much less his own. The relief of not being tied to her permanently… rather startlingly failed to materialize. He pushed the thought away quickly. 

So, Gideon belonged to this woman. As he pieced his memories of her together with what he’d heard this morning, her name came to him. 

“Belle,” he said, without really planning to. She had been precious to the Dark One. That was what he’d wanted from her. She’d been… his lover? The implications hit him like a cannonball. Suddenly, the wailing baby looked quite a bit less cute. 

Not that he’d thought it was cute in the first place.

Evidently, he’d been correct about her name, because she looked up from her game of keep-away with the squalling infant, as if remembering he was there. 

She smiled grimly, holding the baby’s treasure up a bit higher. “Old battery,” she informed him, her voice rueful. He thought for a moment that the battery to which she referred was his against her, however long ago that had been from her perspective, but she seemed to be looking at the object. She approached him. “Here, would you take this away?” 

Hook reached for it, not without curiosity. But as Belle drew nearer, Gideon switched his attention from the “battery” to him. He reached out his little hands, tears still glistening on his round cheeks. 

Belle laughed. “Well, that works too,” she said, foisting the baby directly into Hook’s arms. His mind sounded an alarm. Something in his brain shouted Hook!! It took him a moment to connect this to the source of his suddenly faster heartbeat. He quickly adjusted himself so that the baby and the hook were as far apart as possible. He’d expected this to take some serious effort–especially since he’d never held a baby in his life. But almost without conscious thought, he’d adjusted his grip so that his hook was pointed down, his shortened arm supporting the baby’s body, with his hand gripping its back. 

The bloody madwoman didn’t even look concerned. She’d walked off to dispose of the battery without a second glance. 

Uncertain what to do with himself, Hook looked down at the baby’s face. Surely there would be some evidence of malignance, if the Crocodile truly had sired him. 

The baby gave him a mostly-toothless smile. He looked fully human, if nothing else. Perhaps Belle had been less than faithful to her scaly lover. Heaven knew better women than her had done the same. Hook squinted at the little eyes, trying to discern a resemblance to his old enemy. When the spark of recognition hit him, it was not as he had expected. Bae . 

He had always credited Baelfire with his mother’s eyes. And indeed, he recalled more vividly than he would’ve credited, the color had been all too reminiscent of his lost love. But in this child’s eyes–this child, with no direct connection to dear Milah–he saw the shape of Bae’s. There was only one possible source of any similarity between Baelfire and this child–his half-brother?--but that loathsome resemblance, Killian could not see, no matter how he searched. 

“Thanks for watching him,” a voice said from right in front of him. Hook startled, but did not drop the baby. Nor did he accidentally puncture his hide, which was a danger you’d think a mother would’ve been cognizant of. How had he not seen Belle return? Had he been so lost in his thoughts? 

Belle was grinning at him. “You’re so good with him,” she said, with the air of someone who is repeating an observation.

“Ahh,” Hook said awkwardly, uncertain what to do with this bit of flagrant misjudgement. 

“Aaaaaaaah,” gurgled Gideon, contributing just as much to the conversation. 

There was a moment of silence as the baby looked lazily from one of them to the other, drooling slightly. 

“Well, it’s almost too late for Christmas shopping, so we’d best be on our way,” said Belle finally, sounding oddly amused. “That is, if you’re willing to part with him?” 

Hook felt his face heat. Had he really been so distracted he’d forgotten to return the thing to its mother? It wasn’t as if he wanted to be holding him. He’d simply lost track of time somehow. He’d rarely seen a person so young this close. It was oddly fascinating–in a horrifying sort of way. 

As Belle reached for her child, he misjudged her grip and began to let go too soon. He reflexively tried to catch him with both arms, jerking the pointed one away at the last moment and throwing his good hand under him.

Gideon giggled delightedly, and even Belle permitted herself a breathless chuckle once the lad was safely in her arms, obviously more aware than her son of what had almost happened. The barrage of kisses she pressed to his tiny, laughing face were her only concession to the moment of panic. 

She cradled the baby to her with one arm, waving goodbye with every appearance of good cheer, as Killian waited for his heart to stop hammering. He continued his interrupted walk, and tried to remember what thought he’d been in the middle of. Ahh, yes, revenge against the Crocodile. 

It must have been a half a mile later when it occurred to him–far too late–that the perfect opportunity for revenge had just been utterly squandered. That child was–presumably– his son. Why hadn’t he–why hadn’t it even occurred to him to–bloody hell, he’d gone out of his way to avoid–

His unquestioned fear of accidentally damaging the child now seemed quite preposterous. He could have simply gutted him like a fish. 

The thought of gutting a fish made him oddly nauseated. He frowned. He hadn’t tired of fish in centuries at sea. Now seemed a strange time to start. This bloody town was getting to him, somehow. Making him into a landlubber. Making him soft . Making him into the man Emma seemed to think she knew. 

What he needed was a night on the Jolly. Alone . What he needed was to get her ready to leave. 

He made it the rest of the way to the docks unmolested. There was a moment where he thought he saw a red hat exiting a warehouse, but it vanished before he could be certain. 

Once aboard his ship, he took inventory. He would need to top up his rations, although there was a small supply of cans with pictures of food on them–those uncannily lifelike pictures common to this realm. Perhaps he could make it to the next port, if nothing else. Surely he could acquire food there, legitimately or not. He’d noticed with unease that the longer he stayed in this town, the less he recognized himself. 

Hook had nearly finished taking stock of his supplies when he nearly tripped over his feet. He froze. After centuries, he knew every inch of the Jolly Roger. There had never before been a loose floorboard in his quarters. 

Closer scrutiny confirmed what his feet had uncovered. There was a small space under one of the boards making up his floor. And underneath… 

He stared, trying to think through the implications. It seemed his future self had not been so innocent, after all. The man had been keeping secrets from his lovely wife. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as Emma had convinced him–as much as she’d truly seemed to believe. Perhaps he had already begun the plan now taking shape inside Hook’s head. 

Hidden on the Jolly, where no one but him could ever have found it, was a bottle of squid ink.

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

Tagging the same folks as last time, hope it's still welcome! Adding the "please tag for everything" crew. Let me know if you want to be added or removed for the last chapter!

@undercaffinatednightmarere, @jrob644, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @mie779, @elfiola, @tiganasummertree, @anmylica, @booksteaandtoomuchtv, @everything-person, @teamhook, @laianely, @booksteaandtoomuchtv, @exhaustedpirate, @anmylica, @hollyethecurious, @Gingerchangeling, @caught-in-the-filter, @ultraluckycatnd, @Stahlop, @LFH1226, @darkshadow7, @fleurdepetite, @captainswan-kellie, @motherkatereloyshipper, @sonnicat, @Jrob64, @beckettj, @whimsicallyenchantedrose, @jonesfandomfanatic, @myfearless-love

For any fellow stats nerds, this chapter was 4K words, about twice as long as the average chapter so far. And I have (drumroll) almost another 8K written. I just need to tie together all the scenes I have! Might split it if there's a good splitting place, or I might post it all at once. I'm pretty pleased with how it's turning out, aside from all the [insert words here]-type stuff in the middle.

[spookieolson]

First Date- Chris Motionless x Reader

Tw: None! Just fluff!

A/n: woah I’m actually uploading fics again?? I actually had the motivation and desire to write today who cheered? I felt like writing fluff for our fav spooky singer. Enjoy!!

Taglist: @skulliecadaver-blog @witchyweeb34 @cookiesupplier @raydenrrobertson @sakuracyberhex @beaker1636 @lyschko666 @black-damask1999 @synthetic-wasp-570 @jilliemiw86 @tearfallpixie @thatchickwiththecamera @th0ughts-pr4yers @zuberweirrd @bxrnthyfears @miamore0570 @yournecessaryevil @arkiliastuff

………………………………………

You sit down on the tan chair by a table at a family owned coffee shop as you wait patiently for your date, Chris.

You had met at this very same coffee shop two days ago, accidentally bumping into him and spilling your drink all over his shirt.

Strangely enough, he wasn’t fazed or upset by it. In fact, he was rather calm and sweet about the incident, letting you help clean his shirt off. It was a pleasant surprise, you thought for sure he would be pissed off and make a fuss of it.

He even helped you calm down a bit after what happened, seeing as your anxiety was getting the better of you. He talked you through it all, making sure that you controlled your breathing.

Eventually, you did calm down, and offered to buy him a coffee to make up for it. Even though he stated that you didn’t need to, you were insistent. Besides, it would give you an excuse to see the handsome stranger again. Seeing as you wouldn’t take no for an answer, he accepts and you give him your number.

You fidget with the hem of your blue dress, foot lightly tapping anxiously as you awaited Chris. Your thoughts were starting to get the better of you. What if he didn’t show up? What if you accidentally spilled your coffee on him again? What if he doesn’t like you and never speaks to you again?

Before your paranoia could get the better of you, your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching you followed by a chair being pulled out.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry if I’m a few minutes late, couldn’t find my keys for a minute back at home,” Chris says with a sheepish chuckle as he sits down. He takes in your looks. “You look pretty.”

His compliment makes your cheeks flush. “O-oh, thank you. You look good yourself. And you’re not late, don’t worry!” You stutter a bit before clearing your throat. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Any excuse to get out of the house for coffee is a deal for me. My band mates call me a coffee fiend.” He says with an eye roll and slight laugh.

You chuckle at his comment. You had been texting back and forth over the past two days and you remember him mentioning he was in a band. You had checked out the music, and it was love at first listen. Chris’ voice was incredible, and it gave you even more reason to like him.

“Hey, can’t blame you there. I love a good latte every morning and I have to say, this place definitely satisfies that craving.”

“Oh, definitely. I discovered this cafe a couple of years ago and it has never failed to impress me every time I come. Always a treat coming here, especially since it brought us together.” Chris says with a soft smile, his expression genuine.

You can’t help but smile yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I can say the same. Would you wanna order now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You both get up and walk up to the counter. You place your order and you pay the cashier. Once that’s done, you step to the side and wait.

As you’re waiting, you can feel an unfamiliar man’s eyes on you. He’s staring at your body, and it’s making you uncomfortable. You hug your arms over your body and try not to look at the man.

Chris seems to take notice of your body language fairly quickly, and raises a brow. He looks over and sees the man staring. A pit of disgust forms in his gut, glaring at the man and wrapping an arm over your shoulders.

The gesture makes you blush, your heart skipping a beat. The man sees how Chris is holding you, frowning before he stops looking at you and sulks away. You let out a sigh of relief once he’s no longer near you.

“Thank you…he was making me really uncomfortable..” You mutter softly, looking up at Chris with a grateful expression.

He nods with a small smile, releasing you and giving you a bit of space. “Of course. I could tell how uneasy you were, that guy was a dick.” He says, a bit of annoyance in his tone. He hated people like that, staring and making others uncomfortable.

“I appreciate it.” You say as your order number is called. You go up to the counter and pick up your order.

“Careful, don’t spill your drink on me this time,” Chris teases with a wink, carrying his coffee and pastry. You roll your eyes with a smile.

“Oh hush. I’ll be careful.” You state as you go sit back down. You sit and pick up your breakfast sandwich, taking a bite and humming at the taste.

“This place makes the best breakfast sandwiches. If I could, I’d live off these things.” You say in between bites, devouring the sandwich within a matter of minutes.

“Oh yeah, they’re pretty great. Way better than Starbucks or Dunkin.” Chris says, munching away on his donut. You nod in agreement.

You finish up your food, now sipping on your latte. “I still have some coffee left to finish, wanna take a walk in the park across the street? Weather’s nice.” Chris suggests.

“That would be nice.” You say with a smile, standing. Chris smiles and stands as well, now taking your hand in his. This makes you blush yet again.

His hand was larger than yours, tender and warm. You take notice of the tattoos on his fingers, knuckles and hand. The intricate work was impressive, and his tattoos looked good on him.

You now leave the cafe, walking hand in hand with Chris across the street to the local park. You had a soft spot for it, you grew up near it. Your parents took you all the time so it held quite a bit of nostalgia for you.

“I’ve always loved this park,” You say as you walk through the entrance, taking in the cherry blossom trees and random strangers that have been in the area. “My parents took me all the time, and my friends and I went here after school. It’s always been a peaceful place.”

Chris hums. “That’s a nice thing. It’s nice that it’s quiet. You’d think that I wouldn’t mind noisy, occupied places but I actually prefer a more slow paced, peaceful environment. It’s easier to think that way.” Chris speaks thoughtfully as he too takes in the sights.

You nod. “I can understand that. It must be nice to get away from the noise.”

“For sure. Whenever I get the chance to on tour, I always try to find somewhere quiet to be alone and relax for a bit.”

“I don’t blame you.” You say in response. You end up walking around the park, chatting for over an hour. Chris was so easy to talk to, like you had known him for ages. He listened to everything you had to say, genuinely interested.

It was nice getting to hear about his tour life, and what it was like being in a popular band. Despite his fame, he was so humble and down to earth. You were developing quite the crush on him.

As you start to head towards the exit of the park, a cool breeze blows by, causing you to rub your arms as you shiver a bit.

“Damn, if I had known it was going to be a bit chilly I would've brought my jacket-“ As you speak, you’re cut off by Chris’ leather jacket being placed over your shoulders. You smile shyly at the gesture. “Y-you didn’t have to do that.”

Chris shrugs. “You need it more than I do. I’ve got a sweater on anyway, so it’s not a big deal. I’d hate to see you cold.”

His words leave your face warm. He was so kind. “If you’re sure..”

Chris ends up walking you home since you didn’t live far from the cafe. You both stop at your doorstep.

“I had a great time with you today. And thanks for the coffee.” Chris says with a genuine smile, a look of admiration in his eyes.

You smile back. “So did I. And it was no problem. It’s the least I could do.” You say with a sheepish smile. You take off the jacket and hand it back to Chris, only for him to shake his head. You raise a brow.

“Keep it.”

“What? A-are you sure? It is your jacket.” You ask, a bit baffled.

“I’ve got another one just like it back at home. Besides, you look better in it than I do.” Chris laughs softly as you blush. “Would you maybe wanna grab some lunch on Saturday? I’d love to see you again.”

Your face lights up and you can’t help but smile. “I’d like that.” Chris smiles.

“Great, does two work for you?”

“That works. It’s a date.” You say with a warm smile.

Chris’ smile widens. As you turn to unlock your door, Chris leans down and kisses your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll see you Saturday.” He says before he starts to walk away.

You’re left standing there, a blushing mess, but…a happy blushing mess.

[astronomerzin]

Hii! I saw you asking for venti request and i couldn’t pass up the opportunity i rarely see someone writing for him anywaysss i thought of a cute little request how about venti freaking out about how to tell his long time s/o that he’s barbatos? Like he feels guilty for not telling the s/o like he’s deceiving them but he also don’t want them to see him as a god so he’s being an anxious mess for weeks and when he finally gets the courage to tell his s/o they just nonchalantly say they already know 😭😭 i’ll leave the ending to you and the s/o can be gender neutral so that everyone can read it :)

Venti x GN! Reader. | Venti revealing his secret! ⋆⑅˚₊⸜ 🍃‧₊˚✩彡 ,,

note: I'm sorry that it took me long to reply! School recitations went brrrrr— ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ anyway, I hope I didn't keep you waiting! I hope you'll enjoy this fic ^^ thanks for asking me this request btw! :3 this one is a bit crappy and short... I'm sorry for this sob. I didn't really have any ideas😧 and I'm not so proud of this bye

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Venti had always wanted to tell his beloved windblume the truth about himself. He was the Anemo Archon, the God of Wind and Freedom, and he had been watching over Mondstadt and its citizens for centuries.

He had been afraid of what your reaction will be. Would they treat him differently once they knew the truth? Would they be scared, or repulsed, or maybe even angry at him for keeping this secret for so long?

He had been planning on telling them for weeks, but something always seemed to come up. Either he would chicken out at the last moment, or just have a second thought about it. But today, he was ready to face his beloved about the truth.

He found you sitting on the sofa, reading a book quietly. He took a deep breath and slowly sat down next to you.

"hey, windblume.." he said in a soft tone. He slowly rested his head onto your shoulder while his hand slipped down to your waist, pulling you close to him.

"can we talk?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

You turned your head to him and smiled before closing the book slowly. "Of course.. what is it?"

Venti took a deep breath, he was getting nervous. You noticed this and squeezed his hand gently, giving him reassurance. "..you can tell me everything, I promise I won't judge nor get mad unless it's something bad." you said in a soft tone.

Venti hesitated for a moment, his courage faltering for a brief instant. But the trust and love he saw in your eyes gave him the strength to continue. He slowly sighed once again "..Windblume, I hope you won't get mad at me for not telling you this sooner.." he mutters. "I'm the Anemo Archon.."

You stayed quiet for a brief moment before smiling softly. "I kinda actually knew.." you replied sheepishly.

Venti looked at you with slight wide eyes, shocked and confused. "I don't understand— how?" he asked.

"Remember when The Traveler came to save Mondstandt? I may or may not have accidentally eavesdropped when you and the others when you all went inside the Angel's Share to discuss the plan." you explained. "..sorry" you sighed.

Venti just gently shook his head and let out a soft sigh "no, no. It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong.. I should be the one who's sorry."

"I kept this truth about me from you— I actually feel so guilty hiding it from you for a long time now.." he briefly pauses before continuing "I just thought that, if you knew I was the god.. you'll only see me in that title." he mutters.

"Venti— it's okay.. I understand." You slowly and gently placed your hand on his cheek, caressing him like a fragile doll as he looks up at you with soft, loving, and worried gaze.

"Even if you are a god doesn't mean I only see you in that form of your title. All I see is Venti that I love so much.." you said in a soft tone and kissed his forehead. "I'll love you for who you are, God or not.." you smiled faintly.

Venti's lips quivered slightly and sighed. "Windblume.." he gives you a tight embrace.

"I love you so much.. Thank you."

[lovezbrownies]

Excerpt from our next Valentine's special!

(to whoever that reads this please tell me if this is a good start for the fic before I'm contemplating writing a different beginning)

Today has been… strange. Very strange.

You sit stiffly, shoulders tensed despite the gentle pressure of your girlfriend’s hands massaging them. Julie never does this. She isn’t the type to indulge in romantic gestures—or at least, she never has before. And yet, here she is, pressing slow, deliberate circles into your back, her voice softer than usual, her lips curled into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her eyes stare, analyzing your every reaction.

It’s unsettling.

Not because you don’t appreciate affection, but because this isn’t her. The breakfast in bed, the strangely bitter tea she insisted you drink, the spotless house that looks too pristine to actually be lived in, I cleaned the house for you, so you wouldn't tire yourself out, my dear. And worst of all, the way she’s been shadowing you all day, hovering just a little too close.

Julie has always been a creature of logic, of routine. She doesn’t do spontaneous romance, nor does she dote. But today, she’s at your beck and call, watching you with a peculiar intensity, as if she’s waiting for something. And you can’t shake the feeling that whatever she’s waiting for… isn’t good.

All of it has been too much—far too much. You’ve been trying to brush it off, telling yourself she’s just in a rare affectionate mood, but the longer it goes on, the more suffocating it becomes. Julie isn’t like this. She doesn’t wake you up with breakfast in bed, doesn’t insist on following you around like a shadow, and she definitely doesn’t give unsolicited shoulder massages with a smile. It’s not that she’s cold, just… pragmatic. Efficient. Affection is something she doles out in calculated increments, a quiet presence rather than an overwhelming force.

You’ve known Julie for as long as you can remember, bound together since childhood, and now—years into a relationship that, at least on your end, began with some reluctance—you know her better than anyone. Julie isn’t one for grand gestures or spoken declarations; she expresses her love in the quiet, effortless ways that have become second nature to her.

She’s the one who wordlessly hands you something just out of reach before you even ask, who offers unsolicited advice that always turns out to be exactly what you needed to hear. She watches over you from a distance, ensuring no harm comes your way, even during the most mundane moments of your day.

But perhaps the most intimate of all is the way she helps you sleep. Even when rest eludes her, she remains by your side, her fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along your skin, guiding you into the comfort of sleep. She doesn’t need rest—only the certainty that you are safe, drifting into dreams under her gentle touch.

And yet, here she is, hovering over you, fingers kneading into your shoulders with just a little too much pressure. Being far too coddling, too affectionate, too romantic. And you couldn't handle it any longer when her grip tightens—just for a second, just enough to make your breath hitch—something in you snaps.

You jolt forward, nearly stumbling off the couch in your rush to get away, spinning around to face her. She’s still standing behind the couch, watching you with the same neutral expression, head tilted slightly. The only indication of her confusion is the faint raise of her brow—the same look she gives malfunctioning equipment, like she’s trying to figure out why it’s acting up.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm even as your pulse thrums against your ribs. You don’t want to start a fight, but you also can’t let this slide.

"Alright," you say, forcing a smile that you’re sure looks more like a grimace. "What the hell is going on? The weird doting, the breakfast in bed, the tea that tasted… off? You’ve been acting so different today, and it’s creeping me out."

For a second, she says nothing. Then, slowly, her lips curl into a grin. A Cheshire grin. It stretches too wide, lingers too long, and your stomach twists.

For a fleeting, absurd moment, you wonder if one of her half-frozen, half-dead clones finally clawed its way back to life, killed the real Julie, and took her place. There’s something off about the way she’s looking at you, something you don’t like.

Then, as if nothing is amiss, she straightens her posture, clasping her hands neatly behind her back. Her blouse is ironed crisp, her slacks without a single wrinkle—meticulous, perfect, composed, as always.

"Well," she says smoothly, voice light, "I’m monitoring your reactions to the… love potion I slipped into your tea this morning."

The world slows.

Huh.

What.

Love what.

You blink at her, brain stalling like a car in the dead of winter, trying and failing to process the words that just left her mouth. Julie. Your Julie, your girlfriend. Just said—

Oh. Oh.

The realization settles over you like a cold wave, sinking into your bones. Calling her your girlfriend suddenly feels very, very new. Something you haven’t said up until today. After the bitter tea.

"Are you clinically insane?!?"