#that they would do anything to keep him happy

[tojisteddy]

John Price who definitely sees your job as a cute little hobby to occupy your time when he’s away.

He loves hearing you go on and on when you really enjoy it while he’s away. Not so much when he’s home and it’s stressing you out and it’s taking away from his ability to fuck you because of how exhausted you are. So, he does the thing that only makes sense.

He’s calling your office and threatening them by using his job title to get you fired.

A wicked, wicked, wicked man. But he needed you comfortable, you deserved happiness. Not to be stressed out from a job you didn’t need in the first place.

Worst part about it?

He loved to fuck you so you could feel better after being fired. You’d come home, tears pricking your eyes after you slammed the front door shut. And there John would be right there, rushing towards you with the at most concern on his face, asking what’s wrong. He knew what was wrong.

“This is the 4rth time John! I-“ your breath hitched, tears rolling down your adorable cheeks. Poor baby.

“I must be fuckin awful! Everyone- everyone hates me!”

“No, no sweetheart!” He’d coo, cupping your face and kissing your tears away. “Yer good at what ya do, they jus’ hate havin such a hard workin woman ‘round.”

You’re rubbing your face and hiccuping, “Y-you think I’m good John?”

“Of course lovie, you’d be wrong tuh think otherwise.”

You’d sniff, looking up at John with those big brown puppy eyes. “Show me.”

His sweet girl needed him, and after his Oscar winning performance he’d give her the best show she could ever ask for. He’s eating you out right in the foyer, then bending you over on the hardwood floor and slamming you fat veiny, dick into you tight walls like there was no tomorrow.

“Aaaatta girl. Always take me so well.”

“Worked so hard honey, Daddy’s gotta show you how good ya are, hm?”

“Gonna cum? Show me how pretty you can make my cock lovie. Always so. Fuckin. Pretty.”

Captain Price loved his little wife. He’d give you anything if you asked for it.

Except let you keep a job.

Anything but that.

a/n: The only version of toxic Price I can handle 😭

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

[aren-after-hours]

Okay but each of the other movies are just as emotional. They may be more action packed, but they have just as much meaning.

Ice Age 2, as previously mentioned, highlights the struggle of survivors guilt, Manny thinking he's the last Mammoth, finding Ellie, the complexity of their relationship (love vs "save the species), it's very focused on Manny the entire movie.

The third movie, Dawn of the dinosaurs, is focused on Sid. Manny and Ellie are happily together and expecting their baby, Sod is trying his best to be helpful and supportive and involves but he keeps fucking up. Despite his best efforts, he is always doing the wrong thing and making Manny more stressed. He copes with this by claiming the eggs as his children: he's lonely, he wants to nurture, and did not think through the consequences of his actions bc of that purity and innocence mentioned earlier. The whole movie for Sid is about realizing, he can't just make these dinosaurs his family. He can't project his longing and need on this random family that he disturbed. There's subplots, obviously, such as Buck, and the groups' quest to retrieve Sid, but those are secondary. This movie is about Sid and his growth.

The fourth movie, Continental Drift, is so very obviously about the complexities of parenting. Manny has a strained relationship with his now teenage daughter which is left unresolved do to natural disaster. Him, Sid, Diego and Grammy get caught up by pirates, who I see as akin to looters after hurricanes in real life, individuals who are taking advantage of people in a time of crisis. Also in this movie, Sid reconnects with one member of his family, the other "black sheep", his Granny, who is ditched on him by the rest of his family. If I remember correctly, this is the only time we ever see his family on screen, too. She's not kind to him, but he loves her anyway and it is an excellent depiction of an elderly person and their caregiver, to an extent. Granny very much reminds me of my grandmother, who suffered from dementia, and because of it was prone to aggression. It's also to be inferred that Granny initially abandoned Sid as well, and the only reason she hasn't left him is because she can't, she needs him to take care of her. Furthermore, this is the movie where Diego finally begins to show much more vulnerability, cracks forming in his solo tough guy act by having a love interest introduced. Diego had previously never had a love interest of any kind, or even reference to relationships or even family. He had his pack, but that was more like being in a gang than anything else, not loved, romantically or familially. He has that familial bond now, with Manny and the others, but begins to realize that maybe he needs more than that. His love interest, Shira, is exactly like he used to be. She's in a dangerous group, doing dangerous and questionable things, just to survive. She's a foil of him, and reaching out to her is both healing and painful for him. Of course Peaches is also introduced as a strong female type character, and she also is learning who is really there for her and who was, for lack of better terms, was being a fake mother fucker, which is an important lesson for a teenager to learn.

Finally, Collision Course. A bit more campy and comedy based, yes, I will admit. But it again, focuses on that complex father/daughter relationship. Manny is watching his little girl fall in love with a guy that Manny perceives as a full out idiot. He's worried for her, for her future, for her happiness. Ellie and Peaches are very defensive and it's causing a rift in their family unit. Diego and Shira are navigating being carnivores in a predominantly herbivore community. Kids are scared of them, which makes them worry if their own children would be able to make friends, if they had them. Sid is now chasing romance, giving the impression of a more teenage mindset than a child like one. He has had girlfriends, but he goes too much too fast, and they don't last. Buck is forced to come to the surface, which is a HUGE change for him. He had the chance to in Dawn of the Dinosaurs but ultimately decided to stay because it was his home, but he left that familiarity to try and warn Manny and the herd, which is monumental. When they get to Geotopia, the community inside the original asteroid, it's very similar to a cult. The one charismatic leader, who turns out to not be so charismatic. Sid finds the love of his life, a perfect match. His antics come in gain though, and when the crystal falls apart, Brook is aged. The way they both respond to this is so so so so important. He still loves her, still thinks she is beautiful, does not understand why her being older would prevent them from being together. Brook, as well, is still enamored by him, even though she's lost her home and youth because of him. The Llama LOOSES it and blames Sid very angrily and Brook DEFENDS him. They both continue to love each other despite their perceived flaws. He's no longer alone or abandoned because he "messes up". To her, he is perfect, and vice versa. Manny and Peaches sort their shit out in the typical "near death experience" kind of way, but Diego and Shira, we don't see things change for them till the very end, at Peaches' wedding. The children that were previously scared of them, are eager to hear Diego and Shira's story about helping save the world. They still have their fangs and claws, but their actions proved that they are kind and caring and the children noticed that. In return, it eases the fear the two sabers had about their own future children.

In summary, do NOT bullshit me and say that the series as a whole is not impactful, because it is. There's so much more I could say about it, if I included historical context as well but I didn't to keep it a little shorter.

I think a lot about how in Ice Age 1 a huge theme is the slow but unstoppable advancement of the human species as they start to threaten previously unchallenged megafauna (hunting the pack of the antagonist sabertooth and killing Manny the mammoth’s family) and then in all the sequels they just fuckin disappear

[artisiumstudios]

Au where Stan finds the duffle bag.

HEAR ME OUT-

Basically it’s like a week or two before the science fair, Stan is minding his business (sort of) and while he’s going through a closet/cabinet trying to find some supplies, either for the Stan’o’War or his car, he finds a duffle bag. Curious he rummages through the bag, inside are some toiletries, 20 bucks, and clothing- wait a second. Those are his; his shirt, his pants, his socks— all stuff he has been missing for a couple of weeks. He’s confused, scared, and worried.

Why would his stuff be in here? Why are there toiletries? Why is there money? And who put them there? Unfortunately he already has his answer. Pa was always clear that none of his children would continue leech off of him. If you had nothing to prove then you had nothing to take. The conversation behind the principal’a door swarmed through his mind. How long had pa had his bag packed? Was this always the plan? Was Stanley really that worthless?

But that didn’t matter because Ford wouldn’t choose a school over him! They were going to sail the world together and that would be that, to hell with Pa if he wanted Stan gone then fine he didn’t need him, he didn’t need anyone but his brother and the sea!

At first Stan wants to tell Ford about what he found, but decides not to because in the end it won’t be important. So he keeps quiet and decides to take the bag into his car, after all hey 20 bucks and he gets his stuff back! He can’t leave it in his room cause if Pa finds out he was snooping through his stuff, well he’d rather not think about that.

Then the conversation on the swing set happens, and Stan’s head starts spinning. So it wasn’t just Pa who wanted Stan out, Ford was willing to ditch him too. Stan feels betrayed and hurt, he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He starts to question his theory, did ford help pack his bag? Was that why he had been so distant lately, feeling guilty for letting his Pa kick him out and even helping him with the bag?

Did ma know? Eventually Ford leaves, huffing from Stan’s lack of enthusiasm and response, mumbling about being jealous that he has a better future up ahead, not just some silly childish dream. Stan snaps, not physically, not with his words: just emotionally.

Fine if they don’t want him there then he’ll just leave. That night while everyone is asleep he grabs all of his money, more clothing, a sketch book, his comics— a picture of him and ford on the stan’o’war— and some other things he thinks might be valuable or just handy. And he drives away.

Nobody notices Stanley’s disappearance the next day, not until night has fallen. Ford cheerfully excited with his new full ride scholarship, goes and tells his parents. Caryn is happy, tears of joy falling down her face as she hugs her intelligent baby boy, his father gives a small smile and a nod— he gives his approval. But the mood changes once he questions where Stanley is. No one has seen him in hours, actually his car has been gone since early morning. They wait awake all night, hoping for some sign, some clue!

Filbrick grunts as he walks up to the closet, his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, his lips pressed in a tight line. He sighs deeply.

Eventually a report is filed, but there is not much they can do, if Stanley ran away then he isn’t missing, and the police refuse to do anything about that.

Anyways thats like yk the beginning of how this whole thing happens but here are some other thoughts and ideas:

Stan:

Without Filbrick telling him he’s not allowed back into the family without a million dollars, Stan isn’t as driven by money as in canon. He doesn’t have a need for large amounts of money therefore he doesn’t have a need to do sketchy jobs just to satisfy his need to have his family back. In other words he doesn’t have as much trauma as in canon and is actually more able to settle down without being on the run or in survival mode. The first couple of months he just spends driving as far away from the East as possible making his way over to New Mexico where he settles down, first as a bar tender then eventually as a mechanic, he lives comfortably in a crummy apartment but hey he doesn’t really need much

Unfortunately he does get bored, even if it’s not with his brother he does crave adventure. And while fixing a this guys truck he overhears of a town called Gravity Falls, where weird creatures tend to reside in. So you guessed it, he picks up and drives from New Mexico over to Gravity Falls Oregon.

He gets a small but nicer apartment this time around and first he works as a mechanic. Immediately he starts to get a sense of the place and its weirdness and he loves it! (Ford would love it here-) .

Since the blind eye isn’t a thing people have two reactions to the weirdness of gravity falls: freak tf out or shrug and go on with their day. Stanley being Stanley gets the great idea to act sort of like a monster hunter/ putting small attractions up with the less violent creatures, not the mystery shack, but more like the mystery circus!

Eventually Stanley gets the name Monster-Lee for his ability to be able to fight off creatures so easily (mostly through bribery or fists)

Ford:

He still leaves for West Tech, but now he's fallen into extreme stress/anxiety and a bit of depression. Why did his brother leave? Why didn't he say anything? Is he okay? Why did he ever let their father get between them, he should've spent more time with him when he had the chance-

Unlike canon, Ford has no resentment/grudges to hold over Stanley, rather he holds that anger towards Filbrick especially when he found out that he had planned to kick Stanley out-- for being the reason Stanley left.

While Ford does still want to study anomalies, he also takes engineering classes, he wants to develop better technology and hopefully resources for run away teens/homeless teens.

While he doesn't meet Fiddleford as his roommate, he does meet him at a robotics convention where they instantly become friends. After college they develop a small company based around the idea of being able to find people, now expanding into different areas.

Ford is a lot more open with the fact the not only is he a twin, but he likes to talk about his younger twin brother who supported him and always stood up for him.

Part of the development with the technology involved finding people in forest dense areas, especially with a lot of caves (please tell me someones seen that one chart) Which then leads them to gravity falls as their first test area, small enough to test their tech, but still forest dense to get sufficient results.

and then these three bozos find each other lol. anyways thats all i got , i thought of this in the shower like 30 minutes ago and decided to procrastinate on my HW writing this lol. anyways

[justwonder113]

Drunk Chan confessing to you

Warnings: Cursing as always. Chan's Pov. Reader is gender neutral. Chan is whipped! Chan thinks reader is dating someone. Childhood friends to lovers. Misunderstanding with a happy ending. Chan is drunk but not that much, more like tipsy. word count-3.4k A/N- Sorry this took me ages to write but I hope you'll enjoy reading. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated.

My masterlist.

If you like my work you can buy me coffee❤️

Chan felt like he was about to lose his mind and weirdly enough it wasn’t because one of the boys did something to either piss him of or to just to be a general menace. No his distress was caused by a whole another thing or better say someone. How in the world was it possible for someone look this gorgeous, so ethereal and breathtaking on a regular fucking Friday?  

He knew he was whipped for you. He made peace with that simple yet not so simple fact years ago. He also knew that he found you absolutely beautiful. Whenever he tried to think of something beautiful your image always popped up before anything else. It was simple as that for him, like the fact that the sky was blue, the grass was green and you were definition of a word bewitching for him. 

Maybe it was a little bit of alcohol he had drunk earlier affecting him, maybe he just fell for you even harder right now (if it was even possible). But right now, as he watched you talk with the boys about god knows about what, he thought that you were the definition of the word beauty. He didn’t know if he wanted to stare at you for as long as possible and bask in your beauty and presence of if he should go to Hyunjin and ask him to teach him paint so that he could capture just how beautiful you looked. But knowing himself, even if it was possible to capture all of it on paper... Chan liked to think of himself as a selfless person, or at least he tried to be, but he was an honest man. If it was possible to capture how captivating you truly were, he would just keep it to himself, he would become the most selfish man in the world. And maybe he was. All he could think about right now was that your attention wasn’t on him, that you paid your mind to someone other than him. It didn’t matter that that “someone” was his friends, the people he considered his family. He wanted all your attention on him, he wanted you to look only at him. God he was losing his mind. When did he become so needy and desperate for your attention? He felt pathetic, how would you even look at him when he acted this way? He reminded himself something he did for years now. That you deserved way better than him, you deserved someone who would give you the world, someone who would cherish you the way you deserved. Even though he would do absolutely anything for you, even though he would make impossible possible for you, even though he would let the world burn for you, you deserved someone who would do even more for you and more importantly always be there for you. He wasn’t worthy of you not with the relationship he had with his work. God, it killed him whenever he had to cancel plans with you and couldn’t be there for you because he had to work. As much as he loved what he did for a living, the same love turned into hate because it kept him away from you. There were even times when he considered to just fuck it and quit, but what would he even do in life? There was literally nothing else he could see himself as. Without a job without a passion what worth did he have? What could he do?  

God, he felt pathetic. He was thinking about all this as he stood a chance with you in the first place. You always had looked at him and saw him as a friend. Maybe there was a moment there and there where it seemed that there could be something more. But your relationship although the years had been strictly platonic. He had given up on hoping for something more years ago. 

He had come with peace with the fact that he couldn’t be something more for you. Maybe it was for the good. You could live your life to the fullest. He was fine loving you from afar. 

God all he could think about was how cute you looked. Your hair was still messy, because you rushed here when you noticed that all of them were quite drunk when you called to check on them, and you were wearing that way too big hello kitty hoodie with the matching black pants Chan got you as a joke that you kept wearing because it was really comfortable. Your whole look today screamed that you only cared about being comfortable and that you were grumpy that you had to get up in the middle of the night to get your silly friends. Still in Chan’s eyes you looked like you hung the stars yourself. 

 God he was obsessed with you. There was no better way to describe the feeling really. Even now the moment your gaze shifted to him and you gave him that sweet smile... He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His body felt warm all over yet he felt his lungs were frozen in place. 

“How are you feeling Channie?” You asked him with that sweet voice of yours. In seconds his mind was swarmed with all the possible lyrics he could use to write yet another song dedicated Soley for you that he kept hidden in his laptop.  Well, hidden was a nice word. All of the boys knew of that file and Chan was more than few times relentlessly teased for his crush on you. They kept pestering that he should just confess, or at least show you all the songs he had written for you and let them do the job for him, but he just couldn’t. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He slipped before he could even stop himself. What if he made you feel uncomfortable? You two flirted from time to time, but lately he had this rising suspicion that you were seeing someone and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. All he knew was that he would rather die than make you uncomfortable with his silly little crush. 

Thankfully for him and his heart you chuckled and immediately his whole heart was filled with joy. “Well, I’m glad. I’m here to bring you home, because little birdie here told me that you had been asking for me all night.” You mused all sweetly. Chan’s head immediately snapped towards Minho, who grinned at him all triumphant. He would have to have a word with him later. 

“God I will kick his ass later. You didn’t have to come. I had no idea he told you to get here. You must have been tired.” Chan only stopped rambling when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. You looked at him with eyes shining brighter than all the stars combined. It was his words yes and he would stand by it. 

“Calm down Channie.”  Your voice was calm, soothing. If there was one thing he had to choose to listen to till the end of his life he would, without a thought, choose your voice. Your kind, beautiful, soothing voice. He loved whenever you showered him with affection and complemented him. Hell, love wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how he felt, he was on the cloud nine whenever you said even something sweet to him. But the thing about your voice and presence to him was that, even if you weren’t complimenting him or just being sweet. Even if you were just telling him about how your day went, he felt this serenity, this calmness. Whenever he was with you his mind always just shut down. It went silent. And he could actually enjoy living in a moment and enjoy his life to the fullest. Would there even be time when he would be able to convey in words just what you meant to him? Maybe then he would actually stop and be proud of himself as a lyricist. 

“Do you want me to be here?” Your teasing tone quickly bought him back to reality. 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!” Chan was quick to protest which made you chuckle. God there it was, that beautiful sound. Suddenly everything felt all right. 

“Whipped!” He heard Minho cough into his fist. He would really have to kick his ass later. 

Chan was about to ask you about how you were, how your day went, mundane stuff like that when he heard your phone ring.  “Sorry Channie one second.” You quickly checked your phone. The slight furrow of your brows was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. You quickly raised your finger to give you time and went a few steps away to talk on your phone. He couldn’t really decipher what you were saying to that person but your voice... You sounded do genuinely happy talking to that person.  

The ringing in his ears raised in volume when he caught you call that person “babe”. Did he fully lose you? Did you really start seeing someone? Was the distance between you so big that you didn’t even tell him you were seeing someone? Did he mess up so bad that you didn’t even feel comfortable confiding in him? 

Too caught up with the turmoil in his head he didn’t even notice for a moment a figure approach you. When he brought his gaze on you, you were talking with some man. Sweet smile adorning your face, your eyes shining brightly. Was it that someone? You weren’t talking on the phone anymore. The way you were talking to him you clearly knew him.  It also didn’t help him at all that the man you were talking to was objectively really handsome. There was no way he could compete with a person like him. God, he felt like a joke. There wouldn’t even be a competition. He should be able to face reality now. He had spent years helplessly yearning for you. He should know by now that he didn’t stand a chance with you. God, he felt like crying. 

The rest of the night was a blur. He didn’t even remember how he got into your car. Or the road you took. The last thing he remembered was how he saw you hug that man goodbye. Good thing that man wasn’t accompanying you that day and he returned to his friend group shortly after. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be introduced to your boyfriend. Not that he would ever be. 

It was funny how one moment you could be having time of your life and the next second it could be ruined by one single thing. Chan barely felt like talking, let alone smile or anything of that sort. And as it turned out his mood was contagious. The whole ride was quiet. Chan couldn’t even remember the time where all of them were in the same space and it was actually quiet. 

However, why you were silent and didn’t talk at all was a mystery to him. Did that man upset you? If that was the case, he would gladly murder someone. No one got to mess with you, not on his watch. 

“Channie?” Your voice brought him back to reality. He must have zoned out again. That two extra shots he drank as you talked with that man really messed with his head. As if he wasn’t already tipsy enough. “Are you okay?” You sounded worried. Was it this apparent he was sad? What was he even supposed to say? 

“I’m just tired.” He managed to mumble out after a second or two. 

“What do you think about sleeping over at my house?  We haven’t hung out in a while. I can not be deprived of my best friend for too long you know that.” You whined all cutely making his heart flutter uncontrollably. But he quickly got reminded of the fact that you were not his. And the small smile that wanted to break through got quickly replaced by a deeper frown. 

“I don’t think we should.” It brought him physical pain to utter these words to you. 

Now it was your time to frown. “Why is that?” God, you sounded so sad. It killed something inside him knowing he was the one causing you pain. You quickly backed down. “I mean if you don’t feel like it it’s totally fine. We’re almost at your house too. We’ll be there in few minutes.” You laughed awkwardly. 

God he hated this. Since when did things get weird between you? When did things change? Would things get even weirder and would the distance between you two grow as your relationship with your new boyfriend progressed? 

“Wouldn’t your boyfriend mind?” He hated how he couldn’t ask one question without mumbling like a sad little kid. 

Without even saying a word you quickly pulled over and turned on hazard lights. 

“Channie what the actual fuck?” You tried to sound calm but your voice betrayed you. 

“What? What did I do wrong?” This was weird, he was the one (okay unfairly, yes, but) upset with you, how were you the one scolding him? What did he even do? He didn’t remember upsetting you. Did he forget something? Did he do something and then forget? 

“What did you do wrong? Dude what is up with that question?” You sounded so appalled like he asked the most ridiculous question ever. “What boyfriend?” 

“You broke up?” When did you even manage to do that? Weren’t you all lovey-dovey with someone minutes ago? Did you break up with him via text? No, you wouldn’t do that right? Also why would you break up with him? The dude seemed perfect. 

“There was no one to begin with?” You stared him for a second, you seemed unsure of something. “Is this why you were sulky all evening? You think I’m dating someone?” 

Did he misread the whole situation? He didn’t right? He didn’t just make an absolute fool out of himself right? 

God he did. He wanted to dig a hole to crawl into and never get out. He really felt like crying now. 

“I’m not dating anyone.” You sighed out after few seconds of numbing silence. “God Channie what even made you think that?” 

Chan hadn’t even noticed he started fidgeting with his fingers. He only stopped when you placed your hand on top of his, only then he was able to feel the sting or the small self inflicted  wound. 

Chan took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “You had been smiling at your phone and texting a lot too. You’re always busy too. And when you were on your phone you called someone babe. And the man at the bar too!” Really, how could he not think you were dating someone. 

“I’ve been texting my friends that’s all. We’re planning a birthday party and I guess I’ve been running around a lot for it. Now listen carefully before I smack your beautiful idiot head! I call my friend babe, you have seen me do it millions of times, you even joked about how you could get jealous about it!” You quickly ranted to him, elevating Chan’s worries bit by bit, word by word. 

“What about the Guy at the bar?” Chan didn’t back down. He had to know. He had to know the truth. 

“Why does it matter if I have a boyfriend?” You looked at him with determined eyes. 

“What kind of question is that?”  

“The kind I want answer to. What does it change if I have a boyfriend?” 

Chan felt his face get warmer, how was he supposed to answer that question? 

“Come on, you know it changes everything!” No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, the desperation in his voice clearly showed. 

“What Chan? What does it change?” You raised your voice. Why were you prying like that? 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“For fuck’s sake how will it not Change everything? How can everything stay the same when I have been in love with since I remember? How can I just watch you go to another man just like this? You��re everything I have ever wanted and loved. You’re my everything! How can you not see that? Every song I have written is about you, every thought I have is about you, my heart simply beats just for you! How will it not change anything? It will kill me to see you with another man. I would do anything in this world for you but not let you go. I could never let you go!” 

God, he said it. He really said it. He finally admitted just what he felt for you. Well yelled would be more accurate word to describe it. But yeah... He finally admitted his feelings. It was like weight got lifted off his chest but as the seconds passed in absolute deafening silence, maybe it was better to keep it in. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He was such an idiot. He should have kept it to himself. Why didn’t you say anything? Were you that disgusted? Would you stop being friends with him now? Did he just lose you? 

He couldn’t even fully grasp what happened. One second he heard a clink of a seatbelt opening and next second your lips were on him. The lips he had dreamed of tasting for years were now kissing him. Did he just die and wake up in heaven? 

Your lips were soft as silk and so warm and you kissed him so tenderly almost hesitantly. As if a dam broke inside of him, he quickly opened his seatbelt and brought himself closer to you. There was no way he could hold himself back now that he got to know how you taste. Biting down on your lip gently he could feel your lips part. He immediately deepened the kiss. God he loved it, how you tasted, how you clung onto him, how soft and pillowy your lips were. His whole mind was consumed by you, he was overwhelmed in the best way, all he could feel was your lips caressing each other, your warmth surrounding him, your cold fingers that held his face gently, your sweet scent that was making him go numb. God he could feel how he was slowly getting more and more addicted to you. 

When you leaned back for air he couldn’t help but as he tried to chase your lips but you stopped him giggling. God did you have any idea what you did to him? He was at your feet at your mercy, did you even realize that? 

“Since I have to spell everything out for you today you beautiful dummy, I have been in love with you for years! I just didn’t think you felt the same way. Okay, there were times I did, but like you always backed down! And today seeing how sulky you got over me talking with a coworker who was with his boyfriend by the way, I thought that maybe this was the day I could finally get to the truth. Thankfully You return my feelings because if you didn’t I don’t think I would be able to get over you.” Chan physically couldn’t  let you finish talking a he leaned in and captured your lips in another searing kiss. As much he loved your voice and listening to you talk he had just realized that he loved kissing you more. Also to think that you thought that there was a possibility that he didn’t love you... He just had to stop you. 

“Of course I love you. God I adore you! You’re definition of perfection, live representation of love and beauty for me. I don’t think there’s even a universe where I don’t love you!” 

Hearing you giggle made his heart leap in joy. “God you’re such a sap Channie.” Gently bringing him closer to you by his shoulders you gently pecked him. Chan couldn’t help but mirror your grin as he wrapped his arms around you, basking in your presence, enjoying living this moment with you. 

“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but tease back before leaning in to quickly peck your nose which made your smile widen. 

“We’re a perfect match then.” You mused, clearly satisfied. 

“Yeah, we really are.” Chan smiled to himself and hugged you closer feeling finally at peace. Finally feeling whole. 

Reblogs and feedback are gretly appreciated^^

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Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @notastraykid @annie-boleyn

[notlongtolove]

petals and frost

hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. an agent liaison from the nyc office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. a brief attachment, hotch had said. too bad spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst w no happy ending (sowie)

content: avoidant bau reader, non descriptive mentions of sex

word count: 2.8k words

note: written for @mggslover 1k event, congrats once again my love!!! yall can blame @esote-rika for that sadistic ending, i idea dumped that on her and said i didnt know if it wld be too angsty and she begged me to use it so... fuck yalls valentines ig (anyways spencer reid, just know that i, user notlongtolove, would neverrrr do that to you)

a line: You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again.

And some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me ‘baby’ The perfect genius of our hands and mouths. - Hozier, First Time

Hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. An agent liaison from the NYC office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. You were easy to like, easy to talk to, definitely easy on the eyes. A brief attachment, Hotch had said. The phrase seemed almost oxymoronic—Spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

As it turns out, there are a lot of other things Spencer forgets around you. When you twist your hair into a haphazard ponytail mid briefing, he forgets the third personality trait of a classified sociopath. You don’t. Interpersonal offensiveness, Reid. That’s criminology 101. Emily makes a comment under her breath about his IQ being slashed in half. If you do hear her, you pretend not to. 

When you slide a beer across the table after your first case, he forgets that he doesn’t drink, masking a grimace as he takes a sip. You’re trying. He doesn’t want you to feel bad. By the time he’s on his second, his face is warm. Too fast, he tells himself. From the alcohol, definitely not from the way your thigh is pressed against his in the booth.

Later, when you’ve got him pinned against the wall under a dim lamppost kissing him breathless, he tries to forget the bureau’s policy on interoffice relationships. It’s after hours. You’re not really part of the team. You’re here contractually. A technicality. He can make an exception. 

You run your hands through his hair tugging faintly and he decides he will make an exception. 

The only thing Spencer doesn’t forget that night is the route from O’Keefe’s to his apartment though it’s a blur all the way from the cab to his apartment to his bed. He pulls you through his front door, fingers curled tight around your wrist. A tangle of limbs and lips pressed against lips feverishly, desperately—He’s certain he’s got that memorised. 

“I’m not…” you start, voice faltering between kisses, searching for the right words that just aren’t coming when you’re straddling him and he’s looking at you the way that he is, “not looking for anything… serious.”

Alarm bells go off in his head blaring amidst the euphoric haze he’s in. It’s a warning he registers but doesn’t heed. Caution. Danger ahead. He tells himself that if he squints hard enough, that if he really really tries—It’s a challenge. And Spencer Reid has never backed down from a challenge.

So he bites. Takes the bait. Plays along.

“What makes you think I am?”

You smirk like you don’t believe him but your fingers move to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt anyways. He tries to laugh when you joke about how you should definitely apply for a permanent spot on the team now, but it sticks in his throat. He distracts himself by closing his eyes.

“Spencer,” you say breathlessly, “you sure about this, baby?” 

His eyes snap open so fast it startles you, leaving you flustered, halfway to pulling back before his grip tightens at your waist, keeping you right where you are. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“W-what’d you just say?”

You blink back at him. “I asked if you’re sure about—”

“No, the—the other part. The last part.”

A pause. Then, deliberately, “Baby?”

Oh fuck. 

“Y-yeah. That.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for impact. “Say it again. Please.”

You smirk, the corner of your mouth twitching like you’re holding back a laugh as you lean down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down his bare chest, whispering against his skin, “whatever you want baby.�� Spencer has to force his eyes shut again.

You mark him up in the shades of purple wildflowers. Spencer shivers at the sight of them. Theres not much talking when skin finally meets skin. Spencer’s starved, insatiable, burning hot and ice cold all at once. This okay, baby? Yes, yes, god, yes. Can I? Yes, please, please do. Sweat pools around your bodies and Spencer tries to forget how much he wants to remember this moment. The purple wildflowers bloom across his skin—deadnettle, henbit, african violets. 

Oh, he thinks, this one’s gonna hurt, isn’t it? 

When Spencer wakes the next morning, he’s only mildly afraid to open his eyes.

He’s never done this before—doesn’t know what to expect. But he knows enough to predict the possibilities. Regret. Yours, not his. Shame, embarrassment, maybe even anger. You’ll be gone. Nothing left behind but the imprint of your body on his sheets, marks of purple left in your wake. 

Spencer Reid does not like not knowing. 

So he braces himself, steels his nerves, and opens his eyes—only to be met with something far worse.

You. 

Still here.

Curled up beside him, peaceful, angel deep in sleep, gut wrenchingly soft. In sleep, you’re nothing like how you are on the field. Out there, you’re a good shot, a great one, you think quick on your feet, you’re confident, never stuttering or stumbling like he does. You’re heaven on earth, right in his bed—He’s utterly ruined for it. He doesn’t know what possesses him to move closer, to let newfound confidence guide his arm around your waist. But he does. You stir, just barely, waking to the feeling of his lips pressed into your hair.

The morning melts into something else entirely. An abandoned attempt at breakfast in bed, clothes forgotten in a scattered trail from the kitchen counter to the couch. Unsanitary, he’d think, if he weren’t already too far gone to care. The boy’s insatiable once again, chasing a thirst only you seem to have awakened in him. It’s fiery and passionate as drinks you in, icy cold hisses when you nip at his neck. But you’re neither summer nor winter. You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again. The way your nails claw at his back, marks of sinful desire turning into ivy that grows to cover you both. It’s entirely all encompassing.

God, you have him in the palm of your hand and you don’t even know it. 

Dancing around the team is its own kind of purgatory. Turtlenecks in sweltering Texas heat which you make up for with a fleeting kiss to his cheek in the break room when everyone else has their back turned. Spencer tells himself to keep his feelings in check, to keep his adoration at bay. But it’s hard to when you exist so seamlessly within the liminal spaces of the team. Always in Hotch’s good books. Cracking jokes just dirty enough to make Morgan laugh and Rossi raise a brow. Even JJ loves you.

Silently, Spencer thanks the BAU’s abysmal budget for the run-down motel they’ve stuck you in. It makes it that much easier to convince you to stay at his place—only for a night or two, maybe three, maybe four, eventually a Baby, Hotch is gonna call us in soon anyway, and the freeway near yours is a nightmare in the mornings. You might as well stay one more night. He seals with a look, a soft plea, and you cave every time.

5 months and a week is what you’ve built together. Your days are disgustingly domestic and Spencer just can’t seem to get enough. It’s not like the two of you go out much. Long days (and longer nights) in the field leave you both drained, running on fumes. Just enough energy left to call in takeout accompanied with something strong for you, water for him. Just enough left to trade lazy kisses between bites and fall into bed tangled together. This is it, isn’t it?

Waking to rushed mornings, shared showers, half-hearted protests when you insist on shampooing his hair for him. Bare feet on hardwood floors and the bumping of hips in the kitchen as he makes coffee for two. Rendezvous on a crappy motel mattress that creaks beneath the weight of both of you when you run out of clothes for the week. Baby, we shouldn’t really—swallowed by the press of lips.

Your laughter comes to him in little bursts of light. You’re his absolute heart in human form. 

The purple wildflowers haven’t made an appearance in awhile but spring blooms in his chest all the same. When you inevitably drift off to the sound of his voice reading Spencer makes a mental note to bring The Iliad when he comes to visit. You’ll probably be done with Dante’s inferno by then. The weak fistful you have of his shirt tightens ever so slightly in your sleep and he knows what you want. He turns to shut off the light and fits himself against you, tucking you closer to his chest. Spencer tries to distract himself from the fact that you’re set to leave in a month. He’d drink dry the River Lethe to forget it if he could. Instead, in the quiet, he allows himself to think about what the weather will be when he gets the chance to visit you. 

He’s always wanted to go to New York. He’s never been the best flyer and he doesn’t know how he’ll fare on a flight without the comfort of his team and the jet’s coffeemachine. It’ll have to make do, he thinks. It’s only a little over an hour’s flight. He tells himself it’s basically nothing. He can handle it. Besides, he can always make the eight hour drive, or the six hour train. The options are endless, much like his devotion to you—He’ll walk to you if he has to. 

“Do you think you’ll have time for a trip when I come visit?” Spencer asks one night, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. You’re too busy fumbling with the buttons of his pants to catch the lovelorn grin tugging at his lips. “I know there’s probably a lot to see in New York, but I’ve been saving my days off. And if I catch Hotch on a good day, I think I could carve out a few more.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know,” you murmur, distractedly, “I usually don’t get much time off when I’m back. Let me know if you are planning to come, though—I’d love to show you around for a day or two.”

The fuck? 

Show him around? A day or two?

It’s frosty. Ice cold. A slow caress of his cheek at arms length. Cruel in the way that kindness can be. He tenses beneath you, shifting upright so suddenly that you blink up at him, confused.

“Everything okay, baby?”

The frown on his face indicates he’s anything but okay. “Yeah,” Spencer lies. “I just… I just thought—I mean, you knew I was planning to come visit, right?”

You hesitate. “Spence, we didn’t really discuss that, I—”

“I know we didn’t.” He tries to keep his frustration subtle, but it slips through when he runs a hand through his hair sharply. “But this? Us? How could I not?”

You try again, gentler this time. “Oh, baby, you don’t have to. I know you’re really busy, and—”

“I want to.”

The realisation settles slowly into your features. And then, quietly—naively—he lets himself ask, “Don’t you want me to?” 

Silence.

Oh. 

Somewhere deep inside him the ivy shrivels and the purple wildflowers wither. It appears that spring has come to a close. 

“Spencer,” you say gravely, “I thought we talked about this—” He doesn’t hear the rest. It all dissolves into static, white noise humming in his skull. He hates that tone on you—the way it sounds so careful, so deliberate. Its how you talk to Hotch, to unsubs, to people that need to be managed. Never how you talk to him. Not how you talk to him when you share sly jokes and interlock pinkies at the back of the van, thighs touching when you share a blanket in the jet. Not how you talk when you whisper baby, stop, someones gonna see us when he insists on a chaste kiss to your nose and another to your forehead—Because how could he ever stop at one?

He blinks back into focus when you reach for his hand, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

He should brace for the inevitable. He knows what’s coming, but he’s too far gone for it to matter, too far off the deep end for it to hurt now. What’s a stab to the heart when you make up for it with cotton-soft kisses and a feather light touch? I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t be sad. I wish I could stay too. Don’t be mad, okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me. As if he ever could be. Not when you’re kissing him the way that you are. Still, Spencer tries to tell himself that the wildflowers that bloom into rosettes beneath your touch are fragile things. He tries to carve it into his bones to remind himself that they won’t survive the winter of your absence.

It starts with the smallest frost, like soft snowflakes clinging to his lashes, signs he might have missed if he wasn’t already looking out for them. “Baby, you shouldn’t have,” you say when he comes home with a restock of your makeup remover. Spencer only shrugs, wordless. He knows you mean it. Not out of politeness, not out of gratitude, but because there won’t be any use for it soon.

Winter calls for shorter days, for less sunlight. It brings more cases, more exhaustion, more time spent apart. Nights where Spencer wakes up to an empty bed because you’d insisted on packing your suitcase, and insisted on doing it alone. As it turns out, the cold really does bite. 

It all couldn’t happen fast enough.

Nobody bats an eye when Spencer insists on tagging along to drop you off at the airport. It’s practical, really—an extra set of hands. Even Morgan doesn’t say a word, doesn’t call him lover boy with that knowing smirk. Maybe he would’ve if Spencer didn’t already look like he was on the brink of death. Hotch keeps his goodbye brief, a quiet nod, a quick squeeze of your shoulder after he helps unload your suitcase from the van. He mumbles something about keeping in touch, about how the door’s always open. 

Spencer is the one who walks you to your terminal. You walk briskly ahead of him, fingers curled loosely around the handle of your suitcase. You’d brushed off his offer to help—All the better because he has to shove his hands into the pockets of his coat just to keep them steady. He tries to count the steps between the check-in counter and security. All in all, both literally and ironically, too little too late. 

This is finality, signed, sealed, delivered. The clock has run out. Spencer Reid is out of time. And, for once, Spencer Reid is out of words. 

So, it’s you who takes his hand, pulling him closer. Drop me a call if you ever come visit okay? I will, I will. You’ll love it there. Take care. Call me whenever. This was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so good. Too good. It’s you who tilts his chin and kisses him with such force he wants call it love. He would call it love. If you asked, he’d rip the wildflowers from his ribs and place them at your feet as proof disguised as an offering. You’re kissing like you’re trying to make him forget—where you both are, where you’re going, where he’s staying. You pull away, breathless, fingertips ghosting along his jaw when the intercom blares above you. He lets the last shreds of sunlight slip from his grasp when you walk through the gate. Spencer doesn’t stay to see if you turn back or not. He’s felt like an afterthought enough. 

The van is quiet when he climbs in.

Spencer ignores Hotch’s glances, keeps his head down, busies himself with the air conditioning. Granted, he rarely sits shotgun, but still, today, it feels colder than usual.

“She’s a great agent.”

“She is. She… worked great in the team.” Spencer’s fingers tighten around the vent. He nods, swallows around the lump in his throat. “You should’ve offered her a spot.”

Hotch’s eyes stay set on the road. “I did. JJ and I drafted a two-year contract for her.”

Spencer scoffs bitterly, “yeah? I’m sure Strauss took that well.” 

“Strauss had no issue with it.” 

That makes Spencer pause. His head turns, brows pulling together. “Then?”

A beat of silence before Hotch exhales, “she rejected it.”

The world stops. His stomach drops first, then his chest. Fragile stems and violet petals turn brittle, cracking as the frost works its way through him. Tiny pieces of petals and frost splinter his being. A brief attachment, no doubt. He should’ve known better. He should’ve noticed the subtlest change in the winds, distractions cloaked in tender touches as wandering hands made their way beneath clothes, apologies in a baby, I wish I could stay too. He really should’ve remembered to forget you. 

He feels the wildflowers inside him freeze over and with the gentlest shift of breath—They shatter.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: tkdb boys that would remember the names of your stuffed animals

COMMENT: my THIRD recycled twst prompt YIPPEE this is not the last one but its the last bite sized one. falls flat on my face.

tagging @amaribelt for luca!!

Tohma prides himself in remembering things, honestly. He’s tired and worn out by the end of the day, having been stretched so thin by his own captain that the second his monocle is off he’s hitting the sheets. You have taken the liberty of giving him quite the collection of furry friends, birds and fish and land animals alike, and he finds himself smiling at the end of every day regardless of whether you’re there or not. Because the plushies you have strewn across his bed are a part of you, and he is flattered to be entrusted with (some of) them.

Luca is a sweetheart, from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes. He commits each stuffed animal of yours to memory, reciting their names no matter how strange they may be. He gives them each a headpat and looks down upon them so affectionately it makes your heart sing. Does he understand why this makes you so happy? No, not particularly—but he’d sooner die than stop.

Sho really doesn’t see what the big deal is. Your stuffed animals are a part of you, and you obviously treasure them, so why should he be embarrassed or hold himself back from learning everything he can about them? Sho remembers the silly stories of how you got each one, blushing softly when you call him cute, turning away when you tease him. Of course he remembers! You’re important to him, after all.

Ren will sooner die than admit he takes your stuffed animal’s names to heart. He slips up one day and calls one of them by name, much to your delight and his chagrin. He pulls away from your questions, blushing bright red at your beaming smile, and says you’re acting way too much like that clown and it’s freaking him out. He doesn’t mean it. He loves you. That’s why he remembers everything he can about you.

Ritsu is so, so proud of it. He eats praise out of the palm of your hand, preening and looking oh so boastful even if he likes to act like he doesn’t. The stuffed animal on your keychain? He has a voice recording of you telling him the story of how you got it. The stuffed animal you hug every night? He knows the story of that one too—here, let him pull up the recording! (Not that he needs them, mind you, he does have them all memorized. He just wants to take every opportunity to listen to your voice.)

Haku loves you. Anything important to you is important to him, and that includes your inanimate furry friends. He greets them as he comes through the door, patting their heads one by one. If you pout and yank his hand over to you for pets, he’ll pet you too, reassuring you that you’re his favorite thing to hold during the night. Flirt!

Jiro doesn’t even really realize he has them memorized. It happens during one of your exams, when he tells you to please move Banana Bread off of your chair because that’s where you must sit for him to get a proper reading on your vitals. You can point it out, but he’ll simply say it’s not that hard to remember it. He genuinely does not understand the importance, but if it makes you happy he will keep doing it.

[babyblankyerror]

Thinking about Hitman Stan scenarios-

Stanford's college is on a trip but unfortunately it's not a good place as its not one of the best colleges. Some bad guys take the group hostage (either to try get money from police or sell organs- idk) and the police keeps getting anonymous tips from a 'witness'.

Unfortunately for said 'witness', it's a small town so the police first don't believe him (until stanle- I mean- the witness starts paying others to make the calls and tell them about the hostages) and then they simply can't do anything as it's a small town so they aren't equipped for it- they say they have to wait for reinforcements and it would take a half the day. Stanley knows they'd be gone by then.

So why not just??? Do it himself???? He tells the police that he will make an opening for them, along with a few many threats if they don't turn up before he goes ahead and uses his Hitman skills to save a group of nerds and hippies instead.

Now, Stanley is a well known Hitman (known under another name) so he's like a pro at what he dies but his cool entrance just so happens to be crawling through a window and face planting the floor right in front of all those students (and his brother. And his brother's cute friend).

No one takes him seriously after that, especially his twin who (as expected) isn't happy to see him- Stanford is worried his dumb brother is going to get killed trying to play hero.

Stanley deals with the situation well, he manages to leave the room and ignores the cries for help in order to clear the outside of potential threats. When he's back he's a bit dirty with blood and they all look in horror at him but it's A-Ok! Because Ford is safe!

Of course, when more men rush in it's harder- Not like Stanley can just shoot them in front of them. That'd be traumatising! So, with the skills of someone who's been doing this for a lifetime and is hot while doing it, Stan casually tries to stop the others as less gruesomely as possible- he'll dislocate a few bones, break a few necks, knock a few guys out but tries to not let the poor innocent students see anything traumatising like blood (Bro does not know that he is traumatising them all the same).

By the time he's done the police comes, he drops a bit of cash in Stanford's hand "for the school trip c:" and crawls out the window.

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Tim didn't know what had made him decide to give Damian another chance. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a collection of small moments instead of one big life-changing one. The way Damian was gentle with the animals at the farm, taking care of them in any way they needed without waiting to be asked or caring about dirtying his clothes. It was about the secret smiles Damian got when he thought no one was watching. How he helped the Kents around the house with excitement, delighted to learn new skills instead of annoyed at being put to work. He saw his need to be of use even when no one required it. He was so small. He had seen him struggle to reach things all around the kitchen while trying to help, too shy to ask for a stool, too stubborn to give up.

He was just a kid. A kid with assassin training and a lifetime of trauma but a kid nonetheless. Looking back to his early days at the manor, he could see the insecurity in his actions against Tim. The way he had acted out of fear instead of real aggression. Bruce hadn't helped. Too busy with Jason and the league and Batman to raise a child, or the last 4 for that matter. Damian had received no reassurances of his place in the family. No way to know if he would be allowed to stay without carving a place for himself. Tim understood it better now that he had seen the inner workings of the league. The realization had come gradually but it had stayed on the back of his mind, making him feel like he was missing something. It had gotten him to pay more attention to the kid.

That was how he had finally seen what was bothering him. It was in the small gestures. The minute flinches he displayed every time he was shown affection, the way he seemed to lean towards any kind of friendly touch for the first few seconds only to step away from it as soon as he realized what he was doing. Tim could see his walls were up almost all the time, even while knowing he was in a safe space. At first he had thought it was because of him. Eventually he realized it was another part of his training. That's when he realized Damian still felt like every single moment was a test of some kind. The uncertainty around his undefined position in the family still preventing him from relaxing, even now that he had Robin.

The kid was desperate for affection and clearly touch starved but couldn't let himself lower his guard enough to get what he needed. Hugs didn't help either. It opened him to too many attacks and he could not relax while knowing he was vulnerable in more ways than one. He could see the kid's anxiety skyrocket whenever the Kents initiated one. He hoped it was different with Dick, the two of them had formed a deep connection. Either way, it wasn't enough.

It got worse when the Waynes had their falling out. Tim knew the hero community had decided to shield him but it didn't stop him from keeping informed. He was well aware of the moment things blew up on their face after they realized Bruce's words were just that. Hollow and not backed by Bruce's beliefs. His love was very much conditional and his affection given sparsely.

It was something that wouldn't change unless Bruce put some serious effort into maturing his emotional intelligence and realigning his priorities. Tim didn't see it happening any time soon. He had finally accepted there was not much he could do about it. Not really. He had been trying for years at the expense of his health and sanity and the best he had accomplished was giving him a superficially happy family with such a fragile foundation that it had taken just one small blow to tear the illusion apart. He couldn't fix someone that didn't think there was anything wrong with his current way of life. Leaving was one of the hardest things he had done but he didn't regret it.

That said, he still felt partially responsible. He knew Bruce's mess was his own and Tim shouldn't have to be there to clean it. Dick and Jason were all grown up and perfectly capable of making their own choices. Cass, Steph, Barbara and Duke had all moved on and found communities where they fit in with people they cared about out of the family. They were thriving. Damian, however, was still a child. He didn't have as many options or enough experience in interpersonal relationships to know anything was wrong to begin with or how to go about changing it. Tim couldn't let his little brother suffer without at least trying to help. He had decided to intervene.

It had taken him a few days to determine the best approach. He wanted Damian to know he had options and to show him how healthy relationships worked. He wanted him to be able to relax and let down his walls when he was around people he trusted, even if Tim was not included in that list. He did not want to interact with the rest of the Waynes. With that in mind, he had settled on a plan and gotten to work.

He had started small. He had talked to the Kents. At first it was just Martha and Jonathan present. He had explained the situation and his theories on what would help Damian. He had told them to find a balance to provide affection to Damian through touch without making him feel vulnerable or exposed to an attack. He had then asked Jon, with Ma and Pa's blessing, to start inviting Damian to the farm more often and for shorter trips. He had then started working on his own relationship with Damian.

He approached it slowly, being nearby without being perceived as a threat. Sitting close enough to count as company but not to touch if either of them extended their arms. Working on his homework or his projects without putting on headphones or making himself unapproachable. Keeping his body language open and inviting. Letting Damian be the one to decide if he wanted to interact and do so on his terms. Eventually, the kid took him up on it. It started with small gestures, Damian sitting closer and working on his drawings while Tim kept doing homework. Bringing him snacks or drinks if he got up to get his own.

After a while, they started talking as well. Damian was hesitant at first. Tim had seen him try and talk and had decided it counted as the first move and asked about his pets. It was easier from then. They talked about the farm, the Kents, Tim's independent projects, his major, Damian's drawings, his upcoming events. Damian had told him Bruce demanded his attendance at a gala later that week and Tim had given him tips and tricks to survive Gotham's elite. They still tiptoed around the topic of their family. Damian didn't talk about them, even if he mentioned their name every once in a while. Tim didn't push.

Eventually, Damian had gathered the courage to apologize about his early interactions with Tim. Tim had accepted the apology and taken it as an invitation to start a bigger conversation about healthy relationships and family dynamics. Damian looked thoughtful and sad. Tim had taken it a step further and made him promise to come to him if he ever felt unsafe in his current situation. Damian had looked perplexed and ready to snap his walls back up. Tim had given him enough examples and details to show that he was being earnest and had managed to extract the promise.

Now, Damian was at his door with too many bags to only be visiting but too little to contain everything he owned. Tim couldn't say he didn't see it coming. He had still hoped to be wrong.

The next few months went by quickly. They settled into a routine and Tim made sure to establish clear expectations and well defined boundaries around their arrangement. He started looking for houses, taking Damian to see the more promising ones. He knew his little brother would want to have his animals back with him and they needed more space than the apartment could provide. He bought enough psychology books to fill up a small library. He showed most to Damian. Some he kept to himself. He talked to Ma constantly, trying to make sure he was giving Damian everything he needed to thrive and grow knowing that he was loved. That he mattered. It was nerve wracking. It was worth it when Damian led him to his room, proudly showing his decorations and waiting for Tim's approval. The trust in his eyes was the best compliment Tim had gotten in a long time.

As they got used to living together and relying on each other, Tim kept adding new things to their routine that he thought would benefit Damian. He bought him materials for his art, clothes meant for comfort more than usefulness, things for his pets. He offered to teach him photography, Damian agreed and offered to teach him different drawing techniques. He started introducing Damian to new people, partly to ensure he had more people in his corner if Tim wasn't available but also to expand his bubble of trust and work on de-isolating him after all the years he had spent mostly alone in the manor. He started with people Damian already knew and trusted. Cass, then Steph and Duke, then Kon and Bart, then J'onn, Diana, and Clark, then Zatanna, then some of his university friends, and so on.

He took note of who Damian seemed to click with and arranged more outings with them. He wasn't expecting Damian to connect with everyone but he wanted to give him the option to do so and enough people for Damian to interact without any expectations outside of getting to know them for a bit. Only a select few were allowed inside their house. Tim's priority was for it to be Damian's safe space and he wasn't going to jeopardize that for anything. Only people that had earned Damian's full trust got to visit them in their sanctuary. Everyone else met them outside. It was a good system.

He also enrolled Damian into school, silently transferring legal guardianship of the boy to himself after he had gotten his permission to do so. He didn't think the bats had noticed yet. Bruce was still trying to get to Tim in any way possible (Tim saw his repeated attempts on his security systems and kept an eye on the times he tried to get people to give away his information). Dick had gone back to Bludhaven after the latest screaming match and wasn't aware there was anything out of the ordinary happening. Alfred had contacted Ma Kent to inquire about Damian's safety (his words, not Tim's) then had continued with his duties as Bruce's butler without doing anything else. He cared in his own way, just not enough to take a stand against his ward.

Life kept going. Damian's 13th birthday came and went, they spent it with the Kents and visiting Damian's animals. They moved to a bigger house and Tim started looking at blueprints to build something to house Damian's pets closer to the boy. As they moved in, they decided to turn the living room into a shared study for them both. On one side Damian's painting materials and all his drawings, on the other a sturdy table with comfy seats and enough space for Tim to work on his latest project. They included a couch and a few other places to sit and spend time together. They turned a smaller room into a game room with a big TV, board games and different consoles. They turned the rest of the rooms that weren't their own into guest rooms for the Kents and the few others allowed to visit. Slowly they started filling the walls with their own decorations. Damian's drawings of Titus and Alfred, Tim's pictures of the city and Damian's pets, a few of the ones they had taken together on their excursions. Damian lamented leaving all his old art projects behind but when Tim offered to get them he decided to just start new ones.

Damian's first big drawing in the new house had been a surprise to Tim. He had insisted on covering it whenever he wasn't working on it, making Tim promise not to take a peek and being careful not to show it to him whenever he added to it. Tim was curious but he wanted to respect his little brother's privacy and let him do things on his own terms. It took almost a month to complete. Damian had finished it while Tim was out of the house. By the time he had come back, Damian had been waiting impatiently at the door and had led him to their study as soon as he was within reach. Once they were there, Damian had started fidgeting before hesitantly turning his finished painting so that Tim could finally see it.

Tim felt his heart fill with warmth. It was a painting of him and Damian standing at the Kent's farm. It was breathtaking. Damian had managed to capture the welcoming essence of the Kent's while keeping the focus on him and Tim and their closeness. It felt more like a candid picture of them than a portrait. Full of life and love. Tim felt a few tears escape his eyes as he pulled Damian close and hugged him. Later that day, he got it framed in a design both him and Damian approved of and hung it up in the center of their living room. Even as Damian's collection grew and the walls started filling with art from both of them depicting their adventures, it remained his favorite.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[rubyvhs]

show me love [ dean w. ]

SUMMARY . you and dean’s friendship (of both platonic and sexual nature) falls apart when his father goes missing TAGS . 0.7k words, cliffhanger, all texting, heavy angst LAILA’S NOTES . y’all I’d apologize but this is the first thing i’ve written in years so if anything we should be happy.

February 2003

Dean: Hey, sweetheart.

Still in Georgia?

You: Yeah, why? Are you thinking of passing by?

Dean: Something like that. 

I’ll be there in two days, maybe. 

You: That sounds great, D. Text me when you’re here.

+

August 2003

Dean: Look outside. 

You: You’re a real piece of work, you know that? 

Rocks at my windows was sexy a century ago.

Dean: Still worked though, didn’t it?

You: Yeah, asshole, I’m awake at three in the morning.

Dean: Does that mean you’re not gonna open the door?

You: Fuck you. I’m getting dressed.

Dean: No point, gonna take it all off anyway.

+

You: You left suddenly, didn’t know I was a one night stand, asshole.

Dean: Sorry, sweetheart, Sam called and I didn’t wanna wake you up. We can grab something to eat tonight, how’s that?

You: Is that a promise you actually plan on keeping?

Dean: Swear on my life.

You: I’ve seen it, ain't much to swear by.

Dean: Ouch.

You: Miss you, pick me up at seven.

Dean: See ya then, baby.

+

June 2005

Dean: Hey

You: Hi, D. Been a while.

Dean: Yeah, I’m sorry

You: It’s okay, I never expect much from us anyway. What’s up?

Dean: Do you think I’m a bad person?

You: No. Why would you say that?

Dean: I’m gonna ask Sam to come back, I can’t find dad.

You: Why didn’t you tell me? And it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I mean, I would advise against it, Sam deserves a good life and you know that, but the fact that you’re asking before doing it says everything I need to know.

Dean: What does it say?

You: That you have a pure heart, D. Don’t ever doubt it, okay? 

But also incase you were actually thinking of it, please don’t go get Sam. He’s out, he’s finally out of the life, Dean.

I text him every week and he’s happy and in love, don’t do it.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: Answer the phone.

Dean answer me.

Stop ignoring my calls

You suck

You: You’re still not a bad person.

+

August 2005

You: I will never forgive you.

Ever.

Dean: I didn’t know you’d be here.

You: Fuck you. You disappeared on me for months and stop answering my calls you fucking asshole and then I try talking to you and you walk away in front of everyone.

Do you understand how fucking humiliating that was for me? My sister’s asking if I’m okay, that’s how bad it is.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: You’ve never once meant that, Dean. 

Not fucking once.

You’re a dick.

And one day, you’re the one who’s gonna regret it, not me.

+

September 2005

Dean: Hunted a Djinn today.

Wanna know what my perfect life looked like? 

You: Oh now you wanna talk?

Real nice of you.

Dean: You know what it was

You: And yet I don’t care

Don’t text me again

Dean: You would’ve blocked me if you meant it.

It was you, sweetheart.

You: Good night, Dean. 

Dean: Night.

+

Sam: Hey, darling.

You: Sam!!!!!!!

I’ve missed you endlessly 

Literally haven’t seen you in ages

Sam: Yeah, sorry about that.

Dean told me that he met you at the gathering.

You: Yeah why weren’t you there?

Sam: Just didn’t feel like it.

But I do miss seeing you, send me your location?

You: Virginia, what about you?

Sam: Close. About a day out.

You: You don’t have to, we can meet up when we’re closer.

Sam: Ah, so you don’t wanna see me?

You: No no no I do, just don’t bring Dean.

Please, Sammy.

Sam: Sorry, sweetheart but if I drive him around then I get to go wherever he does.

You: Dean?

Sam: Yeah, Sam’s in the bathroom. We’re on our way.

You: Don’t text me.

Sam: Heard that threat before.

Sam: Hey, sorry, I didn’t know he would do that.

You: I’m wrapping up my hunt, won’t be in Virginia when you get here.

Sam: No no, please.

You: Sorry.

+

January 2006

Sam: Hey.

You: Hi.

Sam: Dean’s dying.

You: What are you talking about?

Sam, answer the phone.

Sam the last thing I told him is to not talk to me please answer the phone

Sam: We’re at Bobby’s.

You: I’m on my way.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 116

jack had gotten a bad hit.

sure, tackles and hits are just a part of hockey – but this one was worse than usual.

he wasn't even sure how he got himself into the situation, but during his game against the bruins, his head had been bent down far too much when he had tried to shoot off a pass along the barrier. when an opponent went in for the tackle, jack's head hit the boards in a nasty angle, and everything had gone black instantly.

the directions from the team doctors were clear: he needed to stay in a dark room, with no lights or loud sounds. he wasn't allowed to use his brain too much, since that would only worsen the concussion. no phone, no stepping outside the bedroom for at least three whole days.

thankfully, your apartment was the perfect place to keep someone who'd just gotten a concussion; the blackout curtains of your bedrooms were of the best brand, keeping the room perfectly dark during all hours of the day. that's why jack now found himself lying flat on his back on your bed, with his arms relaxing restlessly along his body, just as he had for the last 48 hours or so.

this wasn't the first time jack got a concussion. even back when he was a young player, he was too intense, too focused and too stubborn that he didn't care about the risk of injury when doing certain things on the ice, meaning that he had been forced to go through the boring process of recovering from head trauma several times. he recognized the feeling, and he hated it just as much as he had when he was still a teenager, when he was forced to stay inside while his brothers and friends could still practice. he wanted to do something, anything, but the pounding in his head limited his actions to pretty much none.

he felt helpless.

but even through the pain, there was one thing that made him smile.

you.

he was so thankful that you were there for him. he slept for most of his days, not having enough energy to stay awake for longer periods of time. but every time he woke up, you were there; reading him a book, telling him a story from your childhood, catching him up on the recent news. he was so thankful, because he thought he would have gone insane if he had to endure this all on his own.

"jack?" you asked from your side of the bed, voice hushed as it had been for the last two days. there was a small hum of an answer. "don't you want anything to eat? it's been…" you squinted, trying to make out the time from the clock on your wall. "seven hours since you had breakfast."

jack stayed silent, taking a few deep breaths before opening his eyes. "yeah, i think so."

your little nightlight, a lamp in the form of a fox in a far corner of the room, was the only source of light. jack could still make out your face clearly, probably due to the last two days of practicing his night vision. the concern on your face translated to worry on his, and then it was all just a downward spiral. you hated seeing him like this. jack was usually so energetic, so happy, so… tireless. seeing him like this really hurt you – and suddenly, you were back in your old mindset again. the pain and the worry and the anxiety all boiled up into one big soup of guilt. for the way you've treated him, for the way you care for him, for everything that has happened these last months. you stood up from the bed, about to make your way to the kitchen to cook something for him, but you stopped at him calling out your name in that raspy voice of his. "i'm sorry." when you looked back at him with a confused look, he spoke again. "for last week, for-"

"jack, it's okay." you shook your head at him, putting on a small smile. you didn't want him to worry about this now, not when his head was already overworked. "really."

now it was his time to shake his head – or, as much of a shake he could handle without his brain exploding from the jolt of pain shooting through it whenever he moved even an inch – and his voice was firmer when he spoke again. "no, please don't interrupt me now. i want you to hear that i'm serious about how sorry i am."

your heart fluttered like never before. not once until today had a man spoken to you like this. like you were someone worth apologizing to, someone worth fighting for.

"i am so sorry about pushing and pressuring you. i never should have." he took a deep breath. "you have your reasons not to trust me and not let me in, i understand that. however," his hand reached for your side, wanting you closer. "i also hope that in time, things might change. and i hope to stick along to find out if they do, without pressuring you, no matter how long it takes."

at this point, you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, bury him in kisses and hug the life out of him. but with the memory of his concussion still in your mind, you settled for leaning down to his height and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips for the first time in weeks.

maybe things would be okay, after all.

[bluem1lls]

i need part 2 of se-mi with comphet reader 😭

✧₊⁺ speak now (or don't, and love forever in silence)

groom bff! se-mi x comphet! reader

synopsis: after years of waiting, he finally propose. wasn't this everything you wished for?

but you couldn't bring yourself to be happy.

was it maybe because when you thought about it, all you could picture was her face?

content: some angst, but finally fluff!!!!

authors note: im so sorry for the looooong ass late updates, im so so busy but im ab to go on break so everyone cheered!!! im back i promise:( im so excited for this part 2 i actually love it and i hope u do too!!!!

part one. part two (you're here!)

famous actress finally engaged with the famous choi su-bong, more known as 'thanos', old rapper surging back!

we all saw on Instagram the romantic proposal he prepped for her, and of course like every girl would, she said yes!

we are so happy for the married couple!

"fucking bullshit" se-mi threw her phone away with rage after reading the most liked post from the magazine's instagram.

her hands went to her face as she groaned, biting back her lip to keep the tears away.

poor dumb girl. she actually thought you were coming back to her...

"the way he proposed was so romantic, i'm glad he did it that way, it was what you always wanted ever since you were a kid" my best friend jun-hee took my hands between hers with a comforting smile. i smiled softly as i sighed.

"y-yeah. it was.." i whispered. she stares into my eyes, squeezing my hands. her expression fell, now filled with pity. she knew me more than anyone.

"you do know that you're supposed to be happy about getting married right?" she says with a lifted eyebrow as i pressed my lips.

"i am." i said, trying to convince myself.

"honey-" she murmurs as i cut her.

"i have to be." i said, turning to face myself in the mirror. streightening my skirt as i faked my best smile.

and it was true. everything was exactly how i always wanted it.

so.. why didn't it felt like it?

i heard a knock that snapped me out of my thoughts. we both turned as the door opened. "excuse me, just wanted to let you know the invitations have been sent" a girl said with a smile as i nodded, thanking her.

once she left, jun-hee stared at me. "did you sent one for.." my best friend said, stopping herself as i shuddered.

"yeah. of course. they're best friends." refering to my husband and se-mi. i put a smile to pretend i didn't cared. or at least i tried, although it didn't even reached my eyes.

if your own best friend stares at you with pity, you start to consider maybe you're not doing as well as you thought.

but i couldn't back up. not now. not ever.

"this belongs in the trash" se-mi says with a sarcastic smirk, grabbing the invitation only to crumble it with anger as min-su stops her.

"we can't just.. not go" he says to her as she stares at him, incredulous.

"do you want me to go to that fucking wedding? for what?" she spits with anger and disbelief, her voice getting louder as he sighs. he got used to seeing his best friend angered ever since the news came out.

"listen, i get it, okay? but it's our best friend's wedding. we can't just miss it" min-su says in a soft tone, trying to make her understand.

"i refuse to watch her get married." her cold voice snaps. "fuck this." she says with a groan, frustration all over her face.

"you need to move on! you know those two! yeah they hate eachother, but they're not breaking up sem. they're getting married, and probably everything that goes after that. are you just gonna avoid thanos until you die?" he says snapping as she furrows her brow, a small pout on her pierced lips without her even noticing it.

"there's nothing to move on, there was never anything between me and her right?" she says with a sigh. "i'm still not going. i fucking hate weddings" she says under her breath, going to her room to avoid the conversation. and something about that doesn't feel true, because she loves to think about you on a wedding dress. but not if it's not with.. she shakes her head to remove the thought, slamming the door. min-su sighs, his hands on his face, exhausted.

"oh god" jun-hee says with tears on her face, her eyes twinkle in awe as i laugh, a little teary.

the dress looks.. perfect. just like in my childhood dream. my perfect dream wedding.

"it was made for you" she says as i chuckle, giving a little spin for her.

i should be so happy...

"yeah.. i think we're done" i say to the girl from the store, who's standing on my side, staring at me with a soft smile. "this is it. this is the one."

i slowly head back to the changing room to remove the dress. i place back my clothes while my assistant goes to pay. i stare at myself in the mirror.

why am i not happy? why doesn't it feel like i'm getting married?

i sigh as i leave the store with my two companions.

"let's grab some coffee, it's right around the corner and im dying for some caffeine." jun-hee says as i nod.

i feel my phone buzzing on my pockets.

oh god, of course. he's always fucking forgetting about the wedding or where i am. god why am i marrying this-

my breath hitches as i grab my phone, reading the text.

this can't be happening.

not now.

oh god.

sem: a wedding?

sem: really?

of course it's her.

of course she texts me out of nowhere a fucking random tuesday at 3 pm.

of course she makes my heart beat on my chest like no one ever did. just for a fucking text.

i scoff in disbelief as my manicured nails type with anger.

me: for real?

me: this is what you're texting me?

me: after not hearing about you for fucking YEARS??????

i see the little bubble that indicates she's typing back. the fact that she hasn't left the chat since she texted me makes me bite my lip.

sem: i've seen the photos

sem: you know

sem: you dont look like someone whos excited to get married

i roll my eyes as i let out a shaky breath, she hit a nerve.

me: what do you know? you havent talked to me in years, maybe things changed.

sem: everything did.

sem: except this.

sem: why do you keep lying to yourself?

i place my phone back in my pocket with shaky hands, leaving her on seen. i place my head on my hands as i groan.

why did she had appear out of nowhere?

i was fine without.. knowing about her.

without thinking about her. without her smile. without knowing if she's seeing someone..

i was okay without her. yeah. i was perfect.

god i really need that coffee.

as i get home i watch my... fiance laying on the couch.

"did you even tried the cake samples i left?" i said with frustration as i leave my purse.

"uh, nam-gyu did, he said the black tea one was really good" he said without too much care as i stared at him disbelief.

"am i getting married to nam-gyu? because i needed MY husband to try them!" i say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips as he rolled his eyes.

"who the fuck cares about the cake baby? no one does" he says, his arms sneaking around my waist to bring me closer to him.

"i care! i am going to be the wife in this fucking wedding and i care about the cake!" i shout angry. "and don't touch me" i let myself loose of his grip as he groans in built frustration.

"seriously? this again?" he says with a sigh, letting go.

"after the wedding" i say to him as my heart sinks. liar.

"about time" he rolls his eyes, his focus on the phone once again.

i stare at him blinking in disbelief.

this is my life?

am i gonna marry.. this idiot?

i go upstairs as i remove my outside clothes, placing on my pjs. i slowly let myself sink in bed as i grab my phone, my hands trembling as i bite my lip.

was this a good idea? no.

clearly not.

but god, i couldn't stop thinking about her.

me: are you coming?

me: to the wedding

me: i sent you an invitation

it takes her two minutes to reply.

sem: no.

oh. i chew on my bottom lip thinking about what to reply, until she texts back a few minutes later.

sem: why?

do i? do i wanna get marry, knowing she's there, staring at me?

the question is.. will i get married, knowing she's there, sitting on the crowd, watching me?

me: i want you there

the texting bubbles appear and disappear for over 10 minutes, making me extremely anxious as i wait for her reply.

sem: okay

okay what? okay that i want her there although i shouldn't? okay that-

sem: i'll see you there.

sem: consider this as my confirmation to the wedding.

i throw my phone away with shaky hands. my head sinks on my pillow, muffling my scream.

god, what have i done?

finally, today is the day.

today, i'm getting married.

the happiest day in my life. that's what everyone is saying.

so why i've been crying non stop until falling asleep?

i stared at myself, sat in front of my mirror. my makeup perfectly done, my hair loose in soft waves, the dress made just for me. it had to be like this, because this was what everyone expected from me.

i sighed as i stood up, leaving the room to go wait on the door for my entrance. i could hear the bells ringing, the wedding music. my dad appears, walking slowly until he was standing besides with a smile.

"i'm proud of you" he said, staring at front as i did too, my eyes teary. but it wasn't happiness, it was...

"everything is like it's supposed to be" i said, streightening myself. my head turned to stare at him. "am i finally the perfect daughter?" i asked my dad, my voice trembling with emotion.

he gave me a confused stare, a hint of what it looked like sadness, creeping into his stare. "it's not the wedding, it's clearly not the husband" he said as we both softly chuckled. "it's you.. you're my daughter. and i don't need you to be perfect, you being you it's all i want. your happiness. honey, nothing else matters after that." he said as i holded my tears. i bit the inside of my cheek, my heart pounding on my chest.

it's too late now, isn't it?

i could feel him interlock our arms as the doors opened. we moved one step at a time as we slowly entered the ceremony. to my wedding.

i shudder at the sight of everyone in the room, but i knew my eyes were only scanning to look for one person.

and when i found her, and my heart stopped.

she was watching me with a soft gaze, eyes almost twinkling as she roamed through my form, slowly taking my face, my body in the dress, and lastly, going up to meet my eyes. all i needed to make my heart flutter. i felt frozen in place, i could see everyone staring at me, wondering why i wasn't moving. my dad pulled my arm to get me out of my trance, but nothing worked.

i was there, stucked right where she left me.

on the last time i saw her. the last time my heart beated for her.

"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy.. with me.. i'll be waiting. i promise"

she was just as beautiful as i remembered her. of course i've seen pictures of her, but nothing like seeing her in person again.

our stare never breaking.

her eyes screamed 'please, love me'

and mine replied 'i do. but i shouldn't'

"are you okay?" my dad said, breaking the staring contest as i took reality of my surroundings. i shakily let out a small breath as i nodded with a fake smile. i kept walking to the altar, where i saw my... future husband.

right.

as i took my place, he took my hands in between his.

i trembled, and i swear i wanted to hear whatever the priest was saying. i really did.

but all my focus was on her.

was everyone blind for not noticing? or was everyone trying to pretend they couldn't tell how i stared at my husband's best friend?

when our eyes met again, i averted my gaze, trying really hard to pay attention to the priest talking on the altar to me and my future husband.

but god, i could not focus when she was here.

until i heard the priest coming to the end of his speech.

"if anyone has just cause to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace"

silence spreaded on the ceremony.

the quietness in the room making me shiver.

until it wasn't quiet anymore.

because everyone gasped.

and my eyes shut close.

and the quietness was replaced with whispers, with judging stares.

it wasn't quiet anymore, because she stood up.

my heart felt like it stopped in place. i could see my fiance's eyes widen, staring at se-mi like she was mad, insane.

but i knew she wasn't.

she was just in love, like i was.

and god, not from my husband.

her tall figure stood in the public, standing up as her mouth agaped like a fish. she tried to find any words to say, but she couldn't.

min-su and nam-gyu besides her, staring like if she grew a second head, completely shocked.

my eyes widen as i saw her take a sit again.

her mind was conflicted. i could tell. does she oppose? does she love quietly? what was more important? her best friend or her feelings? she shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

what was done was done, right?

fuck it. she thought, standing up once again.

everyone stared, their eyes open like never before.

"i-i oppose" she says in a weak, trembling voice. her eyes find mine, her stare pleads me to not let this keep going.

it begs me to go with her.

her hand moves to try and reach me as i watch her trembling hand and her pleading expression.

"i love you." she says with tears on her eyes.

and of course i knew this couldn't happen. of course i knew this was madness. i was about to get married. my life was buildt for this specific moment.

but my heart responded first with a sigh. not tears, not a scream, not a mad reply.

a sigh of relief.

i stare at the people sitting shocked in their seats. their gazes gravitating from her, to me and choi su-bong.

and suddenly, it's not like before. i'm not frozen in place, i'm not scared. i don't feel ashamed, i don't feel a thing.

except relief and love.

my last sign? when i stare at my parents, and they dont look at me ashamed. they're not embarrassed. they nod at me with tears in their eyes, intertwining their hands.

i get off the altar as i laugh.

a laugh of happiness. i chuckle loud and the feeling takes my entire body as i walk to her slowly. our stare never breaking as i stand in front of her, in my beautiful white dress. i reach to take her hand, the contact leaves a warm feeling on my heart.

"can we go?" are the only words that leave my lips with a shaky breath.

she stares at me, letting out an airy soft chuckle in disbelief, not believing this is happening.

"fuck, yes." is all she mutters as she moves in between the people, intertwining our hands like she never plans to release me as we run to the exit, our hearts jump in our chest.

and this is insane. i know it when we get into her rusty old car while the people gather outside to stare at us. but it doesn't matter.

it doesn't matter when my dress ruffles through the window, it doesn't matter when i buckle my seat belt with a happy smile and it certainly doesn't matter when she actually starts driving and we laugh, like a whole hearted laugh.

"you left your husband. in the altar. you left him" she says chuckling, filled with emotions. shock, disbelief, happiness.

"i- i did. and i don't regret it. god i don't regret leaving him for his.. best friend" i laugh as i stare at her. i take a deep breath as i speak "stop the car" she stops so abruptly, the car brakes.

"are you regr-" i unbuckle my seat belt as i turn aside. i cup her face in between my hands, my eyes roaming across her entire features.

this is the woman i love. it feels so good to finally say it out loud.

and i kiss her.

and is everything i always wanted to feel. it's what i expected from every single one of my ex-boyfriends. is filled with hunger, desire, passion and love.

and my heart feels warm and i know now exactly what love was supposed to feel like.

the kiss lowers to something softer, one of her hands goes to my cheek, caressing it with her thumb as my hand moves to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. her other hand roams through my body to grip my waist.

"this feels like a dream" she mumbles in between kisses.

"i know, i know" i replied as i kissed her again and again, love-drunk. "but it's not. i'm yours se-mi. i'm completely yours" i whispered against her lips as she nodded excited. her nose softly caressing mine, an intimate gesture.

"can i start the car and get the fuck out of here, please? because i never want to look back" she says breaking the kiss. i nod happily.

"please, start the fucking car" i chuckle as i go back to my seat, connecting to the bluetooth of her car, i look at the playlist on my phone until i find the one.

"i am not the kind of girl

who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion

but you are not the kind of boy

who should be marrying the wrong girl"

she smacks me softly as she listens to the lyrics, rolling her eyes as i snort.

and as my eyes find hers, i know i finally am where i belong.

known actress leaves husband on the altar!

we saw our famous girl, that we all know and love, leaving rapper ''thanos' on the altar.

the last thing we heard from him to the press was: i hope she's happy now.

and she looks like it! because she's been sharing photos on social media with her new girl non stop!

let's wish a happy relationship to the recently out of the closet actress!

[yapperblog]

Part 2 of cafe worker!Joost x fem!reader

Part 1

Tags: smut, making out, semi-public, handjob, blowjob.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You feel nervous walking down the same path you always take. Why are you nervous? There was usually a feeling of excitement to unwind, to see the sexy Internet Cafe employee – stifling your giggles who will he scold for breathing too loud this time. But now your palms are sweaty the closer you get to that familiar door.

After your first hookup with Joost, you haven't talked much. You got busy with work, and when you were able to visit the Internet Cafe, he seemed to be busier than usual, new customers keep flooding in. You would catch him for a couple of minutes of casual conversation by his desk, like he hasn't rearranged your guts in this same place. He would also come up to you ask about your day, the first time he did it, it made you blush furiously not having expected it from him. Other than that, you were short with each other and the timing wasn't right. Plus it has been almost a week since your last visit, probably the longest you haven't been in that place. So, all those thoughts piled on top of each other, you were feeling extra anxious to see him.

Today however you were determined to have a proper conversation. You are down to keep it casual, if he doesn't want anything serious, but you need clarity – it has been driving you crazy not knowing what he thinks about that night, does he regret it, does he want anything more?

Once again, you open the door, familiar sounds and smell greeting you, as well as a pair of blue eyes lingering in your direction. Joost smiles at you, as you come over to his desk.

"Hi you." he says, still smiling.

"Hi." It throws you off how cheerful he is, the usual scowl nowhere to be found.

"Haven't seen you in a while." his attention is still fully on you, on a normal fay by that time he was already back to typing on the computer. "Thought you went to the competitors. Maybe some other Internet Cafe has opened up." he tries to joke.

You stare at him silently and burst out laughing, the previous tension and anxiety simmering down. Maybe he is in the same mood to figure things out between you finally.

"I wouldn't dare." you lean in closer over the desk.

"That's right." he doesn't look away, matching your eye contact.

You reach for your purse to get the cash for the computer, but he stops you. "It's on the house today. Loyal customer and all that."

You look shocked at him, "You don't have to do that, but thank you." you mumble, a blush creeping up your cheeks again. He seems really happy to see you again. "All I had to do was the bang the employee? Should have done that sooner." you whisper to him making sure it is only for his ears.

"Shut up." he barks a laugh. "First computer on the second row is yours." he points in the direction of it.

"Wait, how does she get to use it for free?" a customer who just walked in behind you asks.

"None of your business." Joost is back to his usual demeanour, his eyes a reflection of being bored of the customer. "How can I help you?" he asks the guy.

You have finished the most important work you needed to do, looking up at the clock, you notice it is past midnight already, most of the customers went home, there is only you, Joost and a couple sharing a computer on the opposite side.

"Sir?" you call out in Joost's direction. "There is something wrong with this computer, can you check?"

His head immediately turns in your direction. "Um, sure." he walks up to you.

You point at the error which popped up. You know how to fix it yourself, and from the look he gives you, you are sure he knows that too. But plays along, catching up to your game. "Yes, let me check." he moves from standing next to you to reaching over behind you for the mouse and keyboard. His hand is covering the mouse over your hand, his skin feels starching hot on yours. His breath close to your ear, your stomach tightens over the simple close proximity to him.

"You are so good at this." you tell him, your voice innocent.

"Am I?"

"Yeah." you turn to face him, but he already fixed it and straightens up, leaving you so lonely.

"Thank you." your voice is quiet.

You finish the rest of your work and notice the couple has left. After waiting a couple more minutes to check if no one else comes in, you stand up and head towards Joost's desk. He is busy typing away, you linger next to him, when he finally looks up.

"Can we talk?" you ask tentatively.

He looks around the room, noticing it's just you left.

"Sure." he gives you his full attention now. "What happened?"

"Well. Nothing really, but that is the problem." you say not looking at him yet, mindlessly moving the things around at the top of his desk. "I know we don't each other yet, maybe the hookup meant nothing to you." you continue, he tries to interrupt, but you motion for him to wait. "But I would like to get to know you, move things forward. I do care about you more than just random sex, but I can't tell if you feel the same about me. You are kind of hard to read." you finally look up at him. He is looking at you intently, listening carefully to your confession.

The silence falls heavily between you, it weighs on you. Did you read this situation completely wrong, does have want nothing to do with you, before you can spiral any further, you hear his voice. "I also want to get to know you. Sorry if I left you in the unknown, I didn't mean that. I also didn't know if you want anything more. I was also so busy here, I am sorry." he says. "When you didn't come on your usual day, your usual hours-"

"You notice when I usually come here?"

"Ofcourse." he meets your eyes.

"I would love to ask you out on a date." he confesses. "Would- Would you go on a date with me?" he is also nervous, like you. It makes your heart melt.

"Yes."

Joost's gaze softened, his eyes roaming over your face with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. You walk around the desk, his eyes following your every move, he starts to stand up, but you push on his shoulder to keep him sitting down. You stand in between his legs and reach out to fix his hair, brushing the fallen out of place strands. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, he works so much. Your hand slips lower, tracing his cheekbone, his skin warm under your palm. He nuzzles closer to you, his eyes darken, not used to such tender touches, but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

"Is this okay?" you ask him. So careful, the time feels like it has slowed down between you two. A contrast between how the first time went. "Yes."

You move to sit on his lap, he lets you, wrapping his hand around your waist, settling you in more comfortable, as he shifts under you.

"I really thought I might never see you again." he confesses, his voice barely audible, but you hear him.

Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you hold his gaze. “Kiss me, Joost,” you whisper, your voice a soft, desperate invitation.

Without another word, he closes the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There is no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveys every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss is soft and careful, full of warmth, he is tentative, but you lead him, showing you want him as much.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you both share a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fuels the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasp the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, the Joost who likes to take control shining again. His hands grab your waist even harder, pulling you closer, his fingers splaying against your back. The gentle intimacy turns heated, your mouths exploring, you open your mouth, letting his tongue tease yours. You can feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he groans against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try to pull away, but he chases you leaning in, not ready to separate yet, "Come here" his voice is low, breathless too, as he catches your lips in a kiss again. His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roam over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sends shivers down your spine, like it's the first time being alone in this room again. However this time you are sure he wants you as much as you want him. You gasp against his mouth, a sound that turns into a soft moan, each sound coming from you pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring, tasting. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Joost shifts under you, and you feel his hardness pressing against you, undeniable. Your lips begin to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You can feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you move lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Paying extra attention to the Lola Bunny tattoo on his neck, you hope to become friends with her and see her more often.

Each kiss seems to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leans into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. You find it intoxicating, the sound you are able to pull from him. You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest. His pulse beats beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallows hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

"You are driving me crazy." he says, as you continue to kiss along his sensitive spot.

"You look so good like this." your words go straight to his dick. "I can't believe I finally get to have you like this."

"Fuck, baby. Don't say shit like this, I might just cum in my pants." he confesses tilting his head back, giving you even more access, closing his eyes, clearly enjoying your actions.

"Maybe I would like that." you let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"What? Me cuming my pants?" his opens his eyes to look at you. You look up at him grinning, your hand finally reaches the waistband of his boxers, and you press your palm against him. "You are evil."

"You don't like that?" you remove your hand from him.

"Nonono." he repeats, putting your hand back right where it was. "I do." his breath hitches, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushes into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I am enjoying myself too." you murmur, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Joost. I wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admit, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he looses himself in every touch, every word you murmur against him. "More, please." he pleads, looking in the direction of the door. The cafe is still open to the public. It has been a quieter night than usual, but there is still a possibility someone might stumble in, but he is ready for the gamble, knowing you are too.

"God… that feels so good,” he gasps, as he looks, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roam up and down your back, and you can feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grows heavier. "You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough as he presses a kiss to your temple, his words urge you to move your hand around his cock faster, encouraging every word. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he speaks, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

"Seeing that guy ask you out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He pauses, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Hearing him say it out loud, the desire intertwined in every syllable, makes your head spin. Feeling he is fully hard under you now, you slowly sink to your knees in front of him, his mouth falling open slightly at the realisation what you are doing for him. You maintain eye contact with him, as you feel the carpet dig into your knees, but you don't care, not when he looks at you like this.

"Fuck... you don't have to." he says, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I want to." you say, and reach for his belt. "Do you want to?"

"Yes." he says it way too quick and it makes you giggle. He helps you undo the belt, lifting his hips to take off his pants.

You palm him through his underwear again, enjoying the delicious moan from him. You motion for him to take them off and he does. "Good boy." you purr and you swear you can see an actual sparkle in his eyes. Who would have thought the mean Internet Cafe employee, who everyone is so scared of, would be melting under your palm at a few words of praise. His cock jumps free from the confines of his boxers, but you don't give it the attention it craves so much. Not yet. Your hands drift up, playing with the hem of his shirt, your nails grazing his stomach lightly, sending a wave of heat coursing through his veins. A sharp exhale escapes him before he can stop it, his muscles tensing under your touch.

After feeling that you've teased him enough, you take his dick in your hands, the tip an angry shade of red, pre-cum spilling from the anticipation. Mixing it with your spit, you start to stroke him. You pay attention to alternating in pressure, swiping your thumb over his tip every time you passed it. Then you nuzzle against it, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the side, your warm breath sending another shudder through him. You are savoring every inch before you begin. Only then your lips part, and you finally take him in. The first flick of your tongue sends a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine. He has to grip the desk, not to push his hips. Your lips wrap around him, slow and firm, dragging along his length with precision.

"Feels so good." he borderline whines looking down at you. "Keep going please." his hands find the back of your head, not pushing, just wanting to feel you.

Your tongue glides firmly along the underside, tracing every vein, your movements deliberate as you circle the tip before taking him in your mouth again, your lips stretching around his girth. The lewd sound of your lips smacking around you loud in the empty room, making his stomach tighten. You look up at him innocently, as you take more and more of him, your warm and wet mouth mixed with the view makes him almost lose his mind and cum on the spot. He has to lean his head back and concentrate not to end it too soon.

You are however relentless—taking him deeper each time, your spit slicking every inch of him. You bob your head with a slow, steady rhythm, a mix of suction and slippery, messy tongue work that makes his breath stutter.

Suddenly there is a noise of a door opening. His hand on your head gripping your hair, motioning for you to stop. You do, still with his cock in your mouth, you feel him sit up straighter, fixing his hair. There are footsteps coming closer, but luckily they can't see you from your position under the desk.

"Hello, can I print out a few things? Is there a working printer?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Joost clears his throat. "Hello, yes. It's over there. How many copies?" his voice trying to hide the fact that your soft mouth is still wrapped around his length cockwarming him. The customer goes on a long tangent telling a story how the past few places had trouble with printing and he is walking all around town trying to make a copy of a document. Joost hums in approval listening to his story, one of his hands still wrapped tightly on your hair, making sure you don't get an idea of teasing him.

The customer walks over to the printer. "Call if you need any help." Joost tells him. You hope the customer can do it on his own.

As the footsteps grow quieter and further away, Joost releases his hand from your hair. You move away from him as quietly as possible, leaning your head on his thigh. He looks down at you, pressing a finger to his slips motioning for you to stay quiet and you nod.

You can hear the printer beeping and the customer settling in behind the computer. After awhile you start to get bored, as Joost got back to typing on the keyboard, probably pretending to work not to give away what was happening before. You start to press soft kisses along his thigh. He doesn't stop you, so you continue doing it almost with no sound, the buzz of the printer also helping to hide any noise. You get bolder and bite him, although not hard enough to produce the noise that comes out of him – too loud for how light the bite was. You lick over the spot, he looks down at you with raised eyebrows and you smile apologetically.

"Everything ok?" the customer asks.

"Oh. Yeah, all good." Joost replies. His voice shaky. "Just, um, you know, looking at prices. They seem to bite for real nowadays." the customer laughs at that and agrees. The printing noise continues.

You have to cover your mouth not to laugh at him too. After giving him a few minutes to recover, you continue pressing kisses along his thigh, inching closer to his neglected cock. He stiffens in his seat, but doesn't stop you, so you go further. You ghost your lips over the sensitive skin along his shaft, licking at the tip. His grip tightens over the mouse. You take him in your mouth, building a slow rhythm, not swallowing him too deep to avoid the noise, but enough to tease him. His breathing grows heavier and his big hand finds the back of your head again, his fingers weaving through your hair.

"Fuck. Stop stop." you hear him whisper quietly.

"All done?" you hear Joost say.

"Yep. Thank you so much." the customer replies. "Are you...alright?" he asks tentatively after a pause.

"Yes, I am totally fine. Tired probably. A long shift." he says with no waver in his voice, which makes the guy believe it, not wanting to ask any more questions.

The customer pays and you hear him leave.

"Shit." Joost exhales, his body relaxing. You are also glad he is finally gone. "You little devil." he looks down at you again. He brings you up from under the table and leans down to meet you halfway for a kiss. He groans still tasting himself on your mouth, he tilts your head to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching when you reach out to touch it. You break the kiss, "So sensitive." you whisper against his mouth.

"Get back to work." he leaves one last kiss on your lips and you take your place between his legs. There is a sense of urgency in the air, hoping no one else comes in.

You spit on his tip again, slow and deliberate, watching the saliva trail down before you gather it with your tongue and take him in your mouth once more. You deepen the rhythm, your mouth molding around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck with more urgency, a wet, obscene symphony filling the space beneath the desk. The slick sounds grow louder, more obscene, as spit pools and dribbles from the corners of your mouth, coating his length in a messy sheen.

You take him to the base, your throat clenching around him, a loud moan leaving his lips, before you pull back, eyes fluttering your breath labored. You let another thick strand of spit fall, your fingers smoothing it down as you stroke him with both hands, your grip greedy, insatiable. Then go back in, your nails digging lightly into his thigh, steadying yourself, like you're getting lost in it. You feel yourself get wet, your clit pulsing steadily, listening to his moans, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his heavy hand on the back of your head.

"You like it, huh?" he asks, his chest heaving up and down. You hum around him, the vibrations sending an additional wave of pleasure for him. "So pretty on your knees for me." he brushes away a tear, which falls down your cheek.

He presses you down just a little more. "Can I do this?" he asks and you moan in approval, nodding. Your throat tightens as he pushes you deeper, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He keeps you there for a moment, his eyes closing in pleasure, "Fuck.." he exhales and lets go off you.

You wrap your hand around his slick length. Your strokes are slow, loud, your fingers working him with a deliberate pace. Looking up at him from under the desk, you look utterly wrecked—lips swollen and slick, spit trailing down your chin, eyes glassy and dark with hunger. He thinks you look like a dream, he is already planning the date in the back of his head, he wants to wake up next to you, he even imagines growing old with you, which he never did before. You pant softly, your breath shaky, as both hands work him with slow, messy strokes, your fingers coated in the evidence of your own devotion.

His thighs tremble as you keep stroking, your grip firm, fingers gliding over his slick length with a slow, almost lazy confidence. His breath is uneven, hot, moans slipping past his lips, same as your own, as if you are lost in the act itself, dazed by the sensation of having him in your hands. Your palm twists just right as you drag it up and down. Your eyes stay locked on his, a smirk on your pretty face. You lick over his tip and wrap your lips around him, sucking, bobbing your head up and down.

His body tenses as your throat tightens around him, your free hand rolling his balls in your palm as you move up and down with an unrelenting pace. Your movements are fast, ruthless, each descent pushing him deeper into your throat. His moans turn breathier, more frantic. Your tongue presses against the underside, rubbing against that sensitive spot as your lips stretch around his girth. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, spit dripping from your chin, but you don't stop determined to take him to completion.

His head tips back, mouth falling open in a loud moan as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave, blinding, unstoppable. His muscles go taut, as he cums deep inside you, and you moan around him, swallowing greedily as if you're desperate for every last drop. The thick warmth shoots down your throat, and you take it all effortlessly, your lips sealed tight, sucking him through every wave.

You take your mouth off of him, your own breathing heavy. You leave a few more kisses on his thigh, helping him come back to his senses.

"That was... incredible. You are incredible." he says, pulling you back onto his lap. He takes a tissue from his desk and wipes gently at your lips.

You lay your head on his shoulder, as he puts his pants back on and wraps his hands around you. "Can I take you home? My shift ends soon." he asks carefully, nervously.

You lift your head looking up at him. "Yes."

He did take you home and fucked you until you couldn't take his touch anymore, his attention fixated on your pleasure alone. And you kept coming back to his place, months later it becoming a part of you, as much as it is for him. Your lives gradually intertwining more and more, learning how to be the best for each other.

You hear your alarm clock go off, reaching out to turn it off. Joost groans beside you, he only recently came back home after his shift, but it is already time for you to start getting ready for work. You feel his arm wrap tighter around you, his chest pressed tight around your back, as if he could be any closer to you.

"I need to get up, Joost." you try to peal yourself off of him.

"Just 5 more minutes, please." he feels like he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. He always feels so cold without you in his bed. He can't even remember how his life was without you in it. Your warmth seems to have fix everything.

He nuzzles closer to you, burying his head into your neck. You turn in his embrace, kissing him slowly, he immediately reacts and returns the kiss.

"How soon do you have to leave at the latest?" he asks.

"We have like.. 10 minutes max." you say. You really can't be late again. It is always the same with him when it is a night shift for him – he comes back late, you have to leave early. He wants to cuddle for 5 more minutes, which turns into something more, but you don't complain, you can't get enough of him too.

"Perfect." you feel him smile against your neck.

[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.

[ssa-danhotchner]

Ghostin | Aaron Hotchner

summary: after Foyet, Aaron retreats into his grief, pushing reader away despite their unwavering love

cw: fem reader, BAU reader, angst, mention of Haley's death, mention of Aaron being stabbed, grief, relationship breakdown

wc: 1.6k

note: english isn't my first language!

Their relationship began quietly, built on small moments over time. It wasn’t love at first sight, but rather a slow connection formed between late nights at the BAU, working together on cases, and trading small smiles. You’d been colleagues before, but as time passed, there was a subtle shift. He admired your calmness and intelligence, and you saw a depth in him that most people didn’t.

It was in the little things: the way he’d offer you coffee when you were too tired to ask, or the small gestures of care when he’d notice you needed something. You started sharing dinners at quiet places, and those dinners turned into evenings where you’d linger in each other’s company, the space between you no longer just professional.

It was simple, but it was real.

When you kissed him for the first time, it was everything and nothing at once. It was electric, but not in the way of passionate, rushed moments. No, it was a slow realization that everything before had led to this. That kiss was just the beginning of a journey, the start of a love that felt like it could withstand anything. The way he cupped your face, the way you both melted into the kiss as if the world outside didn’t matter—it was all-consuming. When he pulled away, his breath shallow, his face flushed with something unspoken, you knew. He knew, too. This was it.

Aaron was never the kind of man to offer grand declarations of love. He wasn’t the type for sweeping gestures or unnecessary words. But he showed it in every touch, in every moment he chose to stand by you. And you? You showed him with patience, understanding, and unwavering support. It was a partnership, and it was beautiful.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. The job, the chaos, the violence—it all faded away when you were together. It was a love that made him feel like he wasn’t alone. A love that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

But the world has a way of changing everything, doesn’t it?

And then came him.

George Foyet tore into Aaron’s life like a storm, leaving devastation in his wake. You sat in the hospital by his bedside after the stabbing, your fingers wrapped around his bruised hand, whispering reassurances as he drifted in and out of consciousness. You were there when he woke up, gasping in pain, eyes unfocused until they landed on you.

You kissed his temple and murmured, “You’re safe.”

He nodded weakly, but you could tell—he didn’t believe it.

The worst part wasn’t the pain from his wounds—it was what came after.

When Haley and Jack were placed in witness protection, you saw the shift in him. The guilt, the helplessness. He would wake up at night, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. You would reach for him, pressing your hand against his back, feeling the tension beneath his skin.

“I should be with them,” he whispered one night.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re doing everything you can, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

You wanted to tell him he was enough. That he deserved happiness, too. But how could you, when you saw the way his eyes darkened with grief? When you heard the cracks in his voice every time he spoke of his son?

Still, you stayed. You loved him through it all, even when his heart wasn’t fully yours anymore.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting, but I do just what I have to do.”

Then Foyet killed Haley.

And whatever part of Aaron you still had—was gone.

You were there when he crumbled, when his entire world collapsed under the weight of grief. You held him as he broke, as his sobs wrecked through him in the middle of the night, as he whispered Haley’s name over and over again like a prayer.

But then, slowly, he started pushing you away.

First, it was the late nights at the office. Then, the missed calls. The distance in his touch, the way his lips barely lingered when he kissed you goodbye.

And then, one night, he said it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hang in the air, so heavy, they feel like a physical blow. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You blink at him, as if you didn’t hear him correctly, hoping the words were a mistake, a slip of the tongue, something to be fixed with a conversation.

But his eyes… his eyes are a distant storm, glazed over with grief that’s not entirely yours to touch. There’s no warmth in them now, no flicker of the man you knew. Just cold, an emptiness that swallows everything in its path.

“Aaron…” Your voice trembles, soft and barely there. You take a hesitant step toward him, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that feels miles wide. “What are you saying?”

He takes a step back, his posture stiff and guarded. The air between you thickens, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. He closes his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration, then exhales sharply. When he opens them again, you see something break in him—a fracture deep enough that it feels like you’re witnessing his soul crack.

“I can’t… I can’t be the man you need me to be,” he says, his voice low, like each word is a struggle to get out. “I’m not… I’m not whole. I’m not enough for you.”

You don’t understand. You can’t. Your mind races, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of his words, but all you hear is the finality in them.

“No, Aaron,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

His gaze flickers, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid to. It’s like he’s already made up his mind, and there’s no way you can change it.

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs, the words edged with something darker, something you can’t touch. “I’m haunted… by her. By all of it.”

Your heart stings at the mention of Haley. Of course, you know he’s haunted by her, by what happened to her, but there’s something so much deeper, something in his tone that makes it clear this is about more than just his grief. It’s like the love you had, the one you shared so many months and years building, has been eaten away by the remnants of his past.

“Aaron, please… Please don’t shut me out,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

He glances at you then, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you fell in love with—strong, devoted, vulnerable in ways only you could see. But just as quickly, that flicker vanishes, hidden behind a wall he’s built so high you can’t reach it.

“I’m not the same man you fell in love with,” he says, his words cutting through you like glass. “I’m… broken. And I’ll never be whole again.”

“No.” You take another step toward him, reaching out, but his eyes harden, and he steps back once more, as if your touch burns him. “Please don’t do this, Aaron. You don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to push me away.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile curving his lips—not one of humor, but one of sadness. “I’m not pushing you away,” he says softly, but the words don’t match his actions. “I’m letting you go. Because you deserve more than the shattered man I am. You deserve someone who can be fully there for you. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

The sting in your chest feels like it’s spreading, like your heart is fracturing into pieces, too. You want to scream at him, to beg him to see you, to understand that you’re willing to take all of him—the broken pieces, the ghosts, the pain. But you can’t. You know, deep down, that this isn’t just about you. This is about him, about the war inside him that you’ll never be able to fight for him.

“I love you,” you say, barely above a whisper, but your words crack with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. You want to scream it, shout it, let him know that you would do anything to stay by his side, to help him heal. But all that comes out is a sob, a broken plea. “I love you so much, Aaron. Don’t do this.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against whatever pain it is that he’s carrying. You can see the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, he takes a deep breath and turns away from you.

“I can’t keep pretending. Not when every time I look at you, I see… her. Not when every time I close my eyes, I hear her voice.” His voice cracks as the words spill out, a raw vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t think were possible. “You deserve someone who’s whole. Someone who can love you without being broken. I’m not that man anymore.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

He steps toward the door, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stand there—frozen, as if if you move, it’ll be the end of everything. You feel as if you’re about to fall into an abyss that you can’t climb out of.

“Aaron… please,” you whisper, but he doesn’t turn around.

The door shuts behind him with a finality that echoes through your chest. And you’re left standing there, completely empty, as if your world was just torn apart.

You don’t even realice that you’re crying until you feel the tears burning your cheeks, hot and desperate. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach him. He’s gone, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he once held, but now has abandoned.

The man you loved is no longer the man standing in front of you. And you can’t help but wonder if he ever really was.

---

[darkluminosity]

Crazy about Diluc and Eula rn so I wanted to do this... link behind the cut since it's a lot 🙃

1. Tough to say, they both do in my hc but I feel like she's more likely to initiate the hugs and he initiates the kisses 😉

2. I think they both do tbh lol. Maybe she does a bit more (at least in my current wip)

3. Eula would borrow Diluc's, I think he's more organized

4. I feel like she would for the reasons above, maybe if she was drinking and misplaced them?

5. Hm this is actually a bit tough because although he's rich and owns a winery, it was inherited so idk if he was taught money management, especially because he has others run it for him. But I feel both of them are fairly responsible.

6. Well, Diluc's parents... yeah they're not around anymore and idk about Eula's. I feel if anything she would take either extreme, either hiding it because she doesn't want to ruin his reputation by others knowing he's dating a Lawrence, or she would utilize their relationship to get back at her clan (and in part of my hcs, get rid of her association with her clan and break apart from them). But the latter would be after they talk it through and he assures her he doesn't care about it. I don't think he would want to hide it. If anything it would take him off of the bachelor market which I think he'd be happy about lol.

7. I actually think he'd be better in the kitchen overall (especially taking lessons from Adelinde if he is willing to learn) BUT as it stands his signature dish is literally a version of Pile 'Em Up which is throwing ingredients on top of each other? Compared to her signature dish, an upgraded version of Moon Pie, I think her signature dish beats his in terms of complexity. But for everyday cooking, probably him.

8. She gets more sleep but he needs more sleep lol 😂

9. They're both serious about their duties and work, but I feel he's a little more hardworking. Not that she isn't, but I think she knows her boundaries and limits more- he's constantly pushing his limits (and working as the Dark Night Hero doesn't exactly have a strict schedule if you know what I mean)

10. She has more empathy... I think 🤔 idk sometimes he can surprise others, it's just others find him hard to read. But I think he has the capacity for empathy too, he just doesn't communicate it openly very much.

11. A cat (hmm this gives me ideas) or she becomes attached to his falcon, they can write letters to each other and send them back and forth (aww 🥰)

12. Eula

13. His is acts of service and quality time, and hers is physical touch and quality time

14. I don't think they would keep secrets from each other intentionally, but there are certain things in Diluc's past that he probably wouldn't want to mention to her, and stuff he knows about Kaeya. Maybe if she asked him (about his past) but I don't think he would readily share it.

15. Neither, but I think as I alluded to in #6, Eula might not feel she deserves him so she might push him away and tell him he deserves better. At least in versions of hc where she has a lower self image and some insecurities. Who knows, he could even say the same to her because of his past if she ever found out 🤷🏻‍♀️

16. Diluc (lol my husband thinks Eula would be a terrible mom 🤐 he said it and he's the Eula main lol)

17. Eula (lol I did a short fic idea of this after chapter 18 of Fighting Winter but never posted it, where they talked after waking up and he's like why were you moaning in your sleep and making noises... and she's like uhh,I was? but she was thinking omg I want to run away in shame lol and instead tries to change the subject 🤣)

OTP questions:

Who initiates hugs?

Who wants to hold the hug longer?

Who borrows the other one’s phone charger?

Who loses their keys/wallet?

Who’s better with money?

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents?

Who’s better in the kitchen?

Who needs/gets more sleep?

Who’s more laid back and who’s more hard working?

Who has more empathy?

If they were to adopt a pet together, what kind of pet would it be?

Who is more outgoing?

What is their love language?

Are they holding any secrets from each other?

Which one is more likely to cheat?

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids?

Who sleeptalks?