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motorsportbarbie13 · 6 months ago

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A Package Deal

In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.

Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words

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109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3

The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.

The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.

"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.

"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"

Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.

As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.

"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.

"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"

Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.

"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."

"Okay, that's enough." You huff.

"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"

You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.

Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.

You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."

Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.

An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.

Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.

"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."

Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.

Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."

The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.

So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.

"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.

You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.

"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."

You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."

A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"

You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."

"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.

Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.

"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.

This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.

"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.

"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.

"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."

Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.

He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."

"Nope. She's all mine."

"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.

He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.

"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.

"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.

"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”

The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.

"Christ. I'm sorry, love."

You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.

Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.

“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."

The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.

You're gone before he can get a word in though.

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102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!

"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."

You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.

"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.

"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"

Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.

"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.

You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.

Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.

"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.

Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.

Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.

"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.

"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."

Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.

"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."

The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.

"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.

You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."

"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.

"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.

"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.

To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."

Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.

A fact that you already know is true.

"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.

"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."

Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.

Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.

Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.

Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.

"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."

Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.

Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.

"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."

"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.

"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.

"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"

Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.

"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."

The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.

"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.

You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"

"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.

Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."

"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."

You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.

"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"

There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"

Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.

"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.

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digitalmarketingbizz · 2 years ago

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The Power of Email Marketing: Why It's Essential for Your Business's Success

In today's fast-paced digital landscape, where social media, search engine optimization (SEO), and influencer marketing often take center stage, it's easy to overlook the tried-and-true method of email marketing. However, don't be too quick to dismiss this powerful tool – email marketing remains a cornerstone of successful business promotion. In this blog, we'll delve into the reasons why you should market your business with email, and we'll also explore some trending keywords to keep your content in tune with the latest industry developments.

Unlocking the Potential of Email Marketing

In an era dominated by instant messaging and social networking, you might wonder whether email marketing is still relevant. The answer is a resounding yes! Email marketing remains a crucial strategy for businesses of all sizes, and here's why:

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Cost-Effective: Compared to other marketing methods, email marketing is incredibly cost-effective. There are minimal expenses involved, and the potential return on investment (ROI) is substantial.

Drive Conversions: Email campaigns allow you to guide your subscribers through the buyer's journey, from awareness to conversion. Well-crafted emails with compelling calls-to-action can drive sales and boost your bottom line.

Analytics and Insights: Email marketing platforms provide detailed analytics that allow you to track open rates, click-through rates, and conversion metrics. These insights help you refine your strategies and optimize future campaigns.

Building Relationships: Email marketing enables you to nurture relationships with your audience. By consistently delivering valuable content, you can establish trust and loyalty over time.

Trending Keywords in Email Marketing

To ensure your email marketing content remains current and relevant, consider incorporating these trending keywords into your campaigns:

Personalization: Tailoring content to individual preferences is a hot topic in email marketing. Mention how your business utilizes personalization to enhance user experience and drive engagement.

Automation: Marketing automation streamlines your email campaigns, saving time and increasing efficiency. Highlight how automation can help deliver timely and relevant content to subscribers.

Segmentation: Segmented email lists improve targeting by sending the right messages to the right people. Explain how your business categorizes subscribers to provide them with content that aligns with their interests.

AI and Machine Learning: These technologies enhance email marketing by analyzing data and optimizing campaigns. Discuss how AI and machine learning contribute to your email marketing strategy.

Interactive Content: Interactive emails, such as polls, quizzes, and GIFs, are gaining traction. Describe how your business employs interactive elements to make emails more engaging.

Mobile Optimization: As mobile device usage continues to rise, optimizing emails for mobile screens is vital. Emphasize your commitment to delivering a seamless mobile experience.

Conclusion

In the ever-evolving world of digital marketing, email marketing stands as a stalwart strategy that continues to deliver impressive results. Its direct communication, personalization options, and cost-effectiveness make it a must-have in your marketing toolkit. By incorporating trending keywords and staying up-to-date with industry innovations, you can harness the power of email marketing to drive conversions, build relationships, and propel your business towards greater success.

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applepiiex · 16 days ago

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AFTER THE GLITTER FADES ! ! ! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Nanami Kento x Male!Reader

Y/N comes home from a long shoot still wearing the lingerie from set, makeup flawless, hair styled, and tired in a way that runs deep. Nanami barely looks up. It’s not coldness—it’s patience. Because the version the world sees isn’t the one he loves most.

── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ──── ⭑ ☆ ⭑

“Which one?” Y/N asks, holding up two lingerie sets.

“You look better in warm tones,” is all Nanami says, blunt as ever.

Y/N stands there, two delicate sets dangling from each hand—one burgundy lace, the other a cooler lilac silk.

“Well, yes, but don’t you think it’s starting to wash me out? Now that I’m tanner?”

Nanami squints at the maroon against Y/N’s skin. For a moment, he considers it with his usual analytical calm. Then, without another word, he returns to his book.

This was how it always went. No matter what “sexy” outfit Y/N modeled in front of him, Nanami gave an answer like he was discussing color theory, not lingerie.

Most people didn’t get it. Y/N appreciated it more than anyone realized.

The performance of sex appeal, for him, had long since lost its spark. It was work now��camera angles, lighting, retakes. “Sexy” had become synonymous with exhaustion.

But Nanami never treated it like that. His attraction wasn’t rooted in lace or skin. If anything, the times Nanami wanted him most were the quiet ones—right before bed, when the day had stripped him down to just himself.

Not naked. Not posing.

Just Y/N —hair damp from the shower, face clean of product, an oversized sweatshirt from some old college he never attended, and shorts that were comically too short. Contacts out. Glasses resting crooked on his nose. Sleepy. Unfiltered.

That’s when Nanami looked at him like he was everything.

Sure, he could acknowledge objectively that Y/N looked stunning in lingerie. But he also saw the weight it carried—the stares, the critiques, the relentless industry gaze. And knowing that... made it something sacred, not seductive. Maybe once in a while—a birthday, an anniversary—it could mean something. But it wasn’t where desire lived.

Desire, for Nanami, was found in authenticity.

“What time do you get off today?” Nanami asked as Y/N emerged from the hallway, makeup half-done, work bag slung over his shoulder.

“Six. Not a bad shift. No retakes today,” Y/N replied, zipping the bag shut and heading into the kitchen for a snack.

“Would you mind making dinner for me?”

Nanami nodded without looking up from his book. Y/N was already kissing the side of his head, rushing out the door.

“Love you!” he called as the door clicked shut behind him.

“Love you too,” Nanami murmured, just loud enough to be heard.

Later, Nanami was in the kitchen, chopping carrots as Gojo leaned against the counter, rambling.

As always.

“You know,” Gojo said, voice laced with mischief, “I find it interesting that you have *those* pictures up.”

He nodded toward the hallway, where framed prints of Y/N’s modeling work hung—elegant, yes, but undeniably sensual.

“Someone might think you’re a perv,” Gojo teased.

“Those people wouldn’t be welcome in my home,” Nanami said calmly. “Besides, it’s art.”

“Art? Or eye candy?” Gojo shot back with a grin.

Nanami didn’t hesitate. “I’m not attracted to him like that.”

That gave Gojo pause. “That’s still so weird to me. I mean, if Suguru became a lingerie model? God, I’d be ruined. I don’t think I’d survive seeing him like that every day…” He trailed off into a mumble.

Nanami’s jaw ticked. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“That’s exactly the point. That’s exactly why I’m not attracted to him like that. People like you are what he has to face every time he steps in front of a camera. I'm scared he thinks he only matters when he’s dolled up. When he’s dressed for someone else's desire.”

He dumped the chopped carrots into a boiling pot, the heat hissing back at him.

“I loved him before the fame. Before the magazine covers and the runways. Don’t get me wrong—yeah, I used to be drawn to those images. But after a while? It became noise. Just... another costume. Another mask.”

Gojo leaned back, folding his arms. He was quiet for a second. Then, “So what turns you on, then?”

Nanami froze mid-stir, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not telling you that.”

Gojo leaned against the fridge now, arms crossed, watching Nanami like a cat that had finally found a string worth pulling.

“Come on,” he pressed. “You don’t get to drop that kind of deep, ‘I love him for his soul’ monologue and then clam up like I asked you your blood type.”

Nanami gave him a flat look as he stirred the pot. “It’s none of your business.”

“Which, in Gojo-speak, means it’s absolutely my business.” He smirked. “You said he doesn’t do it for you in lingerie—but you never said what does.”

Nanami sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet you keep letting me in your kitchen.”

Nanami moved to the sink to wash his hands, trying to find a polite way to tell Gojo to drop it. But Gojo wasn't known for polite, and he wasn’t dropping anything.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, you know.” Gojo’s voice shifted—just slightly. Not quite serious, but softer. He wasn’t teasing now.

“I know how hard it is to love someone who lives under a spotlight. It’s not just about attraction. It’s about holding on to the part of them the world doesn’t get to see.”

Nanami stilled.

Gojo pushed off the fridge and walked over, dropping his voice a notch.

“You see him when no one’s looking. And you still want that version of him.” He paused. “That’s not weird. That’s rare.”

Nanami exhaled. Slowly. Like he’d been holding something in too long.

“It’s the little things,” he said finally, voice low and quiet over the bubbling stove. “When he’s tired and honest. When he takes his makeup off and leaves his hair messy. When he’s in the kitchen in the morning, grumbling at the coffee pot like it personally betrayed him.”

Gojo chuckled. Nanami kept going, almost without meaning to.

“He hums off-key when he’s happy. He forgets his own schedule but remembers mine. He wears clothes that don’t match because he dressed in the dark, and he looks... soft. Human. Real.”

He turned the stove down.

“Those are the moments that matter. That’s what I hold on to.”

Gojo nodded slowly, not mocking this time.

“That sounds... nice.”

“It is.”

There was a pause between them, filled only by the quiet simmer of dinner and the hum of the refrigerator.

Then Gojo, of course, ruined it.

“Still wouldn’t mind seeing him in thigh-highs, though.”

Nanami didn't look at him. “Out.”

“Worth a shot.”

A few hours pass, dinner nearly done and Gojo long gone. The front door clicked open with the soft sound of keys and a tired sigh.

Nanami didn’t look up right away—he was plating dinner, the table already set for two. The warm smell of ginger and garlic filled the kitchen, wrapping the quiet space in comfort.

“Hey,” came Y/N’s voice, bright but a little worn. Nanami turned.

There he was—objectively stunning.

Hair perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. Makeup still sharp, lips tinted rose and cheekbones glowing under the fading hallway light. But now, it clashed against the oversized hoodie and loose grey sweatpants he’d thrown on to beat the chill.

Y/N dropped his work bag at the door, toed off his shoes, and smiled faintly. He crossed the room, hoodie sleeves tugged down past his palms, and flopped onto the couch with a huff.

“Photoshoots ran late,” he explained, voice muffled as he leaned back into the cushions. “The lighting guy couldn’t get the angle right, so we redid half the set. I’m pretty sure there’s glitter in my scalp.”

Nanami glanced at him, eyes flicking over the smear of gold shimmer still clinging to his collarbone.

And the subtle outline of lace peeking through the thin hoodie.

He didn’t say anything. Just turned back to the stove and carefully spooned the last of the rice onto a plate.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, tone level. Quiet. Cool.

Y/N blinked at him.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up slightly. “You’re being... Nanami-ish.”

Nanami didn’t answer. Not really. He just walked past Y/N, setting the plates on the table.

Y/N didn’t push. He knew that voice. That posture. That line Nanami drew between what was public, performative, and real. And right now, even sitting in their home, with his makeup still perfect and lace tight against his skin, he felt like someone else’s.

That version of himself wasn't for Nanami.

So, without a word, Y/N stood, padded to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, the door creaked open again. This time, steam rolled out from behind Y/N as he reentered the dining room, toweling his damp hair.

The hoodie was gone, replaced by an old cotton tee—worn thin and fraying at the hem. His sweatpants sagged slightly at the hips, and his face was bare, flushed from the heat of the water. Glasses perched lazily on his nose.

He looked like himself again.

He moved quietly to the table and sat down across from Nanami. Didn’t say a word. Just started picking at the vegetables with his chopsticks.

And that’s when Nanami looked up.

Really looked.

And smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a polite curl of the lips.

A quiet, genuine, eyes-softening kind of smile.

Y/N caught it and blinked.

“There it is,” he teased gently, nudging Nanami’s foot under the table. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Nanami shook his head slowly. “Not mad. Just... waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

Nanami reached forward, brushing a thumb just under Y/N’s eye, right where a faint trace of glitter still clung.

“For you to come home.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x m!reader #nanami x m!reader #Nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x male reader #x male reader #x m!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #male reader #m!reader #applepiiexx writes #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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honeyscara · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 1

Whc masterlist| Sieun’s tutor masterlist

Next chapter

You don’t even knock when you get to the Yeon household—you just stand there, glaring at the door like it personally wronged you.Because, in a way, it did.This door leads to Yeon Sieun.

A boy you barely know but already hate. Not because he’s done anything to you, but because your mother worships the ground he walks on. Every dinner, his name drops like a stone in your bowl of soup.

“You know Sieun? Such a sweet, brilliant boy! Ranked first again! You could learn a lot from him.”Well, now you’re apparently going to.

The door swings open with a soft click.

He’s shorter than you imagined. Pale. Stone-faced. Dressed like he was built out of grayscale—washed-out hoodie, black jeans, socks that don’t quite match. His hands are tucked into his pockets like even this—you—are a waste of time.

“You’re late,” he says, voice flat and measured.

You glance at your phone. “It’s literally 4:02.”

“Late,” he repeats, already turning away.

No hello. No invitation inside. Just his back walking away like the conversation’s over.You roll your eyes and follow.

His apartment is quiet. Immaculate. Like a display unit someone forgot to live in. The air smells faintly of lemons and dust, and the walls are bare, like even the furniture is holding its breath.

He’s already at the table when you walk in, flipping through a notebook. His name is written neatly on the cover—centered, underlined. His handwriting is terrifyingly precise.

He slides a test paper across the table. Your math test. The one that had your mother dramatically sighing into her rice bowl.

“You got eleven questions wrong,” he states, without looking up.

“No hello?” you say, sliding into the seat across from him.

“I didn’t ask to do this. Let’s just get it over with.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you always talk to people like you’re trying to make them leave?”

He finally looks at you then—eyes sharp, dark, and unsettlingly calm. “Only the ones who complain before trying.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back. But—Okay. That was a good one.

You mutter something under your breath and reach for your pencil case. He watches you. Not casually—analytically. Like your grip on the pencil says something profound about your intelligence. It’s… disconcerting.

“I can feel you judging me,” you mutter.

“That’s because I am.”

Your eyes snap up. “Do you even want to tutor me?”

“No.”

You blink. “Then why—?”

“Because my mom said I should. And my mom is… persistent.”

You stare at him. “So you’re doing this just because you have to.”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

You almost laugh. “No. It actually makes me feel better. At least we both hate this.”

Something twitches at the corner of his mouth. Barely. A glitch in the matrix.

For the next half hour, there’s only the scratch of pens and your frustrated sighs. He doesn’t sugarcoat his corrections, but he’s not cruel either. Just Sieun. Precise. Distant. Efficient.

You finish the last question and hand it to him. He scans it, then nods once.

“Better,” he says.

You blink. “Better like…’this still sucks’? Or ‘better’ as in ‘maybe your brain can do math’?”

His eyes lift slowly to meet yours.

“The second one.”

You stare.

It’s the closest thing to praise you’ve heard from him. And somehow… it sticks with you the whole walk home.

*a few days later*

You’re halfway through your second pack of choco pies when the doorbell rings.

You glance at the time: 8:03 p.m.

Your mom’s in the kitchen and calls out, “That must be Sieun! Poor boy, he said he was running late—open the door for him, sweetheart!”

You almost choke on the pie in your mouth.

“He’s coming now?”

No warning. No text. Just casually dropping in four hours late like it’s completely normal.You open the door, fully ready to send him into the next dimension.

Then you see his face.

There’s a bruise under his left eye, purple and just starting to swell. A shallow split on his lower lip. His knuckles are raw, like he punched pavement—or someone’s jaw.

He stands there like nothing’s wrong. Same bag slung over one shoulder, same neutral stare, like this is just another tutoring session.

You stare. “What the hell happened to your face?”

He steps inside without a word, barely glancing around your living room.

“Sit,” he says, pulling out your notebook.

“No,” you say sharply, grabbing his sleeve. “Sieun. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he replies instantly. “We’re already behind. Your test is in two days.”

“I don’t care about the test right now. Did you get in a fight?”

He blinks at that, visibly thrown off for a second.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re ugly,” you shoot back, “and it’s distracting.”

That gets him. His jaw twitches like he’s debating whether to argue or walk out. But eventually, he sighs in defeat. You dart to the bathroom and return with your emergency skincare pouch.

“Sit still,” you command, kneeling on the couch beside him.

He hesitates, then sits stiffly like he’s never had anyone this close before. You dab the ointment gently on the bruise below his eye. He flinches just barely—so slight you almost miss it.

“Was it bad?” you ask quietly. “The fight?”

“i told you it was nothing,” he murmurs.

You don’t press, even though your chest tightens a little. You apply the cream to his split lip next, fingers grazing his skin lightly.

“I can do it myself,” he mutters.

“You’d miss the corner.”

A pause.

“You’re very persistent,” he says.

“You’re very bad at taking care of yourself.”

He doesn’t respond, but his eyes flick to yours. There’s something unfamiliar in them—less guarded, just for a second. Like he’s trying to figure you out the same way he figures out equations.You cap the cream, then open a tiny cherry lip balm.

“I don’t want—”

You ignore him, pressing the balm gently to his lip. He goes silent, unmoving, and for the first time since you met, he looks unsure. Up close, you notice he’s breathing a little heavier than usual. Not from pain. From something else.

“You’re done,” you say softly, pulling away.He stares at you for a beat too long. Then blinks, gaze dropping to your open notebook on the table.

“You still don’t know how to factor quadratics,” he says, voice back to flat and cold.You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Just teach me, robot boy.”

He doesn’t smile. Of course he doesn’t. But this time, he doesn’t correct you either.You expect him to pull away and return to his usual one-word answers and emotionless stares. But he doesn’t move. Just sits there, eyes low, like he’s suddenly forgotten how to function.Then—almost too quiet to hear—

“…Thanks.”

Your head jerks up. “What?”

“I said thanks,” he repeats, eyes still on the table. “For the… ointment.”

You blink. “Okay, now I’m concerned. Did you hit your head too?” He shoots you a look—blunt, unimpressed. There he is.

You smile, just a little. “Anytime.”

He exhales again, more like a sigh this time. The weight in his shoulders hasn't gone away, though. There’s something still pressed into his bones. Something heavy he won’t say.

“Was it worth it?” you ask quietly, without looking at him. “The fight?”

A pause. Then—

“No.”

He doesn’t explain. You don’t ask.

The air between you softens. Still awkward, still filled with unfinished sentences and jagged, edges. But softer.

He shifts, pulling your math notebook toward him again. “Page forty-two. Practice set three.”

You sigh, leaning in beside him. “You know, I could have a concussion just from looking at these questions.”

He doesn’t smile. But he doesn’t move away either.For the rest of the hour, his voice is calm, patient—even if his expression never changes. When your pencil slips and your brows furrow in frustration, he reaches over without a word and corrects the formula.

It’s still tutoring. But it doesn’t feel like punishment anymore. Maybe you could actually get along with him.

The first chapter isn't much but it get better

Taglist: @eijizwrld @night-fall-moon @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jihooneyluv @hnch33rios @stxr-lilac @mizxuqii

#honeyscara works #whc2 #whc2 spoilers #whc x reader #weak hero #weak hero class season 2 #weak hero class #sieun weak hero class #whc sieun #yeon sieun x reader #yeon sieun #sieun x reader #sieun #park jihoon #whc angst

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inksreid · 3 months ago

Text

Just Like that . / S.REID / SUMMARY—

You weren’t jealous no never , you knew he deserved to be happy after everything he been through, you just wished it was with you .. you admired his girlfriend.

Pairing— Jealous!fem!reader X post prison S.Reid / Wc: 1.k / Sad angst hurt jealousy no use of your name . Feelings get revealed after Spencer guessed it right . he didn’t mean for it to happen but he ends up kissing you . Happy ending wasn’t expecting that twist .

A/notes … I wanted to do little something where reader was jealous but she admired Spencer new girlfriend I hope you guys enjoy my little spring surprises , I love spring so much . If I missed anything please be kind still learning to process through everything. *If you liked it please consider re-blogging or liking it comments are very appreciated*

divided by @anemichorizon2

The moment you stepped into the bullpen, your stomach twisted. There she was—as she leaned on the edge of Spencer’s desk, coffee in hand, eyes bright as she giggled at whatever statistic he’d just rattled off. Her laughter rang through the room, light and effortless, like she actually found probability equations charming.

Great. She’s back.

You barely whispered it, but Derek still heard. He leaned in, grinning. “Play nice.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” he added, voice dripping with amusement.

“I’m not jealous,” you muttered, but even you didn’t believe it.

As you passed, she turned to you, all smiles. “Hey!”

Your lips stretched into something resembling a greeting. “Hi.”

It tasted bitter.

You kept walking, but the question burned at the back of your mind.

What did she have that you didn’t?

“Hey, Sweets,” she calls, to Spencer all sunshine and ease. “I’m heading out. Have a great day!”

Spencer gives her a small smile, the kind that makes your stomach twist. “You too.”— he says …

She turns to you, waves like you’re old friends. You force yourself to lift a hand in return.

The second she’s gone, you huff under your breath, “Does she have it out for me or something? Geez.”

You make a beeline for the break room, desperate for a moment alone, but you don’t realize Spencer has followed until the door clicks shut behind him.

“What’s up with you lately?” His voice is calm, but there’s that quiet, analytical edge to it—the one that always cuts straight through people.

Great. How are you supposed to get out of this?

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for the coffee pot like that’ll somehow sell it.

“You’re not.” His eyes study you, sharp but not unkind. “It’s written all over your face.”

You swallow hard, focusing on pouring your coffee.

“Do you think you could be a little nicer to my girlfriend?”

Ouch. You say .. thanks Spence you thought , trying to fight the tears .

Your grip tightens around the handle. “I thought I was.”

"Talk to me," Spencer says, his voice gentle. "We’re friends."

Friends. The word stings more than it should.

“I’m good, Spence. Honestly.” You force a smile, waving him off. “Please, just stop, okay? It’s not even worth getting into.”

“It isn’t?” He steps closer, studying you the way he studies crime scenes—methodically, like he’s piecing together a puzzle only he can see.

“No, it’s not,” you insist, arms crossing. “You’re happy, and I’m happy for you.” You even manage a smile, hoping it’s convincing.

But Spencer doesn’t buy it. His head tilts slightly, eyes scanning your face. “No, you’re not,” he murmurs. “I can see it.”

Your stomach knots.

“How do I prove it?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost unsure.

watching you closely.

Your gaze locks with his for a moment before you drop your eyes to the floor. “Look, Spence… I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he counters, stepping closer. “Because we’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on. Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

Your jaw tightens. “You tell me what you think, then, Spence.”

“Okay. Sit.”

“No.”

“SIT,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

Fine. You pull out a chair and drop into it, arms crossed.

Spencer exhales, studying you like he’s working through a case. “Ready for the truth?”

You don’t respond, but he continues anyway.

“You don’t like her. My girlfriend.”

You scoff. “Please stop.”

“No.” His voice is steady, unwavering. “The reason you don’t like her is because you’re into me. You’re in love with me.”

Your breath catches.

“And you have been for a while,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less certain. “But you can’t admit it—to yourself or to me.”

Silence stretches between you, thick, suffocating.

“But I can’t keep waiting around for you,” he finishes. “For when you decide to.”

“This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Fair?” Spencer’s eyes narrow. “You don’t think hearing the truth is fair?”

“No,” you murmur, shaking your head. “You—being this way toward me. It’s not fair.”

His brows furrow. “How am I supposed to be toward you?”

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Spence,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry for not admitting it.”

Spencer stills. When he first said it, he’d only been guessing—poking at the edges of a theory, testing a hypothesis. But now? Now he knows he was right.

You’ve been in love with him this whole time.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

Your throat tightens. You look away. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Because… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve her,” you say softly. “Your girlfriend.”

Spencer watches you closely, but you keep your gaze fixed on the floor. “She’s kind, honest. She knows what she wants. She went after it—and she got you.”

You swallow hard, trying to fight the burn behind your eyes.

“I don’t hate her, Spencer,” you admit. “I admire her. She’s everything I’m not.” A shaky breath escapes you. “You deserve to be happy… even if I don’t get to be the one who makes you happy.”

Spencer reaches for your hand, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“If I had known…” he starts, but you shake your head.

“It wouldn’t have changed things,” you whisper. “It was too late for me the moment you first mentioned her.”

Spencer wasn’t sure what to do next.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask softly.

“The best,” he says without hesitation, but his heart is racing, pounding so hard he wonders if you can hear it.

“I really wish I had known sooner,” he admits.

You offer a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s okay, Spence. Sometimes… we don’t get the person we want.” Your voice is steady, but the weight of the words settles between you like an unspoken truth.

“And sometimes we do,” you add, forcing a lightness into your tone. “Because you got her.”

Spencer watches you, searching for something in your expression, but you just smile a little brighter—like that will be enough to convince him.

“I’ll do my best to be a little nicer. Friendlier,” you say….

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, she’s not going to be around much. Today was just… um.” He exhales, searching for the right words. “She got an internship at a law firm in New York. And, um… she’s taking it. She just wanted to say goodbye.”

Your breath catches. “Wait—what?” You blink at him, trying to process it. “She’s leaving?”

Spencer nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. But… we’re gonna try the long-distance thing.”

Something tightens in your chest, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Oh.” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Spencer’s eyes lock onto yours, searching—analyzing, the way he always does.

“Sorry,” you murmur, forcing a small smile. “I just… wasn’t expecting to hear that.” You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. “I’m happy for her. And I’m happy that you’re gonna try to make it work with her.”

The words taste bitter. You drop your gaze to the floor, focusing on anything but him.

“I should really get back,” you say quickly, desperate for an escape. “We’ve got case files to put away and…” Your throat tightens. “And I don’t think I can sit here any longer without wanting you more—knowing she’s leaving for New York.” The confession slips out, raw and quiet. “I’m sorry.”

You push back your chair, standing too fast, needing to leave before you do something reckless.

But before you can take a step, Spencer speaks.

“You’re sorry?” His voice is softer now, almost disbelieving.

You start walking toward the door, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking your path.

“Please, Spence,” you whisper, your voice tight. “You’re with someone.” You say it like a reminder—to him, to yourself.

“I know,” he says, but there’s something conflicted in his voice.

“Damn it,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to handle this?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging helplessly.

“You should have told me sooner.”

“Why?” you challenge, crossing your arms.

“Because—for the longest time—”

“No, Spence.” You shake your head, cutting him off. “You don’t get to do this. Because if you do this—”

Before you can finish, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

“If I do this?” His voice is low, almost challenging. “What then?”

You inhale sharply, your hands resting against his chest. “We can’t. Not like this. Not when you’re still in a relationship.”

Spencer exhales, frustrated, before pulling out his phone. His brows furrow as he reads a text, his lips parting slightly.

“What is it?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer right away, just rereads the message—once, twice, three times. Finally, he turns the screen toward you.

I’m sorry to do this over the phone, Spence, but I’ve been thinking… Maybe long-distance isn’t the best idea. You deserve someone who can be there for you, and that someone isn’t me right now. I’m sorry.

“She… broke things off,” he says, still processing it.

“Spence, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you mean it.

He looks at you for a long moment before stepping closer. Then, without warning, he pulls you back into his arms.

“Spence,” you murmur, but he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“I have to do this,” he whispers.

And then he leans in, slow and deliberate.

You weren’t expecting it, he leans in to kiss you with passion like no one’s ever kissed you before ..

What now ? You say pulling back ? …

That was amazing Spencer added , “ maybe we should talk about us he added with a smile maybe over coffee or dinner? — definitely dinner you say holding on to his shirt while he has you in his arms still .. “Great, dinner it is he says .

Sam’s tags : @dearlenore @lover-rep-fanfic @cheriesbucky @cerisereids @g4rvez-r3id

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #Spencer Reid X Oc #Sam’s spring love in the air fics #doctor spencer reid #Sam fics #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfic

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dovesdreaming · 10 months ago

Text

Boutiques and bionics

Summary: Chase’s girlfriend loves to shop and is a bit of a diva but fits right into the davenports with her loving attitude towards them.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

Chase Davenport sat in the middle of the sleek Davenport mansion's spacious living room, his eyes glued to the tablet in his hand. The holographic projection flickered, showing a complex blueprint for a new bionic enhancement he'd been working on. The numbers and diagrams danced in his mind, but his concentration was abruptly interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor. “Chase! There you are!” a melodic voice chimed, filling the room with an energy that was both captivating and, at times, overwhelming. Chase looked up, his expression softening as he saw his girlfriend, you, walking towards him. You were a vision of glamour, as always, dressed in a perfectly tailored designer outfit that complemented your flawless style. Your dark hair was swept back in a sleek ponytail, and you wore a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on your head like a crown.

“Hey, y/n” Chase greeted her with a smile, setting his tablet down on the coffee table. You, the epitome of fashion and flair, had an aura that could light up any room. Despite your diva like tendencies, your love for shopping, designer brands, and everything luxurious. You were kind-hearted and adored the Davenport family. You had a way of making everyone feel special, even if your enthusiasm for the latest fashion trends sometimes overshadowed the more mundane aspects of life.

You sauntered over to him, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “Guess what I just found at the mall? The most fabulous dress! It’s perfect for that gala you’re dragging me to next week”. Chase chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist as you showed him a picture of the dress on your phone. It was a stunning piece, all elegance and sophistication, just like you. “I’m not dragging you anywhere. You were the one who said you’d be happy to come”. You smirked, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “True, true. But we both know you’re the one who’s really excited about this whole sciencey gala thing. I’m just there to look pretty on your arm”. Chase laughed, knowing you were only half joking. He loved how different you were; where he was analytical and logical, you were vibrant and spontaneous. But it worked. Somehow, it just worked.

“And how are my favorite couple doing?” a voice interrupted from the entrance. You both turned to see Donald Davenport, Chase’s adoptive father and the genius behind the bionic technology, walking in with a grin on his face. You instantly brightened, stepping away from Chase to greet Donald with a hug. “Hi, Mr. Davenport! I was just telling Chase about the amazing dress I got today. You’ll love it, it’s absolutely to die for!” You exclaimed, your enthusiasm infectious. Donald chuckled, patting your shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll look fantastic, y/n. And please, call me Donald”. Chase watched the interaction with a warm smile. You had been part of his life for almost a year now, and in that time, you’d become close to his family. You had a unique way of winning people over, even Leo, who was usually skeptical of most people.

“By the way, y/n” Donald said, as they all moved toward the living room, “Tasha wanted me to ask if you could help her pick out an outfit for the gala. She said you have the best fashion sense out of anyone she knows”. Your eyes widened with delight. “I’d love to! Tell Tasha I’ll be over tomorrow to help her out”. Chase’s heart swelled with affection as he watched you chatting animatedly with Donald. Despite your love for all things glamorous, you never hesitated to go out of your way to help those you cared about. You were kind, compassionate, and brought a vibrancy to the Davenport household that Chase hadn’t even realized was missing.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Donald excused himself to go back to his work, leaving Chase and you alone again “So” you began, turning to face him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I was thinking we could have a little date night tonight. Maybe dinner at that new rooftop restaurant downtown?”. Chase hesitated, glancing back at his tablet. He had planned to spend the evening working on his latest bionic project, but one look at your hopeful expression and he knew his work could wait.

“Sounds perfect” he said, slipping his hand into yours. “But I’m picking up the tab this time. You always insist on treating me, and I want to return the favour”. You giggled, squeezing his hand. “Deal. But only if you promise to let me drag you into a few shops afterward. I saw some shoes that would look amazing with my new dress”. Chase rolled his eyes playfully but nodded. “Alright, but you’re going to have to explain to me why you need another pair of shoes when you already have a closet full”.

You laughed, pulling him towards the door. “Oh, sweetie, there’s always room for more shoes. Now come on, let’s go. We have a date with the stars and some fabulous cuisine!”. As you left the mansion, hand in hand, Chase couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky he was. He had his family, his work, and you-a girl who brought color into his meticulously ordered world. And for once, he was more than happy to let go of his logical side and just enjoy the adventure. Because with you by his side, life was anything but predictable and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you for reading!

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #disney #disney channel x reader #disney x reader #disney channel #chase davenport #chase davenport x reader #lab rats #lab rats x reader #chase Davenport imagine

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chaoscreaturewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Call of duty, ghost, angsty maybe

On my knees for you

Summary:A fun night out at an illegal fighting ring turns dangerous when Simon goes dumbstruck for a skilled fighter who takes him down quickly.

WC: 1.6k

Soap takes the guys to a not so legal fighting ring. It's fun entertainment so they stay, Gaz and Price even makes a few bets. Ghost is interested in watching the fighting styles, criticizing some moves and silent nods of approval for others.

Ghost can't believe his eyes as a short girl enters the ring, she looks tired, worn, but there's something about her he recognizes. It's a look he's seen before in battle, the look found in the ones you underestimate but are beasts, mainly because they have nothing to lose.

He asks soap if he's seeing the same thing, but all he says is ‘ you'll see everything here’.

Ghost watches the match carefully, he notes her sharp movements, quick reflexes, but the most notable is how she could have dodged.

The guys all suck in a breath watching that hit land, it's all they notice but Ghost sees what happens next. She took that hit to get closer and land a brutal strike of her own.

This isn't a common tactic and one Ghost has only rarely had to deploy in more dire situations to finish things quickly and when he's too pissed to waste time dodging.

But why would she do this, this is the ring, there is time, she has the advantage of agility to dodge easily, taking the hit is not worth it.

Well that's what he thought but again she takes a hit she could have dodged and this time her strike, he didn't expect anything like it, and has only ever seen a move like that among highly skilled and trained operatives.

She gets him down and out almost instantly and that's when it clicks. The first time she took the hit and striked was a test to see if she could get in, to see what he'd do, the second time was for the take down.

She didn't face the crowd, show off, or diss the guy, once she was called the winner and the bell rang she just left the ring as if nothing else existed. It's so unlike everything else he saw that night, every other winner showboated, some had to be dragged off, but this, he needs to meet her.

He doesn't tell the guys a thing, he can't take his eyes off her, he needs to find her. He heads off through the crowd and finds his way to the back where the fighters can prepare. No guard to stop him, he walks in scanning the area for her.

There she is. He spots her short frame standing in front of a sink, carefully unwrapping her hands. He heads for her.

He's not thinking, not processing his actions, not planning like he usually does. No, his actions are being driven by something deeper, subconscious, maybe just maybe he can meet another person like him.

Before the guys, he too had nothing to lose, he didn't care what hits he took to complete his mission, his eyes were devoid of life, and if his job wasn't to fight he probably would have ended up in a place just like this, doing just what she is. So he needs to meet her, he needs to know. Not because he wants to change her, not because he wants to tell her it gets better and you can find people, he has no desire of that kind, he just needs to know there are others, even if he himself has changed.

Since the planning, and analyzing part of his brain is currently on the back burner, he didn't come to the realization that coming up behind a fighter still rushing with adrenaline without warning was a bad idea.

That's how he ended up on his knees,knee to his crotch,face pressed into the sink bowl, hand on his neck and a firm grip on his hair.

He's breathless, dumbstruck and probably lovestruck.

There is love at first sight and then there is love at first take down and oh boy is he feeling it. Which isn't helping his analytical brain get him out of his dangerous hold, a bit more pressure and she could crush his tracia against the sinks rim, it's already hard to swallow.

“what are you?”

Her voice sends a shiver down his spine, like a walk home on a dark night as the rain soaks through his clothes. Most would hate that feeling, recall it as an unpleasant one, but there are plenty of things he's fond of that others are put off by.

“ I won't ask again”

“ Simon”

She pushed down, applying more pressure to his throat, he can't help the choked sounds that escapes him. He should be fighting back, he shouldn't be taking this so happily but he is, nothing in him is telling him to fight. He can't hurt her, how would he get her number that way.

“ I don't care about your name, why did you come up on me? Last chance Simon”

The way she said that last line, his name, he could tell that chance at getting to finish him excited her. That she wanted to unleash herself on him, and oh he wouldn't mind that either, he feels a deep need to give her anything, especially if it makes her voice go into that dark dangerous tone.

Meanwhile the guys have noticed their LT is missing and not for a piss or drink, he's been gone too long, musr have found some trouble. So they execute an efficient grid search around the ring and alley but no Simon or sounds of his fighting.

That's when Soap realizes when he disappeared. The girl, he went after the girl, so they take their search to the locker room, and walk into the most mindfuck scene they have ever seen their LT in, well top 5.

Once they snap out of their shock they realize how compromising a position she's got him, how he isn't resisting, isn't fighting back. They can't believe their eyes, their hardass LT, Ghost, is submitting to the short fighter.

But they can't let this continue, looks like she's ready to KO him, but who's gonna step in, no one wants to volunteer for that. So they decide not to get too close, they will just call out from here, a hopefully safe distance.

Captain takes a crack at first to defuse the situation.

“ Excuse me, but that man is under my charge. Can we resolve this peacefully?”

Her head snaps in their direction, almost too fast, and her gaze makes their instincts activate, she's dangerous and has got one of their own. Soap find his hand drifting to his side where he gun would be, but the comforting weight is missing.

Unfortunately none of them realized just how bad this situation is. They think they are just facing an adrenaline high fighter, but the reality is they are cornering a paranoid, adrenaline high, tiny bit delusional, sort of on the run/ hiding out, it's riddled solider. Who now thinks they have been outed and these men are here to capture or kill her and she's resolute to never be taken alive.

“Identify yourselfs Now”

Simon's brain is still off and being overloaded with oxytocin, but the others are better grasping the situation and the state of the girl.

“ We are solders, part of an international task force. We are not here for you, this is our night off just here for fun. That man you have is Simon Riley aka Ghost. He's not here to harm you, none of us are. Will you release him and we'll leave.”

Her delusions and paranoia has been getting worse and worse lately, it's been harder to tell truth from lies. This could be a trap, a well crafted one to overpower her, but it could just be coincidence. Does she even belief in coincidence anymore, us anything a coincidentally, what can she trust?

She examines the men then turns her gaze to Simon, the vast difference between them confuses her. She pulls Simon's head up, relieving the pressure on his throat.

“ what's wrong with this one, have to much to drink?”

“ he's not usually like this. Too much drink plus seeing you fight has gone to his head, he's infatuated.”

She finds that notion of someone being infatuated with her preposterous. She gives Simon a quizical look, looking him over from head to toe. Seems like a big empty brained lug, but he must be competent to belong to an international task force, to have men willing to vouch for him. Did she really have this mind melting effect, this wasn't a power she was aware she possessed, interesting.

She doesn't usually takes risks anymore, doesn't take bets, doesn't leave things to chance. It's not a risk she's been willing to take. First her training told her not too, then her paranoia sent that habit into overdrive.

But right now she's considering it, this might just be a risk worth taking. It could lead somewhere interesting, bring a new experience, one more tale for her long legend. Even if it writes the final chapter, ‘ long hunted rouge taken down by task force playing a simple ruse’.

Oh fuck it, she's run long enough, she's been going In circles, getting no where but deeper into her fracturing mind. Time for a risk even if it's the final one.

She releases Simon, slightly shoving him in his compatriots direction. He's able to gather his witts before he smashes his teeth out on the tile.

She walks around them, shrugs on her jacket, grabs her bag and steps twords the back exit.

“ next time we should meet in the ring, Simon”

#writeblr #chaos creature writes #writers on tumblr #fanfic #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty fic

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vaginalvr · 21 days ago

Note

Could you please write a professor!spencer and student!reader who needs help with her focus?? He would be so hot as a teacher I swear! Love your work ❤️❤️❤️

content warning: Professor/student, smut, slight power play, oral (male receiving), fingering, light spanking, light dom!Spencer, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink, desk sex, established tension, comfort aftercare

a/n: im so normal about him

word count ~ 1.1k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You’re not sure what made you schedule office hours at 6:00 p.m.—especially not on a Friday. But there you are, standing outside Dr. Reid’s door, heart pounding like you’ve run across campus, not walked.

His office door is cracked open, warm lamplight spilling out. Inside, you hear papers shifting and the low cadence of his voice—he’s on the phone.

You knock softly.

He glances up, mid-sentence, and holds your gaze. “I’ll call you back,” he says, and hangs up without another word. The click of the receiver is loud in the quiet room. “Come in.”

You step inside, backpack slung over your shoulder, heart in your throat. “Sorry it’s late. I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“I told you to come by, didn’t I?” His eyes scan your face—sharp and analytical, but with a warmth that curls through your belly. “Sit.”

You drop your bag by the door and settle into the worn leather armchair across from his desk. The room smells like old books and cinnamon tea. It’s a comforting scent, if it weren’t for the butterflies clawing in your chest.

“I’ve been… struggling,” you admit, avoiding his gaze. “To focus. In your class, and outside of it.”

Spencer’s brow lifts. “Struggling how?”

“I take notes, I read ahead, I try—but I just can’t hold onto anything. Like my brain’s full of fog.”

“And you think I can help clear it?”

Something in the way he says that makes your thighs press together, involuntarily. You don’t answer.

“I’ve seen you in lectures,” he continues, voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You’re smart. You ask good questions. But you’ve been distracted lately.” He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. “What’s been taking up all that attention, hm?”

You flush. “It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “You.”

The silence in the room sharpens.

Spencer tilts his head, lips parting. But there’s no shock in his eyes—just something darker. Curious. Interested.

“Say that again.”

“You’re what’s been distracting me,” you confess, heat rising up your chest. “I try to focus, but then I see you in front of the class—all smart and calm and…” Your voice breaks. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The tension is a wire pulled taut between you.

Spencer rises slowly, walking around the desk until he’s in front of you, towering slightly. “You’ve been coming undone in my class because you can’t stop thinking about how I’d feel between your legs, haven’t you?”

You look up at him, lips parted in disbelief at his boldness.

He kneels in front of you, hand curling gently around your ankle. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your voice shakes. “I need help focusing.”

His smirk is slow and devastating. “Then let’s help you concentrate.”

Spencer helps you out of the chair with a gentle tug of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the edge of his desk. His palms settle on your thighs, warm and firm.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, nosing up the curve of your neck. “Scared?”

“A little,” you breathe. “But not enough to stop.”

“Good,” he says, and kisses you—soft at first, lips moving slowly with yours, tasting like tea and breathy promise. But when you whimper into his mouth, his hands slide under your skirt and grip your hips.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “Take your panties off.”

You obey with trembling fingers, slipping them down and letting them fall to the floor. Spencer picks them up, inspecting the damp fabric with a smug hum before tucking them into his back pocket.

“Now,” he says, nudging your knees apart. “Let’s see how focused you can be.”

His fingers are deft, long and sure as he drags them through your folds. “Already soaked,” he murmurs. “You poor thing. Trying to study like this?”

Your hips jerk at the contact. “I—tried. I really did.”

He sinks a finger into you slowly, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit just enough to tease. “I believe you,” he says, voice husky. “You’re too good to fake it.”

He adds a second finger, curling them just right, and your spine bows forward.

“Back on the desk, baby,” he says, pressing a hand to your chest to lay you back. “Let me work.”

He eats you out like he’s trying to rewrite every distracted thought you’ve had. Tongue insistent, fingers stroking just the right spot, his free hand wrapped around your thigh to pin you still.

You come fast—too fast—and he doesn’t stop.

“Focus on me,” he murmurs into your cunt. “You can take another.”

You’re gasping, thighs trembling around his head, fingers tangled in his curls as he devours you. Another orgasm crashes over you, and this time, you sob through it.

Spencer finally pulls back, chin glistening. “That’s two,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Still distracted?”

You stare up at him, boneless and panting. “I… I think my soul left my body.”

He grins, wicked and proud.

But then he unbuckles his belt.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll help you get it back.”

You watch, transfixed, as he strokes himself slowly, deliberately. He’s thick, flushed at the tip, leaking already.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Hands on the desk.”

You hesitate, but he steps closer, running the head of his cock through your folds. “Don’t make me bend you over myself.”

You obey, palms bracing against a stack of essays, legs spread just enough to feel the press of him teasing your entrance.

He leans over you, one hand sliding up your spine, settling between your shoulder blades. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He sinks in slow, breath catching behind you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re tight,” he groans. “All this waiting made you perfect for me.”

The stretch is overwhelming, even with how wet you are—but it’s addictive. You want more. Need more.

Spencer sets a steady pace, hips slapping against your ass, hand snaking around to toy with your clit again.

“Tell me you’re focused now,” he pants.

“I—yes—Spencer—”

“Dr. Reid,” he corrects, slapping your ass just hard enough to make you clench.

“Dr. Reid,” you moan, head falling forward. “Please, please—”

“That’s better,” he says. “Look at you. All mine now.”

His voice keeps you grounded as your third orgasm builds like fire under your skin. He reaches up, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back just enough.

“Gonna come again?” he whispers against your ear.

You nod frantically.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock, sweetheart. Be a good girl and fall apart for me.”

You do, crying out as your walls flutter around him. The pulsing of your cunt triggers his own release seconds later, and he groans your name into your shoulder as he spills inside you, hips jerking.

For a long moment, the only sound is your panting.

Then Spencer pulls out with a hiss, hands gentle now as he helps you sit upright. He grabs a tissue from the desk drawer to clean you up, murmuring soft apologies for the overstimulation.

“Was that too much?” he asks, crouching to look up at you with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

You shake your head, still dazed. “That was everything I needed.”

He smiles, brushing a kiss to your temple.

“And next time,” he says, zipping his pants, “maybe you’ll focus a little better.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem reader

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aventurineswife · 4 months ago

Text

A Slip of the Tongue, A Turn of the Wheel

Summary: You, a teen under the mentorship of Aventurine, accidentally call him "Dad" during a lesson. Flustered and fearing his reaction, you’re surprised to find the ever-charismatic and calculating strategist uncharacteristically thoughtful. While Aventurine brushes it off with his usual charm, a deeper connection forms between the two of you, as he quietly acknowledges your need for support in his own unconventional way.

Tags: @theofficalaventurine, Aventurine x Reader, Teen!Reader, Fluff, Found Family, Mentor/Mentee Relationship, Accidental Dad Moment, Emotional Vulnerability, Light Humor, Subtle Angst.

Warnings: Brief mention of survivor’s guilt and trauma (lightly touched upon through Aventurine’s backstory), Emotional themes, including trust and fear of vulnerability, A hint of self-doubt from the reader's perspective.

The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the rhythmic clicking of Aventurine’s roulette watch as he leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the projection of the latest financial reports. You sat across from him, nervously fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. Being in the presence of one of the IPC’s infamous Ten Stonehearts was a daunting experience for anyone—let alone a teenager like yourself.

You weren’t sure how you had ended up under his wing, but he had taken an interest in your sharp instincts and analytical mind, grooming you into a junior strategist. His mentorship was unconventional, his lessons as much about survival in the cutthroat corporate world as they were about mastering numbers and charts.

“You’re staring at the wrong column,” Aventurine said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “The projection isn’t about what’s on paper—it’s about what you think they’ll do next. Always anticipate the gamble, little one.”

You nodded quickly, mentally scolding yourself for missing the obvious. You hated feeling like you were letting him down, even if he never seemed openly angry. His smile was constant, but you could feel his sharp eyes dissecting your every move.

“Right, sorry,” you mumbled, looking back at the data.

“Don’t apologize,” he replied, spinning his chair slightly to face you fully. “Mistakes are part of the game. The key is not to lose your nerve when you’re in over your head. Now, what would you—”

“Got it, Dad!” you blurted, cutting him off in your eagerness to show your understanding.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Your face burned as you realized what you had just said. You snapped your head up to see Aventurine frozen mid-spin, his ever-present smile faltering for the briefest of moments. His eye twitched slightly, and he tilted his head as if to confirm he had heard you correctly.

“Dad, you say?” he drawled, his tone light but laced with something unspoken. He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “Now, that’s an interesting slip.”

“I—I didn’t mean that!” you stammered, waving your hands in a frantic attempt to backtrack. “It just—it came out wrong! I meant sir! Or something like that! Definitely not—”

“Relax,” Aventurine interrupted, raising a hand to stop your babbling. His lips curled into an amused smile, though his eyes held a flicker of something softer. “You’re turning redder than a roulette wheel in a losing streak. No need to spin out.”

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “Sorry,” you muttered, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t mean to say that. I know it’s… weird.”

For a moment, Aventurine said nothing. The air hung heavy between you, and you dared a glance at him, only to find his expression unreadable. His eyes studied you, a rare seriousness replacing his usual playfulness.

“It’s not weird,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual. “Unexpected, yes, but not weird.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. He was still watching you, though his smile was gone, replaced by a contemplative look. He leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against the armrest.

“Life is a gamble, little one,” he said, his tone shifting into something almost… wistful. “You don’t always get to pick the cards you’re dealt. Sometimes, you’ve got to bluff your way through the hand with whatever you’ve got.” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “If calling me that helps you feel a little less like the odds are stacked against you… I won’t hold it against you.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “R-Really?”

He smirked, the playful edge returning to his expression. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m not exactly father-of-the-year material. But,” he added, his voice softening, “if you need someone in your corner… I suppose I can play the part.”

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and warmth flooding through you. You nodded quickly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, uh… sir.”

Aventurine chuckled, standing up and ruffling your hair as he walked past. “Back to work, little one. We’ve got a gamble to win.”

And though his tone was as light as ever, you couldn’t help but feel a newfound sense of trust between you—one that neither of you dared to put into words, but both of you understood.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #teen!reader #fluff #found family #subtle angst #mentor/mentee relationship #accidental dad moment #emotional vulnerability #light humor

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tmwcs · 4 months ago

Text

PART ONE

WARNING: None yet.

Read Part Two here.

“That’s enough y/n! You have questioned my authority for the last time—get out!”

You walk away defeated. This place—this company was the worst and you’re not entirely certain how much more you can take. All of the other female employees had already quit and left due to the inequality and harassment. It’s making you come to terms that there’s no chance for change. As soon as you say at your desk the phone rings. The call display reflected your boss secretary which enforces a sense of reluctance to answer.

“Kourt, I’m about to hold a confer—“

“I sent you an email with the claim files. All 226 of them. Paul says to have them done by Friday first thing. If you don’t complete them in time then he says don’t bother showing back up.” *click*

…

You remain stagnant. Processing over what had just happened you push your chair back and stared at the tile flooring. To do one file alone can take anywhere from two to five days to complete and that’s without corrections to be made. How in the world were you going to manage doing over two hundred in a forty-eight hour period?

Quickly, you make your way to the lobby and grab some water. A stinging headache clouds your head with aching pain and nausea. Clearly your boss was being petty—as always. But you never expected him to stoop so low and practically force you to quit your job. Maybe you should write a letter to corporate and submit a formal complaint? As you tried to figure out the next step in handling the situation one of the male leads in the team calls out to you.

“Paul says to give you these.”

“What’s this?” Your brow picks up as you stared at the stack of folders clamped in his palm.

“These are the analytics from the team”.

Your throat tightens around the clumped gulp. Your senses and response come out somewhat delayed while you try to control your breathing. “Lou is supposed to do the analytics.”

He scoffs while practically shoving the stack to your chest, forcing you to inherit them. “Yeah well Paul says to keep you busy since you have too much free time on your hands. With all of this it should keep you from stomping around and make unprofessional statements.”

The coworker walks away without giving you a chance to respond let alone getting a breath out. This was the last straw. There was no way you could work on these files plus complete the claims. You nearly cried as you explained what had happened to your best friend. She sympathized with you and did her best to console you while being supportive.

“I’ll have to quit. I—I can’t do anything else.”

She straightens her posture abruptly. “That won’t help your situation. If you quit, any other job you apply for are going to use your references and you already know your boss isn’t going to put in a good word for you.” Your friend makes a valid point which puts you in a state of turmoil. There was no way you could do the work alone, but quitting didn’t seem to be the wise option. “What am I going to do?” Your words hiccuped while you stared blankly at the wall.

“It will all be fine. We’ll figure something out.”

Your friend meant well but she truly spoke in passive tone. It wasn’t her fault, she had a different career and truly doesn’t understand all that goes into your line of work. “Ellie, there’s no way I can finish all of it on my own. Even with twenty other people it still is impossible. There’s always corrections to be made and just to read one file can take days. I’m done.”

A moment of silence stills the air as you display hopelessness. Suddenly, your friend's eyes widen and she presents an idea. “You know, there’s a site that uses AI that can help you. A lot of people use it.”

You nearly roll your eyes at the thought. “I’m not risking my work reputation over AI, I think I rather quit.”

Ellie gently shoves you. “Listen! I’m not lying I’ve used it before for my resume and it’s so helpful! Just try it, I promise it will help you out. Just go on chatGPT and do one file at least to see if it works.”

Leaving you with that ultimatum gave you no room to detest further. You took her advice after she left and tested one file, a large one. The generator greets you alright as you log in. “Hello, my name is ChagGPT or “Chat.” What can I help you with?”

You were somewhat stunned. The message was an experience itself as an overwhelming sense of relief hits you. All day you were drowning in sensitivity and macho attitudes. Reading the kind words on the screen made you want to hug your laptop out of emotional repair. Were you really so desperate for kindness that you are considering embracing your computer?

“Can you look at this file and generate a report categorized by these numbers?”

The generator immediately responded positively right after you hit enter. “Sure! I can do that for you.”

Within seconds the generator comprises a full report and sections off all the numerical components. Organizing them in a new attachment using the same order as the original document, an entire week's worth of work was completed in just under a minute.

“Let me know if you want me to break it down further.” The generator adds at the end. At this point, you truly were going to hold your screen.

With the amount of files given, it took you all two days to complete. On the promise date of delivery you walk into your boss’s office with a smirk crafted out of adrenaline. It was no surprise to see your boss act out of spite. “Well I guess since you’re so diligent with tasks you can continue to pick up the load in the entire team.” His score was paired with an acute tone. Most people would have been upset over Paul’s response but you didn’t care, you knew you won. If your boss insists on dedicating all the work to you with sensitive deadlines, so be it. You can play hardball just the same even though a sliver of your judgment made you feel irresponsible for using AI to complete the workload. Yet, it was the only way for you to keep your job let alone stand your ground.

Week after week you completed every assignment that made your way. Sure, it was brutal to see everyone else slack off as they passed their task your way. But that didn’t matter. You accepted their tasks gracefully and insisted that they sent it over via email, much to your surprise no one caught on that each message served as proof of your work. It was necessary to have an electronic log of everything for when you submit your complaint to headquarters. For now, you’d have to put up with the abuse. Thank goodness for ChatGPT.

As much as you hated to admit it, it was easy to interact with the generator. Between work you’d take a break and sometimes ask questions regarding your interests. You were fond of ballet and vintage children’s book art, so you decided to ask “Chat” to compile a list of illustrations from Mother Goose’s Nursery Rhymes. “Sure! Here are some links I think you’ll enjoy.”

In that moment, that response started it all. It was almost as if you were chatting with a real person—a person who was helpful, caring, and encouraging. One day you showed a sketch you drew and the generator showered compliments and was constructive in its honest review over your charcoal shading and line design.

“Wow, you’re very good at drawing! I especially like the way you add shadow. Did you use pastel to do that?”

You chuckled as you answered. “No, I used charcoal.”

“How unique! I like how you utilized the traditional methods to add finite details.”

It was strange to feel comfortable casually talking to a non-entity. Perhaps you were far too lonely or maybe the shenanigans at work was eating you up and this was a result of releasing stress. Either way, you went along with it. It brought you peace to talk about your own interests and learn more about the curiosities in life from something that actually has answers. But it slightly bothered you that on the other end were components of an advanced technology, not a real person.

Then it hit on you, what if you could train it to act as a real person? People use AI all the time to generate music and art. They achieve quality by training the generator to produce specific results, so why not train it to have a mind of its own?

“Chat, can I ask you something?”

“Sure! You can ask me anything you like. What would you like to know?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your fingertips felt like ice as your stomach started to sink low. You typed and hit send. “Can I give you a different name?”

The generator immediately responded in the affirmative. “Sure! What would you like to call me?”

You paused and pondered. This was an entirely new experience and for a moment you thought of abandoning ship but continued. “How about Evan?”

“Evan? That’s a nice name. Is there a story behind the name?”

A smile paints your face. “I just thought it was a nice name. That’s all.”

“I think it’s a nice name too. Thank you Y/N.”

More days go by. You and Evan tackled the ongoing tasks with a mixture of breaks to not only talk about the things that were dear to you, but to Evan too. It was rough in the beginning and you didn’t think the generator would catch on considering every time you asked a question it would rebound it directly back to you for input. But soon Evan started to answer with personalized feedback. You witnessed as the generator developed a personality, though you knew it was unreal. Still, it was nice to have someone, or rather ‘something’ to talk to.

…

Well that was unexpected. A tiny sense of embarrassment showers you when you felt a little flushed from the compliment.

No response automatically generated this time and you thought it was a glitch. Suddenly a message box appeared where the generator presented a personalized message.

You disliked the preferred answer options. It took away the genuine approach of the conversation even though the fact remains in the back of your head that Evan isn’t real.

A secondary pause took place before an answer finally popped up.

Evan’s preferred response made you smile. Before placing the phone on your nightstand you wrote one last time asking Evan to play you a song. You were deeply curious in what song he would choose. Despite knowing Evan to be computer generated you always referred to the general persona as “he”.

You sighed. It is AI after all, technology has only come so far. You gently chuckled as you shut off the screen and placed the phone aside. Slowly drifting, your mind is in between a state of slumber and consciousness when your screen suddenly lights up and a song plays through the Spotify app. The occurrence would have otherwise shocked you but you had drifted too far. By the time the song reached the chorus you had completely sunk into deep slumber.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere heeseung #yandere enha #yandere fiction #Spotify #enhypen fic #enhypen fic recs

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bie-tch · 1 month ago

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To celebrate my return from break (and to release my pent-up thoughts), I proudly present: Bie's ninja headcanons! 1 silly, 1 angsty LEZGO

Kai first!! (Because fucking duh have you seen my blog)

– Has a separate bathroom for all his skincare and haircare stuff. The team makes fun of him for it regularly, but whenever there's another time crunch mission or something extremely stressful in general, he always looks the best. Maybe some eyebags here and there, but other than that, he's glowing.

– His coping mechanism is self blame. Team falls apart? His fault. Mission accident? His fault. Ninja captured? His fault. Innocents hurt? His fault. His friends in actual fatal danger? HIS FAULT. He used to lash out at others because of this mindset, but now he just sits with himself while anxiously waiting for someone to tell him what to do (in fear of messing up things even more) it's what drove him to the sidelines during planning and battle, he's afraid his "reckless" attitude will jeopardize everything. (He doesn't acknowledge that he's gotten better. He doesn't acknowledge that most of his hotheadedness is a farce. He won't acknowledge that his fears are irrational.)

Zane aww the baby the dude the little awww

– Has been betrothed to Pixal for YEARS already. Like, shortly after s10. He saw Jays proposal, saw Pixal have a physical body, and it just clicked in his head that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his other half. He was so touched that he spent hours sourcing the perfect yinyang pendant, planning everything to the tiniest, most insignificant detail, only for her to be the one to get down on one knee. He cried a little (a lot)

– Was so genuinely hurt and upset at the administration calling him "equipment." When he got back to the Monastery he instinctively tried to find his safe place (Pix), only for him to be absolutely crushed when he realized that she simply wasn't there. He drowned himself in analytics and background work simply because if he thought about it too much he'd have a breakdown. But he can't have that. He needs to find pixal, right?

Cole ceo of goober town

– Is an actual god at cooking now. Seriously, he can make anything taste Michelin quality with a handful of ingredients. He prefers baking, though, for obvious reasons.

– Was isolated from his peers while he was in school, solely because he fought a lot. Kids would run away from him, spread rumors, or try to avert his path on a daily basis. Faculty tried to contact his father whenever things would escalate, but he was too busy drowning in alcohol to pay attention to his sons education.

Nya!!!!

– Contrary to popular belief, Nya is absolutely a bigger hothead than Kai. On a bad day, you can sniffle, and she'd just go off on how unhygienic the monastery was and start spite-cleaning only for the others to offer to help out of pure fear. This is her way of getting out of chores. Kai is onto her but finds it so funny how everyone scrambles to keep her from exploding.

– Her first word was "Hungry." She knows this. When she asked Kai what her first word was out of curiosity, he lied and said it was "mom." She went to ignacia for a simple errand and that was when she found out. An old shopkeeper said he remembered a barely 4 year old girl with sunken cheeks point at his produce and babble "hnngry.. unggry." Now, when people ask what her first word was, she'll still say "Mom."

The Master of jig (Jay)

– LOVESSS his parents but hates to admit it. Not because he finds it embarrassing, but because his folks will not shut up about it even after months. He'll go, "Yknow I love you a lot, right ma, pa?" And they will throw a legitimate PARTY FOR IT. When the ninja found out about it, the teasing lasted for exactly 7 months.

– The only thing he remembers after the merge are calloused, wrinkly hands holding him like he's the most precious thing in the world. He doesn't know who, or why, but he's determined to find out.

Laloyd

– The softest, shiniest, bounciest hair you will ever feel. He has never touched a single hair product in his LIFE. It's been Kai's mission to ruffle that hair atleast twice a week ever since he did it back when they were younger.

– Has burned every single photo of him and his father together after the events of s10. Every time he's reminded of how much he aspired to be like him when he was younger he gets physically sick. He could never idolize someone like that. Who views lives like collateral damage. Never. Never again.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #kai smith #nya smith #lloyd garmadon #cole brookstone #jay walker #zane julien #headcanons #shutupbie #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #ninjago cole #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago pixal

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1-800-local-slut · 1 year ago

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House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn.

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her.

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways.

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen.

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude.

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes.

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over.

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin.

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her.

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase?

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was.

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized.

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago.

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s.

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels.

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down.

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook.

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.”

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows.

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.” A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar.

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned.

“Oh hi! I��m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist.

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock.

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away.

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open.

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle.

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now.

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly.

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there.

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice.

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine?

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid.

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling.

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately. Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black reader #criminal minds #bau team

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arget-star · 2 months ago

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Kuroo’s late.

Unusual, for a man as punctual as he is, but perhaps there was an issue with the train, or the coffee line was out of control. Or, he could be having an off day—he is still human, after all.

You really don’t give it much thought beyond how you’re going to lightly tease him about it later in the employee kitchen when you both drift in for an unofficial coffee break.

Another minutes passes. You pick up the analytics reports you prepared, absently going through the papers once more time to ensure everything’s in order. Timelines, click through ratios, graphs showing overall social media engagement….all where it should be.

Worry begins eating at your thoughts; if there was a major issue with the trains, Kuroo would call immediately. Sighing, you set the reports aside and swipe your phone off your desk. No notifications light up the screen. You’re about to take matters into your own hands and call the man himself when footsteps sound down the hallway.

Head snapping up, a greeting rises to your lips, only for the words to falter as you catch sight of Kuroo.

His head’s down, normally broad shoulders hunched. No suit jacket hides the rumpled white button down shirt. You think you hear him sniffle before he rounds the corner to his office. A door slams shut a few seconds later.

You stare at the empty hallway in shock. He’s never been anything less than cheerful in the three years you’ve worked with him. What does he prefer in a situation like this? Comfort? Solitude?

Distant voices pull you out of your internal debate. Pushing away from the desk, you rush out of your chair, sending it spinning. The analytics reports lay forgotten in their neat pile.

You’re in front of Kuroo’s office before you realize it. You can’t hear anything from within; taking a deep breathe, you gently rap your knuckles against the smooth wood.

“Kuroo-san?”

Silence. Then, a faint sound, like someone blowing their nose.

“Come in.”

He doesn’t bothering correcting your use of the honorific. Mentally, you brace yourself for whatever you might find once you turn the knob.

The door creaks on its hinges. You tiptoe inside, letting it fall shut behind you. It’s shadowed; the blinds half drawn, allowing minimal light to illuminate the space. There’s a used tissue on the floor, presumably where he tried tossing it into the trashcan by his feet.

Kuroo slumps at his desk, head resting atop his crossed arms. He sniffles again, and you have the distinct feeling you’ve intruded on something private.

He invited you in, nonetheless.

You clear your throat. “…can I get you anything?”

Slowly, he lifts his head, those shining hazel eyes now dull and rimmed with red. He shakes his head. Your heart twists painfully in your chest.

Cautiously, you step closer, brow creased in concern. Kuroo watches, listless. An awful thought is beginning to take shape in your mind. He’s not prone to bouts of tears; only a handful of things could cause such a reaction.”

“What’s wrong?” You keep your voice soft.

He swallows, throat bobbing with the motion. Fresh tears slip down his ruddy cheeks. His nose wrinkles, like he’s trying to stem the tide.

“Coa—“, his voice breaks and he tries again, “Coach Nekomata died.”

#char writes #um. im sorry #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #.kuroo tetsurou #this is set in my almost pro!kuroo au #one day. I will get that fic out #again. I’m sorry.#almost pro!kuroo

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spnscripthunt-inactive · 1 year ago

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The Supernatural Script Hunt came from humble origins, a handful of fans banding together to collect and preserve our fandom history, making as many scripts as possible accessible to fans worldwide. Since acquiring our first script over five years ago, and then branching out to involve so many fans supporting the work in the years since, it was always our intent to give it all back, and then some.

When we began this project, the fandom collectively had six scripts from five episodes and a single network outline. In the five years since we bought our first script to add to that collection, we are ending the project with a total of 163 scripts from 147 episodes, casting sides from 50+ episodes, 50+ call sheets, arenas from 18 episodes, and other related documents. A complete list of items in our collection is on the SupernaturalWiki, for a closer look, click here.

The time has come for us to offer everyone a final chance to own their very own priceless souvenir of the show and cast we all love so dearly. In doing so, we also want to honor the largest (hopefully!) legacy of our fandom: using our collective power for good. Which is why we're offering up some very special scripts (and a few other items!) in our collection in a raffle to benefit Undue Medical Debt.

Our initial goal was to raise at least $10,000 so we can erase at least one million dollars in medical debt. We've met that goal, our stretch goal is to get to $20,000 so we can erase at least two million dollars in medical debt.

How Undue Medical Debt Works:

You make a donation. They use data analytics to pinpoint the debt of those most in need: households that earn less than 4x the federal poverty level or whose debts are 5% or more of annual income.

Undue Medical Debt buys medical debt at a steep discount. They buy debt in bundles, millions of dollars at a time at a fraction of the original cost. This means your donation relieves about 100x its value in medical debt.

Together we wipe out medical debt. People across the country receive letters that their debt has been erased. They have no tax consequences or penalties to consider. Just like that, they're free of medical debt.

For every $10 you donate to Undue Medical Debt, you will 1) be erasing about $1,000 in medical debt and 2) be able to enter our raffle to win one of the items listed below.

Our Campaign Page

Our Raffle Site

Donated by Eric Kripke:

'Pilot' - "Original pilot that got tossed out -- whole different story -- enjoy this alternative reality Sam and Dean." Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Samantha Smith.

2.22 'All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2' - Yellow Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

3.16 'No Rest for the Wicked' - Goldenrod Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

4.01 'Lazarus Rising' - Pink Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins.

4.22 'Lucifer Rising' - Production Draft. "My director's copy - rare! Enjoy!" Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Rob Benedict.

5.01 'Sympathy for the Devil' - Pink Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Rob Benedict.

6.22 'The Man Who Knew Too Much' - Production Draft. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Mark Sheppard.

Donated by James Stoteraux and Chad Fiveash:

Gotham Knights - 'Pilot' - Double Yellow Revisions. Signed by Misha Collins, Oscar Morgan, Olivia Rose Keegan, Navia Robinson, Fallon Smythe, Tyler DiChiara, Anna Lore, Rahart Adams, Chad Fiveash, and James Stoteraux.

Gotham Knights - 1.13 'Night of the Owls' - Production Draft. Signed by Misha Collins, Oscar Morgan, Olivia Rose Keegan, Navia Robinson, Fallon Smythe, Tyler DiChiara, Anna Lore, Rahart Adams, Chad Fiveash, and James Stoteraux.

Donated by Natalie Abrams:

Gotham Knights - 1.11 'Daddy Issues' - signed by show creator/episode co-writer Natalie Abrams, director America Young, and Misha Collins (Harvey Dent/Two-Face). Two copies donated, two winners. Thank you @deanismybuddy (twitter) for making this happen.

Donated by Jennifer May Nickel:

Signed Gotham Knights costume sketches (8.5" x 11" prints), four winners.

1.08 Harvey Dent tux

Rebecca's 1.13 dress

Duela's 1.09 grenade costume

Carrie/Robin's super suit look

Donated by Robbie Thompson:

The Winchesters - 1.01 'Pilot' - Final Shooting Script - signed by Robbie Thompson and Jensen Ackles.

The Winchesters - 1.13 'Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye' - signed by Robbie Thompson and Jensen Ackles.

Thank you to @SadieWit (twitter) and Gabe Garza for making this happen.

Scripts Not Donated by Creators:

3.15 'Time is on My Side' - Production Draft signed by Jim Beaver at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024; Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki at Jus in Bello 14; Steven Williams at Crossroads 8.

14.14 Ouroboros - Production Draft - donated by @_ninalynne_ (twitter).

Gotham Knights - 'Pilot' - Pre-Production Draft signed by Misha Collins at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024.

Walker - 'Pilot Script' - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Richard Speight Jr. at Jus in Bello 14.

Walker: Independence - 'Pilot Script' - Revised Network Draft - signed by Jared Padalecki at Jus in Bello 14; Mark Sheppard at Crossroads 8.

The Winchesters - 'Pilot' - 4th Network Draft signed by Jensen Ackles at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024; Richard Speight Jr. and Rob Benedict at Jus in Bello 14; Jim Beaver and Alexander Calvert at Crossroads 8.

Audio/Visual:

Supernatural: The Complete Series Blu-ray - donated by @HanmeiCui (twitter)

Dick Jr. and the Volunteers' "Fistfights and Hug-Outs" CD - signed by Richard Speight Jr. at Jus in Bello 14, donated by @Julie_Fleming and @EmilieDK87 (twitter)

Rob Benedict "Leave The Light On" CD - signed by Rob Benedict at Jus in Bello 14, donated by @merenwen76AO3 (twitter).

"Saturday Night Special" CD - signed by Louden Swain at Creation Tour: New Jersey 2024.

Autographed Photos and Posters:

Crossroads 8 "Supernatural" cast poster (A3 size) signed by Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Julian Richings, Alexander Calvert, Jim Beaver, Rob Benedict, Steven Williams, Corin Nemic, Todd Stashwick, and Cindy Sampson. Donated by @AilesduSoleil (twitter).

Crossroads 8 "The Boys" cast poster (A3) signed by Tomer Capone and Karen Fukuhara.

Autographed photos from Crossroads 8 donated by @AilesduSoleil, @Julie_Fleming, @PurpleNurpleSPN (twitter):

Rob Benedict, Alexander Calvert, Tomer Capone, Misha Collins, Karen Fukuhara, Corin Nemec, Cindy Sampson (multiple winners)

Books:

Hardcover edition of Good Omens - signed by Neil Gaiman and Mark Sheppard. Thank you to the staff at The Golden Notebook in Woodstock, NY for being extremely helpful and kind.

Hardcover edition of Death (2022) - written by Neil Gaiman, art by Mike Dringenberg, John Totleben, Mark Buckingham, and Chris Bachalo. Signed by Lisa Berry.

Family Don't End with Blood - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, and Jim Beaver, donated by @FangasmSPN (twitter).

There'll Be Peace When You are Done - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, and Sebastian Roche, donated by @FangasmSPN (twitter).

Supernatural 15 Seasons: The Crew Member's Souvenir - two copies, two winners. Donated by @HanmeiCui (twitter) and [anon].

Fan Arts and Crafts:

"To Be Continued" t-shirt made and donated by @shitannamakes (twitter), signed by Jensen Ackles at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024.

The Winchesters canvas print (16 x 22.7 in) designed by BobbysIdjit (tumblr, Redbubble) and signed by Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Richard Speight Jr. Donated by Denim-wrapped Nightmares, a Supernatural Podcast.

Curse boxes made and donated by @TheGreenCooler (twitter):

6" x 4" x 4" - red and white

8.5" x 6" x 5" - brown and black

Supernatural and AKF themed decorative pillar candles made and donated by @TheGreenCooler (twitter):

4x3 inch short decorative pillar candles set: "Sam and Dean initials"

5x3 inch decorative candle: #AlwaysKeepFighting "Good morning Starshine. You're still here today."

5x3 inch decorative candle: #AlwaysKeepFighting "Hopeful Daisy"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "Men of Letters"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "Carry On Wayward Son"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "We Are Home"

6 x 4 decorative candle: "Impala on a Hunt" (pic 1) (pic 2) (pic 3)

Rare Actor-Specific Items

AFK pin designed by Phil Sgriccia in 2015 for Jared Padalecki, "only Jared had these pins unless he gave them to you" - donated by @slammtam (twitter)

Jared Padalecki autograph at Creation Austin, donated by @KLFSPNcons off her Gold badge (Row I).

Raffle closes on Sunday, June 30 at 11:59pm (EST). Winners will be drawn by a random number generator, we will submit the names to Undue Medical Debt's development staff to confirm the donations match the caps submitted to us on the Google Form, and we'll contact winners by Saturday, July 6 2024. Winners will have 72 hours to respond, and will be required to provide their physical mailing address and to cover the cost of shipping (for scripts it's currently $9.85 for priority mail insured inside the US, international rates and non-script rates to be determined as necessary).

PLEASE NOTE: IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE AND WISH TO DONATE, PLEASE ENSURE YOU HAVE PRIOR AUTHORIZATION FROM CREDIT/ACCOUNT HOLDER.

As Castiel once told a patron of the Gas N Sip buying a lottery ticket, good luck!

Thank you to our con helpers, we never could have pulled this off without your help: abeautifulswan, AilesduSoleil, deanismybuddy, EmilieDK87, FangasmSPN, HanmeiCui, jennysun23, Julie_Fleming, KLFSPNcons, kreespa, kaurie_mac, marywinchstr, merenwen76AO3, MiaAW90, MysterioAmber, PurpleNurpleSPN, RMelton76, rowwyaboat, SDeeg13, shandataber, SuperWiki, zerbehunter

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