#and they're the same job title

[forcebookish]

found a job that pays comically, unrealistically more money than the one i just applied to but the job looks boring and it's at a company i've never heard of... so it's like... make way more money more immediately in a field i don't care about... or try to build a career in an industry i actively want to be in..........

[that-storming-writer]

Music Box Mayhem

Thief had waited all night for this moment. Hours of servicing the entitled elite, trying to avoid the watchful gaze of Supervillain's henchmen was finally paying off. The bejeweled lid of the Ophidian Music Box glistened in the pale moonlight, peering through the thick curtains. It sat on a red velvet pillow--which complimented its beauty--in the display closest to the office desk. This would likely be their most successful heist; assuming, of course, they could make it off the grounds of Supervillain's manor. Between security, the guests, and Supervillain themself, it wouldn't be an easy escape. They could worry about that later. Thief reached for the box--

The door handle jiggled. Thief dove behind the desk, shrinking into a tight ball as warm light bathed the room. The door quickly shut with a soft click--only one person had entered. The newcomer shuffled through the room as Thief crawled to the other side of the desk. As long as it wasn't Supervillain or their right hand, they would be easy to take out. Thief peeked from their hiding spot and... Came face-to-face with Hero?

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Hero froze, hands hovering over the sides of the box as he looked down at Thief.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting the Ophidian Music Box, obviously. Why else would I be here?"

"I should've known," he said with a disapproving shake of his head. "Of course you want to get your grubby little paws on the music box. I imagine you're going to sell it off instead--"

"Oh shut it with your self-righteous garbage. I'm going to sell it because I like money. And a good reputation. And stealing is fun. Now if you excuse me, I'm just gonna grab it and be on my way." Thief stepped forward, reaching for the music box. Hero sprung between the artifact and the thief, earning a glare from the criminal. "I was here first, so I get to keep it."

"That's not how it works! It should be returned to the museum for everyone to see--not locked away in some rich guy's vault!"

"Okay? How does that effect me? Honestly, I'm impressed your girlfriend tolerates you. You're such a nag. And you're dull."

"Girlfriend?"

"Uh yeah, Villain obviously."

"I'm not a dull nag," Hero grumbled as his ears reddened. "And-and Villain isn't my girlfriend! She's my enemy."

Thief snorted, giving him a pat on the arm. "Sure, buddy."

"Why do you insist on provoking me? All I want to do is return the music box to its rightful place." Hero sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to fight with you, Thief. If we set aside our differences and take the music box back together, we can both get what we want: your reputation as a good thief and the artifact in its rightful place." Hero offered his hand. "What do you say?"

Thief blinked at Hero, looking from his hand to the music box and back again. "You really think--"

The door handle twisted.

"Hide," Thief hissed. Hero pounced behind the desk as Thief sandwiched themself flat between a couch and coffee table. It wasn't the best hiding place in the world, but it was better than being in the open. Thief heard a single pair of footsteps stride through the room, pausing near the desk. How to get the music box and escape? The thief considered their options.

They could draw attention to the desk and slip behind the newcomer, grabbing the Ophidian Music Box. Hero would be stuck dealing with them, the other person would be distracted, and Thief could flee with their prize. It was risky--especially if the newcomer had powers--but with Hero there, perhaps that wasn't too much of a concern. He had powers and was harebrained enough to protect them.

Thief snaked forward to get a better look at who they were dealing with. They chanced a look over the table... And found Villain standing before the artifact.

"Seriously?! You're here too?!" Villain twirled around, her dress flowing with the movement. Just like every other outfit at the party, it was gaudy and flamboyant, impractical for a heist. Thief jumped to their feet and glared at the villain. She offered a genuine smile. The audacity.

"My dear, Thief! I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Though now that I have, I should've expected someone with your ambitions to be lurking around."

"What are you doing here?"

"You're always a nosey one," Villain hummed. "If you must know, this fine box will look great in my bedroom. I need something new to hold all my jewelry, and what better thing than the Ophidian Music Box? Now I'm tempted to ask you the same question, but I'm more interested to know who's hiding in here with you." Hero sheepishly emerged from behind the desk, blushing more than before.

"H-hey, Villain." Villain looked Hero up and down. He blushed harder.

"Hello, darling Hero. I didn't expect you here, either. I'm not one to complain though, you certainly clean up nicely," she purred. The hero-in-denial swallowed thickly while Thief gagged.

"First you ruin my plans, and now you're subjecting me to your flirting? At least be decent enough to wait until I'm out of the room."

"Don't be so grumpy. I haven't seen my lovely Hero in a while, and I should be allowed to chat with him. However, I am curious about these plans of yours. They don't have anything to do with my box, do they?"

"My plans are called none of your business. Now if you excuse me, I would like to get what I came here for and be on my way." Thief reached for the box again only for Villain to slap their hand away.

"The box needs to go back to the museum." Hero finally regained his voice. Both criminals stared at him. "Please, let me take it back where it belongs." Villain pouted and walked up to the hero, leaving Thief to roll their eyes. Of all the heroes and villains in the city, why did they have to get stuck with these two?

"But Hero, don't you think it'd look great in my room?"

"I-I don't know, I've nev-never seen your room."

"Oh right, that's truly a shame. Perhaps we should fix that." Villain punctuated her point with a wink. That was all it took to reduce Hero into a blushing mess and leave Thief to bury their face in their hands.

"You two are so embarrassing. How can you say the things you say and still show your faces in public? Actually, I don't care. I came here for the box, not to watch the two of you do...whatever this is." They gestured vaguely to the pair as they stalked to their prize.

"Not so fast," Villain tsked. An invisible force pushed against the thief. Not hard enough to knock them over, but enough to keep them away from reaching their goal. Again. "Who said you get to have the music box? Why do you think you deserve it more than myself, or even Hero?"

Thief glared. "I can give you an alphabetical list of reasons why I--"

The door handle turned.

"Hide." Villain pulled Hero behind the curtains as Thief ducked around a neighboring display. Just as before, only a single person entered the room. Dressed in a security guard uniform, they headed straight for the Ophidian Music Box. Thief studied the newcomer. They should be easy to take out as a low-level security guard who was probably sent to... It was Vigilante. Because of course it was Vigilante!

"You have got to be kidding me. At this rate, I'm going to throw myself out the window." Vigilante jumped as the criminal emerged from the darkness, muttering a string of swears under their breath. "I can't have nice things, can I? You people are just determined to ruin my night!"

"It's good to see you too, Thief," Vigilante said flatly.

"Save your pleasantries. I'm not in the mood for idle chitchat."

"You're never in the mood for idle chitchat."

"Who asked you anyway?" They grumbled, turning to the window. "You two can come out now. Unless you're being weird, in which case spare us and stay behind the curtains." The pair came shuffling out a moment later, Villain smiling and Hero hopelessly red. Throwing themself out the window was becoming more desirable by the second. It was almost worth leaving the box behind. Almost.

"Why are you here, Vigilante?" Villain asked, sitting herself on Supervillain's desk.

"I have a feeling I'm here for the same reason as the rest of you. Does the Ophidian Music Box ring a bell?"

Thief groaned, dramatically throwing back their head. "Of course your here for the box. Why wouldn't you be here for it?"

"What do you plan on doing with it?" Hero asked.

"I'm giving it to the museum. But only if they pay me, otherwise I'll keep it."

"You're ransoming it to the museum?!"

"When you put it that way, it sounds bad."

"That's because it is bad. You can't ransom the box to the museum, it belongs to them!"

Vigilante shrugged. "It's no different than what you're doing. I'm just getting money for it."

"Now Vigilante," Villain interjected, "I can appreciate a good hustle. You're plan actually isn't bad, but I think you should sit this one out. There's already three of us who want the box, adding you into the mix makes it more complicated."

"I hate to agree with her, but she's right," Thief mumbled. "I already have to deal with these two, I do not need to deal with you too."

Vigilante gasped, slapping a hand over their chest in mock offense. "That really hurts, Thief. I thought we were friends. I mean, we're not so different you and I."

"And that is exactly why we're not friends. You go around saying things like that."

"Come on now, you know I'm not--"

"Alright, that's enough." Hero stepped between the pair, and made an effort to look at everyone. Despite his best attempt to mask his feelings, Thief noticed a hint of irritation in his eyes. Mr. Goodytwoshoes could get annoyed if they pressed hard enough. "Clearly we're getting nowhere by arguing about the Ophidian Music Box. We all want it for one reason or another, but no one is going to get it if we continue to bicker. So, let's talk this out. We'll each present a case for why we want the music box, and then we can decide who gets it."

"I can see what you're trying to do, darling, but diplomacy isn't going to get us far. We all came for the music box, and I doubt any of us are willing to leave without it," Villain pointed out.

"I have to agree with Villain," Vigilante hummed, "which is exactly why I'll just take the music box off your hands. You can thank me later." Before Thief could protest, Hero put himself between the artifact and Vigilante. They eyed each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Villain rolled her eyes with a scoff, slipping off the desk and prowling toward the bickering crime-stoppers.

"Like he said, we're getting nowhere like this. Just let me take it and we can all go home for the night. Except for you, Hero. You can come home with me, if you'd like." That earned yet another blush from the hero and a long sigh from Thief.

"Great. He's definiently going to side with you on the matter because of your manipulation."

"She-she's not manipulating me!"

"I'm not manipulating him," Villain echoed. "Though I'm curious to know why you're trying to turn us against each other. It does conviently work in your favor if the two of us fight."

"Oh no, you don't get to accuse me of manipulating him."

The three of them were arguing. Well, it was more like Villain and Vigilante were arguing while Hero tried to keep the already shaky peace. Thief tuned them out. The others left Thief forgotten and the box open for the taking. They had one shot to claim their prize and make a run for it. They would make it good.

Thief snatched the music box and made a break for the door, failing to notice the handle fidgeting again.

Supervillain entered their office, taking a step back as they took in the sight. They looked from Villain to Hero to Vigilante before their eyes finally settled on Thief and the Ophidian Music Box. Shutting the door behind them, they leaned against it and smiled.

"Now what do we have here?"

-0-0-0-0-

This thing is 2125 words long. I thought it would maybe be around 1500 words, but apparently not. I'm never writing again. I'm kidding, but wow this is the longest snippet I've written. And I've only written five. Anyway, there's probably some mistakes. I wrote and finished this all on my phone, so I might go and edit it when I have access to a computer. Hope you enjoy.

[karaokebearwithal]

Oh, if anyone was wondering: Karaoke in my name is akin to a job title. Like builder or a confectioner. Bear is my name because when I first left my den, other than screaming, people yelled bear. And I've found that an accurate description ever since :)

Withal is a last name admittedly chosen haphazardly. BearWithal rhymed with Wherewithal and I thought that's how last names worked and that you needed one to have a blog. I was wrong but I don't want to change it now. Hope this helps :D

[mythicalcoolkid]

Y'all will see videos of blue collar workers doing their jobs in creative, efficient, or cool ways and scream "no unskilled labor!!!!" but I'm willing to bet you'd absolutely change your tune if you knew the worker had a neuro disability

[libraford]

I've been thinking about the proposed gender transition regulations (ohio) because it paints a strange painting about what it's like to be a young queer American.

At the same time that they're trying to increase the restrictions of HRT and surgery to 21, they are trying to lower the working age and increase their hours past 30, deny them lunch breaks. Moms for Liberty (now calling themselves Awake Americans) are trying to remove queer content from schools, claiming that it's pornographic. They're practically adults when you're using them in the workforce, but children when they want to learn and children when they want to be happy.

You can enlist in the military at 18. You can get a tattoo at 18. You can get your nipples pierced at 18. You can work an exploitative job at 18. You can buy pornography at 18. Vote at 18. Gamble at 18. Get married at 18. Get cosmetic surgery at 18 (unless you're trans.) You can drink and smoke legally at 21 without 6 months of therapy and the approval of a board certified psychologist, endocrinologist, and one of three medical ethicists in the state.

But you can't transition. Because the state thinks that you're too young and don't know yourself well enough to make that decision, but it will let you die in a war.

The comment period for this rule change ends January 19th at 5pm. Send an email to mh-sot-rules@mha.ohio.gov with the title "Comments in Gender Transition Care Rules" and tell them how the new rules would impact your life or the lives of those around you.

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[thiccoritaaa]

I'm at a client for fieldwork that I've been talking to abt coming on as an assistant controller and the cfo said we should go to lunch to chat omg 😳😳😳

[weaselmcdiesel]

ok so it's not a comic hope thats ok with you but instead it's karkat n nepeta but designed by someone whos madly in love with them both

some more au explanations + transcript beneath the cut

they're maybe around 30-40 yo? This was mostly just an exercise to give both of them adult designs. uh. i'm only calling it an au because I made bs some explanations behind their designs while i was drawing them. so uh, in this universe, sburb never happens + things that happened because of sburb don't happen either, but the alternian society is relatively unchanged. i dont actually know.. what.. karkat does.. like i cant figure out why he wouldnt be culled but it doesnt really matter i just wanted to draw him looking cool! (i am. open to hear about speculation if you have any). also i figured that Kanaya would go to the brooding caverns after her lusus dies, bc the wiki said her lusus would die regardless of the game taking place n whatever, and probaly do something with the matriorb there idk. thats all tho! ill prolly draw them more and maybe develop more lore as i do ^^;

--

Transcript!

i don’t know what their dynamic is in the canon of this au… but that won’t stop me from making them kiss :]

The Vigilant adult karkat on alternia

new highly developed shoosing skill

honestly has a calmer demeanor because he’s learned what’s worth exploding about… though he probably developped a crazy resting bitch face

pleased (arrow to karkat with a neutral face)

The sash doubles as a sling for when he visits Kanaya in the brooding caverns. He’s also very tranquil around grubs because they don’t cause unmanageable problems. He’ll get mad if someone else bothers one

(yes i’m obsessed with dilfkat that’s why i drew this)

The Predator adult nepeta on alternia

Taller than karkat <3

still a silly goober, but better at getting what she wants

she probably got her title from a history of single-handedly slaying fearsome lusii. she likely takes assassination type of jobs because of her stealth. one of the more easy-going trolls from the group

--

also! fun fact. i was having trouble designing kk's outfit so i looked in an old antiques catalog book from the internet archive to get inspiration from objects that had the same colors as those that i wanted to use in his design? not sure why i did that. just had a hunch that it would be fun. so this is the object i found that strangely enough inspired kk's fit

haha.. and i also found one for nepeta, though it was easier to design her fit and i didnt actually need a reference object

the book was "Antique Trader antiques & collectibles 2009 price guide"

[moonstruckme]

hi i have a request that you're obviously under no obligation to answer but i saw that you did a royal au for sirius and i was wondering if you'd be open to doing another?

something like they're in a secret relationship and they're at the same ball and trying to act like they're the picture of good behavior but sirius is being subtly flirty and a menace?

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Slight deviation, they're not together but this takes place just a bit after the first one <3

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Seeing as balls are generally marketed as the pinnacle of refinement, you hadn’t expected this to be so loud. 

Every time the hum of conversation rises, someone keeps telling the musicians to play louder too, until people have to raise their voices and it starts over again. A victor-less battle. You have an inkling that it might all be easier to handle if you had just a bit more wine, but you’re on your best behavior for your new family.

You try not to wrinkle your brow, leaning closer to the man in front of you as the violins crescendo. “Sorry?” you ask, politely as you can. 

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. You try not to wince. He tells you the title of his job again. 

“Ah.” You nod, trying to look as though you understand the importance of this jumble of fancy-sounding words. “That’s so interesting. What does that entail?” 

He’s thrilled you’ve asked. As the man launches into a thorough description of his day-to-day duties for the kingdom, you contemplate how surprisingly relevant a competence in lip-reading might be to your new role as princess. Is this something you’re going to have to do all of the time? You haven’t been able to make out half of what this man has said since he made his way over to you. 

It’s pointless anyway. As soon as you notice Sirius Black standing behind him, you’re gone. 

It’s been hardly a week since your illicit meeting with the Black heir. You’d munched on chicken nuggets, traded complaints about palace life and your wildly different upbringings. When a guard had come to fetch him back to his parents you’d hid behind the door, and to the best of your knowledge you’ve both pretended the meeting never happened ever since. 

Now, he’s dark and gleaming under the light from the chandelier. He smiles dashingly at someone shaking his father’s hand, standing beside both of his parents and slightly in front of another boy you suppose must be his brother. You haven’t actually seen anyone in his family before now, but the connection isn’t difficult to draw; they’re eerily similar. Pitch black hair and pale skin stretched tight over delicate bones. Most horrifying of all, they’re wearing identical shades of black, the homogeneity of the men’s suits too precise to be incidental, except…

Sirius’ suit jacket shimmers with a silver sheen in certain lights. 

Your lips curve before you can stop them. You hardly know him, but already this seems typical; he has to be different. Has to set himself apart. It’s less tiresome than it ought to be. 

As though your thoughts have been broadcast across the room, Sirius’ head turns minutely in your direction. His eyes catch you and hold you.

It’s lucky the man standing in front of you doesn’t seem to notice how your gaze has wandered. He chatters on, unaware that your palms have slickened or that your heart has started pittering fiercely inside your chest. Sirius says something to his companions and peels off. He starts towards you. 

You look back to your conversation partner, managing a nod of faux comprehension just before he reaches you. 

You let your eyes flare as he stops beside the two of you, willing some surprise into your expression, but your voice comes out even more startled than you intend when you hiccup out, “Your highness.” 

“Your highness,” Sirius says back, the faintest of smirks curving his lips as he inclines his head to you, then the man in front of you. “Lord Chamberlain.” 

Shit. How does he know this guy’s name and you don’t? 

Lord Chamberlain looks nearly as caught offguard by the prince’s notice as you are. “Your highness.” He puffs up. “I didn’t realize we would be enjoying your presence this evening.” 

“Yes, my brother was supposed to be the only one accompanying my parents on this visit.” Sirius sounds even more polished than the last time you spoke with him. There’s an easy grace to his posture, an inherent knowledge of the tiny moves that allow one to conform to the etiquette of this culture which you’re still struggling to grasp yourself. But his eyes flash when they meet yours, a glimpse of that waggish boy you met in the sitting room. “However, during my last visit I found an interest in your lovely kingdom I’ve not had before.” 

Lord Chamberlain begins to prattle on about the perfect astuteness of the prince, the many, many attractive qualities of your kingdom, few of which would be quite so perfect if not augmented by himself…Sirius nods with practiced diplomacy, waiting only for the man to take a breath before he turns his attention fully to you. 

“I hoped you might join me for a dance,” he says, leaning closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice over the music. “The next one is about to start.” 

“Oh I’m not supposed—” You cut yourself off, eyes darting to the courtier monitoring you from the edge of the room. You imagine you’re not supposed to say what you’re not supposed to do. “I’m really not much for dancing.” 

“Come on.” Sirius’ expression is teasing. “It’s rude to turn down an invitation from your guests. Isn’t it, Lord Chamberlain?” 

Lord Chamberlain looks as though if Sirius proves that he knows his name another time he might be in danger of swooning. 

“Yes,” he chokes out. His eyes when they meet yours are something akin to desperate. “Princess, it’s good form.” 

You catch yourself chewing the inside of your lip, stopping as you look back to Sirius. You don’t think he would tattle on you for violating whatever atavistic rule requires you to dance with him, but Lord Bootlicker might. 

“All right,” you say. Far less polite than society allows, you’re sure, but Sirius grins nonetheless. 

“Excellent.” He takes your hand, leading you away. “Always a pleasure, Lord Chamberlain.” 

The other man stands where you left him for a handful of moments, looking dazed, before beelining towards a server carrying refreshments. 

“I don’t know any of the dances,” you hiss at Sirius as he guides you onto the floor. “I’m supposed to be staying away from here.” 

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you, with the sort of confidence only a silver spoon can imbue. “If you just follow in the direction I lead you, your dress will cover up any missteps and I promise not to squeal if you step on my toes.” 

You try to give him a droll look, but you can already feel it happening. You’re succumbing to his charms again. 

There are only a few other partners around you, but here in the center of the room the noise seems even more overwhelming. Conversations overlap, laughter rings out, and music echoes off every wall in the large room. And just in front of you, still holding your hand, Sirius Black is watching you with his flagrant intensity. Even his eyes are too loud. 

He leans close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. “Scoping out your dancing competency wasn’t really my aim,” he says. “I only wanted to get you close enough to have a conversation without shouting.” 

You fear your thoughts must be bare in your expression. That afternoon in the sitting room was certainly memorable for you, but you were far from expecting Sirus to single you out afterwards. For all his talk about the novelty of you, he seems like the sort of person to have interesting interactions wherever he goes. 

“Put your hand on my shoulder.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

Sirius grins, and you realize your slip. No matter how the courtiers you’ve been assigned have drilled into you excuse me, sorry, pardon?, Sirius undoes all your practiced manners with ease. 

“Your hand,” he says again, “goes on my shoulder.”

Just as you settle it tentatively atop of the faintly shiny material of his suit jacket, the music starts. Sirius places a sure hand on the small of your back and grins when you jolt. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, taking your other hand and tugging you gently to the side. Everyone else steps that way too, and you let him lead you through the first steps of the dance. “I won’t bite. Not in front of your grandmother, anyway.” 

You press your lips together to hold in a laugh, eyes finding your grandmother, the Queen, watching you from across the room. She’s smiling faintly, but the courtiers with her look less than pleased. 

You swallow, turning your attention back towards Sirius. “They’re upset with me,” you say. It’s a relief to speak at a normal volume. You know your proximity means he’s the only one who can hear you. “I told you I’m not supposed to be dancing.” 

“They’re not upset that you’re dancing, they’re upset you’re with me,” he replies easily. He guides you into a turn that curls you into him, his arm laying across your chest for just a moment before he turns you back out. “I have a bit of a repute.” 

This, of all the things you’ve learned about Sirius Black, is the least surprising. 

“So, you’re trying to ruin me, then?” you ask, half teasing. 

Sirius grins sharp as a knife. He leans close. “Sweetheart, I want to ruin you in all sorts of ways. That’s just not one of them.” 

Your momentary confidence drops right down to your stomach. If you thought you’d be able to play with Sirius and keep up, clearly you were wrong. 

“We’re going to do a spin,” he warns breezily, saving you from any response. He lets go of your waist, holding your joined hands aloft and using them to guide you away from him and into a twirl.

Only, you go for it too quickly. You’re back in his arms while the other partners are still going through their slow turns. Sirius’ laughter barks out of him loud and sharp before he catches himself. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, resting your forehead on Sirius’ chest and shutting your eyes in mortification. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sirius is still shaking with quiet laughter. His hand is friendly on the small of your back. “That was stunning. All the other ladies wish their skirts had fanned out the way yours just did.” 

“Is skirt fanning really the object of the dance, though?” 

“It’s eye-catching,” he maintains. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You can make anything lovely. Now stop hiding before one of your keepers has a stroke.” 

You remove your face from his chest hastily. Your eyes flit to the courtier at the room’s edge before you return them to Sirius, cheeks burning. 

His look softens. “Don’t fret, gorgeous, you’re not the only one who’s committed a faux-pas just now. That laugh earned me a proper glare from my mother. As soon as the dance is over, they’ll throw us into the dungeons together.” 

“Well, at least it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to down there.” You bite down on a smile. Sirius, you’re beginning to notice, has a way of making all your worries about fitting into polite society feel silly. Nothing feels very serious when he’s around. Ironically enough. “Do we really have a dungeon?” 

Another startled chuckle goes through him. This one is quiet enough not to raise any eyebrows, more’s the pity. “Not one currently in use. It’s a relic, with a door going out to the street so tours can go through.” He smiles, borderline sheepish. “I went on one when I was twelve.” 

“You did?” You can’t stop the smile that leaps up on your face now. It shouldn’t be so easy to picture Sirius as a child, but it surprisingly is. A bit shorter and skinnier than he is now, skin and bones and night-black hair darting around and causing trouble. It’s an odd feeling to think that he explored your family’s palace long before you could, somehow both twinging and reassuring at once. “Is there a reason you’ve been here so often?” 

Sirius looks genuinely surprised at that. “No one’s told you?” At your bemused look, he blinks, seeming to compose himself. His hand flattens on your back. You hadn’t realized he’d been gripping you. “Our families have been friends for literal centuries. My great-great-great-aunt was close with your great-great-whatever, and we’ve never let our claws out of each other.” He gives you a conspiratorial look, leaning closer. “I can’t attest to the relationship between the current ruling generations being quite so amicable, but we cling to each other nonetheless. Trade relations and all that. All that is to say,” he backs up, gifting you with a smile, “we really will be seeing a lot of each other.” 

“Oh.” Your chest flutters with an unidentifiable feeling. You don’t know if you can handle seeing much more of Sirius Black. Every time you meet, it’s like he whittles away all your weeks of training and posture correction with a look. You’ll never make any progress if he’s constantly around to trip you up. “That’s nice.” 

“You’re doing remarkably well,” he notes. You look up, for a moment worrying that he’s read your mind (he seems prone to doing that), but Sirius goes on. “I don’t know what you were talking about earlier, you’re a natural at this. My toes remain unsquished.” He gives you a secret smile. You return it wobbily. “There’s another spin coming up,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes, “think you can handle it?” 

Honestly? You think you’re already dizzy enough. 

[anadiasmount]

known strangers - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: when a stranger from the past is now your future, how are things going to work when the only thing in mind you have is that weekend and him. your boss.

wc: 4k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: HIIIIII!!! ceo!jude ?? yess plsss!! inspired by a clip back when he did cibieles, and a few requests i mixed and played around with 🤭🤭 like always hope you enjoy!! and i am sooo sorry for delaying this!! yet i do feel i'm getting back on track 🤞🏻

“it should not be this fucking hot… why is it so hot?” you blabber to yourself, the wind blowing pieces of your hair around all over the place, making them stick to your lipgloss. you gently removed them from your lips, but they frustrated you more as they returned. your heels clicked against the floor, tugging your purse tighter once you arrived at the huge, tall building downtown. 

you were directed right away by the receptionist, her simple instructions to take the elevator to the last floor and then turn left. you felt frozen upon seeing the metal doors, a bubble of anxiety rising through your throat as you began to take it all in. the huge building, the fancy decor, the employees. you felt more than fortunate to land a job a couple of months after you graduated. 

most of your friends and people you attended uni with either landed jobs before graduation or were still looking for those opportunities. your line of work came in handy, and you were very pleased at how much you had achieved at your age. you could travel, work, spoil yourself, and make a title for yourself. this was the first chance for you to start your career independently and you took that very seriously. 

you scrolled aimlessly on your phone while waiting for the elevator doors to close, checking the latest emails and texts from your friends, holding your purse tight, and fixing your hair back to how it should've been before the wind ruined it. “advice them to assure they're all prepared, the last time they couldn't even utter a word and take responsibility for what they did…” you looked up, standing straighter as you heard a deep voice. 

the word scared couldn't even define how you felt at that moment, the blood rushing down your face and stomach-turning upon seeing a similar figure. the same person you spent a night with a summer ago. you recognized him from a mile away as he moved in slow motion, or was it just in your head? it couldn’t possibly be him? or could it?

you looked away almost immediately when you locked eyes for a few seconds, clearing your throat and pretending not to be bothered, but truly you were dying inside just a little. not a little, a lot, you felt like throwing up. maybe you were being dramatic, but a worse fear of yours was seeing somebody you recognize or know in public.

oh how much you wanted to be over, yet it didn't end. the elevator ride was endless, the four walls feeling like they were closing you in, filled with heated tension, and awkwardness. All you could do was breathe quietly, look up to be faced with his firm and structured back under his suit, or be on your phone. you let out a sigh of relief once you walked out, legs wobbly, and your stomach back in place, thankful you didn't throw up from nerves. 

you quickly forgot about it, knowing he didn't remember you or acknowledged it. you attended the first meeting of the day, getting to meet a couple of new coworkers who would be participating in the same campaign as you. you all settled to get drinks and lunch together later on after finishing a hypothetical proposal and outline. 

a bead of happiness burst in your chest. you could get used to this, it wasn't as bad as it seemed and you fitted in with the rest of them there. 

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷  —---------------

“this weather is so bipolar i don't think my hair will handle it,” said lilly frustrated, shaking her umbrella and putting it away. “as an american this is completely different than where i live, i’d be dying from the heat right now,” she jokes earning a laugh from everyone. “i promise it’s not that bad,” chris sarcastically says shrugging off his coat. 

“that bad? it rained all week!”

you were allowed an hour break for lunch, so you all settled for a nice coffee shop across the street since the weather didn’t look promising. after debating and getting conceived by lilly, you ordered an iced coffee and chocolate croissant, content and ready to eat something. the whole group sat by the windows, getting distracted by the rainfall before julian spoke up. 

“have you guys met the ceo?” you shake your head no, having no idea what they were or who exactly they were referring to. “no, let’s not even call in that negative energy… the receptionists in the front were gossiping how he had super high expectations for us after last years team was a disaster,” julian stressed, shaking horrified, almost as he had been part of it. 

“who exactly is the ceo?” you asked with an unsure smile, earning looks and daggers. “what? what do you mean you don’t know who he is? he basically runs this entire city!” julian was first to speak making you laugh, “you’re joking right?” you deadpan earning a shake from julian. “no… you do realize we have a meeting later with him… right?” 

“i barely fully moved in two days ago and haven’t had time to do any research,” you explain taking a sip of your drink. “okay why did i also not know this?” chris exclaimed taking his phone out immediately to check his email. 

“guys we can’t forget stuff like this especially when he has strictly scheduled meetings with us! i’m not lying when i say this man will fire us on the spot,” stressed julian making you and lilly snicker a laugh but totally agreeing with him. you couldn’t lose this job just because of minor details like this. you needed to be prepared and organized. 

“what else do you know about this ceo?” lilly teased him, laughing when he squinted his eyes towards her. 

“well for starters this man is strict and loves his work done in a well manner. if he believes you won't succeed with him, he won't even bother to call you into his office. he was born and raised in england his whole life, he's considered like royalty now with the status he has. you can probably piece he’s the most young eligible bachelor if women are luck to cross his path.” 

“he started his company at a young age, no one knows by what or what inspired him, but it's rumored by a small incident when he was young. he's rated most arogant, executive, successful, directorial ceo in all of europe. If that doesn’t scare you than i don’t know what does…” he finished saying. 

“well then… no pressure guys,” you joked 

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷  —---------------

“my hand hurts i can’t write anymore,” you sigh removing your glasses and gently closing your eyes feeling how dry and irritated they were, from switching to your ipad and writing notes in your notebook. “that double espresso shot hasn’t kicked in yet,” yawned chris, standing up and stretched. 

“for our first day we haven’t done so bad-”

a knock on the glass doors made everyone turn their head, a woman in her late 50s came in, “your scheduled meeting with the ceo is in five.” a sudden mood shift was practically immediate, everyone glancing at each other before prancing around to gather their items. julian even taking a breather before being the first to walk out. 

your steps stopped, lilly almost crashing into you as you stared ahead to the one person you didn’t think of ever seeing again. jude. there was no describing how you felt, you couldn’t hear anything around you, just focused on him. How he spoke and had this angry daze on him. julian wasn't lying when he said everyone feared him, you just prayed he didn’t call or recognize you. 

“you good?”

“y-yeah-h i’m fine! It just hit me out of nowhere you,” you quickly lied, offering a small smile before hiding behind everyone. 

jude looked up dismissing what seemed like his assistant before stepping over to where you all stood. luck didn’t seem to be on your side, since everyone got into a line and put on their most professional smile. jude shook everyone's hand, greeting them and welcoming them to his company. your chest moved up and down as he approached you, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 

“hello, welcome. i’m jude bellingham, it's a delight… to have you here,” jude stammered, his hand shaking yours slower almost as if he wanted to take a better look. you barely looked up just focused on shaking his hand and for him to continue down to the last person. “thank you for having us here,” you spoke softly, removing your hand gently so he could continue on. 

jude’s stare lingered on you earning a small shove from lilly who asked with her eyes, “does he know you? do you know him?” you ignored, rather focusing now on your shoes which you had not noticed had mud on them, a headache wanting to appear just by the couple last minutes. 

how was it possible? how was it possible for the two of you to be here? in the same room? he was now your boss, and you were his employee. you were to follow his rules, while he just observed and made them. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. you envisioned a dream different than this. you were convinced it was someone else but not him? 

you avoided him at all costs, not wanting to make it weird for him or yourself, but rather save the embarrassment and fear you felt for some other time. if you felt he got nearer you walked away somewhere else, you looked up when it felt like he was the only one staring at you while he spoke. the only constant thought in your head was to act like the professional y/n everyone knew. the one who held her head up high, and got her way no matter what. 

------- ୨୧ -------

“why is it you’re doing this?” you asked cheerfully, slipping into jude’s hold as he fixed his sunglasses and laid back on the pool chair. “i don’t understand what you mean?” he shrug, his hand racing from your spine down to your bum, where he rubbed it softly over the bikini material. “explain to me darling.”

“we just met jude… it feels like we’ve known each other longer… surely it feels like something else…”

jude chuckled. “i’ll keep it simple. i happened to be on a business trip and i stumbled across you. you’ve recently graduated, and traveled here to celebrate. though now you're here with me… in this lounge chair, in my bed, in my arms, because that how attached we’ve gotten? tell me i’m wrong?” he challenged, as he leaned up and slid you onto his lap. 

“you’re wrong,” you dared with a huge smile on your face sliding your hands onto his shoulders feeling his lips pepper kisses onto your jaw. 

“then i’m not doing my job correctly.” 

------- ୨୧ -------

“i wanna know more about you, tell me,” you leaned over slightly grabbing his hand and brushed your thumb softly over his knuckles. jude’s eyes followed your movements feeling hesitant since he never did this. his job didn’t allow him to have enough personal time to be himself. but with you, he’d kill to spend every moment together. 

so he found himself losing himself in your eyes and allowing himself to reply to any question, doubt, feeling you had. “i promise i’m not that interesting as you think…” 

“surely that can’t be true? there's always something more hidden, a locked mystery in a person who doesn't fully show themselves to the world…” you reply taking a sip of your wine staring into his intense eyes, not knowing that behind them jude was already obsessing and going crazy about the idea of you. you allowed yourself to be you and vulnerable, why couldnt he?

“ask me anything.” 

------- ୨୧ -------

“what's the biggest aspiration you had as a kid?” jude randomly asked, tucking his head closer into your neck. “the word aspiration would be impossible for five year old me to know. the dream she had was to explore the ocean as a mermaid, then grow up to be teacher,” you rambled.

“would she be proud of the person you are now?” 

“she would be mad because of stubborn she was but yes, more than proud…” 

------- ୨୧ -------

Jude’s chest burned with anger, grabbing the nearest item before throwing hearing it break into tiny pieces. He took a seat by the balcony looking over to the small 

‘dear jude, 

the past week has been the most strangest yet fulfilled week i’ve ever had. never did i imagine to meet an extraordinary person like you. and so it pains me write this knowing we have different and separate lives. believe me, i’m saving you from something that would’ve turned ugly. you deserve better and its not me. you have exclusivity, a richer mentality that i know for sure i can’t live up to… just think of me of the one person who you first ever truly got to be yourself with… five year old jude would be proud.

- y/n ♡︎

jude was back to the old him. the one before meeting you. the one too busy for anything and focused on his companies future. yet he couldn’t think at all, your scent lingering around his rrom, in the white button up you wore the night before, just right after moaning his name during your high.  

he laughed in disbelief, once again feeling the disappointment and pain in his chest, gliding across the room to the coffee bar where a almost empty bottle of whiskey stood. not thinking it one second and grabbing the bottle to take a huge jug of the bitter drink. 

“exclusivity my ass.”

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷  —---------------

“anything else we can get for you sir?” your coworker asks, jude sighing and loosing his tie. you looked down at your feet, making sure your heels were still shiny after stepping on mud but cleaning it off as you shifted your weight nervously. “you. what’s your name?” his tone laced with a demanding manner. “me?-” lilly blurted.

“no her, the one next to you.” 

“i’m y/n… what can i help with,” you nodded. you felt exposed under a microscope. like a new scientific specie discovered. everyone's eyes were on you, making you want to run out and book the first flight back. jude’s eyes widen a tad bit, not knowing if he was just taking you in or if he remembered that same night back in the almafi coast. 

“that’s it for today. i will see you all wednesday,” jude shook his head, a bubble of relief bursting through his chest when he recognized you. that same excitement from that night you first met, where you spent the entire evening together, drinks, dinner, dancing, to then sharing his bed in the most intimate manner. 

had you remembered him like he did? 

“y/n? please stay back, i’d like to run a few things with you,” you were sure your stomach had dropped to your ass again for the second time today, heart banging in your chest that doctors would’ve busted into the room quickly. your friend gave you a confused look, receiving a shy smile from you. you weren’t sure what he wanted, or expected, all you wanted was to leave. 

“what can i help with?” you said again, taking short strides as you opened your notebook and prepared to take notes. “why is that i recognize you from somewhere?” jude pushed his brows in, eyes roaming you as you took a seat in front of him. you gulped afraid your voice would sound scared and small in front of jude. could you even call him that? or would you have to refer to him as sir like others? “uh… maybe you have me confused with someone else,” you offered a lie, pursing your lips. 

“no. i know who you are…” jude persisted

“i’m sorry sir, i think you are mistaken-”

“jude, call me jude.”

“j-jude, this is a huge misunderstanding,” you giggle nervously shaking your hands, watching as the tall man stands up from his chair and came around to sit on his desk right exactly infront of you. his jaw clenched, leaning slightly back as his hand interlocked and rested just below his stomach, watching as he took a deep breath. “some could argue it isn’t.”  

“i don't know-”

“last year i fired two people on their first day because they lied to me. will we have a repeat of that today y/n?” he said sternly making you scoff in disbelief. “excuse me? if me being here bothers you that much then it sounds like an ego problem,” you defend sitting up straight, closing your notebook. 

“i’m not here to waste your time or mine either. just get onto what you need to say,” you hurried no caring if you sassed or had an attitude. the nerve to threaten you, on your first day, just because of some history. ‘the history that keeps you up y/n’… said your conscious.

it’s true… and while you hated to bring him up, to recall every memory spent on that trip. you knew deep inside he wasn’t just a stranger. he was someone engraved in your mind until forever held its peace. 

you felt shitty the morning after leaving him. remembering how tears flew down your cheeks as you wrote the letter, how jude could sense the already empty space before you walked out. out of the room and his life. but never in your life had you become that scared of being that vulnerable and attached. 

every piece of him haunted you. the name, his music taste, the black tie he used the first night you shared a bed together, his briefcase filled with documents, the black gel pens, and gold watch. you felt him everywhere though he was no longer there. you knew the insecurities had won, and you accepted that a person like him could never be with you. the status, the medal he wore around his neck. you couldn’t be that. 

“what i need to say? it’s not even close to enough to what i felt after you left me… i know it was you in the elevator this morning, yet i fooled myself into thinking it wasn’t because surely it didn’t seem real…” you looked away rubbing your hands across your lap to clean off the sweat your palms began to build. 

“you didn’t mean anything to me… i lied,” you said quickly wanting to forget about him and to push him away. you couldn’t mess up this job opportunity. not wanting to risk what your colleagues, what the press would say. not wanting to risk the possibility of a lifetime just because of a week you spent together. you didn’t do all this work just to get nothing and over a man who just feel rage because of your fault. 

“you see, to me exclusivity means nothing to me. not when i know i have the voice to control and decide my life… to chose who i want to spend the rest of my life with,” his voice sounded deep, he looked so hot with his suit on. just exactly how you remembered if not even more handsome. “then do it with someone else, you aren't enough, never will be,” you appointed quickly, standing up and paced around.

jude scoffed a laugh, not feeling an ounce of hurt, rather the exciting feeling in his veins, he sat still in the corner of his desk as he watched you frantically. “baby i’ll always be more than enough, my name is jude bellingham,” he turned you down wanting to laugh at the glare you gave him. “There’s more to us than the almafi coast, don’t you forget it,” he stood on his point, knowing there was no way out for you. 

he walked to you, hands in his pocket, “i just needed a warm bed to sleep with at night,” you said trying to hurt him and make him believe you were terrible, but he could see the lies behind your eyes… “the lies y/n… when will it stop and just admit you know you can't deceive me…” his chest brushed against your back, feeling his nose trace your ear down to the corner of your jaw. 

“you don’t want to tell me its fate?” he felt you crumble, how you allowed him to hold and let him continue. “you don’t mean to tell me you aren't here because the universe put us in this exact moment?” he defied, referring to a small astrology talk you had when walking on the beach late at night. 

“you’re just bluffing.”

“no you’re wrong…” he shook his head, turning you swiftly where he lifted your chin gently to face him. “you can try to forget and ignore me at all costs, just know i’m the only one here who know you. not just professionally but personally as well,” jude intimidated. yet you didn’t feel scared or frightened. you felt drawn to be closer and closer, because its the aura and affect he carried. 

“this is wrong jude, what will they say! you're my boss… everyone is afraid of you…” you said softly, breathing deeply as your forehead itched closer. “they should be afraid of me especially if they have the nerve to speak about you,” he lifted your face once again, wrapping an arm firmly around your waist. “but when i'm with you… i’m the man who i was back in the almafi coast. i don’t have to be forced to be someone i’m not, i can be jude… the jude five year old me would be proud of…” jude continued, pressing a kiss on your cheek. 

“jude…” you whimpered, hands gliding across his chest where you slowly drew up to his neck. 

“i’m angry with you so angry… for leaving me… for hurting me… for allowing me to get to this point…” jude spoke, his brows drawn in angrily yet holding you so gently, shaking his head at every sentence. “i’m sorry…” you attempted but instead were silenced by a small ‘shh’ jude hummed. 

“it can be scary i know it can, but we could have saved us from all this if we simply tried y/n… all i wanted was for us to try. you left me confused, used! you let me believe i was used by you because you left in the end. i was scared i had pushed you away,” jude spoke softly yet with a tone filled with remorse.

“i pushed myself away… my thoughts were consumed by past actions and beliefs jude! i did it with the intention to protect us from this! from the hurting you feel, felt! i can’t allow myself to get so attached to a person knowing the outcome it can have. we both don’t deserve that,” you humbled.

“we don’t darling, we don’t… but you're here with me… in my arms, what does that say?” you shrugged at him, feeling to pull away but the feeling of home in his arms was to much to overcome. 

“it means that were known strangers, and it won't be easy to just work under the same building knowing what we did, what we felt. and i’ll do anything to prove to you that exclusivity and status have nothing to do with the future i picture you and me with. there is a happy ever after for us, can’t you feel it?” he placed your small hand against his fast-beating heart. 

“yes,” you threw yourself at him, jude groaning as he devoured you as a whole. your kiss messy, not an ounce of sweetness, making up for the long european summer that held the distance you parted with. tasting you like it was his last meal, engraving your closed his in his mind knowing that no matter what, you were his. 

“mr. bellingham? the orders from germany have just arrived, and we had the underground staff separate them-” a man's voice spoke as they barged in seeing the whole scene uncut, wide eyes and lips as he stuttered out a response. knowing he walked into a lion's den, and it would be hell to get back out. you pushed away from jude, who held a confused stare, to then glaring at his assistant.  

“oh no…” you whimpered scaredily. 

—--------------- 𝒿.𝒷  —---------------

[cartierre]

BLUE WATER HIGH | mv1

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU max verstappen x fem!surfer!reader (fc: ester expósito)

side note: if you know where i got the title from, i love you

♡ liked by kellyslater, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 129,384 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing, schecoperez

yourusername exchanging my surf board with the red bull garage this weekend... thank you redbullracing for inviting me to the spanish gp! congratulations to maxverstappen1 and schecoperez for p1&p2 🥇🥈

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user1 she is so ethereal omg look at her

user2 red bull has a knack for sponsering talented people

redbullracing you're always welcome in our garage! 🏎️ comment liked by yourusername

user3 i just know the boys only got double podium because they wanted to impress her ⤷ user4 i cannot blame them, i'd do the same i mean look at her

maxverstappen1 next time we're gonna visit a competition of yours 🙌🏻 ⤷ yourusername deal 🤝🏼 ⤷ user5 max shooting his shot like the man he is

♡ liked by 78,938 people

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f1updates Red Bull pro surfer Y/N Y/L/N has been spotted attending the Red Bull afterparty in Monaco. She's been sighted at the GP this afternoon as well.

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user6 wasn't she just at the spanish gp a week ago? ⤷ user7 she was, apparently she got invited again to monaco?

user8 she ate 💅🏻

user9 does miss y/n not have, like, a job or smth?

user10 i thought she was a surfer

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, mfanno, john_john_florence and 109,749 others

yourusername in my element 🏄🏻‍♀️🌊

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user11 this is the lifestyle i wantttt ⤷ user12 she's living that blue water high dream

maxverstappen1 our deal still stands? ⤷ yourusername i gave you my word, didn't i?

user13 MAX AND Y/N ARE FLIRTING?

user14 max rizzing up y/n is the funniest thing i've ever seen

user15 this is so barbie in a mermaid tale coded

♡ liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 28,394 others

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redbullsurfing yourusername is your new Shiseido Tahiti Pro champion for 2022 after beating caitysimmers in a tightly fought final at Teahupo'o! That's Y/N's second win in four events, she's on fire heading into the Rip Curl WSL Finals!

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user16 congratulations! deserved win!

user17 so proud of you y/n!!

yourusername thank you so so much to everyone who supported me!

user18 when y/n wins the world championship in september, her and max will be the ultimate pair ⤷ user19 literally two world champions dating, that's crazy ⤷ user20 IF they're even dating

♡ liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 146,831 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername i mean does it really come as a surprise?

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user21 I KNEW IT ⤷ user22 everyone knew it

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️ ⤷ yourusername ❤️❤️

user23 they are so so adorable i cannot

redbullracing redbullsurfing we were basically their wingmen ⤷ redbullsurfing agreed 🤝🏼

user24 aaaaahhhhhh cute cute cute

user25 certified wag and hab

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Network 🤝📱💬

Have a Plan: Because everyone is important, it's really important to know what you're good at. Before you go to any networking event, figure out what you're good at – like things you can do well, what you know, and the people you know. Plan what you want to talk about, especially how you can help others, either now or later on.

Start with Who You Know: Talk to people you already know, like friends and colleagues. Ask if they can introduce you to others.

Go to Events: Attend conferences, seminars, workshops, industry meetups, and social gatherings related to your field of interest.

Use Social Media: Make profiles on websites like LinkedIn or Instagram to meet people in your niche online.

Elevator Pitch: Create a concise and engaging intro that highlights who you are, what you do, and what you're seeking. This way you can make a strong first impression.

Ask Good Questions: When you talk to someone, ask questions that show you're interested in what they're saying.

Provide Value: Networking is a two-way street. Offer your expertise, assistance, or connections to others whenever possible. When you start paying attention to what people can do, you might see that one person could help another person. Try to introduce people who you think have something valuable to share. When you make these good connections, you're helping the networking event go well. This will help you establish a good reputation and create strong relationships.

Say Thank You: After meeting, send a message to say you enjoyed the talk.

Follow up & Follow Through: If you said you would talk to someone later, make sure you actually do it and let them know you're still happy to help. If you promised to introduce one person to another, take a moment to make that introduction.These small things really matter to people, and just one introduction could make someone's life better.

Meet Different People: Don't just talk to the same kind of people. Meet people from different jobs and places.

Never dismiss anyone as unimportant: Don't think someone is not important just because of their job title. They could know important things or have helpful friends you wouldn't know about if you didn't give them a chance.

Join Groups: Be part of clubs or groups related to your work. You can meet more people there.

Be Yourself: Just be you. Don't pretend to be someone else.

Learn New Things: Keep learning about your interests. It helps you have better conversations.

[libraryofloveletters]

chapter nine: secrets come back to haunt

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: old faces return, seb's world is turned upside down, secrets are revealed, hidden relationship status so to speak, y/n is trying her best here, a bit of bashing, mentions of postpartum depression, a lot of back and forth, a small bit of crude/flirty humour from seb, dragging up the past, sadness - this is a really emo chapter sorry.

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: again, I'm sorry for disappearing. there's a lot going on lmao, but I'm back (for now) so take this :)

sugar and spice; all things nice masterlist

--

Sundays were reserved for racing, they always have been.

Since Sebastian was 3 years old, all he's known was the race track. He'd spend hours with his family, going round and round on the track until he was forced out of his kart. Even as a grown man, it was the same; fighting for race wins and championship titles, Sebastian Vettel found himself surrounded by mechanics, loud cars and screaming fans.

Sunday mornings were a bit different now.

The scent of oranges and peaches filled the air, the clattering of shopping cart wheels were a change in pace from the ones he was used to. Amelia tugged her father's hand, getting his attention.

"What about this one, papa?" She asked her dad, blonde curls unruly and framing her face. Sebastian looked at what she was showing him, an apple with no bruises or dents, and nods.

"Perfect."

Milly dropped the apple into the bag she was holding, looking for another one as her father watched her.

It was quiet in the store, a few people shopping as well as the workers chatting as they did their jobs. Sebastian's mind drifted to you as he watched Milly pick out apples. Never would he have envisioned his life this way after everything that happened; happy, content.

There was a feeling building in his chest, not one of happiness but as if he was being watched. He lived a normal life now that he's retired but it's not abnormal for him to be noticed. More often than not, the person would say hello and ask for a photo, then they're on their way.

Today, for some reason, Sebastian couldn't shake the feeling.

This was a bad feeling.

Sebastian tries to shake off the thought, thinking it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. But no matter where he went, that feeling stuck with him like a stubborn shadow.

Unable to shake it off, Seb glances over his shoulder and his heart stops, skips a beat, and drops to his stomach all in the matter of a second.

He wasn't certain if he was seeing right or if he was imagining things.

Brown hair cascaded over the woman's shoulders, her eyes scanning what was in front of her for a moment before she looked up - as if she felt him looking at her.

As he lived and breathed, he didn't think he'd ever see her again, let alone at the grocery store on a Sunday morning.

The woman smiles at him, Sebastian turns away and his attention is back on Amelia. "Sweetheart," he calls out to her, the little girl puts the bag with apples into the cart and looks at her dad.

"Hm?"

"We need to go," he grabs her hand and her brows furrow, confused by her father's sudden actions. "What? What's going on papa?" She asks, following her father as he walks towards the exit with her.

The shopping cart abandoned in the middle of the produce section, Milly's little legs moving as quick as they can as she follows her father out of the store.

"Papa," she calls out of him, the man helping her into the car.

"I think I left the oven on," he fibs, the concern on his face was enough to sell it. A small oh left her lips as he shuts the door and gets in himself, the two of them heading back to the house.

Sebastian lets her in, Milly stays by the front door as Sebastian walks to the kitchen. The girl follows behind her father, peeking from the doorway to see that the oven was in fact off.

"It's not on," she tells him, brows furrowed as they were before they left the store. Seb hums, shrugging. "Better safe than sorry, hm?"

She pouts, "can we go back to the store, papa? I wanna get cookies!"

"We're already home, love bug." He walks over to her, scooping her up in his arms. Sebastian twirls her around, her giggles settling his feelings - all the worries melting away. "How about we order something for lunch and then we can go over to y/n's? I'm sure Liv would love to make cookies with you."

She nods, a big grin on her face - granted a tooth or two that were missing. "Yeah!"

Sebastian puts her down, kissing the top of her head before she runs off to the living room, putting the tv on.

It takes Sebastian a minute to gather himself. All of the thoughts running wild and the most horrifying feeling passing through him when he saw her in the store today. A million different things happened at once and he wasn't sure what to do, or how to react, or if he should go up to her or not.

He couldn't think of putting Milly through that situation yet again, it was hard enough when she started growing up and asking for her.

The doorbell rings, and once again Sebastian is paralyzed with fear.

Fear of what's to come, what she could possibly want, what he would tell Milly if the situation were to escalade.

He never moved, the same house they started to build their life in was the same house she walked out of and never looked back. Why would she come back now?

There's a knock this time, small and gentle but loud enough for him to hear.

Walking to the door, he sees not one but two figures on the other side of the frosted panel. One taller and one smaller, he smiles when he realizes who it is.

"Hi Mr. Seb!" Liv smiled at the man, he smiled back at her. "Hi sweetheart, come in." He steps aside from her to come in and all the noise alerts Milly that someone was at the door.

"Hi Liv! Hi y/n!" The blonde girl waves to you, you wave back to her as she and Liv run upstairs to her room to play.

Sebastian pulls you into a hug after you shut the door, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt - you're here, you're real, you're home.

"Are you okay?" Your question comes out quietly, your own fingers tangled in the unruly curls at the nape of his neck - you should remind him to get a haircut soon.

Sebastian hums, sighing as he lets you go. "I'm okay, just needed a hug." He says, now holding your hand as you two walk to the living room. He sits down, pulling you into his side and the sound of SpongeBob's laughter breaks the silence in the room.

Despite Seb assuring you that he's fine, you still felt as if he was hiding something from you. An arm stretched over the back of the couch, mindlessly twirling his hair.

"Seb?" You called.

"Yes honey?" He turns to look at you, a soft smile on his face.

"What's on your mind? You look.. tense."

"Nothing a good back rub won't fix," he says, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

"Sebastian.." You rolled your eyes playfully but your tone was enough to let him know you weren't fond of his change in topic.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes shifty and his chest rising and falling as if he had just finished a race. "I uh.." he starts, taking another deep breath. "I saw Lilly."

Your brows furrow; it takes a moment for you to connect the dots but when you do, your jaw hangs open, looking at your boyfriend. "You saw.. Lilly?"

"Yeah." He says, nonchalantly.

"Where- um.. did she.. where did you see her?"

Seb sinks back into the cushions, looking at you. "She was at the grocery store. Mils and I were shopping and I felt someone staring at me. I turned around and there she was, alive and well."

"Did you talk to her? Did she come over to you guys?"

"No, I grabbed Milly and left before she got a chance too. I don't even know if she really registered that it was me or if she was just looking in my direction."

You nodded, going quiet for a moment. "Do you think.. maybe she'll come looking for you guys? I mean, I know you looked for her after she left but, did she ever try to reach out to you guys?"

"No, never. After she left, she never looked back. I searched for her, hired PIs, called her family, I did everything I could but she was gone. I don't know why she's back, I didn't care to find out."

You understood where he was coming from. You felt the same way about Olivia's father but after all, Sebastian is his own person with his own feelings.

"Maybe she's got her reasons, and like you said, maybe she didn't even register that it was you. Perhaps she's back for something that has nothing to do with you and Milly." You say, squeezing his shoulder softly.

Sebastian nods, leaning into your touch. The two of you sat there in silence for a bit, not bothering to change the cartoons Milly had left on until Sebastian stood, announcing that he was off to take a shower.

You left him in the living room, off to make yourself some tea when he hugs you from behind. His chin on your shoulder, "wanna join me?"

"Join you where? In the shower?"

"Yeah," he whispers, kissing your neck softly.

You roll your eyes, "keep it in your pants, Sebastian. We've got children upstairs."

"It's okay, we can use the bathroom down here, and they won't hear anything over the water."

You laughed, "how sweet of you to come up with a solution. Go shower, I'll see you after." You turn, giving him a kiss before sending him off his way - begrudgingly if you asked him.

As he disappeared up the stairs, you made yourself busy and cleaned up the kitchen a bit. You loved Sebastian but between his affinity for trying new things and his messiness, the kitchen was a disaster zone. Something resembling pancake mix sat almost empty on the counter and there was a stack of plates in the sink, utensils sticking out between them.

If you cleaned up a bit, the four of you could head out for an early dinner with the girls and perhaps catch a movie afterwards.

Hands covered in soapy water when the doorbell rings, you didn't think Sebastian was expecting anyone. Perhaps it was his parents coming for a visit or a neighbour seeking out something. There's a knock, yet a few seconds after the bell rings. Well they're rather impatient, you think.

"Coming!" You shouted, wiping your hands on the hand towel, slinging it over your shoulder as you made your way to the door.

Upon opening the door, you're met with a woman. Slender and tall, brown hair tossed over her shoulders and brown eyes to match. Her face shows an expression of confusion as she tries to look past you into the house.

"Hi, can I help you?" You asked, shifting slightly to block her view of the entryway.

She looks you up and down, before making eye contact with you. "I'm looking for Sebastian."

"Sebastian.." You trailed off, not 100% sure if she meant your Sebastian or just any random man off the street named Sebastian. Well after all, she probably meant your Sebastian as she was at his house.

"Vettel," she says, her brows furrowed and her face seems displeased with your answer. "Sebastian Vettel, does he live here?"

You aren't sure how you're supposed to handle this. What if she was some stalker? You're not gonna tell her yes.

"Can I ask why you're looking for him?" Yet again, you're met with a look of displeasure and annoyance.

"I'm Lilly, his wife."

Your heart drops to your stomach; his wife. It was obvious to the woman standing outside that you knew who she was now, that you knew Sebastian and clearly you weren't aware he was married.

"I- give me a moment." You tell her, shutting the door and heading up the stairs.

You find the bathroom door unlocked and Sebastian turns to see who came in, towel wrapped around his waist. He smiles when he sees you.

"What? Decided you wanted a piece of this after all?" He gestures to himself, making an obscene face while wiggling his eyebrows.

You shook your head, "she's downstairs."

"What? Who's downstairs?"

"Lilly. Lilly's downstairs. She's outside, looking for you. She also said-" You shook your head, sighing. "Never mind."

Sebastian gives you a look, getting dressed as quickly as he can. "What? What did she say?"

"She said she's your wife."

His forehead wrinkled, clearly confused. "We weren't married. Engaged, yes, but she left. I haven't thought about that in years."

There was more to the story, you didn't want to press him, at least not right now. "Okay," you nodded. "What do I tell her?"

"I'll deal with her," he says, stepping past you.

You follow him down the stairs, Sebastian heading towards the front door and you were off to the living room, feeling slightly out of place. He grabs your hand, "where are you going?"

"I don't-" "No, I want you with me." He says, holding your hand as he leads you back to the front door.

He takes a deep breath, opening the door to see Lilly there. You're stood in the doorway, door pulled half way shut behind you and Sebastian steps out onto the porch with Lilly.

"Hi honey," she says to Sebastian, her words laced with sweetness. You swallowed, watching the exchange between the two of them. Sebastian was a few feet away from her, "hello Lilly."

"So formal," she smiles at him, almost teasingly. He doesn't react. "How are you?"

He's straight to the point. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you, and Milly."

"Amelia," he corrects her, "you don't get to call her that."

"Why not?" She asks, "she's my daughter, Sebastian."

He can't help but scoff, shaking his head at the woman. "You can't call yourself her mother if you haven't been in her life, Lilly. You've been gone 6 years, do I need to remind you of that?"

Lilly's eyes widened, feigning a look of surprise - as if she wasn't expecting Sebastian to say that, as if he'd just let her walk back into their lives.

"What do you need? Money?" He asks her, unsure as to what her actual motive was.

"No," she shook her head, huffing. "I'm here to see my daughter, and you."

"You can't see her."

"Why not?" She fought back, stepping closer to him. Sebastian takes a step back. "I need to see her, Sebastian."

"I'm not letting you see her, Lilly. You walked out of our lives, out of her life and you don't get to walk back in just because you feel like you're ready to be a mother."

Lilly rolled her eyes at the man. "I am her mother."

"Only biologically."

There's a noise from behind you, all three of you turning to see what it was. Milly and Liv were coming down the stairs, looking for you and Seb. You glance at your boyfriend and he nods towards the girls, you take that as you sign to leave them and head inside. The door shut behind you, the silhouettes of the two people on the porch seen through the panel of frosted glass.

"Who's outside?" Liv asks you, the girls look towards you for an answer.

You fib, "just a neighbour, they needed Seb's help with something. How about a snack ?" You ushered them towards the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to the door before walking away with the girls.

The brown haired woman looked through the panel, seeing you with the two girls. "Is that her? Milly?"

Seb glances to see the blonde girl sharing something with her best friend and he nods.

"So who's the woman? My replacement?" Lilly looks towards him for an answer. Her tone ignited an anger in him but he bites his tongue.

"She's not a replacement, you've been gone for 6 years. I'm allowed to move on with my life. Don't speak about her that way."

Lilly raised her eyebrows, yet again surprised by Sebastian's feistiness. "Is that so?"

"She's my girlfriend, have some respect. She's been in Milly's life long before that, treating her as if she was her own. She's more of a mother to her than you are."

"You have another woman raising my child?"

"You didn't raise her, so frankly I don't think you have a say in that. She's been nothing but good to Milly, she loves her and cares for her. She's a good influence, and never has she ever done anything to make anyone think otherwise."

Lilly asks the question he knew was coming; "Do you love her ?"

It was a simple question, really. He didn't even need to think about the answer. It was instinct.

"Yes, I do."

It goes quiet for a moment, Sebastian can see the hurt on Lilly's face. A part of him feels bad but he also shouldn't feel bad as it's not his fault they're in their situation, is it?

"Why are you really here, Lilly?"

"I told you," she starts, "I want to be a family, Seb. I want you and mil- Amelia," she corrects herself, "back. I want us to be together again. I know I left, but you have to see with me, it was so hard. You were never there, Seb. It was me and Amelia by ourselves, it's so hard caring for a baby, especially one that cried and screamed all night. I was restless and tired, and upset that you weren't there for me, I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't know what else to do."

It breaks Seb's heart to see her like this, after all she is Amelia's mother and once his fiancée, but it's not fair to him or to Amelia either.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I really am but I did the best I could, you have to understand my side of things too." He sighs. "I had a job, you knew how demanding it was, you knew I'd be away from home a lot. I didn't party, I didn't go on lavish trips with the team, I turned down events and brand ambassadors so I could have as much time as possible at home with you two. I tried, Lilly. You think I didn't want it to work? For us to be a family?"

She looks at him, it felt like it did 6 years ago, the two of them fighting over the things they can't change, the impossible circumstances in which life had dealt them.

"Had you told me you needed a break, that you needed to be alone for a bit, we would have figured it out but you didn't. You left, Lilly. Snuck off in the middle of the night without so much of a warning. I didn't know what else to do. I looked for you, for months, calling you, your family, begging for them to tell you to come home and you never did. I'm sorry but I can't let you walk back in after all of that. It's not only you that went through a rough time, so did we."

"We were engaged," she says, words coming out quietly. "Does that mean nothing to you?"

He looks at her, heart in his hands, the feeling weighing heavy on him. "No," he shakes his head, words just as soft and full of sorrow. "Not anymore."

She lets out a shaky breath, nodding. There's a feeling of despair, perhaps even disappointment lingering. The idea of what could have been, what life would have been like had she stayed, the good and the bad. Who's to know if they'd still be together after all of it if she had stayed or if they'd be on the same path they were on now.

That's the harsh reality of life.

"Tell her I love her," Lilly tells him, stepping off the porch. "I always have."

"I know," he nods, "she knows that too."

And with that, she's off. Much like the first time, yet so different. All the things that should have been said were out in the open and a weight was off of Sebastian.

He stepped back into the house as the girls were headed back upstairs. "What did the neighbour want, papa?" Milly asks her dad, her sweet face looking up at him.

"Nothing really, baby. Just needed my help to move something from the garage into their house."

She nods, she and Liv head back up to her room to play. Sebastian sees you leaning on the counter, arms folded over your chest as you watch him with your daughters. He smiles sweetly at the girls before making his way down the hallway to you.

"Everything okay?" You rub his back softly as the man collapses into you.

"Yeah," he whispers, holding you a little tighter. "Everything is okay."

"Has she left?" You let him go, he moves to stand beside you and mirrors your lean on the counter. "Mhm hm, I don't think she's coming back."

You hum, unsure what the right thing to say is. If you say good, it seems like you want her gone. If you say okay, it seems like you don't care. A hum is simple, an answer in itself.

Sebastian can see the wrinkles on your forehead, his finger pointed as he counts. "One, two, three, four.."

"What are you doing?"

"Counting your wrinkles," he says with a smile. You laugh, swatting his hand away. Sebastian pulls you into his side, an arm slung over your shoulder. "What's on your pretty ol' mind? Penny for your thoughts?"

"My thoughts cost more than a penny, Sebastian."

"Well, lucky for you y/n, money is no objective."

You give him a small smile, shifting to look at him. "Why did you never tell me you were engaged?"

He takes a moment, before shrugging. "It's not that I was hiding it from you but it was a long time ago, it's not something I like to talk about. It just reminds me of a bad time in my life, that's all."

It was a fair enough answer, you don't need to know everything about his life. He didn't know everything about your life.

He nudges your shoulder, "why? Do you have a secret engagement you're hiding from me?"

"Oops, did I forget to tell you?" You play a look of shock, a hand over your mouth. "The prince of Dubai and I are set to get married next weekend.

Sebastian smiles, "you know, I've met the prince of Dubai, he's a really nice guy. I think you'll be very happy in your marriage."

You laugh, swatting his arm. "I'm sure I will be."

---

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[shoccolatine]

their reactions if MC was fatally wounded by wanderers and passed away

⚘pairings: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader

⚘tags: sfw, gender-neutral MC, established relationship, loss and grief, ANGST, alcohol consumption (in xavier's part), very slight chapter 7/8 spoilers (in rafayel's part)

⚘a/n: sorry xavier's is shorter, i'm still figuring out his character! also can you tell i have a bias um hehe,,,

╰┈➤ ❝ XAVIER. ❞

is devastated by the news, and blames himself for not being there as their hunting partner to protect them and keep them safe

he drowns his grief in liquor at The Nest—the bartender worries for his sudden habit, but xavier's lips are locked tight, and so he doesn't pry. the best he can do is cut him off before his veins are more alcohol than blood

he also takes it out on the wanderers he fights from then on, hoping that the next one's throat he slits is the one who took his precious MC away from him

on calmer days, he brings flowers to their grave whenever he's able—he'll sit and chat about everything and nothing in the hopes that somehow, somewhere, they're still listening

╰┈➤ ❝ ZAYNE. ❞

would be in the ER doing everything he can to save them

....but it's not enough

the guilt of their life slipping through his fingers weighs heavy on him. but he never lets it show

he already spends a lot of time at work, but after they pass, he throws himself fully into his job

he's even more clinical and impersonal than ever and fully embodies the "cold and distant dr. zayne" title everyone else thought of him (everyone but MC)

he doesn't allow himself to get close to anyone anymore—after all, the ones he opens his heart to always get taken away from him

he keeps himself busy 24/7. if he allows even a moment's break, he starts thinking, and thinking is bad

his already frequent nightmares worsen, and he finds himself pulling even more all-nighters than usual to avoid them

bonus extra angsty alternate ending: his lack of sleep and inner anguish affect him to the point of messing up a delicate surgery. he resigns that same day.

╰┈➤ ❝ RAFAYEL. ❞

thomas is unable to contact him for days. texts and voicemails remain unanswered, deadlines are fast approaching with no updates... but, isn't this normal behaviour from the antisocial artist?

it's not until finding out about MC's passing a week later that thomas realizes he should have been more persistent with rafayel. but would it have even mattered? when rafayel is in a mood, it's near impossible to find/reach him, nevermind pull him out of it

weeks pass with still no word, and thomas regrets his last conversation with rafayel—pressing him to finish his latest painting, with an eager buyer already waiting

thomas does his best to manage cancelling rafayel's many interview and art show invitations without stirring up concerns. rafayel is already known to be dodgy with such things, though, which thankfully buys him some time

rafayel is finally spotted some time later on the beach just off his home studio, drenched to his bones and wandering aimlessly barefoot along the coast

he hasn't touched a paintbrush in ages, and has completely forgotten the inspiration for his last unfinished piece

he's spent nearly the entire time in the sea. the rocking of the waves and the rush of his heartbeat in his ears keep him distracted more than painting ever could

his muse is gone, and with it his flame. he spent all this time to find them... just to lose them again. his poor heart just can't bear it

one day he leaves one last cryptic message to thomas, dons his scales once more, and returns to the sea forever

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow? Part 2: Diagrams

This is the second part of a couple of posts about Dataflow, particularly why it's important for the world going forward and relating to the Crowd Strike IT disaster.

Read the first part here.

Before I get into this one today, I wanted to address a couple of things.

Firstly, Dataflow is something that nearly every single person can understand. You do NOT:

Need to have a degree in Computing Science

Need to work in IT

Need to be a data analyst / Spreadsheet master

If any of you see the word 'Data' and feel your eyes glazing over, try and snap out of it because, if you're anything like me, Dataflow is much more approachable as a concept.

Secondly, what do I mean by IT?

Traditionally in most of our media the all-encompassing 'IT department' handles everything to do with technology. But every business works differently and there are many job titles with lots of crossover.

For example, you can be an infrastructure engineer where your focus is on building and maintaining the IT infrastructure that connects your organisation internally and externally. This is a completely different role from an Application Portfolio Manager who is tasked with looking after the Applications used in business processes.

Both are technical people and come under the banner of 'IT' - but their roles are focused in different areas. So just bear that in mind!

Now that's out of the way, let's begin! This one will be a little bit deeper, and questions welcome!

An Intro to Diagrams

You probably do not need a history of why pictures are important to the human race but to cover our bases, ever since we put traced our hands on a cave wall we have been using pictures to communicate.

Jump forward in time and you have engineers like Leonardo Da Vinci drafting engineering schematics.

You get the idea, humans have been creating diagrams (Pictures) for thousands of years. Centuries of refinement and we have much more modern variations.

And there's one main reason why diagrams are important: They are a Common Language.

In this context, a Common Language helps bridge a language gap between disciplines as well as a linguistic gap. A Spanish electrician and a German electrician should be able to refer to the same diagram and understand each other, even if they don't know each other's language.

The reason they can do this is because they're are international standards which govern how electrical diagrams are created.

A Common Language for Digital?

Here's an image I've shown to clients from governments and institutions to global organisations.

Everything around us, from the products we use to the bridges we drive over and the buildings we live, work, enjoy and shop in had diagrams backing them.

You would not build a skyscraper without a structural engineering diagram, you would not build an extension on your house if an architect couldn't produce a blueprint.

Why is there not an equivalent for the Digital World and for Dataflow?

Where is the Digital Common Language?

This is the bit where the lightbulb goes on in a lot of people's heads. Because, as I mentioned in Part 1, the flow of data is the flow of information and knowledge. And the common mistake is that people think of dataflow, and only ever think about the technology.

Dataflow is the flow of information between People, Business Processes *and* Technology Assets.

It is not reserved to Technology specialists. When you look at the flow of data, you need to understand the People (Stakeholders) at the top, the processes that they perform (and the processes which use the data) and the technology assets that support that data.

The reason why this is important is because it puts the entire organisation in context.

It is something that modern businesses fail to do. They might have flow charts and network diagrams, and these are 'alright' in specific contexts, but they fall to pieces when they lack the context of the full organisation.

For example, here is a Network Diagram. It is probably of *some* value to technical personnel who work in infrastructure. Worth bearing in mind, some organisations don't even have something like this.

To be absolutely clear, this diagram will hold some value for some people within the organisation. I'm not saying it's completely useless. But for almost everyone else, it is entirely out of context, especially for any non-technical people.

So it doesn't help non-technical people understand why all of these assets are important, and it doesn't help infrastructure teams articulate the importance of any of these assets.

What happens if one of those switches or routers fails? What's the impact on the organisation? Who is affected? The diagram above does not answer those questions.

On the other side of the business we have process diagrams (aka workflow diagrams) which look like this.

Again we run into the same problem - This is maybe useful for some people working up at the process layer, but even then it doesn't provide context for the stakeholders involved (Are there multiple people/departments involved throughout) and it doesn't provide any context for technical personnel who are responsible for maintaining the technology that supports this process.

In short, nobody has the big picture because there is not a common language between Business & IT.

Conclusion

So what do we do? Well we need to have a Common Language between Business & IT. While we need people with cross-functional knowledge, we also need a common language (or common framework) for both sides of the organisation to actually understand each other.

Otherwise you get massively siloed departments completely winging their disaster recovery strategies when things like Crowd Strike goes down.

Senior Management will be asked questions about what needs to be prioritised and they won't have answers because they aren't thinking in terms of Dataflow.

It's not just 'We need to turn on everything again' - It's a question of priorities.

Thing is, there's a relatively simple way to do it, in a way that looking at any engineering diagram feels simple but actually has had decades/centuries of thought behind it. It almost feels like complete common sense.

I'll save it for Part 3 if you're interested in me continuing and I'll make a diagram of my blog.

The important thing is mapping out all the connections and dependencies, and there's not some magic button you press that does it all.

But rigorous engineering work is exactly that, you can't fudge it with a half-arsed attempt. You need to be proactive, instead of reacting whenever disaster strikes.