Summary: A nonathletic!Jack fic, where grad student and history nerd, Jack Zimmermann meets the cute Samwell student/baker Eric Bittle at the Bread and Butter Bakery. Will the two make a love connection? For @devereauxsdisease and @victorineb who love this incarnation of Jack as much as I do.
They’d chatted at the bakery enough times that Bitty was able to pull the information from Jack. He’d started coming to the bakery about four weeks ago, and during that time Bitty became more and more charmed with the second year grad student.
He always sat in the corner armchair, ordered a black coffee, two macarons and a slice of whatever the pie of the day was. Bitty first noticed him when he came in to order a slice of Weary Willie cake.
Bitty loved his job at the bakery, it gave him some extra cash while he attended Samwell. Whenever Bitty was there, he was the de facto person in charge. Shirley and Spencer, the owners of Bread and Butter adored Bitty.
“We never had any kids of our own, so you’re the closest thing to it, Bitty,” Shirley said to him one evening over a cup of earl grey tea.
So Bitty stood there, face to face with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen the first time Jack walked in. The Clark Kent glasses in front of them did nothing to hide the fact that they were beautiful. It was a good face, a handsome face. He was burly and tall, and Bitty loved that. He smiled, and Bitty’s body language invited Blue Eyes to speak.
“Can I get a slice of the Weary Willie cake?”
“Sure can, handsome,” Bitty said as he began to ring up Blue Eyes’ order, who blushed furiously. “What else can I do you for?”
“Coffee. Black. Medium, please,” he replied looking down at the counter.
“Why don’t you go find yourself a seat and I’ll bring it out to you,” Bitty said with a warm smile.
“Thank you,” Blue Eyes said softly and then turned to walk toward the corner armchair.
When Bitty approached, Blue Eyes had pulled out a laptop and several textbooks, the one on top of the pile was called Foundations of Modern European Intellectual History.
“Doing a little light reading, huh?” Bitty said as he put the cake and coffee on the side table.
“Oh, haha. Yes.”
“Do you go to Samwell?”
“I’m finishing up my masters in history there,” he said as he held up his book.
“That’s great. I haven’t seen you here before,” Bitty said wanting to know more about History Blue Eyes.
“I saw the chalkboard outside listing the Weary Willie cake and the history nerd in me became curious.”
“Look at you! You certainly are a history major.”
“Did you make the cake?” Jack asked raising his eyebrows.
“Sure did. My moomaw had the recipe from her mama.”
“Well, it’s not often I find a somewhat obscure historical reference on my way back to the history building.”
Request: I’m always a sucker for Bucky x reader fluff so I was wondering if I could request the reader have a panic attack, and Bucky helps them with the “5 things to do during a panic attack” “Look around you. Find 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.” thank you!
Bucky X Reader
Word Count: 1955
Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, reader having a panic attack.
A/N: WELL. I FINALLY finished this request!! I am SO SO sorry this took so freaking long!! I really hope that it was worth the wait!! Great title I know.. Thank you for all of your patience everybody!! I started working on the next parts for Arsonist’s Lullaby and This Means War but they still may take a bit! xo
Because Victor’s eyes are so much more than we deserve.
“Your eyes are really pretty,” Yuuri mumbles once they sit down on the couch, fingers curling into weak fists around Victor’s shirt. He smells like cheap alcohol and fried oil.
They’d gone to the nearest bar - a shady old joint just a street away from their apartment - in order to celebrate Yuuri getting his Russian beginners’ level certificate after six months studying hard. Victor had to deal with his fiancé fretting and labelling every single item of clothing they own with post-its so he could remember basic vocabulary, and he thought he deserved a little break, too. Yuuri got so excited about it that kept chugging down vodka and insisting on how russian he was, reciting random words. Victor laughed and kissed him after every shot, tasting the sweetness on his lips.
Now, though, Yuuri is undoubtedly, completely trashed. Sometimes a drunk Yuuri means naked pole-dancing, or Victor waking up to find his fiancé dancing to ‘Single Ladies’ at 4 am while Makkacchin watches him attentively. Those are usually quite entertaining. This time, though, the exhaustion is simply too much. Yuuri’s lazily supporting himself on Victor’s shoulder on the couch, drooling and murmuring words in three different languages.
“My eyes are pretty?” Victor asks, amused, rubbing his cheeks gently and chuckling when Yuuri leans into it like a cat. He helps him take off his shoes with a bit of necessary guidance, kicking them off lest they get dirt on the pillows.
Yuuri nods enthusiastically, his whole expression lighting up, and crawls his way into his lap without trouble, already familiar with the ins and outs of Victor’s physique. Just as familiar as he should be. “It’s like,” he bites his lower lip. “They’re blue.”
Victor smiles, unspeakably fond, “Yes, that’s right.”
“But not, like, normal blue,” Yuuri adds hurriedly. He lifts his hand to Victor’s face, his fingertips touching the upper part of his cheek and pointing towards his eyes. He’s a little off, but Victor will cut him some slack. “They’re really, really light at the bottom. Like the sky!” he insists, gesturing towards the floor.
“The sky?” Victor presses a soft kiss to Yuuri’s temple, butterflies going off in his stomach. “That’s original.”
“Sshhh,” Yuuri shushes him by covering his mouth with his hands clumsily, sticking some of his fingers inside by accident. “I’m not finished.”
Victor raises his hands up in surrender. He’s curious to see where this is going.
“The bottom is light and clear,” he continues, rambling a bit. “I really love how you, er.” He frowns a little. “When you read in bed, the light does this thing -”
“it reflects?” he offers, voice muffled around Yuuri’s fingers.
“Yeah! It reflects and I think it makes you look really soft. I wanna kiss you a little. A lot.” True to his word, Yuuri lays a wet, messy kiss on Victor’s left cheek, almost getting his ear. Victor is having a hard time not letting himself squeeze this lovely man to death. “The bottom part is really nice.” Yuuri continues. “But then they darken as they go up. It’s like,“ he falters, before suddenly seeming to get inspiration. "Like your eyes go through all the blues. They’re unique.” Yuuri sighs dreamily, resting his cheek against Victor’s chest and letting out a tired breath. “I love your eyes so much.”
Victor is about to cry, and he’s not ashamed of -
“I hope our kids have your eyes,” Yuuri mumbles, a barely audible murmur as he fades into sleep in his arms.
And well. No one can judge him for crying then, can they?
Request : Hellooooo! I just had a random fluffy idea where Newt has to wear reading glasses but is embarrassed about them and doesn’t want his girlfriend (reader) to see him wearing them but one day she just walks into their room to see him with them on and he gets all blushy and embarrassed but she thinks they’re adorable? Love your writing btw :)
You had always loved helping Newt with his work, particularly when it came to his writing. Whether it be correcting his clumsy little mistakes in his paragraphs or simply just listening to the beautiful words he wrote.
Sunday nights would mostly consist of him reading a new chapter of his journal, as you peacefully cuddled close into him on the bed. Although neither of you weren’t doing anything extremely exciting, you always cherished the bonding time together. However these nights seemed to become more and more rare now, Newt making continuous excuses to go straight to sleep. No reading. No cuddling. Nothing.
You missed the sound of his soothing voice lulling you to sleep, finding your bed to be cold and lonely, missing Newt’s muscular arms wrapped around you.
Had you done something wrong? Maybe the spark in the relationship was dying…well on his end anyways. You didn’t understand it at all. In a desperate plea you decided you’d ask him to read you again, the sleepless nights taking a toll on you.
“Newt…Can you read your new chapter to me? Please, you haven’t read in so long?”, you begged with a longing look of hope in your eyes.
“E-em maybe not tonight love. I haven’t finished it yet..” Newt anxiously replied, his eyes completely averted your gaze. Shuffling slightly towards the other side of the bed, he turned his back towards you, leaving your side empty and cold. His sudden change of mood leaving you baffled. You knew darn well that Newt had told a lie, he finished the next chapter 2 weeks ago. Hurt washed over you as Newt looked sympathetically back towards your frame. Guilt crossing his features.
“Don’t worry darling I promise…soon” he moved slightly closer placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, although to you it felt empty.
In a way you felt silly. It was just a little light reading that’s all. You and Newt did other stuff, right?
Deep down though this little late night activity was special to you, sentimental even. If this was the first pillar to collapse in the relationship who knows what will go next.
Even though he was lying just across from you, he felt more distant than ever.
1 week Later
You boiled the kettle for the fifth time this morning, already filled to the brim with tea and wired with caffeine, you busied herself getting the cups and teabags ready. Another quick glance at the clock only seemed to confirm that time was slowing down.
You really didn’t know what to do with yourself. You normally helped Newt with his work but he had insisted he didn’t need your help. Feeling useless you pottered around the apartment, unsure of your purpose.
Borden slowly driving you insane you decided to check up on Newt, making your way quietly down the ladder and into his case. Maybe he’d want your help now? Or maybe not?
Newt was huddled in the corner of his messy study, furiously working on his journal. His hand scribbled at an uneasy pace, as words flowed from the tip of his pen. You took a moment to admire his adorable state of concentration.
Feeling a presence, Newt slowly lifted his gaze from his pages to your small frame. And that’s when you noticed it….
The black frame complimented his face and gazing at him now you noticed how professional and sexy he seemed. A sense of sophistication about him, yet utter adorableness at the same time.
Frozen in shock for a second he snapped out of his trance, quickly swiping the accessories from face. Consumed in his writing he had completely forgotten about the glasses until you had appeared, his secret becoming revealed.
“Y/N- love- I….” Newt’s cheeks became a dark shade of red, as he attempted to muster out words. Though looking deep into his eyes you saw how he was ashamed of the, his embarrassment radiating towards you.
“You never told me you wore glasses?”, you attempted to conceal the hurt in you voice. You thought you and Newt shared everything together? You know it was just a silly little secret but still you were upset he hadn’t told you.
“They’re horrible looking…” Newt mumbled shyly, still with a discontent look on his face, “I didn’t want you to see them”. Newt looked close to breaking point, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.
From the moment you met him, you never took Newt as the confident type, in fact it took him 6 months to show you the scars that littered his body. But the truth was you loved him whether he was dressed in his vintage blue coat, old worn cosy pyjamas, (or nothing at all but you wouldn’t admit that one…)
“Is this why you… Didn’t want me around”, you quietly whispered the last part, almost fearing Newt’s response.
“Y/N God no! I always want you around I- I just thought you wouldn’t like the glasses. That why I didn’t want to read at night”.
Walking towards him you gently took the glasses from his hand. Leaning closer towards his freckled face you places a soft kiss against his lips, savouring the taste you had missed for so long. A look of relief overwhelmed at your gesture, as a small smile took over his features.
Lifting the spectacles back up towards his face hovering a second, “I think..” You placed the glasses back on him, “you look even more handsome with them on, Mr Scamander”.
Newt directly stared at you, the way all women want to be looked at. His green eyes illuminating every piece of love he held for you. “Merlin I’m so lucky, you know that?” he softly whispered into your locks of hair.
“Newt I love you, every single part. Especially your flaws and little imperfections cause they make you different. They make you my Newt”.
“Thank you love” Newt softly whispered pulling you close. Finding comfort in his embrace he gave you the touch you had yearned for so long. Feeling protected in his muscular arms.
He didn’t need glasses to see you clearly loved him.
Like and reblog if you enjoyed!
Masterlist is found on all other posts can’t be assed the set up computer right now to create link (if you were in this cosy warm bed you say the same ☺️) feel free to send in requests and thank you for 500 followers!xx
The Siren | Once, a long, long time ago, Phil had heard a story – a strange story, so fantastical he hadn’t known whether or not to laugh, eyes wide and terrified amidst it all, - about a mermaid, a siren, who supposedly stole away the sailors of the sea to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again. | Phan | Teen and Up | Siren!Dan, Asexual!Phil | 3811 words
Happy birthday my dear Rachel, @phansdick <3 Sorry I suck at surprises and decided to spend all day teasing you about your birthday fic. I’m really, really glad I was able to pull this together for you, though, as I didn’t think I was going to make it, and low and behold, you ended up getting it early! I love you a lot, even if some times I really, really suck at showing it and disappear for days on end, and you’re the best friend anyone could ask for. You are truly one of a kind, perfect, amazing, and so incredibly strong. Thank you for always being there for me, and I hope that I can always be there for you as well. I sincrerely hope you enjoy this, because I think I legitimately took a turn with his most people probably won’t be expecting.
Based on that tumblr post asking for an asexual sailor to run into a siren.
Hey guys! So, I suck and the muse has been hiding for almost 4 months. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing, but now that the show is over and KLAROLINE IS ENDGAME, my muse is KICKING! Okay, I’m hella rusty and Klaus is probably totes OOC here, but why not come back to life with a little crack drabble?
From Ashleigh: One gets drunk and confesses all over the phone, unaware that said person on the other end was actually outside, ready to confess their love. Fluffy post canon Klaroline?*no babies* ;)
to New Orleans in the middle of Mardi Gras was a good idea in theory, but in
hindsight, Caroline cursed her less than stellar timing. The streets were
brimming full with half naked people running around, tossing beads and spraying
booze over the crowds while she attempted to navigate her way through the
French Quarter. She dragged two heavy, gray suitcases behind her, and
sidestepped a hazy college guy who embarrassingly face-planted in front of her
as he attempted to flirt. Caroline wrinkled her nose and kept on walking,
thankful that her taste in men had improved immensely over the decades.
years ago, Caroline would have been in the middle of the throng of people,
drunk off her ass. But older, wiser, eternally a teenager but creeping into
middle-age-Caroline was more interested in spectating the festival with a glass
of champagne between her fingers and an Original Hybrid by her side.
rarely spoke to anybody from Mystic Falls. Elena and the Salvatore brothers
took the cure years before, turning human and living out their last lives in
the suffocating small town. Matt married a quiet girl from high school
Caroline’s math class that she never noticed and was about to become a
grandfather for the fifth time. Bonnie traveled with Enzo, the witch using
powers and herbs to keep herself from aging. She and Caroline kept in touch,
meeting up whenever they were on the same continent.
wasn’t the first time she thought this, but perhaps she seriously considered
for the tenth time, turning back and having the airline ship her belongings to
Klaus’ door. She blew her sweaty bangs off her forehead as she lugged her
suitcases with a huff. Why did she feel the need to bring her whole shoe
collection, including her ski boots? But, the dramatic person in Caroline (and
to be honest, the dramatic person in Klaus too) eagerly anticipated the sure to
be memorable look on his face when she showed up on his doorstep with her
stopped by an alley, pulling out her phone to consult the address Rebekah
texted her the week prior. Over the past few years, she and the blonde Original
had somewhat hit it off through an accidental run-in in Barcelona. Caroline ran
into a little drunken trouble with a hunter one night, and Rebekah was luckily
in the same place at the same time, swooping in the save her. Surprisingly, the
older vampire was a blast to travel and shop with. They had a long standing
tradition of hitting all the infamous fashion weeks, and Rebekah not so subtly
kept Caroline updated on her family’s hijinks.
the address into Google maps, Caroline made a face when she realized how far
out the Mikaelson mansion was from the French Quarter. Leave it to Klaus to
find the oldest, largest mansion in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of
town. She was just about to open up her Uber app for a ride when her phone
vibrated in her hand, the words “Blocked Caller” flashing across her screen.
her eyes, she swiped to answer. It was a common occurrence for Enzo to lose his
phone along with Bonnie’s whenever they went on a drinking binge in Vienna or
Venice and they always called her from their newest number to let her know it
country are you calling from this time?” she answered with a laugh.
was silence on the other end, a shuffling noise coming through. Caroline
narrowed her brows.
heard another shuffle and a manly sounding groan came through the receiver. Her
pulse jumped, her mind instantly going a hundred miles a minute wondering if
Enzo got himself into some trouble.
Is that you?”
“Caroline,” a low, familiar accent sang
through the receiver.
lena has been locked up in the tower for as long as she can remember. it is lonely in there, and with each year that passes, the walls seem to squeeze a little tighter. the light seems to dim a little more. she has read every book a hundred times, drawn over ever inch of empty wall
she wants to be free, wants to explore and wander and see the lanterns that rise once every year–(they rise on her birthday, a flurry of light in the sky like someone out there cares about her. she knows better than to truly believe it, truly believe that she is wanted, missed. it doesn’t stop her from hoping)–but lillian will never let her. she will never leave
so lena resigns herself to a life in the bleak tower with only her chameleon jess to keep her company
things change a week before the lanterns rise for the twenty-fourth time. things change when a girl comes flying through the window, runs straight into lena
lena, in fear, smacks her right in the face with the book she is holding
when the girl comes to, she is tied to a chair, lena standing nervously before her. wh–who are you? how did you know where to find me?
the girl strains against the bindings and sighs. look, i don’t know why you’re in this tower, but i definitely didn’t mean to find you, okay? i’m—kinda hiding from the guard here. i might have stolen a piece of gold or two. but! i’m not bad, okay? i’m– i’m like robin hood. steal from the rich, give to the poor. but, well. uh. see— the police don’t always agree with me.
they stare at each other. kara continues, i’m kara, by the way. and i kind of need to get out of here and my horse, krypto, is tied up down below, so if you could let me go—
jess the chameleon squeaks from the other side of the room: don’t you dare, lena.
you have a horse? you have… a way to leave? it is shocking, somehow, this chance for freedom. she has to take it. she has to, she has to: can i come with you?