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@catfoundfics
Masterlist
I wrote one fic, one time ... but I also like to post, so here we are.
[BOBBY] after game four of the stanley cup finals 12.06.2025
I Hear the Secrets That You Keep
Mr. Reed x Neighbor!Reader
Summary: When the power goes out, Reader searches for comfort in her neighbor.
CW: loss of a parent, religious talk, sacrilegious content, reader being raised Christian, age gap, manipulation, power play, mentions of CSA (brief), degradation, oral f!receiving, Mr. Reed always asking too many questions, dry humping, fingering, cock drunk!reader, mentions of masturbation, oral m!receiving, biting, tit play, two crazies in love (lol), unprotected p in v, creampie
a/n: I watched Heretic on the flight to Japan and honestly I’m addicted to dirty dirty Mr. Reed, I can’t stand Hugh Grant but he’s hot so… I got long winded with this one but y’know I love a good fanfic
title track 🎶🛐
~~~
☕️ Get To Know Me ☕️
<tagged by @venus-vault, better late than never oopsie ✨️>
Last Song Listened To:
Favourite Colour: Black 🖤🎥🐈⬛️
Last Book Read: German National Cinema by Sabine Hake. (Big non-fiction head, perhaps surprisingly)
Last TV Show Watched: uhhh I think I rewatched two seasons of Hannibal months ago.. I'm famously bad at watching TV, I'm much more of a movie person, so the TV I do watch, I like very much.
Sweet, Savory, Spicy?: Savory in the broad sense, but i love a sweet or spicy treat
Relationship Status: Single :))
Last Google Search: "study with me" I love an ambiance.
Looking Forward To: The end of the semester! Classes are done the first week of April and exams mid-April. Can't wait to hop on my summer reading list
Current Obsession: Forever and always letterboxd. I'm so deeply addicted to that app, holy shit 🟠 🟢 🔵
Bearded Brühl Supremacy
Jan, The Edukators (2004)
Lieutenant Horstmayer, Joyeux Noël (2005)
Martin Kreutz, The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)
Marcos, Un Poco de Chocolate (2008)
Hans Krämer, The Coming Days (2010)
Konrad Koch, Lessons of a Dream (2011)
Álex Garel, Eva (2011)
Daniel Domscheit-Berg, The Fifth Estate (2013)
Thomas Lang, The Face of an Angel (2014)
Hubertus Czernin, Woman in Gold (2015)
Daniel, Colonia (2015)
Sebastian Zöllner, Me and Kaminski (2015)
Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, The Alienist (2018 - 2020)
Wilfried Böse, Entebbe (2018)
Daniel Weltz, Next Door (2021)
Baron Zemo, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)
Roland Gumpert, Race for Glory: Audi vs. Lancia (2024)
Eric Bouchard, The Franchise (2024)
Heinz Wittmer, Eden (2025)
p.s. I was going to add a poll here, but the option limit is only 15 max, so just sound off in the comments or the tags who your favorite Bearded Brühl is—or don't 🤷♀️
Hugh: Yes, I have to be begged Seth: Okay ~~~ silence ~~~ Hugh: I love to be begged Seth [panicked]: *giggles*
Damn, look at that table 🤯
Eden (2025) Daniel Brühl as Heinz Wittmer
Eden will hit theaters in Germany on April 3, 2025, followed by its release in the United States, with a date yet to be announced. (x)
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) Daniel Brühl as Baron Helmut Zemo
A Scholarly Source
Part 1, Part 2
Synopsis Part 2/? - After a particularly engaging class, you look forward to the semester with your new favourite professor.
Paring: Mr. Reed (Heretic) x fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns used)
Words: 2.6k
Warnings: MDNI, professor au, age gap (reader is in early twenties), power imbalance, masturbation, first-time fic writer
a/n: thanks for all the love for the first part! I'm so humbled. Hope y'all enjoy this one too <3 lmk if anyone wants a tag in the inevitable part 3
The first two weeks of class flew by, and with each lecture that passed you had been sneaking closer to the front row. The course had absolutely surpassed your expectations, you'd even begun to look forward to it more than the classes for your major. Hard to blame you though, the prof makes the class.
Your participation in lecture wasn't just for your mark either, engaging in intelligent conversations with him was such a treat, he had such an alluring way of speaking and presenting himself, but still- you needed to keep yourself in check. You were avoiding getting too close to him, even in the front row of class, you wouldn't want anything to get awkward or weird, trying to conceal your crush the most you could. But here you were, with a burning question essential for the first part of your assignment and class had already been canceled once this week due to “personal reasons,” via Mr. Reed's email. Although, he noted he'd still be holding his office hours. Who wouldn't want to be in a small enclosed office with this man? Might be difficult but you just told yourself you should get over your silly nerves and be a professional academic; professor and student, nothing up with that, just office hours.
With a pit in your stomach, you type up the email requesting a meeting during his office hours and hit send. Why does it feel like you just sent something dirty? He's just a man- just a professor.
The day comes along and you spend longer than usual picking out your outfit, yet another grandpa knit sweater called your name. Skirt or pants? You never think about these things this much. You opt for the skirt with some warm leggings to keep your outfit weather-appropriate. The winter boots come on and a cute scarf topped off with a jacket.
-
After your trek to campus, you find the building and get into the elevator. Third floor. You’ve never been nervous to go to the third floor before. You quickly press the button and shove your chilled hands back in your pockets. The elevator dings and you take the brave step out, looking to the signs on the wall to navigate the rooms and hallways that, with a clearer mind, would have been familiar. You find yourself in front of the large brown door, looking at the number beside the door, 333. Ironic.
You glance into the window beside the door, the glass is hazy, likely for privacy. After a deep breath, you raise your fist to the door and gently knock. You see a figure move up from behind the desk and make its way towards the door. You hold on to your bag strap as if it will ground you from anything that might happen- not that anything will.
Your train of thought is thankfully derailed by the door clicking open, it swings to reveal a familiar face, so warm and inviting. You can’t help but smile. “Ah! Y/n.” he checks his watch, you feel your stomach turn. Were you late? Lost track of time picking out an outfit or fixing your hair in the mirror? “Just on time!” He smiles and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
“Oh dear, have you been walking in this snow? Come in, come in.” He moves to the side of the door and raises his hand to gesture you in. You nod sheepishly, “Thank you,” you walk past him into the office, he smells of musk, old books, and something sweet that you can't quite put your finger on. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been this close to him before. “It wasn’t too bad, I don’t live very far.” You start to unravel your scarf.
“Ah. Good.” He smiles and leaves the door open a crack, circling around the beautiful brown desk, and finds a seat in his classy and comfortable brown office hair. He eases back against the leather and gestures for you to sit. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” You remove your coat and hang it over the back of the chair on this side of the desk. It’s a homey little armchair, light brown and smooth leather. You take a seat and cross your legs.
He glances down at the movement, quickly looking back up, as if he was giving himself a swift slap on the wrist, lost in a moment of distraction. This isn’t lost on you, but for the sake of professionalism on your part, you choose to ignore it, you’re probably making something out of nothing. This is your first time getting a real look into this man. His office decor says so much about him. A beautiful desk in the middle of two chairs, which you both currently occupy. Behind him is a wide bookshelf that takes up most of the wall, stocked with a vast selection of academic works with a few religious texts in a handful of languages in the top corner. His desk is clear,
“What brings you into my office today? A question about the assignment, was it?” He pulls his glasses out of the front pocket of his dark button-up, lightly perching them on his nose and leaning forward from his chair to glance at some papers on his otherwise perfectly neat desk. What a beautiful man he is. When he looks back up at you with those piercing blue eyes, you realize you’ve been asked a question. “Oh! Yes, um, about the McDonough reading?” you lean down and quickly rummage through your bag for your notepad and pencil, he waits patiently. “Specifically chapter three, Augustine’s?” His face turns from intrigue to a soft and knowing smile. “Yes! Of course, free will. Fascinating chapter.” He glances at you and rises from his chair as you pull out your notebook at last and your eyes meet. He seems so much taller now.
There’s a beat of silence. He turns and approaches the bookshelf behind him, scanning the options in front of him. He hums before reaching up and plucking a red hardcover from the shelf. He turns to you, book in hand, and it’s annotated to high heaven. “My personal copy.” He places it on the desk and settles back into his chair, crossing his legs, mirroring you. “I’m rather fond of the collection of ideas in such a succinct fashion from cover to cover.” You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “What would you like to know, dear?” the affectionate nickname falls so easily off his tongue, and by the way he is looking at you, you would think he was fully aware of how it affected you.
“I guess I was just wondering about your thoughts on the subject?.. Whether or not free will comes from good or if it’s good, or if it exists at all for the sake of argument.” You meet his eyes again, holding your pencil and waiting eagerly for his response. He ponders for a minute. “I see.” Another pause. “I didn’t expect anyone to be intrigued about an old man’s opinion, but, I’ll do my best to oblige!” A soft giggle escapes you at his mention of his age as if he was just some old religious coot off the street and not an esteemed professor surrounded by scholarly literature. He chuckles at his own joke before going on. “I should preface, although I wouldn’t say I am a devout catholic, I do think it is good to be religious.” He glances at your neckline, a small gold crucifix ordaining it. You smile and jot down a short note on your pad. “And I must say, it’s been a privilege to consider your insights in class.” You’re taken away from your focus on notetaking to look up at him, surprised at the compliment. “Thank you.” He bows his head slightly and flashes that charming smile, you’ve already forgotten the reason why you came to office hours. “I believe you to be a keen and observant student.” You can’t help but start to blush at the continuous praise. “And for that-” he opens the novel of roughly 300 pages and easily finds the correct chapter, his fingers dance along the pages, so agile and particular. “-because I do not feel comfortable simply spreading my worldview to students, especially in the realm of philosophy and theology. I do, however, feel comfortable lending you my copy to decipher the answers you seek all for yourself.”
You sit nearly slack-jawed at his composure and charm accompanied with compliments about you no less! “Wow- I uh, don’t know what to say.” You stammer out bashfully, to which he sympathetically smiles and shuts the book, sliding it across the table and retracting his arms to his chest, crossing them, then nodding at you to suggest you should take it. You close your notepad and drop your pencil in your bag, reaching out and taking the book in hand. “Thank you, sir.” he winces at the misuse of the name and you quickly move to correct yourself, “Oh- sorry- Mr. Reed.” he smiles, “Well done.” you giggle at your own misstep and he smiles, “I hope you don’t mind the ramblings and incoherent annotations you may have signed up for,” he says sympathetically to your task now at hand.
“Not at all!” you reply enthusiastically.. maybe too enthusiastically. You clear your throat and hold the book close to your chest, your necklace pressing against the hardcover. “I’ll be happy to try and understand your insights the best I can.” He stands up and you follow suit. “I’m glad.” You begin to collect your things, mind racing in an attempt to comprehend the events that had just played out. As you were wrapping up in your scarf, lost in thought, you had failed to notice the professor collecting your coat. Now he stands, holding it for you to help you put it on. You try to conceal the surprise of your facial expression but certainly, the rosy blush on your face gives you away.
You set down the book and turn your back to him, offering your arms to him. He gently slides the jacket on you, coming closer as it comes over your shoulders. You can feel him so close to your back, surrounded again by the scent of him. Quickly, you adjust the jacket so it sits properly and turn slightly to meet his gaze. You swear for a moment you saw something you hadn’t seen before. “Thank you again, Mr. Reed.” he looks down at you and replies, “My pleasure, dear.”
You quickly pick up the note-filled novel and place it carefully in your bag. He follows you to the door, in doing so, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you. It sends a shiver down your spine. “See you on Monday, y/n.” You turn around to face him, now in the doorway. “Thanks again.” In a second you were down the hall, still feeling his gaze on you as you made your way to turn the corner and now waiting at the elevator. There’s no way this could all be in your head… right?
-
You found yourself back in your apartment, as if you blacked out the whole way home, in a hazy state, your head feeling light. This couldn’t be real, did you even leave yet? You check your watch, and it disagrees with you. You remember the parcel you were carrying back with you. You drop your bag on your bed and rummage through the contents before you feel it, a sleek hardcover. You carefully take it out, handling it as if it were glass. You’ve had this book in your hands before, but never this special edition, his copy. You kick off your shoes and shed your layers. Until your coat, holding it before hanging it up in the closet, it smells like him. You hang it up carefully, keeping it away from other clothing on the hangers. You climb into your bed, book in hand; you had other things to get done for other classes but that all felt so uninteresting with this weight in your hands.
You set the book down and decide it’s time to set yourself up for an afternoon and evening of reading. The blinds are drawn part way, only a little light leaking through, you dig through your candles until a suitable scent makes itself clear, setting it up and lighting it. You forgot you’d put on the kettle when you arrived home, so you make yourself a warm cup of tea. Last and essential step. You lift your sweater over your head, finding its place in the laundry hamper, the rest of your clothes following suit. Your leisure wear for this afternoon is a very light pair of shorts, pulling them up and tying them at the waist, and a large band shirt which you exclusively use to sleep or relax in; although you still listen to Radiohead, it seems embarrassing to wear a highschool phase out in public for everyone to see.
You dig through your bag again for the notepad and pencil you had used earlier, but with so much digging you only manage to find the notepad. It hits you that in your attempt to drop your pencil into your bag, it must have landed on the floor. There goes that lucky pencil. Oh well, the thought of Mr. Reed finding your black pencil on the floor lets you imagine him finding it and thinking of you.
After finding another utensil, surrounded by soft candlelight, a dim bedside lamp, a cup of tea, and a book that holds so many secrets about a man you’ve recently become very interested in. What could be better?
You remained in your hazy state while you made your way through each page of the book that you’d read passively before, but every footnote, every sticky note, and every scribble provided more inspiration to read this book inside out than you’d ever had. As the chapters seemed to fly by and your notes slowly got less detailed, the light through the windows slowly disappeared. It was as if you had a window into his mind, his thought processes, his theories. You felt warm, a similar feeling to the ball of nerves that pools in your stomach every time you see him, but this was more intense; like an itch that needed to be scratched. Your hand finds its way to the waistband of your shorts, your eyes transfixed on his handwriting. Your fingers find your core, already slick; you were so weak for him even in concept, already under his control. You imagined yourself under his thumb, his expert hands knowing exactly how to treat you; your fingers mimic your fantasies. You imagine the things you want him to do to you on that desk. What would he say if he could see you now? Imagining how his tongue would feel filling you sends you closer to the edge. Your eyes begin to glaze over and you give up on reading, shutting the book and holding it against your chest in one hand while your other works to finish you off. Your back lifts off the mattress and your eyes shut while you gasp for air, imagining him performing the most unholy acts on your body.
You take a moment and sit in your filth, chest rising and falling, you turn your head to glance over at your clock; how was it already midnight? Once you get yourself cleaned up and return to the book to find it a home on your desk, you can’t help but be surprised at your progress, you got just over halfway through.
As you got yourself comfortable in bed and blew out your candle, you slept happily, knowing you had your plans all figured out for the rest of the weekend.
I'm already just over 1k words deep on pt2 of A Scholarly Source
A Scholarly Source
Part 1, Part 2
Summary: Part 1/? - You’re a third-year university student at a prestigious university, burnt out by the woes of academics, but, more so, balancing a social life at the same time. That is, until a certain class- or professor- comes along that seems to solve all of your problems.
Mr. Reed (Heretic) x fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns used)
Words: 1.2k
Warnings: professor au, age gap (reader is in early twenties), light power imbalance, first-time fic writer
a/n: Hello! As mentioned above, this is my first time writing a fic after years of reading (this is how down bad I am for old Hugh Grant) so I very much welcome any constructive criticism < 3
Nothing seemed to fit in your timetable this semester. You'd think that you would've gotten better at choosing electives by year 3 but clearly, that's not the case. So here you are, sitting in yet another elective- what was it called again?- you glance at your planner; “Is Religion Useful?” you scoff under your breath. Not another sudo-philosophy class of meaningless questions and no solutions in sight, so frustrating to not have a clear answer. You can only hope this isn't as dull as the other few options you have.
Your flow of thought is immediately broken when you can't help but feel a pair of eyes on you. You look around the class, no more than 15 students, typical of a third year course. Quickly, you come to find the gaze that had been lingering on you, belonging to none other than the man at the front of the classroom. Your eyes meet for a moment, before sheepishly look away, down to your blank notepad and fidget with your pen.
The older man surveys the classroom, looking at what you can assume is his attendance sheet and backup. He’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. He had taken off his lovely brown coat and deep red scarf, laying them over the lecturer's chair. He adjusted the collar on his button-down which lay underneath the most gorgeous cardigan, which you can't help but envy- having worn a similar large grandpa sweater today. You can't help but smile at the idea of shopping in the same section of the thrift store as this old man, and wondering what other gems this professor could have in his closet. You're snapped out of your daydream by a throat clearing from the front of the room, requesting our attention in an almost passive aggressive way.
“Hello all; I am Mr. Reed, Professor Reed- if you must, although, ‘mister’ will do the job just fine.” His British accent lingers in your head after his sentence before he continues to rabble on. His small, forced grin reveals the lines that represent years of smiles, and chuckles, likely at his own jokes. Your eyes travel to his well-groomed silver locs, framing his face so nicely. As he discussed the syllabus- which you had already read, of course- he collects a pair of glasses from his front pocket, a light wire framing which he perches on his nose delicately to observe his notes- the glasses make him even more handsome.
Now this is a predicament. Having a hot professor is the last thing you need to distract you and keep you from your highest achievable grades. But on the other hand, quite the motivation to attend a 10:30am lecture. “Now. Oftentimes in theology studies, it seems, the more we know the less we know.” His eyes find you again, which seems to make you hold your pen just a little tighter, this time fighting the urge to break eye contact and maintain a calm outward appearance. He smiles and looks on to address the room again. “How many here are religious themselves? Hm?” The class remains silent. “Oh, come on now, I want to ensure I don’t make a fool of myself too fast this early in the semester.” He grins and waits patiently, “A raise of a hand or blurting out is fine for me.” A few students raise their hands, no more than five, from what you can tell from where you’re sitting. “I see. Good to know. I hope not to offend any of you with my questioning or mad ranting, I do find myself getting carried away from time to time but please stop me if you find that I am wrong.” You smile and make note that he enjoys being challenged, not all profs are so accepting.
“Now! For the most riveting chapter of our session today.” He brings his thumb and index finger to his lips and quickly licks them, separating two pieces of paper. He rambles on about attendance but you can't help but play that moment back over and over in your head, pressing your legs together in an attempt to keep yourself in check. “Y/n?” You snap out of your hazy state. “Y/n L/n?” He looks around the room inquisitively. “Oh- here.” You manage to sputter out. “Ah! There you are. I was beginning to think someone had skipped lecture on the first day, phew!” he chuckles to himself as his eyes flip up and down at you for half a second, not as if you didn’t notice it. “Who would want to miss out on this enthralling content we have in store for us on this fine day.” The projector turns on to reveal the syllabus, the room is ambient with few chuckles for his properly timed punch-line, he seems pleased with himself.
The hour and twenty seems to fly by, filled with similar witty jabs and entertaining commentary, despite the dry nature of the introductory muck. “Alright, it seems from the amount of times I have noticed you all ogling between the clock and window, respectively, that I have kept you long enough, class dismissed.” The shuffle of chairs, zipping of bags, and chatter begins as the class is happily let out five whole minutes early. You’ve made a habit of introducing yourself to your professors at the beginning of each term, as it makes reaching out for questions and inquiries so much easier throughout the semester but you hesitate. You watch as the older man collects his notes, stacking them neatly and finding a place for them in his briefcase. Why would he be any different? Probably just some old kooky religious nut anyway- you tell yourself, getting up the courage as you make your way to the front of the classroom, others passing you on your way to the door. “Hello, sir.” You state very matter of factly, as if to prove to yourself that you aren’t nervous. He looks up from his briefcase which he promptly shuts, snapping the latches closed. You suddenly feel a lot less confident, now much closer and fully under his inquisitive gaze as he looks down at you. “Mr. Reed is just fine, what can I do for you.” There's a beat of dead air between the two of you. You try to muster the most confidence possible, as if to convince yourself you aren't already enchanted with the man. “Uh, yes, I'm y/n, I wanted to introduce myself and say that I'm very excited for your class this term.” you force a nervous smile, hoping the words that came out of your mouth were coherent and in the correct order. “Ah! I see.” he smiles sympathetically, as if to see right through your poorly veiled struggle. “Well, nice to meet you y/n. I'm always excited to see more eager students in the front rows of my class.” he flashes another charming smile as he turns to collect his coat. “Of course!” You feel your cheeks flushing, knowing you need to act fast to keep completely embarrassing yourself on the first day. “Thanks again, see you soon!” You hold on tight to your notebook as if it were a shield and make your way quickly out the door before he can respond. You were certainly in for an interesting semester.
Part 2
reblog if you love hugh grant’s stutter and annoying facial expressions whenever he’s ambivalent about something
I'm cooking on something...
Everything on tumblr seems to be wanting me to start writing fics all of a sudden... interesting...
Hugh Grant as Mr. Reed in Heretic (2024)