#PEOPLE WITH MORE LIFE EXPERIENCE THAN ME FEEL FREE TO CHIME IN

[aperrywilliams]

If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

Part 2

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Spencer's POV

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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them. 

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-" 

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this? 

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around. 

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking. 

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago. 

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers." 

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now. 

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing. 

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you? 

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

-

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could. 

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

-------------

Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.0K

CHAPTER FOUR:

Kento sat sandwiched between a window and Suguru, while Yuki sat next to Suguru, with you facing him. It was an awkward position, and you protested the entire time. 

But Yuki basically shoved you on that side and sat herself down beside Suguru as if Kento needed some protection from you.

Still, as you sat eating a deli sandwich, Kento ate his food. His expression was blank and controlled as if he hadn’t confessed to being interested in you.

It felt as though you were in high school once again. A rush of heat met your cheeks, and even though it didn’t show, you could already feel Yuki’s judgmental stare on you as you fought a smile that crept its way to your face.

“So, Y/N,” Yuki started suspiciously

 Oh no, you thought

“How’s the dating scene going?” A slight smirk was present.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate question to ask during work hours, Yuki.”

“Oh please, We grew up together! Suguru and Kento have seen it all from me during University.”

Yuki leaned in, waiting for your answer.

"So invested in others' private lives, I must ask Yuki, how exactly is his name again?? Kamo?? Kano Chosa?" Kento came to your rescue, or more so his rescue, if completely honest. Fear of you exposing him to the others rose within him; even if he didn't think you were the type of person to do so, it did not worry him any less. The last time he trusted someone with his romantic feelings, he was left abandoned in a hotel, naked and alone.

"Choso," Yuki said plainly with a venom-filled smile as she did so. "See, unlike some people, I am not afraid to be open with one's friends, nor am I unable to control myself when temptations arise."

"Is this going somewhere, Yuki?" You asked, tilting your head at her as though you cared for what she had to say.

Oh, you are so going to kill her when you get home tonight.

"Choso and I are going steady! We haven't had sex yet, but we did do some fun oral stuff." Nanami choked on his water at that, which earned a chuckle from Suguru, whose eyes seemed laser-focused on his phone.

"Is oral stuff not sex?" You asked, more curious than annoyed now, 

"Of course not." Yuki rolled her eyes,

"Now, what brought this random question on, Yuki?" Suguru asked, swirling his water bottle as he finally put his phone down.

"Nothing; I am just curious. You and Toru have this weird unspoken hookup thing but never actually commit, so I have nothing to ask of you. Unless you have decided to finally be a man and ask him out, there is nothing to ask of you. We all know that Kento doesn't date, so the only one left is Y/N."

“I am so sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing to tell.”

“You guys should have heard the college stories Y/N told me over late-night phone calls. Wilder and wilder with each phone call.”

“Oh, please. I’ve cleaned up the act.”

“I find that hard to believe, but okay.”

You only playfully rolled her eyes at this, satisfied with Yuki dropping the interrogation, 

“Okay, I need to pee.” Yuki shuffled her way out of the booth before heading to the restroom, which was inconveniently upstairs. Once she was gone, a soft chime of Suguru’s phone rang, calling him to attention, he stepped out with a small mutter, something along the lines of a smoke break.

Leaving you alone with him.

“So you were a party girl?” Kento broke the silence between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t seem like the party type.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” You responded a little too sharply, sighing before continuing, “I was a very repressed and sheltered kid, so when I went to university, it was like everything and nothing at the same time. I was free to do what I wanted but didn’t know what to want. I made so many bad and embarrassing memories, from throwing up on my crush’s shoes to falling off of bar tables because I didn’t know what control was. And the many nights spent with strangers, I don’t regret at all. Even the awkward and embarrassing ones.”

“Do you regret losing it in university?”

“Surprisingly, no. I don’t regret any decisions, not the parties I attended or the men and occasional women I had fallen into bed with. They all helped me figure out what I enjoy,” Your eyes flicked to his lips, “and what I want.” your eyes flickered back up to Kento’s eyes, “I wouldn’t have minded waiting either. I think we as a society put way too much importance on virginity, so I never really thought of it as losing something or gaining a badge of honor. I saw my virginity as just a thing that happens. I am not a dramatically different person because I had sex, nor would I be if I hadn’t.”

“Oh.” 

“You aren’t a man, or do you have many words?” You giggled at him, making him blush at your happiness.

“Let’s go on a date.” He said with a black face.

“What?” 

“The bathroom was nice, but why on earth did  I have to climb a thousand and one stairs to get there.” Yuki came back, sliding herself right next to Kento, but you didn’t even process what she said. The only words you heard were Kento’s, as they repeated in your ears repeatedly. 

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Y/N?” Yuki called your name.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Yes.” You said to Yuki, but indeed, it was directed at Kento, 

“Yes.” You repeated as you fought a beaming smile that desperately wished to be worn on your face.

Preview...

"I think I quite like you on your knees."

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld @hazzelle-kento @miinhooo @lucilles-witchery @areyouflying

CHAPTER FIVE: UPLOADED

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 10

Late night post! Couldn't sleep! Have some tooth rotting fluff!

Masterlist

The days dragged on, Mihawk actually busy for once with Navy orders to investigate a new emergence of rookie pirates at the edges of Doflamingo's territory. The world leaders knew that the pink moron would rather turn a blind eye to any criminal activity in his region. 

Even with his experience with much of the Grand Line and the New World, it still took Dracule a few days past a month for him to even return back to Gloom Island. He found that he missed you terribly, to the point that even Perona had pointed out his less than stellar mood. Not that he was ever really expressive anyway. Mihawk ignored her questions as he packed his ship once more for another week of travel. 

Perona floated after him, a scowl on her pretty face, “You just got back, and you're already leaving again? Why? What about me?” 

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, “I have a life outside of this castle, Perona,” he groused out and carefully stacked the books he had mentally chosen on his way back to Gloom Island. Last time he had seen you, you were particularly interested in the Blues. One of the thick tomes he'd picked would be a perfect gift for you. 

“You didn't three months ago,” She snapped back at him and crossed her arms in a pout. She hated being ignored! What was she supposed to do all alone in this dreary old castle? Zoro wasn't here to entertain her any longer. 

Dracule sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair and leveling the ghost girl a look, “It's rude to dig into other people's business. So stay out of mine,” He points out and then closes the bag full of books. Another smaller satchel rests at his feet, though that one is full of small trinkets from his foray into the New World. 

Usually, he strayed away from the market stalls and overpriced jewelry, but a small wind chime made of green sea glass had caught his eye. Dracule had paid for it without looking at the price and then continued on his way, unconsciously keeping a lookout for anything else that he thought you may like. 

The warlord may or may not have ended up with a few more than he had even meant to buy, but Mihawk thought about the look of joy that would cross your face at his gifts, and pushed the thought of how many he'd gotten away. 

“Well someone should be in your business! You've been so sneaky, Dracy! I want to know what you've been up to!” Perona demands again with a huff. She doesn't care that it's rude to butt into his business. He took care of her, let her stay on Gloom Island, and hadn't kicked her out like she knew he could. Perona would look after him, too! 

“Give it up, Perona,” Dracule grumbled, tone final as he picked up both bags and slung them over his shoulder. He fixed his hat with his free hand and then marched out of his study without a word to the floating pink girl. 

Mihawk wouldn't lie and say that he didn't feel at least the tiniest bit bad for lying to Perona. He did care for the girl, in a way like one would a stray cat. But she also had a big mouth, and Dracule had already slipped up once with Shanks. He couldn't do that again. 

The ghost girl pouted behind him as she followed the warlord all the way outside and to his ship. A frown took over her face when she noticed that he was packed as if he would be gone for a while. The ship looked more crowded than usual, and she wondered what Mihawk had stored away. 

“Well. How long will you be gone for?” Perona asks quietly and tries not to let it show how upset she actually was with Dracule leaving already. 

The older man sighs, stepping off his ship to trudge back inside the castle, “I won't be leaving until tomorrow. The trip takes around a week. I plan to stay for at least four days and then a week trip back,” Dracule says and makes sure to keep everything as vague as possible. He glances at the young girl and rolls his eyes when she still looks upset. 

“We will go shopping when I come back. Will that appease you?” Mihawk asks, and it's like a light switch. 

Perona grins in excitement. Shopping with Mihawk means getting whatever she wants. The warlord had more than enough berri to spend. 

“Fine! But I want to go to the best places, Mihawk! You owe me that,” She demands and crosses her arms in a huff, ready to argue her case if denied. 

“As long as it keeps you quiet,” Dracule says instead, and Perona just sticks her nose up in the air again as she floats away to her room. This wasn't over! She would find out what had suddenly taken all of Mihawk's attention. 

Dracule watches the pink girl leave with a fond sigh. He sits in his chair and reaches down to retrieve a bottle of wine from inside his desk. He pops it to let it air and then pours himself a careful glassful. Mihawk admires the red and thinks back on how this same brand of wine had stained your pretty lips. 

Now alone, the warlord allows his mind to drift without worry, eyes closing as he thinks back to the last time he was with you. His overly romantic thoughts have him sneering at himself, as if he were some prince come to sweep you off your feet. Dracule sips his wine. 

He likes to think that it's the other way around. For the most part, life had before a melancholy bore to Mihawk. Either following the government's orders to look for a good fight or nap the day away in his ship. Little caught and held his attention, but you? You are an entirely different story. 

Mihawk had never met someone so sheltered, only knowing of the world through waterlogged books and from the kindness of any pirate that may have washed up on your beach. From what Dracule has gathered, he has been one of the very few who hasn't tried to kill you. 

You were kind and intelligent. He loved the way that your eyes would light up whenever he spoke of what he knew, always excited to acquire more knowledge. Mihawk found that he wanted to teach to show you everything that he knew. 

He frowns suddenly and thinks back to the rather innocent question that had made anger and panic race through him. You wanted to know about him, not his knowledge, and it made him antsy. You didn't deserve to know the hardships and pain that he has gone through to get to where he is today. You did not need to be aware of the atrocities that he has committed over the years. Dracule Mihawk is not a kind man, and his past certainly reflects it. 

Mihawk would tell you more in time, but for now, Dracule wanted to be selfish. Wanted to hoard you away from the world and keep you safe like a dragon would its treasure. And maybe that is what you were to him. A pirate needed treasure, after all. 

The warlord finishes his glass and then stands, intending to fix himself and his ward dinner. He would leave at first light tomorrow morning, not later than that. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hank whines at your feet, big puppy dog eyes catching your attention from where you sit slouched at your kitchen table. It's been a month and a half, and still, there has been no sign of Dracule. He had promised that he would be back, and the man didn't seem like the kind to break those, but it still made you worry for him. 

Was he okay? Did whatever business he had to attend go bad? Did a seaking attack him and somehow get the better of him? You have no idea, and your chest hurts at all the horrible possibilities that could befall your friend. 

Were you friends? Did that term apply to the two of you? The few romance books that you'd been able to cobble together didn't make it seem like the two of you were just friends. Was he your boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Again, another countless item that you did not know, however, you resolved to amend that when Dracule returned. Whenever that may be. 

“I know, Buddy. I'm sorry that I'm being such a sad sap,” You lament to your pooch and lean down to give the shaggy dog a scratch under his chin. 

Hank's woofs at, and you watch in suspicion when his ears suddenly snap back, and he wheels around to start barking at the front door. You frown as you get up and follow him, curious as to what got Hank's attention. 

That frown turns upside down when the door opens, and Dracule Mihawk strides in like he owns the place. He sets down several bags and pats Hank's head with a soft smirk before the mutt’s attention is caught by something outside. He bounds away, leaving you and Mihawk staring at one another. 

“Snow Angel,” He begins and takes a half step forward, but that's as far as he gets before you slam into him, Snow exploding around the two of you as you bury your face in his chest. You don't even care that his cross necklace is digging into your face. 

“You're back,” you cry. And when did that start? Oh, we'll. You pull away and wipe your eyes, though you can't help the tremble in your bottom lip, “I was worried that something might have happened to you.” 

Warm, calloused hands close around your freezing face, and Dracule leans in to rest his brow against your own. The feather on his hat tickles your face, but you ignore it, not taking your eyes away from the beautiful yellow ones that demand your attention. 

“There is little out there that could truly hurt me, Dear one,” Mihawk says in such a sure tone that you have no choice but to believe him. He strokes your cheeks, wiping away your tears with a soft smile meant only for you, “Though I do appreciate the thought that you worried for me so.” 

You sniff and send him a glare at his teasing. Damn this man and what he does to you. What you hardly understand. 

“You're really that strong?” You find yourself asking him, and lean back to observe his chiseled physique and the sword on his back. A funny feeling shoots through your stomach when you lay eyes on the cross guard, and you frown at the negativity of the emotion. 

You're so focused that you don't notice Dracule's hesitation, though you are quick to tune back in when he speaks. 

“I am. One of my proudest titles is the Greatest Swordsman in the world,” Mihawk admits, and you can't help but think that this is an important event for him, and you delight in knowing that he was finally giving you a peek inside of who he really is.

“It sounds like you've worked very hard for it,” you say softly and reach up to cup his hands with your own, thumbs swiping gently over his knuckles.  

“I did, still do. It is a title that I will happily defend,” Dracule murmurs and slips a hand free so that he can curl his arm around your waist. You shiver at the warmth he emits, and finally feel like you can breathe properly once again. Before you can comment further, Mihawk is twisting the two of you around and backing you up against the door, “Enough of that. Do kiss me, sweet thing. I have missed your taste.” 

Your back hits the door, and then his lips are upon your, closing over your own in a heated exchange that has one of your hands sliding into his hair and pulling him closer. You kiss him back like your life depends on it, opening up for him when Mihawk's tongue licks the seam of your lips. A choked moan leaves your throat when that hot muscle sweeps inside and curls around your tongue. 

Dracule slows, this kiss turning less frantic with need and more passionate, soft pecks of the lips that still leave your heart racing but in an entirely different way. He leaves one last lingering kiss to your cheek and then pulls away to tuck your head under his chin. You take advantage and cuddle close to him, arms dropping to wrap around his waist. You hum when his grip on you tightens. 

“I missed you,” you murmur quietly, and Dracule kisses the top of your head. 

“I know, dear. I longed for you as well,” he says, and your heart flutters at his words. Did he long for you? Did he pine like the men from your storybooks? 

“Wh-What are we?” You ask before you can stop the damming words coming out of your mouth. You flush and bury your face in the crook of his neck, “I know that we're friends, right? But I don't think friends kiss and, um, touch the way we do.” 

Dracule listens to you babble, finding it endearing that you wanted his opinion on this.

 “You can call what we have whatever you like,” He decides on and then catches your chin to lift your face and place a quick kiss to your lips, “But no matter what you choose, you are my treasure.” 

You can't find any kind of words to say to that, so you just reach for him to pepper his face with kisses, giggling when his facial hair tickles your face. Mihawk allows your fun for a whole before he puts a stop to it by flicking you in the forehead. 

“It's later than I intended to arrive, Darling,” Dracule scolds with a smirk and turns to the two of you around and gently pushes you to the kitchen, “You remember how I showed you to properly open a bottle of wine, right?” 

You laugh and dance into the kitchen, gathering the glasses that he had brought from last time and showing him that you did remember his instructions. You haven't touched the dangerous red liquid since that night, but you know that Dracule enjoys having a glass or four in the evening. 

The two of you settle in the living room afterwards, and Dracule sets his wine down long enough to retrieve the smaller bag. He opens it up, and you watch in growing panic as Mihawk pulls several boxes out of the drawstring. He hands over the largest of the parcels. 

“Open them, please,” Dracule instructs, and you set your own mug away to carefully tug at the delicate purple ribbon that holds the box shut. A gasp leaves you when you take the lid off, and you reverently pull out the beautiful green sea glass and delicate metal tubes attached to the fishing line. 

“What is it?” You ask and raise it up to better examine it in the setting sun that streams through your window. You gasp in delight when you hear the melodic echo at the slightest movement. 

“A wind chime. We can hang it wherever the wind blows most,” Dracule suggests, and you nod eagerly as you set the chimes back inside the box for safekeeping. Miahwk takes it away only to replace it with another. 

You end up with a fish bone comb that has been chiseled by masterful hands. A full sand dollar that you are extra careful with, and a large piece of red glass from a broken bottle that has been sanded and polished to a shine. Each item is handpicked just for you. 

Dracule looks like a smug cat, lips tugged up in a smirk as he watches you reverently put away your gifts. You agree to hang up the wind chime in the morning and open his arms for you to fall into. You gladly do, holding Mihawk close and not ever wanting to let go. 

It's quiet between two of you, a comfortable air that puts you at ease. At some point, Mihawk takes up the book, the one that you had read to him from, and begins to read. His soft timber is enough to send you into a light doze, and he slows to a stop, not wanting you to miss anything. 

“Darling, if you are so tired, let's get you to bed, yes?” Mihawk murmurs and rolls his eyes when all you do is give a sleepy nod. He shifts forward and then stands with you in his arms, tracing the now familiar path back to your bedroom. 

Dracule tucks you in, content to leave you for the night, but he doesn't get far before your pitiful voice rings out, “Stay here with me?” 

The warlord is already sitting on the bed and tugging his boot off. You watch with squinted eyes as Mihawk reaches for his belt, sliding it out of the loops and sliding his pants off. You admire his lean form dressed only in black men's underwear. He is radiant, and it makes you a little nervous to have him so undressed and in your bed no less. 

You toss back the blankets and Dracule slips in beside you. It's a little awkward at first, but then you can feel how much heat he is radiating and desperately wants to know how it feels to have so much of his exposed skin touching you. You roll over to face him, smiling in the dim light of the moon when you realize that he's been watching you the whole time. 

“I know you're cold,” Mihawk whispers, and you can hear that knowing, teasing tone that you have missed so much. “Come here, Snow Angel.” 

You don't have to be told twice, happily closing the distance and tossing your arm over his waist, head pillowed on his chest. You press your freezing feet against his legs and are treated with the rare sight of his eyes going wide and a hiss like a cat escaping his mouth. 

You snicker and get pinched in the side for your trouble, but you can't bring yourself to care. This night couldn't get any better. 

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz

[creatingblackcharacters]

I've looked through your write-ups and haven't found anything to this effect, so I'm wondering if you have any solid resources for Black history in Canada? I'm writing something that takes place in the 1920s with a majority Black cast and it's almost impossible to find detailed information about the Black experience in that time period, it's mostly just short summaries of events that gloss over daily life. If you don't have resources but could point me toward people/blogs that would be great as well.

Thanks for your help! Keep up the great work!

Black History in Canada: 1900-1960

Black History in Toronto

RKC Law: February is Black History Month (Vancouver)

Black Workers in Canada: the 20th Century Experience

Black Feminist Art History in 1920s Montreal

There are links to more resources within these links that might be a good start! I would personally consider the era in general; fashion, technology, and the struggle against racism wouldn't be drastically different from the U.S. Black experience in the 20s. Canada has this longstanding facade of being "safer" than the U.S. in terms of antiblackness (from the "slaves ran to Canada" concept) and other forms of racism and it's just not true lmao.

If there are Black Canadians who know more specifics, please feel free to chime in!

[prentissluvr]

mi cielo — luke alvez

for : 200+ followers event [ open ] ➖⟢ pairing : luke alvez x gn!bau!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : pet names (mi cielo), food mentions, mentions of a bad day at work, swearing, only lightly edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.1K prompt : memorizing their favorite things and treating them when they have a bad day.

luke swings his arm over your shoulders, startling you slightly.

“i thought you left with the others?” you ask, laughing a little at yourself as you calm down the second you realize it's him. you allow yourself to lean into his side a bit as you walk to the elevator, like you always do when you’re not on the clock.

“i was waiting for you, l/n! c’mon! we’re going to your favorite taco stand, it should still be open. i’m dying for their horchata,” he quips, grinning right at you. it takes all of your willpower not to stumble as you walk into the elevator or fumble over your words. his smile is practically blindingly pretty.

“i’m tired,” you complain, but luke can hear that your resistance is lighthearted and completely moveable. he doesn’t even have to ask a second time for you to relent, and if he could smile wider, he would. “it’s my turn to drive,” you remind him, because he’s always trying to trick you into letting him take on that job.

“mm-mm, nope! no way, i’m treating you tonight!” he argues through his smile.

“luke, you treat me all the time, let me at least do something,” you push, trying to concentrate on convincing him to let you do a favor instead of the feeling of his warm hand against your upper arm or his strong arm heavy over your shoulders. the two of you are quite close, you knew each other even before luke joined the team. so this sort of physical affection is common and casual, but it never fails to send so many butterflies swarming around your stomach because the way you feel about him is anything but casual.

luke pretends to think before answering, “next time.” 

the doors to the elevator ding open, and you groan in playful frustration. “you always say that, and you never let me. you should quit being such a gentleman.”

“other people would beg to differ,” he chimes, and though you know it’s a joke, and you know about just about anyone and everyone in his life (there’s no one right now, and it’s wonderful and makes you stir-crazy at the same time), you can’t help the pang of jealousy. you’re not the only one who gets to experience luke, the gentleman. “besides, that’s not true,” he pushes on, and with his arm around your shoulder, you have no choice but to follow his lead to his own car, “you do plenty of things for me.”

“mmm, like what?” you play along, unable to stop the smile on your own face, even after such a shit day at work. he never fails to make you feel better, lighter, like you’re not alone.

“well, you always buy me my favorite snacks,” he begins motioning vaguely with his free hand as he talks, “you pamper roxy, you introduced me to the best taco stand in dc, and helped me settle in when i joined. and, most importantly, you do a wonderful job of sitting there and looking good! it’s a huge favor when there’s nothing to do in the bullpen.”

you let out a sharp laugh, half to cover up the fact that your cheeks are warming considerably at his last example. “that’s my most important contribution to this friendship?” you question with a playful elbow in his side.

“ahh, you know i’m joking,” luke relents, before putting on that tone of voice where he’s totally messing with you, but trying to sound completely serious, “it’s obviously your love for roxy that’s the most important.”

“mm, you’re so right. that’s cuz roxy’s way more important than you. have i ever told you i like her more than you?” you tease right back.

it’s his turn to let out a pretend offended bark of laughter, “you know, you actually have! plenty of times, you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” you miss his warmth the second he slides his arm from around your shoulders in favor of opening the passenger’s side door to his car, then rounding the vehicle to get in. you’re already buckled as he settles into his seat.

the taco stand is doubly nice because it’s beyond delicious and not too far at all from the office. you’re extra lucky tonight to find a nearby parking space and a short line. when you approach, the worker smiles at the two of you, recognizing you easily after your couple of years coming here together.

luke orders your usual, along with his, not even having to ask if that’s what you want. somehow he knows the days you want to shake it up, and is even more sure of the days you want the comfort of familiarity. you know it’s useless to argue about who’s paying, so you don’t even try tonight.

“so are you two together yet?” the worker asks. this isn’t uncommon coming from the folks at this stand or some of the regulars like doña lina, who always fawns over the two of you when you happen to be getting food at the same time. her son, juan, is the one who just asked, his voice more teasing than his mother’s. 

“ay, todavía no,” luke jokes. not yet, you translate in your head. you should be used to people thinking the two of you should get together. i mean, hell, you think about it all the time. but luke always goes along with it, always says not yet, like eventually he’ll say, yes, finally. you want that day like it’s your childhood dream career. probably a little fictitious, but without a care in the world about that. you just want it, plain and simple, and goodness, do you dream about it.

then luke says something that he normally doesn’t. instead of ignoring your flustered state, or the way you try to laugh and joke it off, he turns to you, putting his arm right back around your shoulders where you think it absolutely belongs.

“someday, right, mi cielo?” he asks it, staring right into your eyes as he says those words, as he calls you his sky. and he’s either the cruelest man in the world and playing a sick, sick joke on you, or he’s completely serious. and because you know he’s not cruel, not on purpose, anyways, you have to think that he means it. so, grabbing onto that tight, and swallowing the butterflies that try to fly up from your stomach and lodge themselves in your throat, you make sure he knows you mean it, too.

you grin right back at him, “sure thing, handsome.”

[practicalsolarpunk]

Hello! I live in a very small efficiency apartment where there is not a lot of wi dow space/the window is glued shut and the land is exclusively owned and maintained by the company. What can I do to incorporate more solarpunk practices into my life? Are there any plants that can still grow well indoors? I'm afraid to start up a water station or anything like that outside because I'm afraid maitenance will mess with it/remove it. Would it be better for me to do something like knitting/embroidery that I can more easily do indoors?

Hello! As a fellow apartment-dweller with not a lot of window space currently, I feel your struggle here. If you're concerned that maintenance will mess with anything you put outside, then it probably is best to focus on things you can do indoors. However, there are quite a few things you can do indoors!

Plants: If you're looking for experience growing things, there are a variety of plants that grow well indoors and with low light - here's one list. (I've heard spider plants and snake plants recommended to beginners a lot, but I've never personally grown either.)

Fiber crafts: If you're more interested in crafts like knitting and embroidery, go for it! I also recommend people who are interested in those types of things learn about mending as well - it's a great way to extend the life of your old clothes (and other things made of fabric) and reduce the amount you need to buy.

Cooking: Cooking is a great skill to have, but it can be a challenge in an efficiency apartment. If you have a cooktop or a crock pot, you can look for simple recipes that you can make with the space and tools you have.

Building community: One of the foundations of solarpunk is that it's about community. My favorite way to start, especially in apartments, is by meeting the neighbors. Introducing yourself is a great way to open a relationship. Tying in with the previous idea, if your entire building is full of efficiencies and you can cook a big batch of something in a crock pot, that's a great excuse to have some neighbors over for a home-cooked meal.

Share: Part of building community, it doesn't require any outdoor space. You and your neighbors could put together a shared pantry in your building. You could start a Free Box at your workplace. Talk to the people around you - what do they need?

Get involved: Solarpunk isn't just about growing plants and mending clothes - there's also an activism component that is how we change society as a whole. Volunteer with an organization doing things you care about. Find a local mutual aid group (here's some tips for how to find them) and see what you can do to get involved. Start your own mutual aid project. The size of your apartment is irrelevant if you're out doing things.

Research: Not being able to do things outside right now doesn't mean you can't learn about them. And many of those "big picture" ideas have a lot of concepts that can apply to the efficiency apartment life. Looking into the "7 R's" or permaculture can help you come up with ideas for more things you can do.

Also if you're really set on doing stuff outdoors, don't necessarily discount it, especially if you plan to be in this apartment for a while! You can propose outdoor projects to your apartment complex's manager. They may be more receptive than you think, especially if you can spin it to sound beneficial to them. (If you're proposing a community garden for residents, for example, it could be a draw for new residents, convince current residents to stay, be managed by you the residents so they don't have to do much to maintain it, and they won't have to pay their landscapers to mow/maintain that space anymore.)

Check out more ideas in these tags:

#apartment solarpunk

#dorms and small spaces

#community building

#activism

#fiber crafts

There's also some additional tips in this post and this post, which are earlier responses to similar asks.

I hope this helps! Followers, feel free to chime in with your best tips!

- Mod J

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Hey everyone.

Maybe some of you have noticed that my writing's been super sporadic since like June (if you haven't that's very okay) but I just wanted to write a little bit about what's been happening in my life because it's had a pretty big impact on my writing.

It turns out that I'm actually ace.

So, if you happen to notice an uptick in me writing fics with ace characters who still get to be loved, I'm just trying to process a thing.

Please feel free to skip the rest of this post if you're not interested in the harrowing journey of self discovery. I am absolutely giving too much information about my life, I'm just really working at processing everything and I'm hoping writing it out will help. And honestly, there have been some beautiful souls in the Tumblr community who have given me some beautiful encouragement (including but not limited to @basicallyahedgehog who answered an anon ask I sent them the other day with so much kindness and encouragement because I'd bawled my eyes out about one of their fics featuring ace Harry/Draco.).

(Anyway. If you want to read a ramble about all of the things I'm struggling with at the present moment, I'm gladly accepting advice and kindness at this time. Please read below the cut and chime in if you have anything hopeful to add.)

For most of my life I've pretty comfortably called myself a "picky bi" and in the past couple of years have labeled myself "demisexual" because I'm not sex repulsed; I've had sex, it was fine/good when it's with someone who I'm in love with. I moved on from the labeling, content with the label I'd given myself and whatnot.

It's been a minute (read: 8+ years) since I've been in a relationship that got to the point where I've considered having sex but I didn't really think all that much of it. In retrospect, I think this is largely because I've grown a lot in terms of self respect and honoring my own autonomy. Somewhere around 25, I started saying no when I didn't want something and if the other person didn't respect that decision they were not worth my time.

Anyway, it didn't really occur to me that perhaps going nearly a decade without thinking about/wanting to have sex with anyone (and without experiencing even vague aesthetic attraction to someone with only the odd exception here and there- some of you saw that post a couple of months ago, apparently just having the thought that someone is pretty isn't the same as attraction that allo people experience- so that panic now seems pretty unnecessary. It literally boggles my mind that people can just see a person they've never met and want to have sex with them. Anyway, I'm digressing.) Apparently, it's not a common occurrence even among demisexuals to go that long without thinking about sex if you have emotional intimacy with people (which I do). So fast forward to June when I went to a conference for lgbtqia christians and started listening to people talk about attraction.

To say that my experience of attraction and desire for sex is profoundly different than that of nearly all of the people that I talked to at that conference would be an understatement.

After that conference, I started talking to a lot of friends about their experience of attraction and their desire for sex (eventually this also included some new friends who are demi/ace) and have been a little flabbergasted by their responses. Suddenly, in light of the fact that my body doesn't interpret a lot of things the way that other peoples' seem to, a lot of things started to make sense.

I've been called a flirt (at best, and a [cock]tease in more unpleasant moments) my entire life because I always want to give people gentle physical affection; I love holding hands, touching people on the arm while we're having a conversation, playing with peoples' hair, hugging, leaning, the list is long- none of those things have ever felt like flirting to me. Every one of those actions was the end in itself, there was no artifice in my touches, no desire or even thought for more, but APPARENTLY that is not the thing that happens in a lot of peoples' bodies. It is incomprehensible to me that simple, affectionate touches are not something that everyone just wants to do to anyone that they harbor platonic affection for. This also applies to the way that I communicate with people. Again, I've been called a flirt, been told that I'm intense, been told that I'm trying to 'steal' peoples' boy/girl friends simply by being friends with them. APPARENTLY, showing "too much" interest in other peoples' lives and hobbies is flirting. APPARENTLY, getting really excited for people who are excited and doing cool things is flirting. Because (or so I have been told) the emotional energy I expend is too much to just be friends; surely, I have another angle.

Next, in terms of attraction, I experience attraction to beautiful things in nature in the same way that I experience it to people. If I'm being honest, nature makes my heart sing in a way that people usually don't. I can get caught up in the beauty of the world; the vastness of the ocean for literal hours, in the majesty of the mountains, the strength of trees, the way water carves a path through the rocks in glens and waterfalls. The world takes my breath away, it makes me weep just to exist in nature. Apparently, this in not everyone's experience of nature and apparently, many people who want to have sex don't think that trees, or bodies of water, or mountains have as much (or more, in my humble opinion) appeal than humans.

It's come to my attention that even the way that I have experienced heart break from relationships where I was "in love" and having sex is not the way that people typically experience heartbreak. All heart break feels the same to me; grieving leaving a job, grieving the death of a loved one, grieving horrible things that happen to my students, grieving the loss of friendships, and grieving the loss of a relationship feel like the same heart break. (Like some of those things hurt worse than others but the heart break over the loss of a relationship isn't worse.) One of my friends mentioned that I grieve the passing of summer into autumn (I fucking hate the winter) like the loss of a relationship and I wish I could say that she is wrong. I've been told my whole life that I experience my emotions too big and I just can't help but wonder if there is some sort of correlation there, but I digress.

The literal dream for my life is to have someone who wants to get in the car or on a plane and travel with me. Someone who I can make coffee for in the mornings and who wants to cook me dinner at night. Someone who wants to sit on the couch after a long day at work and talk about nothing, or watch a show, or just exist together. Someone who wants to dance with me in the kitchen, and hold my hand while we walk, who wants to smile at me while I ramble about nature. I want someone who wants to hold me when I cry, who wants to listen to me when I'm mad, someone who will remind me to take a break when I'm working too hard. The only thing that I actually want from a partner is just someone to do life with. It's not that I'm opposed to sex, it's just that it literally doesn't matter.

(So many things in past relationships, so many fights, so many of the reasons that I was left, so many things that I JUST DIDN'T UNDERSTAND make sense now. Or at least they're starting to.)

So. In the process of understanding this complete fuckery, of trying to put all of the pieces that haven't quite made sense in my life into order, in the end of July my best friend told me that she's in love with me.

And on the one hand, I'm fucking over the moon, delighted, honored, speechless, crazy-happy. She's literally the best person I have ever known, she's the kindest, sweetest, most loyal, loving, amazing human being to ever exist. She loves me so well, so completely, like all of the things that I said above that are my dream; that is her. We road trip together, and she lets me braid her hair, and we snuggle on the couch and watch movies, and we talk for hours (literally hours, when we road trip we go for 7-10 days at a time and I like do not shut the fuck up for more than like 5 minutes total the entire day and she loves me; loves listening to me talk about whatever is in my brain), and when I'm going on and on about how pretty things are in nature she looks at me like I'm the pretty thing (when I say, 'oh my gosh. that mountain, tree, lake, ocean, etc. is so beautiful.' she literally says 'you're so beautiful' and I am deceased, my heart can't take it, I can't fucking stop smiling- I don't even want to), and she lets me info dump about whatever I'm learning, and she loves my brain and my stupid adhd, and she plays me sappy love songs and sings them to me (and she sings in my car, sings to me even though she doesn't sing in front of people) and and and... she makes me feel like I'm good. She makes me feel like I'm all of the things that other people have said I'm not.

And I am constantly terrified of hurting her.

There are a variety of reasons we're not planning on having sex (partially because it's not really something that I want) that I'm not going to get into but I'm afraid of being what I've been to other people. I'm afraid of her feeling like I'm pushing her buttons because I just always want to be touching her (very platonically) like just having our shoulders bumping while we walk, or putting my head on her shoulder when we're on the couch, or letting our elbows press against one another while we're in the car. BUT what happens in our bodies when we're touching like that is really different. Like I described above, for me any type of touch is really the end goal in and of itself (if I'm braiding her hair, it's safe to assume that that is all I want to be doing. If I'm leaning against her on the couch, that too is what I'm wanting.) But that's not always how her body wants to interpret touch, even if she logically knows that I'm not intentionally teasing (she would never say that she feels like I'm trying to tease her, for the record, it's just the easiest way for me to articulate what it feels like could be happening).

And I love her so much, like so much; I'd do anything for her but it's not the same kind of love that she feels for me. By which I mean that she is just really gay and actively attracted to me emotionally/physically but for me if she started dating someone else, I'd be actually fine with that. If she was dating/having sex with someone I wouldn't be jealous, as long as we still get to be friends. (And maybe her dating would necessarily change the dynamic of our friendship and that would be really hard but that's a different mental exercise.) This isn't the way that she feels.

She is so special and important to me but even the way that we are aware of the other person's presence is different. For me, if I'm in a group of people and she's there, I'm aware of that on some level but it's not at the forefront of my mind. My brain is always sort of 'triaging' the people around me when they're my friends; who's being too quiet? who has been going through a rough patch with work/family, etc? who has an exciting new thing they need someone to squeal about with them? who hasn't been included in the conversation in too long? (see the paragraph above about flirting. haha.) She's there but she often isn't the first person I'm thinking about because I talk to her almost every day, I get to love her every day, and odds are good that we either drove together or will talk on the phone our way home from the event- I see the other people there less, so my brain just prioritizes them since I have less time to love them. (This is actually really good, healthy progress for me in terms of healthy attachment and not forming a codependent relationship. My therapist and I are really proud of the work I'm doing, but I'm digressing again.) For her, though, she always knows exactly where I am. It is work for her to pay attention to other conversations, work to be in a different room. In most situations, I am the person she defaults to thinking about and wanting to be near and she has to actively choose other things if she wants to. (And I don't mean to sound like an absolute asshole, it's not like I ignore her or anything, and I'm delighted for us to be in the same conversations, it's just a different way that we engage with the world.)

I love her so much. And I'm afraid of messing everything up. Of hurting her. Of asking too much of her without asking for anything at all. I try to let her be the one to initiate physical touch (or I ask first) because sometimes it's too hard on her body and that's fair. I feel frustrated with the different ways that we experience love for each other because the way that she loves me feels so good and safe to me and it makes me feel so happy. I'm afraid that the way that I love her doesn't feel as nice for her, that it feels less than, that the way I express my love and devotion isn't as good. I'm afraid that the way she loves me is going to wear her out. She always says she knows I love her just as much as she loves me, it's just different. She says she's okay, she says that the way I love her is good for her and she's happy. But it's hard to believe.

I'm afraid that she'll fall in love with someone else who can love her the way she loves and I won't matter to her anymore (partially because that's been my experience of people who have said they're in love with me). I'm afraid.

Is it even fair to entertain the idea of maybe having a whole life together? (we're already entertaining the ideas, already daydreaming about 'what if we lived together', where we're going on our next road trip, etc. And I'm terrified.) Is it asking her to give up too much? I would spend the rest of my life with her. I'd be good and kind to her, I would love her with so much tenderness. But is it enough? Am I enough with just the things that I have to give? Is it actually possible for someone to love me for just me and not for the ways that I could contort myself to be something I'm not?

I recognize the irony in what I'm asking. I know that that's what all of these hundreds of stories I've written here say, it's what I want to believe. But is it even possible when it's reality?

I don't know. Does anyone have any good advice? Any ace people out there living with a person who's in love with them? Does anyone have something that's lasted?

[flowering-thought]

The final Kawahara sibling is here my lovely followers <3

Prepare for trouble and make it triple cause the siblings are now fully out ✨️

Also sticking with the foreigner darlings all doing different things <33

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, stalking, invasion of privacy, gore

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Makoto Kawahara

First Meeting + Headcannons

It's a rainy day when Makoto is getting out of work. He had gotten off early due to the case he was working on getting handed off once he had finished specific files for the case. Working as a lawyer could be annoying but honestly? He liked arguing and having people's secrets so what could he say other than it was worth it somehow in his eyes.

He decided that since it was his day off he would finally check out the bakery that opened recently. He had heard about it from a coworker how two women, one a foreigner and one a local opened it about two months ago and it was a big hit since both brought all sorts of baked goods from all sorts of countries together.

He looked up the address and noticed it was maybe a five-minute walk so he took out his umbrella and walked until he reached a pretty building with plants decorating the outside and inside. And when he opened the door and a little bell chimed he was hit with his favorite smell of baked goods and coffee.

He looked around and noticed the counter where he could order and the cute handwritten style on the menu. As stoic as Makoto is he can't help but enjoy cute and sweet things.

So he looked at the menu from afar before going up to order after deciding what he wanted. Except for the moment his eyes landed on you his heart nearly skipped a beat.

You stood behind the counter with a cute white embroidered apron and tan shirt. Your adorable figure filled out your shirt perfectly and your cheeks look so cute he could pinch them-

He couldn't help but stare until you looked up at him curiously. On the outside, he looked blank but on the inside, he was experiencing love at first sight. And honestly many of the Kawahara experience this except for Daisuke.

He stood there for a solid minute before you raised your hand and poked his arm and he shook from out of his trance. "Are you alright? Need something to drink to feel better? I can get you some water if you need it!" You said, smiling softly at him before he shook his head.

"No! No, I'm okay! Sorry I blanked for a moment there. Could I get an expresso with a chocolate croissant and a lemon mango kanafeh?" He asked, pinching himself to keep his head on straight.

You smiled before complying and then added a lemon bar to his order after getting a tray to put the treats on. "Here, free treat because why not hm?" You stated, giving him a wink before going to make his espresso. He had walked to a table to wait until you came and gave him his coffee.

"I hope you enjoy it! And if you want anything wrapped to take home let me know!" You added, smiling before you left to get another order.

It was foolish. Makoto felt so foolish but as he sat there clenching the space above his heart he just knew he had to know you. So he called a friend of his up and asked to know more about the two owners of the bakery, specifically the cute foreigner with a gorgeous smile..

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Regular Headcannons

• Makoto is 30 and was born on January 4th.

• As stoic as he is to others, Makoto has a sweet spot for those he loves. But when it comes to his darling it's a near teeth-rotting sweet.

• He's a big fan of sweets and loves trying new foods! He's got a whole list of places he wants to go to try their foods and will definitely take you with him.

• But the man cannot bake to save his life. He got in trouble with his grandmother once cause they had to use the fire extinguisher-

• He can cook simple foods though! Like eggs! And cereal, and uhhh heat up soup.... just don't make him do complicated things hm?

• He likes to make models in his spare time though! Those cute little house models that you can put together or sometimes will sew some stuffed animals. He's good with his hands (not cooking though-) and likes to make cute things.

• Only problem is that when an ex of his that he once dated just cause she asked him out found out about his adoration for cute things and his hobby for "girly" crafts she made fun of him. After that, he's wary of who he shows his stuff off to.

• And Makoto isn't really an extrovert or introvert. He's introverted with people he doesn't know well. But when you get past that he becomes really talkative and enjoys telling you all sorts of things and if he learned something interesting he'll tell you about it too!

• The man can also sing-

• I'm saying that he has such a low and soft voice that he'll randomly sing some Japanese love song while working on his crafts and it's just so soft and pretty that you'd want to listen to it forever.

• He honestly will make you all sorts of things while together.

• After he first met you and started to frequent your Cafe at least three times a week he gathered the courage to ask you out by making a small frog plush.

• He asked if you would be okay with maybe going to a Japanese koi garden that also had some frogs and other creatures and that you both could try some traditional sweets.

• And when you said yes he nearly cheered but kept composed as he thanked you happily before running out with his order of baked goods.

• And boy does he look good while running away-

• But he just can't help himself when it comes to you.

• if you ever made him any sort of craft I think he might actually cry-

• As strong as he appears he's the type who will cry and sad movies or when an animal dies on screen.

• Takeo recommends Makoto some sad movies as well or movies that Makoto would like.

• And of course Makoto treats his siblings well and when he's really serious about you he lets his siblings meet you. He's glad to see you get along with them as well. If you didn't he'd probably get sad.

• He's a softie but that doesn't mean that he has another side of him completely...

Yandere Tendencies Headcannons

• Makoto is a stalker through and through. And he's one that has money to spend on whatever he wants. So hiring someone to report on your day or take pictures of you won't put too much of a dent in his bank account ♡

• He keeps the photos he likes and burns the ones that he doesn't. But the moment you're in your home he orders whoever it is watching you to fuck off.

• He does have mics in your home though. Only in the living area though. As much as he is attached he doesn't want to completely invade your privacy.

• And while he doesn't seem like the type to get violent, he will if he's pissed off. He gets jealous easily and sometimes if there's not enough blackmail or if they've just done something that crosses Makoto's line of what's blackmail worthy and what's killing-worthy he will get rid of them.

• And if he does get rid of someone he keeps trophies. It can be a piece of cloth from what they were wearing or jewelry but he usually keeps something people won't notice is missing.

• He also stages the murders as well. He can't have anything tracing back to him and if things are a bit difficult he'll pin it on someone else.

• He doesn't feel too much remorse as he doesn't like things disturbing his time with you.

• He thinks of you as someone who deserves the world. You're sweet and kind and just downright adorable in his eyes ♡

• And if anyone tries to taint that they are gone ♡

• And he makes sure to treat the friend you run the bakery with great because he knows of how close you two are. And he can't risk you completely being alone.

• He understands the importance of having friends and people you can count on. So he makes sure that you have support other than him. But he knows how to take it away if he has to...

• As for his apartment, he lives in a massive complex with all sorts of places like a pool and gym. But he also lives in the penthouse-

• Makoto likes the room and with all his crafts he has a room dedicated to his crafts. He also has an office as well and his deck on the roof is huge.

• But he also has some spare rooms and a guest room for when his brothers come over or if he gets a visit from a friend or anything.

• But there may or may not be a basement in the complex for certain members of the complex who hide their other side from their families and need a space for those activities.

• In that place is where the people Makoto wants to get threatened in person go.

But the whole complex is soundproof. So if Makoto ever gave into that urge of keeping you to himself, he's quite sure no one would ever notice you being in a spare room decorated just for you ♡

[neonscandal]

So I found this on bird app :

"i only like ge/go when it’s doomed and they have no longterm future

same with go/ge. they’re about the same to me but i think gojo bottomed more and was a total pillow princess about it in their teens. as adults they probably switched equally. i can see gojo developing his experience more with topping as an adult

either way they’re better as exes. gojo deserves more from a partner than someone who would leave him to start a cult "

Can I ask your thoughts, please?

Hello, hello. Considering, canonically, they are very doomed, I suppose OP found a solid pairing? I'm starting to understand the idea of doomed toxic yaoi a lot more because who says that with their whole chest? I don't feel like I'm on my A game today but let's see if I can adequately convey my thoughts.

I think it's kinda funny, the sentiment that "Gojo deserves more from a partner than someone who would leave him to start a cult,". As if Gojo didn't play some part in his motivation for defection, as if to say this defection, too, did not reek of affection. Don't get me wrong, Geto's hard right was also a great deal of ego. But, foundationally, his departure was sparked by an inability to stand shoulder to shoulder with Gojo, power wise.

Toji got the drop on Gojo which sent Geto on the offensive. After being reassured he was fine, Gojo encouraged him to press forward with the mission. Just short of extending protection to their charge to follow her own wishes, Toji violently extinguishes the life of Riko Amanai before his eyes. An opportunity that was only made possible by besting Gojo, killing him even. Geto loses his composure with this realization and is summarily and disrespectfully embarrassed and defeated. Left alive with the knowledge that he wasn't deemed enough of a threat to kill. This is on the tail end of all of Gojo's reassurances that he was fine, that they could even take on Tengen because he had Geto to rely on. But this series of events, this cocoon of hubris, challenges Geto's ability to protect anyone at all. From this he determines the best way to circumvent premature losses like Gojo, Riko and Haibara are simply to eradicate the population they're forced to put themselves on the line for.

Armies were roused to reclaim Helen of Troy and return her divine beauty back to Sparta, causing the Trojan War. Six people died, including the eponymous lovers Romeo and Juliet, due to a series of compounding events for a romance that lasted 3 days. Orpheus braved the Underworld at the chance to retrieve Eurydice. Geto betrayed himself and everything he'd stood for previously for a chance to create a world where Gojo wouldn't have to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He walked away from Gojo knowing the path he walked was twisted and, in his mind, did so irrevocably even though I know Gojo would have followed him if asked. So why didn't he ask?

The man who had been the moral compass for The Strongest Sorcerer did not abuse that influence. Even knowing he was doomed to fail in his endeavor. Even recognizing that with Gojo's power, it'd be possible. But he never asked, never chose to lead him astray. So, yes, they're tragic but does the copium not encourage us to seek out AU's where they are free of the burden of their fates and are just happy?

RE: everything else, maybe I'm an anomaly but I don't really care about people or characters' positions in relationships so I don't know that I'm someone you want chiming in on that. Like, I get people assume that positions present different archetypes that they choose to align characters with but... that pragmatism ignores a lot of nuance. I also inherently know that people use different names for ships based on this but I don't nor do I see them as having different relationship dynamics, per se, in referring to them as gego vs goge. I just look at their canonical dynamic and tend to use the more popular ship name.

Even if I agree that I could see Gojo as a pillow princess, it's less to do with the "physicality" of it and more to do with his personality. He is princess just as much as Geto is babygirl and the girls who get it, get it.

[dandylovesturtles]

Hello, Wheelchair Annon here again (my sister parked me in the corner). I hope you don’t mind me chiming in again…

One of the biggest things that changed from being able bodied to being in a wheelchair is other people’s attitudes towards me. This is in two main ways:

Talking to whoever is with me instead of talking directly to me, even if it’s about me. People act as if I am mentally incapable and unable to participate in conversation, or even just act like I’m not there.

No respect for my personal space. I’m talking random strangers and people I barely know doing stuff, usually without even talking to me. This has included: someone coming up behind me and rocking my wheelchair back and forth; someone hanging sitting behind me hanging their jacket on the handles of my wheelchair; leaning on my wheelchair while in a lift; and messing with the controls of my electric wheelchair so I move even when I don’t want to.

How does Leo cope with this change in attitude towards him? (Does it actually happen, or are Yokai more egalitarian?). Leo considers himself the face man; how does he cope when other people don’t see him in the same way anymore? How does he cope when other non- human people don’t always see him as a person? (And does this factor into any issues he may have vis-a-vis growing up as a non human in a human world for the first 14 years of his life?)

(Also, I have a bunch more stuff I can think of relating to wheelchair use, being disabled, chronic fatigue and other stuff, but I really don’t want to overwhelm you. Would you like me to keep asking/pointing out stuff? I will not be offended if you say no!! <3)

Anon, PLEASE feel free to keep sending me these! Whatever you feel comfortable sharing! Like I said at the beginning of this, I'm able-bodied myself, so I can research all day but it's not the same as having lived experience, and I'm really grateful for your perspective! ^^

I've heard the horror stories from other wheelchair users about people just thinking they can do whatever they want with wheelchairs (which is insane to me, like, if you wouldn't rock a chair a stranger is sitting in why would you do that with a wheelchair??), it's why I included the whole point about how only the fam (+Hueso who is very responsible) is allowed to grab Leo's wheelchair handles without repercussion. It's still crazy to me that people just feel entitled to move your wheelchair or hang stuff off of it, though.

The thing about people no longer talking directly to you though, oof. I've heard people who are deaf talk about this happening but it makes sense that it would happen to wheelchair users too. I'm sorry that happens to you, anon.

To answer the questions... to start with, I don't think being accepted by humans is ever really a thing rise!Leo is particularly concerned with, and especially after they learned about yokai and the Hidden City he had other ways to fulfill his social needs that don't involve trying to get humans to accept being around mutant turtles. There is that little voice in the back of his head pointing out that he is Other, but in canon at least I don't think he lets it get him down too much.

as for yokai society itself, though, this is an interesting thing to think about! on one hand, yokai have a much greater mix of... appendage situations?? going on than humans do, so I wouldn't be surprised if the Hidden City is generally more accessible, just because shops are already factoring in that some of their customers won't have legs/arms/what have you. on the flip side, though, the chair itself is a pretty obvious visual indicator that even for his species Leo is disabled, and that would probably still lead to people talking to his siblings like he isn't there.

this would definitely be a hit to Leo's confidence, since it ties into the things he already struggles with. and to make things worse, I think it's one of those things that his family probably doesn't even realize is happening at first? especially because the experiences are spread around, so they're all getting fewer instances of it happening to notice than Leo is. but yeah I could see one of them going through a whole conversation without realizing that the person they're talking to hasn't talked to or directly responded to Leo once, and at the end they're like, "oh, they're so nice!" while Leo is sitting there feeling like he just got completely closed out of the conversation

I think Leo would just let it go for awhile at first. why would people want to talk to him, he's the failure brother! he may not even realize it's just a response to the wheelchair, initially. but as Leo gets healthier mentally (and maybe finds some community support, either online or in person), he'd start sticking up for himself more often.

I can imagine one day someone asks Raph, "Oh, how is Leo?" and Leo is like, "Leo's great, actually, his ears work just fine!" and that's the moment Raph realizes that this has been happening the whole time and for awhile Leo just let it happen and oops they just let it happen too

they are learning, though! nowhere to go but up!

[sidebaxolotl]

Do you know of any good resources for dealing with gender dysphoria from a side B or Y Christian angle (i.e., not affirming sin or encouraging transition?) It's not huge in my life but sometimes it comes up and I wish I had more advice for dealing with it. A lot of the stuff I find is unhelpful because it's just plainly restating the rules with how Christianity doesn't condone gender ideology with no practical advice, is in that "how to talk to your friend who has this issue" pov, or just kinda goes "lol pray about it idk". I 100% know and stand by that biological sex is biological sex and don't think it's possible to change to the opposite sex, nor do I really want to... so it's not a matter of needing to persuade me, but it doesn't change that I still have feelings of stress and of not really living up to or fitting in with womanhood. When I'm around other women it can be really difficult because I feel so profoundly different when we should be similar. TIA

Sorry this took so long, I took the time to talk to a couple of people who had dysphoria in the past and some who didn't to get some insight.

Both the people I had talked to who had it had cited porn as a major reason why they developed it in the first place so if thats not ur experience then maybe this wont be as helpful for you 😅

They did bring up a good point that assessing where you think your dysphoria comes from from a psychiatric standpoint could help you figure out how to deal with it and i was given this link:

https://oncurrentevents.substack.com/on-gender-transition-and-psychiatric-disorders

Like for example it was pointed out to me that gd presents a lot like body dysmorphia (specifically, like eating disorders and stuff) so u might be able to use whatever coping mechanisms are used for that to help. It also seems to be a prevalent phenomenon in autistic and adhd individuals so perhaps addressing those things if you have them would help.

I was also linked to this book, the friend in question had remarked that it had helped a lot of the women he knew:

https://a.co/d/6DNWdA2

The guy I talked to said therapy had helped him as well as support from God/ his family but finding non affirming therapists that have a nuanced view on things is extremely difficult, esp if you want a Christian one. Him and I were extremely lucky in that way.

The one woman i spoke to said she quit porn and sobered off gd feelings once she realized transitioning wouldnt truly make her a boy.

I did want to be a boy when i was really young but im not super sure that counts? Idk.

For me what helped was realizing a lot of what made me not want to be a girl at that time was just a reaction to stereotypical gender roles and sexism towards women. Once i started challenging those perceptions and the ways my brain was affirming them i became way more comfortable in my body.

I also had a similar realization as sibling that I'd never truly be able to be a boy if i tried to alter my body. I could wear blue and be the night in shining armor and be a hero and still be a woman, yknow?

Also a lot of it was me being very gay and not realizing it lmaooo

I can def relate to not really fitting in with women--particularly in Christian settings I'm typically the only one who isnt hyperfemme and it can be a bit alienating.

Realizing i wasn't straight kinda helped too since the lesbian perception of womanhood is a lot more fluid than its straight counterpart. Not saying to "go gay" if you aren't but maybe looking into butch and gnc communities and framing your self-perception in that way might help?

If there are any other side b dysphoric folks reading this feel free to chime in with your own tips/resources in dealing with this stuff please!!

[mariadotcom]

pennhurst - the start of going down (P. I)

hey guys, it's been a while since we last had some (or nay) interactions but life have been getting crazier by the second. i apologize since i left the blog untethered and filling with spiders and moths, but i'm (partially) back and hope you like this little romance, thrilling horror or something i've been working on on my free time. if not, dm me and i'll hear ya! xo maria

prompt: y/n is an immigrant from south america, she owns a bodyshop and there's where she meets sam and colby. as the friendship between them blossoms, other things arise as well, perhaps some of them should've remain buried. ghosts from the past, a difficult romance and a carrousel of ups and downs between them form a storm - but the living aren't the problem alone amidst this tempestuous story. WARNINGS: none, i guess. but strong language, NOT for minors, and i am a mess so god knows - and popular demand tells - when will i post the following chapter.

we promised we'd be back in full blast but not to exaggerate much and get ourselves - especially colby - hurt. since chemo ended, he's been more active and i, as friend who's been there through good and bad, think he deserves a time doing what he loves, performing his job oh so gracefully.

usually, i'm off-screen and i'm glad about it - helping the boys carring their stuff around and exploring places with friends on my days-off. this time around the only differencial would be colby's health on watch; sam was being careful and watching over him more than any of us would, despite that being expected. although something was off, i could feel it. the way colby would glare at people sometimes, with tears in his eyes. he'd be saying the most deep and thoughtful shit, but usually was hitting harder. "say what you feel to the ones you love, y/n" he'd say and i'd anwer "i love you, colby. it's never enough how much...". we met when they moved to Vegas at a bodyshop i own. they trusted their cars with me and we ended up bonding and becoming friends, colby was more standoffish at first but he came around once he learned that i was to be trusted - at least a bit.

the cancer news hit us all like a brick to the head, a cold rush of familiarity through my veins. it was all so new yet so similar. gladly, the treatment and the operation were enough, and he was never alone. not a single second. sam was alway there for him and so was i, whenever they chimed me in. anyways, on the welcome-back trip, sam thought a trip would do him good whereas i thought an exploration would serve better. combining both, for colby, was the greatest so that's what we did. sam chose the location through some people he met along the way of the chanel, i was so excited to finally know the spot i barely focused on colby and what was he saying.

"....then we could try to explore the place ourselves. what you think, y/n?" he said while scrolling through his phone. it wasn't sam and colby's first visit there, but it was mine and they wanted me to have a good time and full immersive experience. "huh?" i questioned "this whole thing is about YOU, colbert. you should be the one 'thinking' of something."

"yeah, yeah. i just want to make sure we all have fun, you know?" his pale blue eyes stared at me for a second and, as usual, i stared back. i couldn't get enough. "y/n?" he called.

"sure, colby. i'll do whatever you want me to..." i stated focusing on the pile of e-mails stacking in my inbox.

"isn't it time for you to take a vacation? some time off?" colby asked seeing how busy and overwhelmed i was. i sighned, he moved from one couch to another to sit closer. "c'mon you could stay some time with us, ditch the company for a few days..."

i cut him off before he could finish his line of thought "colby, you know i can't. the company is expanding.... i need to focus" i rolled my eyes and rested my head upon his shoulder. we watched as sam entered the room, sweaty shirt signaling he just came back from the gym "hello, lovebirds," he said jokinlgy "what are we discussing?"

"how y/n should get a few weeks of vacation" colby gently backed up, laying my head on the couch as he stood up to greet sam and the grocery bags i just now realize he had been holding for a while. "you're obviously in need of some of it, y/n. why don't we make this trip a bit longer so you can take AT LEAST a few days more to reset?" sam suggested.

"but i...." "you can't run no company if you're worn out, dude" sam cut me. "besides, it is YOURS. you're the boss! c'mon, we'd love to have you for a couple days more, right colby?"

"yeah, besides you still owe me a movie night!" colby stated. it's been months since i've been promising the movie night with thrilling and horror movies, just colby and i, to talk about how he has been feeling lately and other stuff. it's always a pleasure be around such a good friend. [wish we were a bit more than that].

"you know what, you two!" i started with and angry tone, eyes still closed, still laying on their couch. "you're right...." i cooled down. "i need to get some rest. i'll take 3 weeks off and nothing more but please, you both are in charge of me"

"couting now?" colby joked.

"no, robert, couting monday..."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Friday afternoon after my last meeting, i was still rushing around, making sure every inch of the bodyshop was clean, organized, ready for monday morning's routine of receiving and fixing cars and guaranteeing excellence to costumers. my CEO (and godfather, altogether) made sure they'd be fine without me for a couple weeks and he'd only call in emergencies. i was hoping for little to none, but leaving for the first time in years was still frightening.

i saw the old toyota corolla make a corner, if there were a better picture than that, colby's glass were not really dark-stained so i could see through it. he was wearing, shockingly, a dark green shirt, black and green jacket and i could swear i saw someone on the backseat for a split second. knowing him, i'd be either surprised or scared the second i set foot in the car. gathering my stuff from my office quickly, i found my old devotion notebook. i remembered that work has been draining me so much i forgot i am too a sensitive religious person - but not the convetional one. the door was pushed and the fragrance that followed screamed his name, i didn't even had to turn around to recornize him but his words affirmed what i thought. "are we going?" colby questioned. "mhmm" i replied. "let me just check my e-mails one last time...."

"oh fuck no!" colby shouted, running around the table and taking the laptop from me. he then locked it inside a drawer and kept the keys. "i'll give it back to you in a week or two, when we're far away from this office." he said firmly.

after a moment of silence, he said "you deserve this...." "hey! we're traveling! it'll be fun! plus, your family can handle everything else."

"and we'll call if we can't." my godfather/uncle Victor entered the room, his arms crossing in front of him once he stopped beside colby. them both being tall made a shadow fawn over me, intimidating a little. "we will miss you, but you haven't stop since forever. get some rest, kiddo" my uncle Victor said. "and you make sure she stays alright! i'll need her back!" he warned colby.

"sure thing, sir! i'll bring her back in one piece in maybe 3 weeks." colby said gathering my stuff and pulling me to the car. "maybe? it's a definitely, gentleman." Victor said. we both giggled making our way to his car.

"every time i come around to pick you up, i feel like we're 16" colby joked as i looked around in the car. [who the fuck was inside]. he arched an eyebrown confused to as why was i snooping around. "yo, you good?" he asked. i shaked my head 'yes' but there was some sinking feeling something was off.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° the flight was scheduled to sunday morning, this way we'd be in pennsylvania by noon or so. it was still saturday morning when the first nightmare hit, it was still dark outside and the guest room in sam and colby's place felt degrees colder than usual. i guess it was so intense i screamed and sam woke me up, worried. colby followed him suit behind with flustered cheeks and heavy eyes.

"what's wrong?" sam asked, sitting in the bed beside me. his weight made the covers safer, calmer. my thoughts coming down from a high as soon as he pressed his warm hand on my forehead to see if i had a fever. "you're not hot or anything...." sam said and colby giggled.

"yeah she's definitely hot, jus not your type, bro." colby corrected and sam's cheeks brigthen up red, you could barely see through the soft and dim yellow light from the tiny lamp that stood beside the bed. "you know i don't mean that...." sam started. "you're... you're pretty hot you know. i'd rather say beautiful but..."

"romeo, i guess she just had a bad dream, right?" colby leaned on the doorframe. his white ripped tee a little too ripped and sam's soft grip on my face slowly became a light caress. "i guess i'll leave juliet to go back to sleep then." sam said giving me a concerned look. "okay?" i nodded.

"i'm sorry" i muttered, my voice coming back to me. "didn't mean to wake you up, guys" sam rolled his eyes and lightly pinched my cheeks. "stop being a dumbass..." he said getting up and making his way out. "i'll be in my room. if you need anything, CALL! don't scream. you scared the shit out of me" sam said as he made his way to his bedroom.

it was colby's turn to say something. do something. but instead, he just stood there, leaning against the door while i sat on the bed, still processing what was the nightmare about. only flashes flooding my memories, little by little. drowning my thoughts. "can i come in?" he finally asked after what felt like forever in silence. "mhmmm" i hummed.

different from sam, colby was more straight forward with whatever he wanted. this being said, it wasn't hard to agree that he, in fact, went under covers and laid beside me. "robert, what are you doing? are you insane?" i coiled beside him. my dressing wasn't very modest to welcome him in bed with me as i was using a big tee and panties. "as if i never laid next to another woman. get off yourself" he complained.

i sneakily grabbed my pajama shorts from my side of the bed and put them in under the blankets, by this time, colby had rolled over. his face turn to me but his eyes closed - perhaps privacy or just him trying to fall back asleep. i facepalmed breathing loudly trying to erase the feeling of uneasyness from my body after the terrible dream, but colby's hand on my tight and his firm grip startled me a bit. "c'mon, lay down. it's 2:30 in the morning... i'll stay here with you" he muffled in the pillows. "c'mooooooon" colby whined.

"i just...it was so vivid, you know.... these buildings, the feeling i got...." i started but my as soon as i did, my heart went racing. colby sat, his eyes barely opening, one arm around me and the other caressing my leg. "are you okay?" he asked, his hand moving upwards trying to soothe me. "sometimes reals can feel so real, right? but don't stress over it too much, i'll stay here." he said calmly. "maybe we can call sam and...."

"ugh you're such a whore, brock" i laughed as i laid in bed, him doing the same. "thanks, by the way..." he raised an eyebrown, eyes fast closed. "for the what?"

"for staying."

°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°

the day went smoothly and sunday noon was approaching. pennsylvania sounded near althought a 6 hour flight separated the two states and increased in a rapid speed our hunger. i slept through most of it since the nightmares became a thing over the weekend - minus the screaming, thankfully - and sam became my personal caressing pillow. his soft words, as soft as his hands, lulled me to sleep seconds into the flight. colby was an aisle down to us and never stopped chatting with the pretty petite blonde girl sat next to him, when i finally woke, they seemed more acquainted then when the flight was getting ready to take off.

"they kissed" sam filled me in, first thing when i woke. "wow, really?" "mhmm, colby's like that now" he said turning a page from a book he was reading. "yeah i guess he always had been, but it's more of a show off about it now" i replied adjusting my messy cruly hair. "i'm glad i'll always have you, never normal sam" joking, i said. he just elbowed me lightly, giving the most warm upside down smile.

"how are you?" i asked noticing he'd been refusing to look at the notifications on his phone. he just glared. "i mean, this number must belong to SOMEONE. won't you answer?" sam sighed. "it's kat. we.... i...." his words started to crample together but luckily the pilot interrupted him with the announcement of landing. both of us releasing the air inside our lungs we weren't aware we'd been holding. "hey... i know it must be hard. i'm always here to hear you.... and maybe crack joke about it though." i reaffirmed. sam held my hand and gave it a caring kiss, leaving it as a thank you note with everything he wanted to say but couldn't right now.

the plane landed, we got our bags. sam and colby rented a car and decided this could make a video: traveling with friends, living the now, doing what they like and going old fashion - no hardwire equipments, no electronics by the dozens, no mediatic pressure and no place for nothing but good times. it came late, but it didn't fail. colby surprised sam and i at the restaurant. we were peacefully eating like dinosaurs when a pair of hands gripped sam's shoulder tight - not enough to hurt him, but enough to have him startled. sam and colby's friend, nate, stood behind sam and i while we ate.

nate is a cool guy, very chill and funny. he's always down to whatever the boys propose him to, thus incouraging me to do the same. although we have a good time together, sometimes and only sometimes, i have a glipmse of myself and feel a little unconscious. the many women approaching them - being for fame, recognition, looks or whatever - are gorgeous, the kind of girl you'd see on tampon commercials or maybe a lame movie with only hot chicks using ridiculous clothes to perform complex tasks. i'm just normal and - for a while - it's good being average, but oh boy, how i wish i was....

"hey, gorgeous!" nate complimented me as he plopped on the empty chair beside me. "how have you been, girl?" he sassed. i rolled my eyes, smile growing wider. "i've been good, nataniel." i teased back.

"what's with you and names?" colby asked downing a bit of his drinks. he had a halfway fresh oranje juice glass that i insisted he'd take instead of whatever processed shit he'd prefer. "you see, COLBERT," i emphasized before continuing, earning everyone's smile "it's funnier that way. plus, i get to tease you all about fictional names that suit you fine" i gulped my juice myself.

"well, we should think about a nickname for you to call it your own, then" nate threw his arms around my chair and said, leaning over a bit. "maybe we should call you...." as soon as nate was forming a thought, sam's phone rang. it was the person responsible for our tour and stay, so we went quieter so sam could figure whatever out. we couldn't help ourselves to kick one another under the table and whisper sweet nothings to each other while making dramatically silly faces - or copy whatever sam was saying in a husk tone, just to ease up the mood. "yeah, sure. i guess it'll be a great idea!" sam said. "i guess we can share some rooms, there's no problem with it...." finally, we fell dead silent to hear what he was saying and when sam noticed, he put them on speaker.

"i'm sure you can all share, but wouldn't it be fun if you got separate rooms?!" the person on the other end asked with a malice in their voice. you could tell it was a sllightly older man and if it wasn't from previous experience, you barely couldn't differ the amount of cigarretes he'd smoken before. "i mean, it's a haunt tour but we have buildings able to accomodate you 3 perfectly nice, and the area is still new to renovations so you guys could do some recording if you'd like"

"actually, josh, we are in a group of 4 now. a friend decided to join us, is that an issue?" sam asked. "not at all, sam! we love to have you and any friend of yours as guests! is colby coming?" the man asked "surely he is!" colby answered affirming he was part of the group listening. "well, then it'll be awesome having you guys!" "it'll be awesome staying with you, josh! see you in a bit" sam hushed and ended the call.

"well, i hope you're in for a ride," sam said. "we have the place to ourselves and...." "yeah, but where is the place? WHAT is the place?" nate asked, finally tackling our doubts. "we're going to pennhurst asylum."

author's notes: thoughts? call the roaches and complain. (kidding, leave it here under NOTES or message me)

[xiaonesis]

Soft Serve 13 // Flavor 1

Flavor 1: Rainbow Sherbet (Suna x Reader)

Tags: Romance, Fluff, Awkward Romance, Summer Romance, Growing & Learning, Miscommunication

A/N: I started writing this more than half a year ago and decided to pick it back up and finish it but I forgot where I was going with it. I initially wanted to write something more light and introspective, on the pains of growing up and the awkwardness and inability to communicate many of us have, as this fic is partly based off real life experiences, and thus it is a slightly personal fic to me as I reflected on my own past, experiences, and regrets, and hopefully, growth. Then, I had a breakdown and lost the plot lmao. Anyways, have this melting cone of chaos and idk's.

(This fic is cross-posted to my AO3)

Suna Rintarou doesn’t believe in love at first sight.

He thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late. And that doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it?

But you know what else they say about love at first sight?

That everyone becomes a believer when it happens to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suna first meets you in his hometown of Aichi in the summer of his fifteenth year.

He is there for summer break, helping out at his uncle’s ice-cream shop a stone’s throw away from the nearest beach. He didn’t want to be but his parents had insisted, claiming that it would be good for him to spend time with his grandmother and uncle. 

Had he been given the choice, he would be spending his break lazing at home playing video games instead of being dressed in this ridiculous pink and yellow striped ice-cream boy cap and uniform, scooping out cones of ‘Soft Serves With A Smile.’   He’d rather be slamming hard serves into the twins that made it onto the same volleyball team as him.

AC doesn’t even exist in the shop as a silver lining. There are only three fans on maximum power, twisting and churning air as they swivel. With the unbearable heat amplifying his discomfort, days at his seaside hometown pass slowly, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk. 

It doesn’t feel like summer at all.

That all changed the day the shop bell chimed and you walked in.

“Welcome to Soft Serve 13–”

People often say that love at first sight is similar to a lightning strike, fast and purple hot. But there was no purple summer lightning electrifying him, no volcanic eruption setting his heart on fire for Suna. 

There is only a great void, white and silent, that descended upon his mind unforeseen; a tsunami that crashes down his frozen body, washing away all sensible thought and bodily functions before leaving him stranded on unknown, pristine shores.

For the next twenty seconds that stretches like a lifetime as he is caught in his first glance of you, Suna is suspended in that void. White sand in his ears, and his eyes sees nothing and everything simultaneously in an ivory world.

(It feels exactly like the moments before a car crash where life flashes by in a white blind)

Suddenly, his hand is freezing hot and Suna is dragged from that sandy void.

“Shit–”

Dulcet chocolate covers his hand, trickling from the melted cone he was supposed to hand to the perturbed, waiting customer in front of him. Uttering a quick string of apologies, Suna sets about serving a fresh cone whilst enduring your barrage of giggles as you wait next in line, his face hotter than summer itself.

The door chimes again, and he is left alone with you in this tiny, humid shop with fans blowing revoltingly loud and you’re still grinning teasingly – blinding – at him. He pulls his stupid pink and yellow cap down over his eyes.

“If mine melts, can I get a free scoop?”

‘No,’ his mind says but his mouth fires off a “Yes.”

He didn’t think it was possible for your smile to grow any wider. Windchimes jingle in the timbre of your pleased laughter, not expecting his answer. “Guess I’ll have to make sure to distract you long enough for it to melt,” you chirp, browsing the display with an impish smirk. 

Suna knows right away he wouldn’t mind getting ice-cream all over his hand again if it means you’ll stick around longer. 

By the Gods , was he always this much of a chump?

He’s not a casanova (that’s Atsumu’s shtick), but Suna never gets nervous around the opposite sex, and he likes to think he can pull in girls if he wants to. However, between school, games, and volleyball, there was no space for romance in his life yet Suna finds himself pulling and fanning at his collar as he tries to maintain eye contact with you. He’s strangely nervous and it shows in the way he continuously drums his fingers on glass.

Suna never talks to customers beyond what is necessary but he continuously finds ways and topics to keep you around. Usually, he works fast to have all his customers served so that he may return to his phone. Yet, thirty minutes has passed since you entered the store and you’re still standing without a cone in your hand and he’s leaning across the glass, handing you your thirteenth free taste. 

In that period, he’s found out that you’re visiting the area with your mother for two weeks, that you’re his age, and attend school in Tokyo. And he’s shared that he’s originally from Aichi but goes to school in Hyogo, is working here for the summer, and this is his uncle’s shop. Favorite music, recommended sights and places, food, hobbies, and a slew of other random tidbits about each other were also mutually exchanged in between.

(He wonders if he can entice you to stay with the other flavors available.)

Another ten minutes later and you finally settle on a flavor, but Suna knows by that curl in your lips that’s been there since twenty-five minutes ago that you already knew what you wanted the moment you stepped foot into the shop.

“I’ll have Rainbow Sherbet.”

He makes a face. “I’m judging you.”

“It’s a good flavor!”

“It’s sour–”

“And sweet.”

“–and leaves this tart, prickly taste in your mouth. It’s terrible.”

“No it isn’t! Here, try some!” You bring a small spoonful to him.

“No–” he swats your hand, “I know what Rainbow Sherbet tastes like. I work here.”

You press against the glass– he’s going to have to clean it of your grubby hand prints later – but he doesn’t mind it one bit when he sees you straining over the display in an attempt to reach him. Honestly, if his uncle saw him now, he’d get an earful for ‘messing and flirting’ with a customer but Suna is unable to stop himself from gravitating towards your hand and the spoon pinched precariously between your fingers.

“Just try it!” you insist.

Suna frowns at your persistence, adjusting his cap with one hand as if he’s about to tell you off. But he tips it up instead, so that he has a clear view of you when he grabs your wrist and leans in to close his mouth around your spoon. His cheeks hollow and Suna sucks the sweet ice with an obnoxious slurp that has him smirking around the spoon and you, gaping. 

Zesty lime and sour raspberry goes off like fireworks on the roof of his mouth before melting with a trail of fragrant pineapple on his tongue.

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to do that, thinking that he would at least take the spoon from you first. 

To be honest, Suna didn’t expect himself to do that either, especially not with the rapid pace of his heart. It’s worth it though, to see the obvious flush racing up your neck to fill your cheeks. It matches what is on his but he tells himself it’s the heat.

He releases the spoon with a pop but keeps his grip on your wrist. He can’t stop grinning but forces an impudent gag through the stretch of his cheeks.

“Yuck.”

He lets you go, fingers sliding soft on the back of your hand. 

The spoon is brandished at him. “You liked it. Don’t lie. I also demand a free scoop.”

“But it didn’t melt?”

You stick your hand out and sure enough, there’s a trail of sticky green and orange running down your arm.

“You took too long,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “Could have just eaten it normally.”

Another smug smirk. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The fans are deafening but its winds are cool on his hotter-than-ever skin and lovely in the billow of your dress. The bell chimes and a gaggle of children rush into the store alongside a woman that taps your shoulder with a call of your name. He guesses that’s your mother, wondering where her daughter’s been for almost an hour. 

He realizes then that neither of you introduced yourselves.

Your mother leaves and your eyes flicker to the tag pinned to a strip of pink right above his heart. “I will collect my free scoop tomorrow, Suna Rintarou.”

The promise of your return lingers in this tiny, breezy shop, and tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

It finally feels like Summer.

 (And he’s on his way to a car crash)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why here? There’s not much to do in Aichi in general, needless to say here.”

You shrug. “We just wanted some place a bit more slow, more relaxing, you know? My mum’s tired of the city and I don’t really mind. She’s paying for everything anyway.”

“Where would you choose to travel though?” He steals a spoonful of colorful ice-cream from your cup and you let him.

“Hmm, I don’t know for sure,” you muse. “Probably somewhere outside of Japan. I’ve always wanted to go abroad. What about you, if you’re not working here?”

He shrugs. “Nah, too much effort.”

“Can’t believe you got scouted for volleyball with that lazy-ass attitude.” You fling your crumpled tissue at him. 

Suna catches it and shoots it straight into the bin without moving from his seat. “Work smarter not harder.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Two weeks whirl by quicker than a sunshower.

Suna spends it chatting with you during your frequent visits (your hotel isn’t too far) to the store, hanging with you at the beach (the one a stone’s throw away), and texting with you till late night in the comfort of his bed.

Your mother definitely gave him a few looks during the times she came to the store with you. Her flavor of choice is caramel coffee and yours, rainbow sherbet. 

He gave her a free scoop once, and now she praises him, “You’re such a good kid,” every time before leaving. You’ll roll your eyes and he’ll give you a peace sign.

He stays in touch with you for the rest of summer break after you leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When school restarts, the two of you are still in contact. You don’t use social media, but you’ll send him photos of your life in Tokyo and he’ll send you links to his posts and stories.

September wind blows and this gradually peters out in autumn as the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club shifts into full gear for Nationals in winter.

[Good luck preparing for Nationals! Maybe we can catch up in Tokyo when you’re here!]

He’s so tired from practice, he tells himself he will reply tomorrow. But Suna forgets, and he does reply, only two weeks later. Yours come in another week. Then his, the week after.

Eventually, rainbow sherbets and the girl he met over summer fades to the back of Suna’s mind, just as the last leaves of autumn sheds. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It momentarily crosses his mind to contact you again, two nights before Nationals.

In the rush of prepping for the games and packing for the trip to Tokyo, it slips his mind until he’s standing outside the stadium gates. But they lose to Karasuno, and the message is never sent as he is once again packing to leave.

He suddenly feels like eating rainbow sherbets, but it’s too cold for ice-cream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next time Suna sees you, it is once again in Aichi, in the summer of his sixteenth year. 

He didn’t plan on coming back here, but after their loss at Nationals and the rigorous training in the following months, Suna decided he needs a break away from Hyogo and the goons he calls his teammates.

He definitely did not expect to see you again.

The sight of you, fingers waving timidly from the sunlit entrance accompanied by bell-chimes, melts the cone in his hand. A fuzzy, sticky repeat of last year.

He’s in that void again, where everything else seems to vanish and there’s hot sand in his ears, between his toes, warm wind in his stomach running up his throat– déjà vu has never felt more full yet it’s different. It’s the same blank space, only less… empty. Less white. There’s color to the sand this year, and he can hear rustling in trees that weren’t there before, only it’s not the wind but fans.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I had fun here last year so,” you shrug, small and shy, head tucked into yourself. “I asked my mum if we could visit again.” A finger twirls a lock of hair.

Suna’s heart leaps as his mind races, jumping and wondering if it was fun because of him because he remembers how you brought Summer into his August. Even if he hasn’t tasted rainbow sherbets since he last saw you, and cannot remember what you talked about under the cover of night and cotton sheets.

In a close replay of last year, Suna feels rejuvenated with your presence in this tiny, warm shop. The fans are a godsend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wonders if he should apologize for not responding about Tokyo and his haphazard responses until that point. It’s probably weird to do that now.

You don’t mention it either so he figures it doesn’t matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wondered if you would be here, but didn’t think that you actually would,” you say, licking at your rainbow sherbet. Typical.

“Me? I’m more surprised you’re here again. There’s nothing to do here.”

“That’s not true. My mum liked it. She likes that it’s close to the ocean but she can still hop on a train and go shopping.” 

Suna side-eyes you with doubt but finds you facing him with a grin. His body naturally turns towards you.

“Besides, you’re here too!” you giggle, meaning nothing more than a joke easily said between friends. His chest thrums all the same and white shores seep into his vision. 

Suna flicks your forehead in response.

“Hey–”

“Gimmie a bite.”

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you protest, but bring your cone up anyways.

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” 

He grabs your wrist as if to steady the cone and prevent any attempt to smash the entire thing into his face. The way he looks at you, steady and unwavering, from underneath the hood of his uniform cap is telling you something else. 

Cracks dance up the cone from where your fingers press tightly into the biscuit, raining crumbs onto the space between your bodies. Suna pulls back and you take a large bite opposite of where he sunk his teeth into yellow.

“Yep, it still sucks.”

His face scrunches and you punch his arm. At least he didn’t gag this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Suna keeps in touch with you regularly through the year, until the following summer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his seventeenth summer, Suna plans to go back to Aichi again. This time, he knows you will be there because the two of you planned it.

Now that you’re older, your mum is allowing you to travel on your own; she also trusts the ‘good kid’ to take care of her daughter, to your chagrin.

The Miya twins are constantly bothering Suna this year, wondering why he keeps going back to Aichi when all he’s done is complain about how boring it was in previous years– which it is, besides you. They’ve heard about you before though, the girl he met in the summer of two years ago.

“Ya’ know, she must really like ya’ if she’s goin’ all the way there again to visit ya,’” Atsumu comments, chomping on yakisoba bread. Osamu makes a garbled sound of agreement through his food.

“We’re just friends,” Suna says, face straight, but he wonders if you know how the world vanishes into nothing when he’s with you. He feels anxious merely thinking about it. 

“Sure, friends,” Atsumu waggles his brows and Osamu nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This year, his uncle invites you to join them for dinner at his grandmother’s home.

He’s spotted you a few times over the years, and gives Suna much grief about the girl his nephew's constantly loitering around with outside of work, and during work. He often says with a wink, “I’m paying you to work, not to flirt!” 

Suna never says anything in response, only squints his eyes and shakes his head at the older man that acts younger than Suna himself; he knows he does the work expected of him even if he may slack here and there.

Dinner with his uncle, grandmother, and a cousin that decided to join them last minute is a simple yet loud affair. 

Suna’s uncle is rowdy with a positive outlook on all things in life; says he chose to open an ice-cream shop because ice-cream makes everybody smile. His grandmother is along in years, silver crowning her demure frame and lovely smile. She absolutely adores you. 

“I’ve never seen Rinrin bring a friend, much less a friend, around. You are his girlfriend, yes?”

Suna’s never had miso up his nostrils before but there we go. A first time for everything.

“Grandma–” he groans but says nothing more; doesn’t attempt to deny it, only glance at you snickering next to him. He notes with a little shake of his leg that you didn’t either.

(He’s overthinking, he’s assuming, he definitely is–)

It’s late when you finally leave, and Suna volunteers to walk you back to your lodge before his uncle can offer to drive you. He can feel their grins burning into his back as he puts on his shoes after you, and throws them an exasperated glare before the door closes.

“Your family is really nice.”

He rubs the space between his brows. “I’m glad they live here and not in Hyogo. They’re too much.”

“What are your parents like?”

“Like that . My mum had to get it from somewhere. My father’s quieter.”

You laugh and conversation flows easy as it always does when he’s with you. He doesn’t have to think about anything in particular; colors naturally flow to color the void without his intention. It’s all peaceful, the world vanishing and leaving a blank canvas that’s meant for you to cover with pale cream footprints, and greens, pinks, and oranges. 

Night zephyrs slap a leaf onto your face and you throw it at Suna. A splotch of green spreads on the canvas. 

You’ve long since walked by your lodge and Suna follows without question, trailing gravel crunching beneath your shoes and the ocean breeze in your hair. The stars are out in full force tonight but the brightest star is next to him, voice shimmering with August life.

His Summer.

The ocean, pulsating in deep indigo, stretches beyond  concrete barriers erected on the road side. 

Suna watches when you ignore the barrier’s sole purpose and climb onto it, inviting him to join you with the beckoning of your hand and a pat to the empty space next to you; a space he gladly fills.

“You don’t see stars like this in Tokyo,” you whisper, afraid of shattering the quiet seaside.

Suna takes his phone out, wiping at the black of his screen. You tilt your head, asking doubtfully if he can even snap a photo of the stars with that, but it changes to pleasant surprise when he flips the camera and shifts closer to you.

The dim light from a nearby lamp is barely enough to illuminate your features but if he squints and zooms in, barely – just barely –, you can make out the ridge of his nose below glinting chartreuse through prismatic noise. And Suna can somewhat trace your teeth glowing baby blue and the push of your cheeks. 

“It’s so shit,” you guffaw, snatching his phone to zoom around your unrecognizable faces.

“It’s natural lighting. None of those disgusting filters you kids like to use.”

“We’re literally the same age!”

His phone is returned, and Suna’s fingers tap on the back of his case as he deliberates, jittery under the universe and you, wholly unaware of his nerves. 

In another 3 hours, the sun will rise and when you finally stand, he finds the courage to blurt the words that have been spooling in his head since midnight.

(He wishes for a longer Summer with you)

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

All the nervousness that hounded Suna when he invited you to the local fireworks festival a few nights ago? It’s all gone the moment he sees you in your yukata, the folding fan his grandmother lent you slipped neatly into your obi.

Never mind that you packed one for your trip. “Swimsuits are not the only essentials for a summer vacay~”

So you say. Suna isn’t complaining.

Festivals have never been his thing; it’s hot, humid, crowded– moist . Yet, he looked forward to this one with you. He’s never been to this festival until now, walking next to you with a cooler in his hand.

“What’s in there?” you peek curiously at the box, reaching for the clasp. 

Suna lifts the box up high where your grubby hands are unable to grab them. 

“Later.”

You pout; long fingers poke your cheeks but later comes sooner than you expected. Sitting on a green picnic sheet that has seen better days, Suna opens the box. A pint of rainbow sherbet beams from a bed of ice, to your great pleasure. 

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you exclaim, heartily accepting the spoon he hands you.

Suna shrugs, struggling to keep his expression even at your simple joy. “It’s alright,” he says coolly, popping the lid off and letting you take the first scoop.

A triple-colored wave curls against your spoon just as the first boom goes off, splashing starlit skies with fiery flowers of red, green, and gold. 

The plain skies above white shores he shares with you, too, are filled with bursts of rainbows.

(Perhaps it isn’t purple lightning. Instead, it is a pint of ice-cream between your bodies. Love at first sight is a trifecta of colors, exploding)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” 

Your jaw drops, not expecting that question from Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you pause, and Suna can see the gears churning in your head. He doesn’t know why, but he appreciates that; a certain pair of twins wouldn’t have given him the same courtesy.

When you finally answer, Suna leans in. “It’s hard to say for sure but I probably do.”

“Probably?” 

“I mean, I don’t know if it is love at first sight, but maybe more like wanting to know a person more. Way more than other people, right away.”

Your answer, though not bad, makes Suna a tad nervous. 

“It’s like discovering a new place, you know?” You nod to the world outside the shop window, sweltering in the unforgiving sun. “I didn’t think I would love this place the first time I came here. Now I’m here for the third year in a row!” 

“With this shop or my hometown?” Suna wears a teasing smirk but it feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You smile furtively and Suna never gets an answer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He very much does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On your last night in Aichi before you take Summer away with you, Suna unlocks the door to his uncle’s ice-cream shop. He has received express permission to “help yourselves” to a buffet of ice-cream as your farewell gift (until next year).

He’s never eaten so much ice-cream in one sitting before in his life, and likely, neither have you judging by the way you’re massaging your stomach. His own hurts, and the sugar running in his blood makes him want to grab your hand and run out onto the beach.

You groan, poking at the remains of your rainbow sherbet. “Rin~ help me finish this!”

His tongue juts out. “Ew, rainbow sherbet. No thanks.”

“Please! I’m struggling,” you bemoan, listlessly swallowing another spoonful.

Torn between sighing and chuckling at your torment, Suna moves his chair next to yours. His acquiescence revitalizes you, and you immediately bring your spoon up to feed him in a familiar repeat of the first time you met him.

And just like the first time, Suna wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling the spoon– you– closer as he leans in. His palms burn like the mid-August sky over your midsummer skin.

His lips part.

Lime and raspberry. The sour taste makes him squint. 

His expression makes you grin, causing the little stripe of green lime on the corner of your mouth to stretch. 

It’s that damn stripe’s fault.

It compelled Suna, pulling him beyond the spoon falling loose in your hand to touch his lips on that stripe of green.

A soft taste of lime. Sour. It makes him squeeze his eyes shut, or so he tells himself. 

It’s not the hard beating of his heart, the panic that lances him when he realizes what he has done, the fear of seeing your reaction and feeling your mouth tremble against his.

Surprise and nerves, he likes to think, and tells himself.

Suna keeps his eyes squeezed closed, the layer of sweat between where his hand meets your skin palpable as the damning taste of lime on both your lips.

Hours seemed to come and went in the seconds he allowed his hormones and stupid, summery feelings get the better of him and you only sat there, still and silent. Suna still has his eyes sewed shut, and can’t see your expression. He can’t see jack shit and the only thing telling him that you’re still there is the unbroken touch of your lips against his and your shaky, warm breaths.

It was only seconds but it felt like an eternity to Suna, before you finally moved and saved him from his spiraling mind and the awkwardness that was creeping upon him.

It’s tentative, unsure, and Suna wasn’t sure if he imagined it at first but there’s no mistaking the light press back and gods, Suna would have heaved in relief if he wasn’t still connected to you by the mouth, featherlight it may be.

At seventeen, you and Suna shared your first kisses with each other. It was awkward, weird, sticky and tasted like lime. Short. But sweet.

 Perhaps rainbow sherbet isn’t as bad as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He’s not sure why but in the weeks, then months, following that kiss– unaddressed, unspoken of henceforth– the two of you don’t speak as much anymore. The messages petered out like the end of a summer shower, muggy and uncomfortable, and clings to him long after summer and rain have gone.

The last exchange had been amiable.

‘Good night.’

Yet, it was excruciatingly hard picking it up again as the days slipped by.

The last of autumn’s leaves fall and Suna wonders if it would be strange suddenly messaging you out of the blue. He stares long at the ‘seen’ and timestamp from hotter days.

Gods, he’s seventeen and thinks it’d definitely be lame to do so. Besides, if you wanted to talk to him, you could always message him first too.

And you haven’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You too, stare at the ‘seen’ and timestamp recollecting balmy days. With cheeks pressed deep into your arms and blankets wrapped tight all around against the encroaching winter, wondering what it’d feel like if it were the arms of a certain ice-cream shop boy instead.

But you’re seventeen and the future is scary and uncertain.

The letter confirming your acceptance to your chosen study abroad program peeks tauntingly at you from underneath stacks of books.

You were happy– still are– when you received the news back in July. You had planned to share that joy with Suna when you met him in Aichi in the summer. Yet, something held you back, kept the words from being spilled even as ice-cream melted and foolish secrets were shared under starry skies and blanket of waves.

You were resolved to tell him and had been prepared to do so on your last night in Aichi–

Then he kissed you. And you kissed back, with surprise and an elated heart.

And you didn’t say anything after that.

Stupid.

It’s all so silly. This crushing in your chest– you want to stay, to visit Aichi and see Suna again. You want to go, pursue your dreams and studies abroad as you have always planned before him and his damn pink-yellow cap ever appeared in your life.

You want more summer days with Suna, and autumn, winter, and spring! You want all the seasons with him, to explore this undeniable attraction but–

‘Good night.’

It’s been weeks since either of you said anything. They always say that if a guy truly likes you, he would reach out no matter what.

And he hasn’t.

You’re going abroad. You already know that, deep in your mind, despite what your young heart longs for.

You’re seventeen and decided that it would be illogical to pursue anything with the ice-cream boy, with the most brilliant, unforgettable set of eyes you met over summers.

And just like that, it was as if neither of you were ever in each other’s lives.

Like fireworks, the two of you splashed and burned brief, shared months and dispersed in wisps of smoke to the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On his eighteenth summer, Suna returns to Aichi again to work at his uncle’s shop.

He has since moved to Tokyo to pursue his own ambitions, but something he wishes to not name pulls him back to his uncle’s shop, like it had every year, for the past three years. 

His eyes constantly dart to look at every shadow that passes by the windows, and his head zooms up with every ding of the bell. The days pass slowly, more excruciating than usual, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk.

You never showed up.

(It doesn’t feel like summer at all)

The bell chimes for what would be the final time for Suna. As the last customer of the summer and the rest of his life ponders what flavor they will have, Suna impetuously stabs the tasting spoon he had been holding into the swirly tub of green, orange, and pink– and takes a bite.

Yuck. Rainbow sherbet isn’t as good as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are eighteen and abroad, young and excited.

Yet everytime you come across an ice-cream shop, hear waves and feel the sand between your toes, see the occasional, miraculous starry sky–

From halfway across the world, you are reminded of brilliant yellow eyes and a boy in pink and yellow stripes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On your nineteenth summer, you return to Aichi.

With a thudding heart and hopes and young daydreams of what could be. 

Will it be awkward? What shall you say first? Something witty or nostalgic? What will he say when he sees you? Will he be happy to see you?

The bell chimed and none of those mattered when it wasn’t Suna at the counter but his uncle instead. 

“Didn’t he tell you? He isn’t returning to Aichi this year.”

“Oh.” Your throat is closing up. “I wanted to surprise him so I didn’t ask him in case it tipped him off–” You rub your neck to alleviate the embarrassment burning hot there and blink multiple times, forcing away the rising pressure in your eyes.

“You silly kids!” Suna’s uncle laughs. “He was here last year but you weren’t! And now you are! Wait till I tell him–”

“Please don’t tell him! He might feel bad if you did, and it was entirely my fault for not checking with him.” In truth, you called but the line didn’t go through. His number has changed. 

“You sure? Knowing Rintarou he’d just scratch his bum about it–”

You giggle despite your falling heart. “I’m sure. Perhaps next year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You return to Aichi again on your twentieth summer. And your twenty-first.

Unlike previously, it was less for the specific purpose of seeing him and more to visit a place, and its inhabitants, that has grown close to you.

But the hope that he would be there never truly died, and each time you entered the ice-cream shop with a full heart close to combusting, that does, inadvertently burst.

For Suna never visited Aichi again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It’s been four years since Suna last visited his hometown. He is now twenty-two.

In his defense, he presently plays for EJP Raijins and has been incredibly busy with his career; the last few years have been tough: training, press, tournaments, and everything else that comes with becoming an upcoming pro athlete. 

His family understands that. Still, it has been a while since he saw his grandmother and uncle; his parents visit him in Tokyo every year. So he’s invited them all to his game this year, fully paid for by him.

Only, in place of his grandmother, he saw you instead when he went to greet them in the hall before the game. There you were, shuffling nervously next to his uncle, looking as if you haven’t changed at all in the last four years, even if you have grown up. The both of you have.

Suna felt it again, the same feeling he had when he saw you all those years ago. It’s faint, dimmer than when it first manifested in his fifteen year old self; a white void, great and silent, cascading onto him. But it’s the same one, he’s sure of it. Because he’s never felt it with anyone else he’s met, and he’s met a lot of people in recent years.

Suna doesn’t know why; it’s illogical, but he supposes that everything concerning this feeling is, though he is reluctant to name it. He’s always thought that, long before it happened to him. 

Long before he met you.

“Hi,” you say shyly.

It feels like he freshly emerged from an overtime match when he breathes out, “Hey.”

These two words are all that is said between you before he is marching off to the locker rooms with an empty head– white shores– ‘Hi’s and ‘Hey’s etched in the sand. Suna wants to ram his head onto the lockers for reasons he cannot comprehend. 

Seeing you again after all these years…he is transported back to his uncle’s shop, wearing that stupid pink and yellow striped uniform with chocolate dripping down his hand. The EJP Raijins jersey he’s quietly proud of melts away in the face of you, an occurrence he never fathomed.

The void stays when the whistle blows, but he isn’t distracted. On the contrary, the thought of you in the crowd, watching him, sustains the quiet shores inside of his mind and heart; its peace drowns out the cheers.

And Suna played the best he has ever played since he joined the team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Rintarou, stop being dumb. I thought you’re smarter than this.”

“Uncle, what are you talking about–”’

“You know what I’m talking about! Watching you two during dinner was embarrassing! You barely spoke! Your grandfather’s rolling in his grave!” 

“...no one asked you to look,” Suna counters weakly. “And leave grandpa out of this. Have some decency.”

His uncle rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes before carding them through his graying hair.

“I’ve watched you dance around each other since you were fifteen! Especially you, Suna!” he complains then repeats, “Fifteen! I didn’t let you have an ice-cream buffet for it to turn out like this!”

“We weren’t doing anything–”

“Rintarou.” 

The serious tone his uncle took on made stops Suna mid-sentence. “She visited Aichi the last three years that you haven’t. She says it’s not to see you but she always asks how you’ve been doing.”

The information stuns Suna. You went back to Aichi? Why didn’t you say anything– oh. He changed his number. Well, why didn’t his uncle say anything?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he inquires.

“She told me not to tell you, says she didn’t want to bother you and that ‘it’s weird.’ You kids and your social taboos. Still, I promised and I don’t break my promises.” He jabs Suna on the chest and adds, “You better not too!”

“It’s why I don’t make promises,” Suna mumbles and swats his uncle’s hand away. “Anyways, there’s nothing to say–”

His uncle lets out a loud, garbled cry of random sounds. “Your grandmother didn’t give her tickets away for you to chicken out! Your parents raised you better than this!”

“I can’t believe even grandma is in on this…”

Strong hands clasp him on the shoulders and Suna is forced to look his uncle in the eye.

“Go and talk to her. Properly. Like an adult.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

knock knock

  ‘Talk to her or I’ll tell grandma about the things you post on your Instagruel, Instrument– whatever it’s called!’

  Suna sighs as he wonders why he never saw his uncle as the extortionist that he is. The man quite literally made him promise, with linked pinkies and all, to go talk to you before the night is over. 

Suna doesn’t make promises but he keeps those that he does.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you. But what is there to say? Things weren’t exactly… clear , the last you and him spoke and saw each other, for that matter. He kissed you, you kissed back, and then poof. In modern dating terms, it’s safe to say that you mutually ghosted each other out of sheer– he doesn’t know what on your end– but definitely young stupidity on his.

“Rin? It’s getting late, what are you doing here?” You blink at him, surprise plain on your face at the unexpected guest.

Suna almost smiles at the nickname. It’s been a while since he heard you address him by that. At all, really. 

He takes in your appearance, notes your fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt and the drumming of the other on the doorknob. Have you been as restless as he was this entire evening?

“I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk with me?” Suna winces at his unnatural politeness. It’s you; he’s never this polite with you, not even when you were a customer. It’s bizarre.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance, unconscious, in the way you took a small step back before you’re nodding and asking him to wait whilst you went back inside your hotel room to change.

The winter air is crisp, wind tunneling between the buildings whipping at your figures as Suna leads you around aimlessly. Truth be told, he had no idea where to go or what to say. 

“How have you been?” You break the ice. 

Right, that’s a good place to start. 

“I’ve been good. You?”

“I’ve been good too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

Suna wishes a truck will run off the curb and hit him now. His fingers are freezing off in his pockets and somehow they’re still sweating. 

This is absolutely terrible.

A ray of hope cuts the grey path ahead, and Suna manages to peel his eyes away from his shoes to gaze upon his salvation–

Oh. It’s an ice-cream shop. 

The irony isn’t lost on him. You don’t miss it either, for you peek up at him shyly, scratching at your cold cheeks, and ask, “Do you want to get any? For old time’s sake.”

When he nods, you turn and lead the way, grabbing the handle and missing how Suna stops following you just shy of the shop’s awning. He prefers to quickly rip the bandaid off.

“What happened?” 

“Huh?” You look over your shoulder, confused. “What do you mean?”

Suna buries his face into his scarf as if to hide the burning ridge of his nose. “That night… you kissed back,” he mumbles. He has to force himself to look back at you, to discern and verify the rapid changes in your expression as you look for an answer. 

Surprise, self-consciousness, bashfulness, nervousness, nostalgia–

“I–,” you clear your throat, the shop light shining like a beacon on your blushing skin, “I did.”

“Why did you kiss me back?” he addresses the giant, tri-colored elephant that has been slumbering in the back of his mind for years.

You sputter. “Why are you asking this all of a sudden? It was so long ago.”

“Tell me.” Suna persists, taking a step forward with narrowed eyes, pushing for a reason, an excuse, to justify the cloudy feelings he has been harboring for all these years and now jostled up by your unannounced appearance in his life again. 

He’s not mad, he doesn’t not want you here, but the lack of closure for his young feelings, your reaction, and the lack of events that followed all those years ago isn’t pleasant. It leaves a muddy clog in his chest and quite frankly, he dislikes it. There was so much left unsaid and unexplained; perhaps he should have let it go and Suna thought he did. Until he saw you again.

And Suna knows, he just knows, that you feel the same way as he did.

Why else would you come see him play? Why else would you go back to Aichi the last couple of years?

Why did you two simply drift apart?

He’s so close to you now that he can see the perspiration beading on you, feel your warmth radiating and seeping into the folds of his clothes. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking here and there and everywhere but him right before you. Similarly, his heart is beating so loud that he’s sure you can hear it.

“Tell me.”

“Because I liked you! Okay?!” You finally cave, admitting with eyes squeezed tight. It reminds Suna of how he too kept his eyes closed as if his life depended on it when he first kissed you.

“Then why didn’t you say anything!? Why did you stop responding?”

“Don’t try and pin it on me. You didn’t contact me any further!”

“Neither did you!”

“Well, you changed your number and didn’t tell me!”

“That’s because I thought we’re no longer speaking with each other!”

You’re both breathing fast, hearts and emotions rising, and Suna glimpses the shop staff staring in concern through the glass. He deflates with a sigh and steps back before the staff misunderstands the situation and calls the police.

The streets of Tokyo are rarely silent yet somehow, this little area in the big city is exactly that. There’s only the sound of distant cars humming like waves on distant shores, and the muted chatter of people buzzing like summer cicadas; it reminds Suna of the times he went on late night walks with you along the beaches of his hometown.

You slap your hands over your face. “Oh my god…”

He snorts and laughs in turn at the incredulous conversation that took place. It doesn’t take long for you to peek through your fingers and join as well, chortling in disbelief.

“We were fucking dumb ,” he states.

“In our defense, we were young.” 

“Still dumb.”

“Yeah, we were.”

An embarrassing silence follows as you stare at each other. Sunca can see the gears in your head churning, processing the revelation that the two of you had been, well, dumbasses for years. He can empathize, for his brain hurtles through the same process.

You break eye contact and look down at your shoes, scuffing them against concrete. “I guess there’s also another reason why I was hesitant to contact you after,” you begin mumbling, and Suna reflexively curls his hands into fists within the confines of his pockets.

“Yeah? Besides being a teenager incapable of communication?”

“It’s a better reason than that!” you pout furiously, head sinking into your scarf. “I was going abroad. I have been abroad, the last few years. College.

Suna whistles, sincerely impressed. “Nice. Where at?”

“Irrelevant. I’ll tell you later,” you brush off his question to continue your explanation– reasoning– to why you stopped contacting him. 

Suna watches intently as you take a deep breath, idly noting how the ice-cream store staff are still staring at your figures with too much curiosity and intensity, the shop door failing to completely mute his conversation with you, bits and pieces filtering through the little vents at its foot. 

One male staff even holds a cone in his hand, watching the scene unfold as if this were a movie. The man takes a long lick, eyes all the while glued on your figures.

“That night when you– we, well, you know–” you stumble over your words and Suna finds not much has changed; you were still as bad at communicating your feelings as you were at seventeen. You clear your throat of the clogging shyness, “At that time I already knew I was leaving Japan as soon as I graduated. I planned to tell you but then you–”

“I kissed you,” he supplies plainly.

“Yes. And, well, there didn’t seem to be a good moment to tell you after that,” you finish softly. Regret isn’t the right word to describe your feelings in this moment, reflecting back on that summer night and the next four years without closure. You do not regret ever following your aspirations abroad, especially not over a boy in your youth. You weren’t that dumb. However, you admit that you could have handled it better, communicated it, talked with him– “I should have handled it better.” 

“Yeah, you should have.”

A disbelieving gasp leaves you, head whipping up angrily to tell Suna off but the teasing grin that greets you has your anger easily deflating. 

Suna understands. He really does, because he would have done the same thing in your position. Had he known you were going to leave the country, would he still have kissed you? Probably, only because his body moved on its own that night. Though it doesn't mean he forgot the flutters, the want, whenever he was with you back then. It’s not too far off from what he’s feeling in the present; it’s dimmer, but it has grown, matured with him in age. He’s no longer as jittery and blinded by white shores.

He’s grown. You’ve grown.

“I should have done better too.”

A cloak that has long rested on the depths of his heart– of gray clouds and why’s, unnamed yet felt, ignored but not forgotten, existing as surely as he does breathes– lifts the moment he utters these words. He feels revivified– released, of this midsummer memory that has crawled into his mind countless times in the minutes before sleep takes him (his brain has a penchant of replaying it for him unbidden at 2am). Suna shudders to think that had his family not invited you to his match, he and you would have continued on with your lives carrying overcast hearts caused by something as silly as simply being teenagers still learning and growing.

Judging by the smile dimpling your cheeks, Suna knew you felt the same.

He nods at the shop door behind you. “We should probably go inside. That is…if you still want to?”

Your answer comes in a shy smile burrowing into clothes and a blast of hot air that his chilled body welcomes. The shop bell chimes and you are both transported to past summers and the first time you met in a wave of nostalgia. 

Suna hasn’t gone to an ice-cream shop since the last time he worked for his uncle, having subconsciously avoided them in the shadow of his volleyball career as an excuse; your love for ice-cream shops developed because of many days spent at one with a special boy, and many more visited over the years in reminiscence and perhaps regret.

“There’s a buy one free one scoop deal for couples.” The male staff, the audacious one from before, announces when you reach the counter.

“Oh, we’re not–” you begin but Suna nudges you sneakily.

“Pick whatever flavor you want, honey. My treat.”

You had been his first love at first sight. And likely, you are the last.

Because Suna thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late. 

He knows because he’s experienced it. Both the unexplainable, ridiculous butterflies sprouting into existence the moment you stepped through the door and into his life, and the subsequent 7 years it took to nurture it.

There was no car crash however, only teen folly and human imperfection.

You glance up at him with a cheeky grin as you answer, sing-song and all-knowing.

“I’ll have a rainbow sherbet.”

“Yuck.”

“It’s a good flavor!!”

An expression you’re not sure you have ever seen Suna make before lights his face for but a transient second. It’s one of those laughter-smiles, all teeth with wide lips and wrinkles accompanied by tuneful joy. Suna knows it too because the muscles pulling at his cheeks are unfamiliar, straining wider than he usually lets them in his side smirks. 

“In that case, two rainbow sherbets please,” he tells the staff. He can feel your gaze pressing onto the side of his face with a question unspoken, and this is when Suna brings out his infamous smirk. 

He takes both cones and turns to you with green, pink, and orange in the palms of his hands. A trifecta of colors.

They say that everyone becomes a believer of love at first sight when it happens to them. Well, Suna rightly doesn’t know.

All he knows is that, instead of purple lightning striking, there was only a void filled with empty white shores whenever he saw you; it didn’t matter how many times or how long in between. All Suna knows is that the world fades away in the presence of you.

As he hands you your cone, Suna sees colors dyeing the white shores below his feet once more.

And Suna knows he will do it right this time.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm afab but most of my life I felt less like "girl" and more "failing at being a girl" because whenever my being a girl was brought up it was always because my physical characteristics were too masculine and didn't match what a girl was supposed to look like. I wanted to be a girl but felt like I never really was. Then as a teenager I got diagnosed with PCOS due to elevated testosterone levels and put on hormonal birth control and it was both a relief at having an explanation but also upsetting because it was confirmation that in a sense I really wasn't exactly a girl, my body was betraying my attempts at being a girl. So in a way my experience has been transitioning from "not a girl" into "nonbinary femme/I don't want to be a girl of there's rules around it but I enjoy femininity" and like. I'm trans, I'm femme, I take estrogen and progesterone. But I'm afab so the assumption when people learn I'm trans is that I'm transitioning to look more masculine and that I want to take T, when that is literally the opposite of what I want and am doing. It's just really lonely having this experience not knowing if anyone else can relate to it/even understands what I'm talking about, so I guess I'm just reaching to see if anyone else has similar experiences

hey, that's actually really touching and honestly relatable to a degree

i also felt like i was "failing at being a girl" due to my PCOS and hyperandrogenism. i felt like it was my fault some how that i wasn't "being a girl right" or that i somehow was just. not trying hard enough to be a girl. like if i just tried hard enough my body would stop being so masculine, or something

i honestly understand what you're going through to a larger degree than most would think. i am both transmasc and transfem, and i definitely understand what you mean about wanting to be femme without wanting to be called a girl, and wanting to transition into your femininity. it's okay if you need to transition into femininity if you were denied it due to your intersex condition. many of us are robbed the chance to live as ANY gender as children, due to our parents being worried about how we'll be perceived, if we'll be bullied, if it'll bring the family a bad name, and so on

i am not on estrogen or anything like that due to the fact that i hate the way it makes me feel, but i think it's rad as fuck for you! i'm a transfem nonbinary intersex person in a coercively assigned female at birth body and i just. i don't know. i understand what you're going through. i realize that while i'm bigender and i am a guy, i was also denied my femininity as a child and teenager and holy shit am i not okay with that. i wasn't being a girl or being feminine wrong, this is just my way of being feminine. i like the way i'm feminine and i like pushing my femininity to its extremes

anyway i just wanted to say that you're definitely not alone in this experience. i think this is really cool and i think it's totally awesome for you to want to be femme and to want to reclaim your femininity, especially since it was taken away from you like that. if there's anyone else that relates to this anon, feel free to chime in. i think there's more folks like this out there than we both realize. take care, i hope you feel better soon, you are loved

[runawaymun]

What’s the difference to you between bi and pan sexual? I’ve never really been able to understand the difference since there’s not really like two genders anyway?

Thanks for all these pride artworks!!! 🏳️‍🌈

yessss of course I'm so glad you like them!!!!

ok I'm going to preface this by saying I'm bi / pan and over the age of 25. Pan is a (relatively) new term and it means different things to different people. People who identify as pan feel free to chime in, but as best I understand it it's like a venn diagram <3 bisexual people might say "I am attracted to people of my gender and at least one other gender" whereas pan people might say "I am attracted to all genders, or regardless of gender". There's a history of people saying bisexuality is trans and enby exclusionary and wanting to throw the label out in favor of pan, but as a bi person that's just not true?? So that felt more like biphobia to me lol. Bisexuality has always been a trans and enby inclusive community. We literally live in the in-between gray areas and rejected a binary??!?!?

But I digress asldghasdlkgh sorry-- yeah they're like a venn diagram and they're both underrepped/misunderstood and get the "you're confused" or "it's a phase" treatment. And again, they mean different things to different people especially depending on how old you are. Some of us older folks didn't have access to pan as a label and have an emotional attachment to bi (hiii) and have it as their "knee-jerk-response" identity (what you say when people ask you!) but may experience attraction on a more pan-esque spectrum (I just think people are hot!) - so some older queers like me are more likely to refer to themselves as bi / pan than see the two as being fundamentally different labels. It's nuanced. So much of it is tied to personal preference and your own history with labels and the queer community, I think. Language evolves.

Anyway that's a very longwinded way to say: IMO it comes down to whether or not gender impacts your attraction to someone (and if so, how much).

I dunno if I'm making any sense <3 But I straddle the two labels in my own life so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ take it with a grain of salt. People who strongly feel tied to either label might have a different explanation for you!

[ghoste-catte]

Any tips on writing giving Lee more powers without y'know. Erasing his disability. Was writing an unrelated fic and realised that by its internal logic, it would make Lee kinda "ooh your disability was actually a power in disguise" which. That's BAD. That's so bad. I reworked it but the issue remained in my head.

Hey! Oh my gosh, I have no idea how long this has been sitting here, because Tumblr does not do a good job of letting me know when I have asks.

I think the biggest thing with writing disability - Lee's or anyone's, really - is to make sure that you don't erase the drawbacks. It's okay to show that there are possibly some positives to having a certain disability ... I'll use the example of being hard-of-hearing: while not being able to hear well is definitely shitty in a lot of circumstances, there's also an amazing sense of community, strength, and solidarity that can come with being HoH/Deaf. That's not to say there's a "bright side" to every disability - certainly that's a matter of the individual's experience as well as the specifics of the disability. But many people are proud of their disabilities and do see both advantages and disadvantages; the neurodiversity moment is another great example.

So when it comes to Lee's disability, I think it wouldn't necessarily be bad to show that there are some upsides or things that he can do better than others as a result of it. For example, he's clearly had to train his strength and endurance much, much harder than anyone else, and as a result he's much stronger and has more stamina than most people (in my mind, at least). It's taught him perseverance and given him a mindset of constant improvement. I think the fact that he is frequently underestimated could be portrayed as a double-edged sword: while it hurts his confidence and the emotional effect is not to be understated, it could also potentially give him an edge in battle.

The main thing to keep in mind, then, is that even if you want to show some perks, that you not undermine the genuine limitations that are placed on him by his disability. Not being able to do ninjutsu and genjutsu are huge limitations in his chosen career and means that he has to work twice as hard as everyone else for half the payoff. We see that very clearly in the Sasuke vs. Gaara fight: Sasuke was able to learn and replicate Lee's moves in a fraction of the time it took Lee to perfect them. On top of that, he's more susceptible to genjutsu (can't remember if this is a headcanon or actual canon) and would definitely have a harder time breaking out of one than the typical shinobi. He's at a disadvantage in ranged fights. He's got a very limited moveset. He's not able to, like, call upon the elements to give him supernatural powers (however extraordinary his strength and speed are). His disability has led to a lot of shame and ridicule, particularly as a child, and that's something that sticks with you your whole life.

I can see plenty of ways that you could enhance his powers within the bounds of what he's canonically able to do, whether that's by being creative with the Gates, or using his speed with his weights off, or looking at the amount of force he's able to exert on an opponent or the environment (I could see him, for example, being able to imitate something of an Earth Style jutsu by kicking the ground with enough strength and precision, or punching air hard enough to cause a sonic boom). I mean, the dude did canonically kick a meteor in half; that's pretty impressive.

I'd be interested to hear what other people think on this topic, too! There's a lot of creative and thoughtful minds in this corner of fandom, and my word is certainly not law. Feel free to chime in in reblogs or replies, y'all.