#but then when it did i stopped wearing them bc people kept saying i was like anna from frozen bc of them

[uygfiug]

cursed to always be compared to anna from frozen 😔

@creature-from-unknown-orgins @euphoric-cha0s @rainbow-person @ineffable-idiot-666 @newt-and-salamander @chronically-enthusiastic @r2y9s-notartblog @zipquips @smalltimenerd @study-inscarlett & anyone who wants to <3

Look up your name in the gifs and show the first gif that comes up

@absurdumsid @inka-boi @childofthest4rzz @tobi-draws @largefound

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library | Part Two

Part One

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Despite Spencer's best efforts to keep you his Sunday solace, you become all he can think about.

Warnings] Gruesome descriptions of typical CM gore, references to sex, Spencer's POV, insecure/anxious reader, poetry excerpts, like 3k of Spencer pining over reader (sorry not sorry), tech stuff I know nothing about

Word Count] 14.1k

Author's Note] These are links to the poetry from this part: "Your laughter", "The Insect", "And because love battles". Though I use important excerpts, I would highly recommend reading these because I reference them throughout. Sorry to make you do homework but I promise it's cute bc Spencer is falling in love through poetryyyy.

Spencer spent four days in Seattle, but he would be lying if he said that was the only reason he didn’t get to finish all ten of his library books by Sunday. 

He read one book last Sunday evening while sipping tea on his couch and then he read two of them a day from Monday to Wednesday in between his work hours. Early Thursday morning Penelope rallied the troops to the conference room to explain that they were going to Seattle because four women had been found butchered. No case was easy exactly, but this one was especially hard. The women were found in horrific states, cannibalism was suspected, and Spencer was in charge of doing the geographic profile. The problem was the unsub was very criminally sophisticated and it seemed like he had no comfort zone, so Spencer was struggling. To top it all off, one of the victims' mothers had broken down wailing in the police station, right in front of Spencer’s map, begging for someone to find her daughter's killer. . . and the rest of her remains. 

Spencer had nothing he could say to the poor mother. JJ ended up trying to comfort her, old instincts from her liaison days kicking in. He went back to his hotel room that night and cried. It’d been a while since he cried on a case, a few months or so, but it happened every so often with bad ones, mostly children. So he let himself cry on the loveseat in the corner for a few minutes before taking a shower, putting on some soft PJs, and crawling under the covers of his double bed. For a while he stared into the ceiling picturing the map, the circles he drew, and the pins he placed on it. Half the pins marked an abduction site and the other half signified where a body was found. If he concentrated too hard, he could see the bodies in the morgue: their blue lips, sheet like skin, the carved out flesh.

Most people would assume there was no downside to an eidetic memory, but Spencer knew there was. He could remember every horrendous, gruesome detail of a crime scene, a victim's injuries, an unsub’s taunts. It all haunted him, swimming around in his vision and fogging his brain when he wanted peace. Reading helped because it kept his brain busy and his head clear. When he couldn’t take the horror anymore, Spencer leaned over the side of the bed to his go-bag on the floor. 

Inside was a couple outfits, sleepwear, his usual toiletries, and a few of his library books. He wasn’t sure how much time he would have, so he brought all three of his unread ones. When Spencer unzipped the bag, he remembered he brought four borrowed books. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda sat atop the rest of his clothes and books. It must have floated to the top as Spencer rooted through the bag for his comfiest pajamas. He hesitated to bring it up onto the bed, thumbing the curling corners, but eventually took it into his lap. 

Spencer wanted to read the book as soon as he got home from the library. He actually almost blew a stop sign he was in such a rush, which Spencer never did because he was a very careful driver. Some—Derek—would call him too careful, but there wasn’t such a thing as too careful. However because he was so reckless and excited, Spencer couldn’t bring himself to read the book. It was too distracting, too enticing—he couldn’t allow himself the pleasure of it because it would consume him. Already you were nagging his thoughts, distracting him from his day, his job, and he had to curb it somehow. He certainly couldn’t feed into it by reading the book you gave him. So, he decided he would wait until Saturday to read it so you would continue to just be his solace on Sundays. 

But Spencer wanted a distraction, he needed one really, and he wanted it to be you. He opened the book and immediately smiled as he was met with your handwritten notes in pink pen ink. He couldn’t explain why the loops and lines were so you, but they were, and it only made it easier for him to hear them in your gentle whisper. 

Spencer read 20,000 words per minute, but he read close to three per minute as he combed through the poems and your little comments and analyses. He savored them as much as he could, because he could only read them for the first time once and never again would they be so fresh and sweet. Every other line his heart would flutter and his breath would pause as he searched between the stanzas and in the margins for your own reactions. 

Pablo Neruda wrote some powerful political poetry in support of the Communist Party in Chile, but it was only a sliver of the book's poems. The rest of the pages consisted of beautiful and heartbreaking romance poems. As he read them, he thought of you. Because you’d given him the book, of course, and it was your thoughts scrawled out on the page right alongside Neruda’s. In his drowsy head, the words merged, printed black and scribbled pink swirling, and suddenly the woman Neruda was talking about was you. You were the woman he longed to forget, but would forever plague him. You were the woman made for his arms, his kisses, his soul. Your body was the journey his hands itched to make.

But Spencer couldn’t think that of you. When his eyes would glaze and your image would appear on paper, he blinked quickly and rubbed his eyes raw. It was wrong to think of you like that because you were an acquaintance—a friend at best. He had no right, even if you’d given him the book. He thought then about why you’d given him the book. Sure, it was because he reached his check out limit and could always read more, but why had you given him this book? It was clearly a favorite by how worn and full of notes it was, but the notes were your deepest thoughts on love. Obviously he would consider you as he read them. 

He tried not to though, he really did, until he came across “Your Laughter.” Upon its title alone your giggle echoed in his ears and he leaned closer to the lamp light to read it unobstructed. 

“My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life.”

Perhaps he had imagined those other women Neruda wrote about as you, but this was you. Your laughter gave him life, comfort, and he was starting to think he couldn’t be without it. Every stanza solidified it in his mind that he loved your laugh, that he would take it over bread or air, because in the dim library it stole him away from the world and relieved his burdens, if just for a moment. He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning with the page open on his chest.

—

On Friday morning Spencer woke with you on his mind, and that couldn’t happen. He had to banish you from his head, lock your memory away in a deep, dark vault just to get his work done, because every time he saw a flower, or a book, or even heard a laugh, he was thinking of a line from The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and you were that poetry. He had to stuff the book at the bottom of his go bag and swear off it until the case was finished—and he did. He redirected his entire focus back to his map, pins, and circles.

But every night when he went back to the hotel, depressed and exhausted, he sought the book out and found comfort in your words. He fell asleep to them and dreamt your thoughts, then woke up in the morning to you clouding his mind and he had to lock you away again to stay focused.

He was successfully able to rid you from his thoughts at work until Sunday when he woke up antsy at the idea you were in a different state. He tried again to concentrate solely on the case, but when his watch rolled over to 11 he got stuck staring at it, thinking about what you were doing on the other side of the country. It was already 2pm in Virginia due to the different time zones. He wondered what you were thinking. Did you stand at the desk, perched over it for the best view of the front doors? Were you also sad when the hour hand crept slowly passed 11 on the grand clock above the door and he did not walk in? Maybe you didn’t care and the day continued as normal. Or maybe you were only upset he was not promptly returning your book. He thought if only he solved the case faster he wouldn’t have to wonder.

He shook his head, shaking you away, then focused back on the map. Not more than 20 minutes later he solved it thanks to a call from Garcia about a fifth missing woman fitting the victimology. When he added a pin to her abduction site, he found the pattern, the comfort zone, and the unsub. He gathered up the map to present his findings to Hotch, to show him where he knew the secondary location had to be, and just like that the police station was bustling with a new vigor. 

They wrapped up the case late Sunday evening. They put away a monster and were able to give that grieving mother and three others closure on what happened to their daughters. That night, a woman went home to her family and Spencer returned to his hotel room, gathered his belongings, and rushed to the jet. He’d never been more ready to get back to Virginia because as exhausted and relieved as he was, he was also sad. He shouldn’t have been, but he was, because 11am came and went in a police station and not in the library ten minutes from his apartment. You’d called him so reliable and he missed it. He should have warned you about his unpredictable hours, he realized, but now he was just anxious to explain himself. He didn’t want to be the unreliable man leaving a trail of disappointment and broken promises, it was so much like his father the thought made him shiver. 

He was so quick to the jet he beat Hotch and JJ, who were always prompt to get back to their kids. She eyed him as he bounced on his heels, checking his watch. It was nearly 9:30pm which meant they would arrive in the early morning anyway. He would return to his apartment and sleep, hopefully for a while, because the library wouldn’t be open for hours. But Spencer bounced with anxiety because he was late and he hated being late. All he did was think and he was overthinking. He hoped you weren’t. 

“Spence?” He realized JJ’s eyes were on him. She had her usual concerned expression, knitted brows and tilted head. “You okay?”

He nodded because he was okay, technically. There was nothing really wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, and by now Hotch was watching their exchange. “Are you sure? You look a little. . . stressed.”

She wouldn’t give it up then. “No, I just sort of had plans today I missed. I had to return some library books and I don’t like to be late,” he explained, hoping it would soothe her worries. It wasn’t a lie. . . maybe a bit of a half truth, but his weekends were meant to be his and he wasn’t obligated to talk at length about his personal life.

JJ scoffed, checking her phone as she relaxed, calmed by his explanation. Hotch’s eyes swept back across the street, waiting for the others to arrive. “Well, you know better than to make plans. I missed date night with Will again.”

“That sucks,” Spencer hummed absentmindedly, eyes also watching down the road for the rest of the team. 

It was approximately seven minutes later when their SUV pulled up and the six of them boarded the jet. The team took their usual seats, mostly in silence as Hotch did paperwork, Morgan listened to music, and the rest of the team tried to get some sleep. Spencer took the familiar couch at the back of the jet, but he didn’t curl up to sleep just yet. Instead he opened his go bag to the book he had packed away right at the top to ensure he brought it. A smile spread across his face unbeknownst to him as he took it into his hands. He brought his legs up onto the seat and leaned with his arm on the armrest and his head tucked into his elbow as he got comfortable. Unfortunately, he was used to folding himself up on the small couch, long limbs and all, but it was a good enough position to read in. 

Spencer picked up where he left off reading slowly again, tasting the words as he mouthed them to himself alone. Every so often his silent recitation was interrupted by a quiet chuckle or a snort, because not only was your commentary deep but it was witty. Your takes on Neruda’s physical interest in love was so intriguingly sardonic he couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

Spencer found one particular poem, “The Insect,” sensual until he spotted your jokes scrawled along the bottom near the page number. 

“From your hips down to your feet I want to make a long journey. I am smaller than an insect. Over these hills I pass, hills the colour of oats, crossed with faint tracks that only I know, scorched centimetres, pale perspectives."

In your hasty, sloppy handwriting you responded:

“He better be adept at  licking between those hills if he is smaller than an insect”

Spencer cracked a wide grin, stifling his laugh in his collar. Your humor, tucked between the pages of an unassuming book, was uninhibited by your meekness. He couldn’t help but think you would never say such a crude thing aloud, or maybe you would, and he only needed to know you longer to hear it from your lips. Neruda’s next stanza was even more lewd.

“Now here is a mountain. I shall never leave this. What a giant growth of moss! And a crater, a rose of moist fire!”

He followed a loopy arrow from the section of lines to your reply.

“Crater??? I suppose my razor bumps must be the  stinging rocks that tearing out the moss uncovered”

Spencer snorted, wondering if you remembered writing those quips when you generously handed him the book. They weren’t abundant, most of your responses were scholarly thoughts or opinions on love, but he could see your mood ebb and flow throughout the poems, crossed out thoughts and new additions from when you reread and re-examine with fresh eyes and new ideas. When he got to the end of the poem, he could see how your tone had shifted.

“Sliding down to your feet I reach the eight slits of your pointed, slow, peninsular toes, and from them I fall down to the white emptiness of the sheet, seeking blindly and hungrily the form of your fiery crucible!”

Another arrow from the last word guided him to the next page where he assumed you added more thoughts after going back over the poem again.

“Neruda is only a man, so his metaphors of the body have to be expected. But his unrestrained desire and dedication is the important subtext. To make the journey  long and slow and appreciate it all with unparalleled reverence? A girl might just have time to fall in love.”

Your interpretation of the poetry spoke volumes about your outlook on love. How you searched between the lines for the words unsaid, that between the carnal romance, you found desire and dedication. That was what you valued, as well as “time to fall in love.” The sentiment gave him pause because Spencer had a habit of. . . fixation. Spencer cared fast and deeply, and maybe that was too much for you. He would have to cool off, give you space, even if he was starting to want everyday to be Sunday. 

“What’s so funny over here?”

Spencer looked up, tucking the book into his chest, startled by Derek suddenly standing right in front of him. “Nothing. Just. . . reading.”

Derek leaned down his head to see the title, eyebrows rising with a scoff. “The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He shook his head as he continued behind the curtain to the bathroom. “Only you would be laughing at poetry, pretty boy.”

Derek would laugh too if he took a look at your writings, but Spencer didn’t feel like sharing you. He went back to his reading and it took him about an hour to finish the book. The feeling of turning over the last page was hollow. Of course, he could remember every single word, could recite it backwards if he wanted to, he studied it so intently, but the feeling of reading it, of getting inside your head was over. He drifted to sleep with the book tucked into his arm, trying to hold onto that feeling just a little longer.

Rossi shook him awake when they landed. The sun wasn’t up yet and a glance at his watch told him it was only 5:30 in the morning. The team wasn’t expected back until Wednesday, so Spencer only dipped into the office to grab paperwork before he got into his car and drove back home to his apartment. Blasting the radio was the only thing that kept him awake while driving. He didn’t realize it when he first got on the jet, but his body and mind were exhausted. His limbs ached and his head was foggy. Once he got in the door he dropped his bag on the floor and slumped into his bed, drifting back off into deep sleep.

—

From the way the light filtered in through the blinds, the sun was arching high in the sky when Spencer finally woke up again. His eyes were practically crusted shut and his mouth was dry, all the moisture leaking out onto his face and bedspread. He rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up and stretched. The rest did him good. He had more energy, at least, and he didn’t feel like weights were attached to him. He sat there for a minute, just adjusting to the world, then his eyes drifted to his alarm clock. It was 12:43pm. 

At once he jumped up from his bed, raiding his closet for a fresh pair of clothes. He didn’t mean to sleep in, he meant to be at the library early to explain himself. All he bothered to put on was a clean button up and slacks before he slipped on his converse and grabbed his keys. He stopped himself at the door when he remembered he was going to the library to return his books, so he swung back around to pick up the basket on his coffee table and grab The Poetry of Pablo Neruda from his go bag. 

He jogged down the stairs to his car, breezing past his neighbor Mrs. Cavanaugh who greeted him kindly. Of course, he drove just as carefully as he normally did, using his turn signal, completely stopping at each stop sign, and maintaining the speed limit, all the while his fingers rapped the steering wheel. His parking job in the library lot wasn’t great, though if he was being honest it never really was, but he didn’t hang around long to admire its crookedness as he grabbed his basket and speed walked into the library. 

It was comforting to be met with the familiar chill and paper air. A hand thoughtless combed through his hair as he took his time to walk down the rug to the front desk. He realized he didn’t put a comb through his hair before he left which meant it was definitely wild. He would have spent time being embarrassed about it if he looked over the counter and saw you, but he didn’t. In your chair was an elderly woman who squinted through her own glasses as she read a thick book she clutched in her wrinkly hands. She looked up and saw Spencer standing there, an unamused look on her face. 

“Checking something in?” She asked in a smoker's voice. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” Spencer floundered, surprised you weren’t there. He took your book from the top of the basket and then brought the rest up to the counter. The woman watched him as he pulled the books from the basket, an over plucked eyebrow raised. He had to dig around in his wallet for his library card too, but eventually set it on the counter to avoid the talons at her fingertips. She let out a sigh as she began scanning them. 

Spencer tapped his fingers against the countertop, eyes roaming around the library. Was Monday your off day? He never asked. He actually didn’t know much about your personal life besides that you were in graduate school. Maybe you had classes today? He could come in again tomorrow. . . but was that weird? He wouldn’t have any books to check in, so he didn’t have any actual reason for coming in besides seeing you. Would you find that odd? That he sought you out? He didn’t want to wait until next Sunday to talk to you again.

Spencer looked back at the librarian as she cleared her throat. She finished checking in the books and slid back over his library card, but he was still just standing there. “Is there something else you need?” She asked and he whispered your name. “What?”

“I–I mean, is she working today?” Spencer clarified quickly. “The girl who is at this desk on Sundays?” 

She blinked at him, leaning back in her chair and picking back up her book, a sharp finger turning the page. “She’s working.”

He nodded, gathering up his library card and basket and briskly walking away from the desk. With no additional clues as to where you were, he went to the second floor and began walking around. You had to be around there somewhere, eventually he would find you. He scanned the shelves as he walked, looking in the sciences for books that interested him, but he was too preoccupied looking over his shoulder for you walking by. Eventually he was fed up waiting for you to walk by and roamed the library just looking for you.

It took going to the fiction section to find you. He rounded the corner of a bookcase and saw you up on a ladder, arm full of books, the other busy nestling them into their places on the shelves. Your hair was done up and you wore a long, patterned skirt, but also a fitted long sleeve shirt. It hugged you like you hugged the books, and Spencer’s eyes trailed the outline of your figure illuminated by a gold halo from the window behind you. In over a week of not seeing you, Spencer didn’t forget a single detail of how you looked, but the feeling he got when he looked at you was new and invigorating. 

He saw you in a new light, literally and figuratively. He knew some of your inner thoughts; each poem he read felt like a conversation. Maybe it was one way, but you read the book so many times perhaps it wasn’t. He hoped maybe you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave it to him, as if, in your own shy way, you were saying all those words to him.

A quiet gasp broke his train of thought and suddenly you were looking at him, turned on the ladder to see him at the end of the bookcase. “Spencer?” You looked surprised, caught off guard, and when you tried to scramble down the ladder clinging onto the books and nothing else, you tripped on your skirt and teetered on the foothold.

Spencer was next to you instantly, the basket sliding up his arm as he steadied you with a hand on your waist. You took hold of his other hand, delicate fingers wrapping tight around his palm, and slowly came down off the ladder. He let you go once you were on the floor again, unsure of what to do with his hands warmed by the feel of you.

“Thank you, I was really trying not to twist my ankle falling off that again,” You smiled nervously, embarrassed, and looked down at the books you held against yourself. 

“Again?” Spencer asked, brows quirking up, lips twisting into a smile. Not only were you shy, but you were klutzy. He wasn’t sure which made you more endearing. 

“Oh yeah. I was laid up for a week after falling off a three foot ladder. Now I don’t reach so far out,” you explained, finally chancing a look up at him and finding his eyes already on you.

“I got shot in the knee once. I was on crutches for five months, two weeks, and five days and I hated pretty much every second of it,” he blurted out, and to his delight you breathed out a quiet laugh. 

“Well you’ve got my twisted ankle beat,” You shrugged at him. He chuckled in reply, and slowly the conversation faded away. He had so much to say to you, to explain, but it disappeared from his mouth when he stood in front of you. Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He wondered if you thought about him even half as much as he thought about you. Finally, your voice came out in the softest whisper. “I didn’t know if you were going to come back. . .”

 “I was in Seattle,” like a dam burst, at last his words came rushing out. “I travel for work a lot and I’ve been in Seattle since Thursday. I only got back this morning.”

He searched your face for your reaction but your eyes were unreadable. “You just got back from a four day work trip across the country and the first thing you do is go to the library?” He couldn’t tell whether you were weirded out or not. Normally your emotions were all over your face and he read it just like a book, but suddenly you snapped it shut.

“No. Well—yes, kind of. . .” When you only continued to look at him, he felt the need to keep talking. “I had to return the books, y’know? And. . .” He searched your eyes for an indication to stop or keep going, but they were only pools of hope with borders of acetate. “You called me reliable—before, I mean—and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t. I didn’t have any way to contact you either to let you know I wasn’t going to come in so I just. . . came here as soon as I could.”

The meekest of smiles lifted the corners of your lips and Spencer nearly let out a sigh of relief. “I guess it’s silly, but I was a little sad when you didn’t come in. I thought I really messed it up, and that sucked because it gets kind of boring in here without a genius FBI agent to be surprised by,” you shrugged, finger tapping along a hardcover book in your arms. Spencer opened his mouth to reassure you that you didn’t do anything wrong, but you continued. “I think it’d be better for both of us if we had a way to contact each other—so you can warn me of course! When work has you too busy to come in.”

Spencer stood in front of you for a few seconds, processing what you were saying. Then you inclined your brows at him and he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket. “Oh, right. You can just put your number in and I will, uh, text you.”

You struggled to adjust the books in your arms to get a free hand, so Spencer set the basket down and offered his help to take them. “Oh, thank you,” you mumbled, passing the books into his long arms and taking his phone. As you thumbed in the numbers, Spencer turned to the shelves and began putting the books in their rightful places. You furrowed your brows at him, mouth falling open. “Oh, Spencer, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to help.” He gave you a smile over his shoulder and went back to fingering over the spines to find the correct placement.

“Thank you then. Just. . .” Your head craned outside the end of the bookcases, glancing either way before walking back to the trolley that carried the books that needed reshelving. “Don’t let Mrs. Wilson see you. I think she’d actually fire me.”

“Mrs. Wilson?” Spencer questioned, brows creasing. “The woman at the desk today?”

You just gathered another armful of books from the trolley when your head snapped back to Spencer, then glanced between him and then the nearly empty basket on the floor, worried. “Oh my God, she checked your books back in. She didn’t say anything mean to you, did she? Nasty little comments are her specialty.”

Spencer took more books from the cart, his eyes glued to you as you scaled the ladder again. “No. She wasn’t exactly friendly either, but she didn’t say anything mean.” You wiped fake sweat off your brow. “Is she your boss?”

“Kinda, yeah. Technically I’m a library aid, but I do pretty much everything she does as the librarian,” you said, voice dry and tired with annoyance. “Actually I do everything she’s supposed to do besides berate people for late books, that’s her favorite pastime. Most of the day she manages the desk while I do everything else. I only work the desk Sunday because that’s her off day. I’m pretty sure she spends it at church because she’s always telling me I should be going.”

He glanced at you as you talked, continuing to organize the books. It was the most he ever heard you talk, and he was starting to hear the same voice he heard on the margins of The Poetry of Pablo Neruda. “I’m glad I came in on Sunday then,” he said. He likely never would have met you if he didn’t come in on Sunday, what with you rushing around doing all the other day to day library duties. That meant there was a 1/7, or 14% chance of him meeting you at the library the way he did. He didn’t even want to think about how slim the chance of him meeting you was after also factoring in the other libraries in the area he could have visited.

“I’m glad you did too.” You smiled over at him, shelving your last book and carefully heading back down the ladder. “She never would have let you check out all those books at once.”

He quickly placed the remaining book in his hand on the shelf, joining you at the trolley as you divided up the last of the books left. “So, if she’s so mean and awful at her job, why don’t you report her?”

You paused, eyes going distant and your shoulders slighting curling in on yourself. “I could report her to the director I guess, but. . .” You only considered it for a moment before collecting the books and spinning away down the bookcase with a shake of your head. “I don’t see the point. She’s just a grouchy old woman. It’s not like I can’t handle it. I think the reason she hates me so much is because she thinks I’m going to replace her.”

Spencer eyed your body language and shift in tone. It was the confrontation that scared you, he realized. He saw it before with Todd and now with Mrs. Wilson and the director. You didn’t stand up to her or advocate for yourself because of some self conscious doubt or fear of rejection. Sure, Mrs. Wilson might be mean and a bit scary, but that shouldn’t mean you have to deal with her blatant disrespect. He wanted to give you some encouragement, but seeing your reaction to his question—the way you curled in on yourself to protect yourself from the discomfort just considering reporting her gave you—made him not want to push you, so he finished putting the books in the bookcase. 

“If you say so. I'm just sorry you don’t get along with your coworker. I feel like my team at the BAU is my family and I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” he confessed. His only real family was his mom, but he felt it wasn’t appropriate to talk about her just yet. Although he did feel like the team was also his family, so it felt right to talk about them.

You hummed, a dreamy look on your face. “That’s nice. It makes sense too, since you all have to trust each other with your lives, don’t you?” You brought your bottom lip between your teeth suddenly, hesitating to look at Spencer. “I um, I looked up what the BAU was the other day because I wanted to know what you did exactly. It just said you created “profiles” of serial killers, but it didn’t mention field work.” You slotted onto a shelf the last book in your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as they became idle, eyes wandering back and forth between him and the floor.  “I was just thinking if. . . are you in danger often? You didn’t seem very scared of that guy the other day—obviously he’s not nearly as scary as a serial killer, but you also said you got shot in the knee?”

Spencer held back a smile because you seemed upset, but the fact that you took the time to look up what he did and worried about him made his stomach swirl in a way which was more pleasing than nauseating. “Field work is a part of my job, yes. We profile serial killers and other criminals, but we also help the local police catch them. I’ve had other injuries besides getting shot in the knee, too. So, yes, often it can be a very dangerous job.” It also felt wrong to bring up Tobias Hinkel, the trauma Spencer experienced, and the path it led him down. Maybe at a later time he could bring it up, but now he was more comfortable recounting exactly the amount of times he’d been shot at and every injury he’d gotten on the job from being punched to poisoned. Spencer did none of that though, because your face became sickly and your brows knitted so tight with concern he thought they might merge together. “I’m always okay though! I trust my team and we all keep each other safe. I wear a bulletproof vest to protect my vital organs and I carry a gun, so I’m kind of hard to kill.”

You crossed your arms, nodding as you calmed down from the worry. Spencer wondered if you were also an anxious person, it would make sense since you were so concerned about him and his job. It was a dangerous job, sometimes in the moment Spencer dismissed the probabilities that he could actually die, but it was always possible despite his experience, knowledge, and skills. Unlikely, but possible. “It’s a really good thing your coworkers have your back then,” you joked, but it was weak and Spencer could tell you were still unsettled.

He wanted to calm you down, because there wasn’t anything to be worried about. He was good at his job, safe, and he always ran all the probabilities and took the best course of action. Most importantly, he always had a thorough and accurate profile, which Gideon always said was the deadliest weapon he could have. You didn’t need to worry about him despite the danger. “‘What more can they tell you? I am neither good nor bad but a man, and they will then associate the danger of my life, which you know and which with your passion you shared,’” he recited. Your head tilted as you took in his words, an excitement of realization slowly filling up your face. “‘And good, this danger is danger of love, of complete love for all life, for all lives.’”

“‘And because love battles’, Pablo Neruda,” you named it. Spencer was right when he assumed you read it several times because you had it memorized enough to spot it. “That poem is about fighting for and defending his love despite his past and what others have to say about it—not the danger of having standoffs with murderers.”

“Yes, but I can repurpose it. I do this job despite the danger because I love people. I love helping them, saving them. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. If I don’t catch the murderers, who will?” He explained, trying to show you that this job was just a part of him, however dangerous it was, he could handle it. “I know it can be scary, but trust me when I tell you that I’m good at what I do. There aren't any people out there better at this job than my team. You don’t have to worry.”

You plucked at the ends of your sleeves, thinking on what he told you. The seconds ticked by and he resorted to examining your body language, how your shoulders were even and between them your chest rose and fell at a steady pace. Your face was placid too, until it warped with a playful smile and you stepped closer to him. The breath left his lungs in an exhale. “So. . . you did finish The Poetry of Pablo Neruda?” He took air in again with a chuckle. Teasing him must have meant you felt reassured. “You must have been distracted being so good at your job that your interpretation was off, because that’s not at all what that quote means.”

Spencer took a step towards you, his long legs almost closing the gap of space between your bodies before you scrambled back a step. “Oh, I know what you think of that poem. I know exactly what you think of all Neruda’s poems, since you spelled it out for me.”

Your hands came back to the front of you, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoided the intensity of his eyes, face warming with embarrassment. “You read all my notes?” How could he not? Surely, you must have known he would. 

“Of course I did. I thought it was all very insightful,” he said, and because he couldn’t help himself, he continued. “Especially all your little jokes. What did you have to say about ‘The Insect’? ‘He better be adept at licking—’”

“Spencer!” You squealed, certainly disturbing anyone who was in the surrounding rows of bookcases. Your hands rushed to cover your face. “I didn’t—You weren’t—oh my God!”

Spencer laughed at your suffering, taking sadistic pleasure in it only for a few moments before he gently pulled your hands from your face by your arms. “It’s okay. I thought they were all very funny. You’re very funny.”

It was harder for you to shake off the embarrassment. You carefully removed your wrists from his hands to wring them. “I didn’t think you were even actually going to read it.”

Spencer’s brows twitched into a furrow, puzzled as to why you thought he wouldn’t read the book you gave him. “Why not? I like poetry.”

You shrugged. “I–I don’t know, I just definitely didn’t expect for you to memorize it and everything I said.”

“I have an eidetic memory,” he countered, knowing he would remember everything you ever wrote and said to him. “And some of that stuff is pretty hard to forget anyway.”

You whined, mortified. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize what that means.”

There was a pause between you and Spencer, because you were embarrassed and he wasn’t sure why. Having someone read your private thoughts is vulnerable and flustering, but you gave him the book. You must have known he would agonize over your every word, but your reaction said you didn’t. Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was reading too far into things, his obsessive, addictive personality sending him spiraling down a hole of a relationship he dug all on his own. You didn’t think about him as much as he did you; you didn’t read into the things he did and search for more meaning. 

“Do you need more books?”

“Huh?”

He was staring into your face thinking hard, but you snapped him back out of it. “You finished reading all your books right?” You repeated.

“No, I only read seven of them,” he thought aloud.

“What? What happened to Mr. 20,000 words per minute?” The shyness fled you slowly as you turned again to teasing him. It was cute, but it also flustered Spencer, because he definitely couldn’t tell you he didn’t finish his other books because he spent all his time scrutinizing every word both you and Pablo Neruda wrote. 

“I–I told you I was in Seattle for four days. I didn’t have time to finish them because I was busy.” It was a lame excuse because he definitely did have enough time, he just spent it reading the book you gave him because it comforted him better than any other book could.

You hummed, tapping your fingers along your forearm. “Okay, well, you should look for some more books. I have to get back to work or the library’s going to collapse without me. So, um, text me?”

He got whiplash from your sudden goodbye. “Y–Yeah, of course. I’ll see you next week right?”

“Of course,” you repeated, throwing him a wave as you grabbed the handle of the trolley and started pushing it out of the aisle. 

“Wait, don’t forget this.” Spencer stopped you as he picked his basket back up from the floor, plucking The Poetry of Pablo Neruda out of it to hand to you. 

You took it with a grateful smile, setting it on the trolley. “Thank you, Spencer, I’ll have to give you more poetry book recommendations since clearly you liked this one so much.”

He watched you disappear around the corner and was immediately hit with everything he wanted to say to you, what he should have said, all the conversations he wanted to have had. It wasn’t enough. You’d taken a decent chunk of time out of your busy day to chat with him but it still didn’t satisfy him. Spencer wondered if there would ever be enough of you, or if he was now forever craving you, needing your words, your laugh, you entirely.

He resigned himself to looking around the library for new books to read. Every time he entered a new aisle, he looked for you, having hope you’d be there but you never were. Still, he took his time finding books, but once he had seven in his basket he made his way down to the front desk.

Of course, Mrs. Wilson was sitting there and she was just as pleased as she was before to see Spencer standing in front of her. She stood up as he began unloading the books onto the countertop. 

“Seven books?” She croaked.

“Yes? I only have three out and the check out limit is ten,” he justified, pausing as he rummaged his wallet for his library card.

“I know the checkout limit. You can’t check out more than five books at once,” she hissed, clawing two books off the top of the stack and dropping them onto the cart behind her. Without missing a beat, she turned back and snatched up his library card from the counter and began scanning.

“Okay. . .” he mumbled, unsure how to respond. Obviously that wasn’t library policy, but he wasn’t interested in fighting with your coworker. All he needed was for her to dislike him. Well, dislike him more than the disdain she seemed to have for everyone. 

When she finished scanning and checking the books out, she slapped his library card on top of the stack and sat back in her seat, picking up her book again without a word. Spencer took that as his sign to get lost and quickly gathered up his books in his basket and made for the exit. He looked back once more as he opened the double doors and turned back around as they shut behind him.

Spencer wiped down the books and his basket in his car, setting them both up snug in his passenger seat. He sat there for a moment, looking back at the library, then pulled out his phone. Like you said, your name had been added to his contacts, your full name. He bounced his leg as he considered sending you a message, but finally gave in and typed a simple one out.

- Hey, it's Spencer Reid.

Again, his leg bounced viciously as his fingers hovered over the buttons, sporadically typing out letters before deleting them. He even set it down before he picked it back up and hurriedly sent another message.

- Mrs. Wilson only let me check out five books.

He tossed his phone over into his passenger seat with a sigh. Spencer Reid did not text. It was strange, embarrassing, and not at all something he was used to. He felt the urge to call Garcia and even ask if he was doing it right. Was there even a right way to text? There had to be and he had no clue what it was. Constantly Garcia was bringing up internet language Spencer did not understand. What if you knew it and he didn’t? He almost went back into the library to research it on the computer. 

But he had to go home. He hadn’t eaten yet and his stomach was starting to rumble and growl. There was a chinese place on the way home, he could stop by there and get takeout. It wasn’t the healthiest plan, but there wasn’t much at the apartment besides pasta. That meant he also had to go grocery shopping tomorrow. He sighed through his nose as he put the car in drive, only to immediately throw it back in park when he heard his phone chime. He lunged over the console to the passenger seat so quickly the seat belt locked up and he choked himself momentarily before he could unfasten it and snap up his phone from the seat. There was a text from you.

- When do you go back to work?

His brows creased, but he responded swiftly nonetheless.

- Wednesday. Why?

- That means you have to come in tomorrow at 11, that's her lunch break. I can check you out.:)

He was even more confused by the punctuation at the end of your sentence. He reread it thrice for any clues to the meaning before he tilted his head and saw a smiley face staring back at him. A laugh burst from him, shaking his chest. He could put off grocery shopping until later in the day tomorrow.

—

Spencer came into the library Tuesday at 11am promptly. You escorted him around the library as he found two more books, then you let him pick an additional two more to check out on your own library account. After picking out the books, sneaking to check him out at the front desk became the best covert op mission Spencer had ever done, and he actually had done quite a few. As you talked, Spencer recounted cases he worked on and taught you the lingo they used in the field. When you slunk behind the front desk, you actually whisper-screamed “Clear!” at him with a face so serious Spencer had to slap a hand over his mouth so he didn’t blow the whole operation by laughing in your face. Your head bobbed constantly for any sight of Mrs. Wilson, even though you told him she ate lunch at the diner down the street. Then you slid him the two extra books like the scandal was DEA investigation worthy. All the while, you and Spencer giggled like children. 

You were a lot less worried now when he told you about the cases he worked on, he tended to leave out the really scary parts, but the idea of him chasing after armed murders didn’t terrify you as much anymore. You seemed to trust him and his skills more, likely because of his excellent performance during “Operation Paperback,” which was the code name you lovingly bestowed upon your mission to check Spencer out more books while Mrs. Wilson took what was most definitely not a smoke break. (You told him you were going to launch your own investigation into the cigarette butts you kept finding in the parking lot when he left now that you were a pro at “FBI stuff.”)

Spencer left the library with a giant grin on his face and it stuck with him even as he picked out his next week's worth of meals at the grocery store. He also planned when he would see you again and thought about all the things he wanted to talk to you about. Of course, he wanted to tell you about all the great things he did: his successes as an FBI agent, how he earned his PhDs, the time he hit the ball and ran the winning homerun for Derek’s baseball team. But he also wanted to tell you the darker parts of his life: his mother’s illness, how the job had traumatized him, his struggle with addiction. And he wanted to know so much more about you in kind.

Swiftly, it was no longer just Sundays he was visiting the library. He was dropping in after work and on the odd days he had off due to prolonged cases in other states. It took him less than a week to memorize your schedule. You had off on Fridays and Saturdays, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you had classes. Of course, your classes were late after work on Monday and Wednesday, however they were early in the morning on Friday. The library hours were something he also saved in his mental rolodex. It had open hours all seven days of the week: 10am to 4pm on weekends and 11am to 7pm on weekdays. Spencer was leaving work on time for the first time in years to make it to the library before close. 

Over the next couple weeks as he went to the library, he realized you spent a lot of time troubleshooting the computers. So when he came in he would either find a book to read or set himself up at an open computer near the one you were working on. He told you he was “researching” things for cases, but he didn’t really have to because anything he wanted to know he could have asked Garcia with her masterful skills and FBI grade software. He came to chat with you, listen to you complain about having to fix the computers so often because the local teens kept breaking them. Still, you were too timid to reprimand them or threaten to kick them out. In his job everyday there was always confrontation, everyone had to do it, so it was both confusing and sweet to him that you lacked the nerve to address people. He only wished you would stand up for yourself, because when you avoided confronting the problems it only ever gave you more labor. 

You became much more comfortable with him though. You shared more thoughts openly, met his eyes more, and even shared things about yourself that seemed very personal. You told him about your parents, your friends, your quaint apartment, and some embarrassing stories of your childhood. As close as you both were becoming over the weeks, you refused to let him read any of the poems you wrote because “it's different when you read it than when strangers read it.” He couldn’t dream of it being bad. He wouldn’t even give criticism or comment on it, but still you wouldn’t let him. You did, however, let him read your interpretations and analyses of poetry and literature you were reading for your classes. He would finish scanning the texts in minutes, which you would whine and complain about taking hours doing as a slow reader, and then read your writings and give you his critiques. At first you were nervous and fidgety about it, would go quiet when he didn’t necessarily agree. Then, slowly, you became more argumentative, fighting him on whose perspective was correct. Spencer loved arguing with you, the way your face lit up when you thought you had him, and the pout of your lip when you conceded the genius maybe knew what he was talking about. 

He handled five cases over the weeks he got to know you, during which he never used his phone more. He would be away for days at time and not be able to visit the library, so he resorted to texting you during the day and calling you from his hotel room in the evenings after you got home from classes, or just before you tucked yourself in for bed. Sometimes he talked about the cases, only giving you bits of information and keeping out the truly horrific things. Other times, he talked about his life. It was hard at first, telling you about the darkest parts of him, how he was far more complex than he originally led you to believe, then it became easy. You took it in stride, showing him an empathy he never knew he craved so deeply. You comforted him over the phone, or in the library, and assured him you didn’t see him any differently than before. Told him you were still his friend.

His friend. Of all the things you said to him while he was vulnerable, that one was the only one that wounded him. You were a great friend, truly, but Spencer was closer to the realization everyday he didn’t want to just be your friend. On the nights he wasn’t away on a case, when he entered his empty apartment and prepared himself dinner alone, he missed your voice. He wanted you there always, more than someone should want a friend. He never thought about Derek, or Penelope, or JJ the way he thought about you. His team was his family and he loved them, but the way he felt about you was another thing entirely. You consumed him at times. When he should be thinking about a case or chatting with one of the team, something reminds him of you and suddenly he’s stuck in a loop of thinking about what you were doing, thinking, feeling. He was distracted, and the worse part of it all was that his team was starting to notice.

Spencer tried to be discreet, but sometimes as he sent a text under his desk or hidden alone in a room Derek would catch him and he’d have to come up with a fast excuse. It always sounded defensive and not quite convincing because Spencer was not a very good liar. The rest of the team was catching him lost in thought, which wouldn’t be as damning if it didn’t happen so often. He cared for you so much he couldn’t help but think of you all day. He likely would never stop talking about either if he wasn’t hiding your existence from his team. At first it was because he tried to keep you very separate from his work life, like his job at the FBI didn’t have to exist when he was with you and therefore you did not exist when he was at work. But now you’d infiltrated his life completely and there was no possible way to keep you separate. He hid you now because well. . . he was embarrassed. Clearly he was obsessed with you, he couldn’t deny it anymore, but you didn’t feel the same way. 

You were caring, kind, generous, empathetic, yes, but in love with him? Well you gave no indication you were. Often you would call him your friend, mention you were scared of relationships, and when he tried showing you he was interested in being more than your friend—getting closer to you, complimenting you, flirting with you—you got quiet and shied away, so he backed off. He wanted to be with you so desperately he put to use all the tips Derek had given him—the PG-13 ones at least—but none of it worked. Perhaps he wasn’t doing it right, or you just didn’t like him. He was trying hard to just settle with being just your friend.

“Oh my God, I hate this thing!” You hissed, slapping your hands over your face and groaning quietly into them. 

“I’m guessing you tried turning it off and on again?” Spencer grinned. He pulled out the seat to the computer next to you, hanging the strap of his messenger bag on the chair behind him. Your eyes glared at him between your fingers.

“Don’t make me hate you too, Spencer. That never works.” Well then the problem went beyond his ability to fix. “I just don’t understand how they can get so many viruses on a computer? Everyday I’m blocking new websites.”

Computer six, which conveniently was the computer with the least visibility from the front desk, was almost always in need of fixing. Mainly because of a group of teens who would come in on the weekends or after school to play around on it. Constantly you were blocking the unsecure, often dangerous or pornographic websites they frequented. How they found them all, you could not fathom. You were fairly good at fixing the computer with all the time you’d spent doing it and all the tutorials you had to research, but were truly stuck. It was almost a week of the computer being down and you had no luck repairing it. 

“You tried everything?” He asked, his smile dropping into a frown at your distress.

“Yes. I don’t know what to do anymore. Mrs. Wilson is on my ass about fixing it and she’ll never call the director to send someone to fix it because that costs money. And I’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a new computer and I don’t even play.” You drug your hands down your face, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I could get it fixed.” 

You let out an unstifled laugh, which he would be happy to hear if you weren’t laughing at him. “Spencer, you suggested turning it off and on.”

“No, I mean I could ask someone to fix it. A member of my team, Penelope, is a technical analyst. She’s very good with computers and she could fix it.” He didn’t want to ask Garcia, actually the last thing he wanted to do was get his team involved, but he hated even more to see you so upset and stressed. He was just your friend and that was all Garcia would see. 

Your mouth fell open and you waved your hand dismissively. “Oh no, I couldn’t bother her with this. She's probably so busy. I–I can handle it.”

Spencer smiled. You were so sweet, always determined on dealing with things so you didn’t have to put the weight onto others. It only made him want to help more. “She’d be doing me a favor. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

“Are you sure?” Beyond the apprehension, he saw how hopeful you were. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll let you know when she can come fix it,” he said, watching the smile spread across your face. You were so elated, you reached over the space between the chairs to give him a hug, letting out a deep sigh of relief. 

“Thank you so much, Spencer,” you mumbled into his shoulder. He awkwardly patted your back, unsure exactly what to do with his gangly arms. He wasn’t too much of a hugger, neither were you, so it was the first time you’d ever hugged him. His cheeks warmed at the thought.

Unfortunately, he had to follow through on his promises. So the next day when he went into work he hung around the door to Garcia’s lair, repeating over and over in his head how he was going to ask. He opened the door with a knock and she swirled around in her chair to look at him, a megawatt smile beaming.

“Hey handsome, what can I do ya for?” She greeted, spinning a fuzzy orange pen between her fingers. 

Spencer wrung his hands in the doorway, halfway between coming in and running away. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Of course! What did you need me to look up?” She spun back in her chair, hands at the ready.

“It’s not that, it's a personal favor. A–A tech problem. Do you think you could help me with it this Sunday?” 

Slowly, Garcia tapped her heels on the floor to turn her spinny chair back towards Spencer, eyebrow quirked. “Okay, technophobe. What’s this tech problem because I didn’t think you owned a computer?”

“It’s a computer at the library I go to. It’s been out of order for a week now and they can’t seem to get it fixed,” he explained, continuing to fidget. 

She pursed her lips and tilted her head, gesturing at him with her fuzzy pen. “Is there not more than one computer at the library? Or are libraries really that popular still? I think you should just get a computer, Reid. I promise it’s not that scary and I’ll pick you a good one! The kind even old people know how to use—no offense. We can go—”

“Garcia,” he interrupted her rambling with a wince. Clearly he wasn’t going to get away with asking for her help so vaguely. “The library can’t afford to pay someone to fix it so I told the librarian I’d ask if you could. If you’re too busy, it’s alright.”

She seemed skeptical, mouth bobbing open and closed like she had more to say, but finally closed it with a simple nod. “I can fix it, of course I can fix it. JJ canceled our brunch plans Sunday so I can be there at 11:30.”

Spencer gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the address. Thank you, Garcia.” He wanted to add that she probably shouldn’t mention it to the rest of the team, but knowing Garcia’s lack of subtlety and habit of being just a tad nosey, he figured that would only make it more suspicious and odd.

So he gave her a farewell and speed walked back to his desk, taking his seat with a heavy sigh of relief. Garcia may not be a profiler, but she knew him well and she had a bloodhound like nose for gossip. If he wasn’t careful, she would sniff out just how much he liked the librarian he mentioned so briefly. Then it would spread like wildfire around the office and Spencer would be safe from no one’s prying and teasing. 

It was the first Sunday he was nervous to go to the library. His palms were sweaty as he waited at the computer with you, you none the wiser. He tried to focus on you to calm down because you were always his source of comfort. His eyes trailed over your long skirt and t-shirt combo, making note of the way you kept touching your arms as if you were cold. No doubt you’d slip on the cardigan you kept behind the desk soon, but he assumed you wanted to look nice to meet Penelope, because you did look very nice. Your hair was out of its updo and if he looked hard enough at your face, which he did, he could tell you were wearing lipgloss and some other little bits of makeup. 

“You okay?” You asked him softly, eyes looking over his own face.

“I’m fine,” he blurted maybe a little too quickly because you looked unconvinced. Slowly you were learning his tells and he wasn’t sure how long it would be before you found out how fixated he was on you and you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. “I just. . . I hope Penelope can fix it for you.”

You smiled sweetly, looking away at the entrance. “I bet she can, but even if she can’t, it's okay. It was nice of you and her to try.”

He wanted to reassure you that he would always try for you, but Penelope came through the double doors, absolutely glowing like the sun. In mood, but also in outfit. Or maybe it was more like a sunflower? All Spencer knew was that it was very yellow and vibrant. She came rushing over when she saw him and you stand up to greet her.

“Hi, you must be Penelope. Spencer told me so much about you,” You greeted and immediately Spencer realized he messed up.

Garcia’s eyes ran over you, then went back and forth between you and Spencer. He could see the gears turning in her head. “Oh, hello!” She chirped, friendly as always but awkward because she heard nothing about you.

Quickly, Spencer introduced you to Penelope and both you and her shook hands before she put him out of his misery and asked what the problem with the computer was. She took a seat at computer six and you stood next to her, pointing out things on the screen.

“I have some kids that keep coming in and going on all these sketchy websites. I keep blocking them, but they keep finding new ones and it’s loading the computer up with viruses. Then it runs slow and freezes so often it’s unusable,” You shook your head as you explained, exasperated by it all. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot, but do you think you could fix it?”

“Oh, please. Those are some easy fixes! I’ll just remove the viruses and add some more blocking software not even tech savvy kids can get around.” Garcia was already typing at the computer, doing things on the screen Spencer didn’t bother to try and comprehend. He was looking at you as the grin yanked up your lips.

“Really? Thank you so much. I’ve been fighting with this damn thing for weeks. I’m not great with computers.”

“I think you’ve done pretty good so far. You’re much better than Reid, that’s for sure. Sorry fellow genius, but it's true,” she glanced back at him, almost remorseful but still carrying a smile.

You laughed, always eager to tease him. “When he’s on a computer I think he lied to me about having an IQ of 187. He needs my help finding research databases, pulling up old articles, everything but logging in, really.”

“Huh,” Garcia glanced back at him again, only to find his eyes averted and his hands stuffed into his pockets to stop their incessant fidgeting. He was caught and he knew it. He maybe. . . exaggerated how bad he was with computers to you at first, just to get you to come over and talk to him when he first started coming to the library after work, but unfortunately he didn’t know how to end the ruse. Garcia called him a certified technophobe, but even she knew he had those basic skills, especially since she’d seen him do it on his own before. 

“How long do you think it will take?” You asked, glancing over the rest of the computers to the desk. “I just have to get back to managing the front desk.”

“Only about a half hour. I’m going to do the other computers as well to save you some time blocking websites. You can go though, I got this.” She gave you a smile, gesturing for you to leave.

“Thank you again, Penelope. I’ll be back before you’re done,” you promised, fluttering away from the table swiftly to help someone standing at the front desk.

“So…” Garcia was looking up at Spencer impishly.

“So?” He asked, though he had a good idea of what was coming.

“Do you like her?” Her eyes were hopeful, lips spread into a grin. 

“Garcia. . .” he warned, pleading for her not to go any further. He didn’t want to have to lie, but he couldn’t tell her that he was hopelessly falling in love with you.

But that only sold it for her, her hands reaching off the keys to fan her face. “OMG. You do like her!”

He glanced around to see if you heard her exclamation, but you were busy talking to the man standing at the front desk. “Penelope, she’s my friend,” he tried to be firm in his assertion, but even to his own ears it sounded more like a whine.

“A very cute friend! Who seems like the sweetest person on earth. Oh, and she works in a library. So adorable—y'know—because you’re always reading? Are you sure she’s just a friend?” She launched into a ramble, too clouded by the idea that he may be interested in someone to recognize the hurt on his face.

“I’m sure. She’s… she doesn’t like me like that,” he sounded sad, he didn’t mean to, but he was. He had a very hard time hiding his feelings, and now Penelope heard it and was looking at him like he was a kicked puppy.

“Oh, well, I—really? She seemed so. . .” She was at a loss for words, watching as you walked past guiding the man from the desk over to the staircase, likely showing him where to find a specific genre. Penelope shook her head as you disappeared from view, redirecting her focus back to the screen and letting her hands fly back to the keyboard. “I should mind my business. Right. Bad Garcia.”

Spencer frowned, eyes lingering on where you vanished up the stairs. He pulled back out the chair beside her and slumped in it, avoiding her eyes. “Thank you, Garcia.”

He didn’t have to thank her for long though. 

She fixed the computer and you were so incredibly grateful you hugged her. Or rather, you hugged her back after Garcia enveloped you into her arms, so overwhelmed with your praise, but you seemed glad to let it happen. Even after she left, and a few days later the teens returned, they were upset to find the new restrictions on the computer they couldn’t bypass, much to your delight. Spencer was thankful for that, but he was much less grateful when only a week and a half later Garcia slipped up and mentioned you to the team.

He was wrapping up his paperwork fast, reading through documents at lightning speed and filling them out so quickly his handwriting was nearly illegible. But he promised he’d come to the library to see you after work because he was away on a case the past couple days including last Sunday. He was so invested in completing his paperwork he didn’t even notice Derek and Penelope passing him with cups of coffee. 

“Whoa kid, got a date you're running late for?” Derek joked, perching at Spencer’s desk to grin down at him with a teasing smile.

“Oooo, I bet it's that cute—” As the words came tumbling from Garcia’s pink lips, Spencer’s face ripped away from his paperwork to look at her, and with a look of horror she quickly cut herself off to sip from her mug.

Derek’s brows creased, looking between Spencer and Garcia with an amused bewilderment. “That cute what?” When Garcia avoided his eyes, drowning in her coffee, and Spencer’s cheeks turned pink, realization covered Derek’s face. “Oh, okay pretty boy, I see you! That must be why you’ve been on your phone so much. What cute girl have you been talking to?”

Spencer cleared his throat, turning back to his papers as he consolidated them from the cluttered mess into a neat pile. “No one.”

Derek laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, no. Don’t get all shy now, playa, spill.”

When Spencer refused to respond, continuing to shuffle about his papers, Derek narrowed his gaze onto Garcia, who could drink from her cup no longer and began coughing. It gathered the attention of a few other pairs of eyes in the office just in time for her to finish her choking and begin spilling.

“Okay! She’s this absolutely adorable librarian! She’s the sweetest thing and her style is so cute and I wanted to ask her where she got her glasses from, but I was too distracted because Reid totally likes her and thinks that she doesn’t like him, but I was trying to get all profiler on her because I thought ‘there’s no way she couldn’t like boy genius because he’s just as cute and they are so made for each other’ and—like you guys know, I’m no profiler—but I’m pretty sure she likes him!” Finally she took in a breath, practically hyperventilating and fanning her face.

Spencer gawked at her, wide eyed. “Penelope!”

She looked at him sympathetically, but it was Derek’s face that he focused on. His brows were high on his forehead, mouth gaping as he took all of her words in. “Okay, first of all: wow. Second of all: why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

Spencer chewed on his lip. He didn’t really want to explain himself to Derek and Penelope, two people known for their confidence and dating escapades, but he was cornered. Not only that, but he was becoming so desperate he found himself wanting their advice. “I–I don’t know. Whenever I try to show her I’m. . . interested, she gets quiet and awkward.”

“How have you been showing her you’re ‘interested?’” 

He shrugged, leg bouncing under the table. “Flirting with her I guess?”

Derek scoffed. “You guess?” When Spencer could do nothing but look away with a heavy sigh, Derek continued. “Look man, she could just be shy. I know it’s scary, but you have to just ask her out on a date. That's the only way you’re really going to know if she likes you.”

Spencer picked at a loose thread on his cardigan, voice quiet. “But what if she says no? I just. . .” He licked his lips, playing over the words in his head and wondering if he wanted to be so vulnerable to Derek and Penelope. “I like her so much. . .” he whispered.

Garcia cooed, tottering around the desk in her heels to wrap her free arm around Spencer. “Who could ever say no to you, handsome? I’m positive, she’ll say yes, I know that girl likes you!”

“Hey,” Derek said, getting Spencer to look up at him as Garcia released him. “You got nothing to worry about, pretty boy. Now you go to that library and ask her out to a nice fancy restaurant—which no pretty girl can refuse—and I’ll worry about this paperwork.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked meekly, but Derek and Penelope only reassured him and ushered him out of his seat. He was out of the office less than ten minutes later, getting into his car. He flipped down the sun visor to look at himself in the tiny mirror, frowning at his reflection. His hair was always a mess and he needed to shave. 

He flipped the visor back up with a sigh, putting his car in drive and taking himself to the library before he sat in the parking lot all night stressing. He didn’t have to ask you out, but he did have to go because he promised you he’d be there. . . and he missed you dearly.

The library was empty when entered. There were sometimes a few stranglers this late, but on a random Tuesday night the library was clear of everyone but you, bent over wiping down the tables for the night. His eyes roamed over you, breath catching in his chest like it always did when he first laid his gaze on you again.

“Good evening,” he greeted, trying not to startle you with his presence. 

You turned quickly, a smile taking over your bored face when you spotted him standing by the front desk. “Spencer! How was your flight this morning?”

“Fine. I finished the book on biological regulations and development, but I mostly just slept because we had a whole day of paperwork to catch up on.”

“And work today?” You asked, throwing a wet wipe in the trash and plucking out another as you moved to clean the next table.

“Like I said, paperwork. Very boring.” He untucked his hands from his pockets, setting his messenger bag down at the front desk and grabbing a wet wipe from the container to help you wipe down tables. He often helped you with your closing work when he arrived so late, especially on nights you had classes after work. “How about you?”

You shrugged, gesturing around the room with your hands. “It’s the library. Same thing everyday here.”

“That’s not true. What about the clown?” 

A laugh burst from you as you remembered the story you told him the other day on the phone, you curled up in bed and him sitting on a couch in a hotel room five states away. You stayed up late until he got back from the police station just to tell him about the man who came in dressed in a full clown get-up to print out coloring book pages for a birthday party he was running late to. It made your whole week and you just had to tell him, howling particularly hard about how Mrs. Wilson, after thoroughly wiping down the printer, printed out a notice to put on the front door instating a library dress code of no costumes. 

“The clown was probably the most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. That says something about how boring it is.”

“Is the FBI showing up everyday not interesting?” He mocked confused.

You gave him a playful glare over your shoulder. “Okay. I guess you can be the second most interesting thing to ever happen in this library. Right below the clown.”

Spencer chuckled. “I should be offended by that, shouldn’t I?”

“Feel how you want to feel, Spencer. But Bo-Bo is the only one who’s given me coloring book sheets.” You shrugged, playing nonchalance. 

“Oh, because I print those out so often at my job? If I did, there wouldn’t be enough crayons at the dollar store for you to color them all.” Maybe he was in a fake competition with a clown for your favor. Either way, when you ducked your head with a breathy giggle, he knew he won it. 

When you both finished wiping down the tables, he took out the trash while you set about turning off the lights, shutting down the computers, and other small tasks. He met you at the front desk as you collected your bag and jacket, pulling his messenger bag back over his own head. He held the door open for you as you both left the library and stood by your side as you locked the doors. 

“Thank you for helping me close,” you smiled at him as you tucked the keys into your bag.

“Of course.” He wanted to say it should have been Mrs. Wilson helping you, because the old bat usually took off an hour or so before close, but you brushed him off every time he suggested reporting her and he didn’t want to sour your mood. He also liked walking you to your car, especially when it was this late and dark, because the thought of anything happening to you was so devastating he couldn’t stand to think about it.

So he walked with you down the staircase and across the lot to where you parked your car early this morning and he pulled in next to you a little while ago. It was already dark, but the street lamp you parked your car under illuminated you and him as you stood under it, arms wrapped around yourself. You searched for something to say, he could see it in the way your lips twitched and your eyes roamed his face. For a moment, the sound of crickets and the eerie hum of night faded, and Derek’s words were thunder in his ears. He would never know unless he asked you, and he couldn’t live looking at your sweet face knowing he never even tried.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes nearly as big as planets amplified by your glasses, which glinted off them as you nodded rapidly, lips parting to take in a sharp breath. “Yes!”

Spencer was taken aback. His ears buzzed and a tingling sensation filled his extremities. He was elated, but thrown off by your complete enthusiasm. “Wha–really?”

You shook your head at him, laughing breathily as if he stole the wind from you. “Yes, of course I do, Spencer. I–I’ve wanted. . .” Your eyes looked between his nervously.

“You wanted what?” He insisted, leaning in because he had to know what you’ve been thinking, what you’ve been wanting from him that he missed. 

You looked down shyly, picking at your nails despite how your fingers shook. “I wanted to ask you out when I first met you. When you were just some guy in the library, and I thought you were obviously flirting by trying to impress me but. . . then you were telling the truth and I–I was so embarrassed I was wrong and I thought you didn’t like me like that. . . and soon enough you weren’t just some guy, you were Spencer, and I–um, I couldn’t let myself ruin it.”

His hands gently took yours, stopping their anxious picking. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at you, heart so full and beating so fast he heard it thrumming in his ears. “You couldn’t ruin anything. You’re so. . . perfect,” he mumbled, close enough to taste your air. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since you gave me that book. I saw you in every poem and reading your thoughts made me feel like I was in your head, feeling what you were feeling. I needed it after every case, I–I needed you. All I wanted was to ask you out but. . .”

He was at a loss for words, but you shook your hand, squeezing his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Spencer. . .” His eyes glanced down to your lips, but just as he considered leaning down to capture them with his, you ducked your head nervously again, softly letting go of his hands. Spencer reeled with disappointment he didn’t kiss you, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Um, I did give you that book on purpose. I think the most romantic thing on this Earth is poetry and. . . I hoped it was enough of a sign.”

He recovered quickly, excited just to know you returned his feelings. He sighed into the new open air between the two of you. “I knew it. You bewitched me.”

You giggled, a sweet sound that picked up as you met his eyes again, swatting at him with a hand. “No I didn’t!”

Your laugh dissipated and the two of you were standing in the parking lot, looking at each other under a streetlamp. “Saturday at seven?”

“What?”

“Our date? Is Saturday at seven okay?” He reiterated.

“Oh. Oh, yes. That’s a good time,” you stuttered, snatched from whatever daze you stared at him in. He smiled.

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure out the details?” He offered. You needed time to process it, he thought, because he knew he did. He would get home and sit on his couch, replaying every word from your lips and flutter of your lash in his head. Maybe that was the best part of an eidetic memory.

“Okay.” You nodded. He opened your car door for you and you climbed inside. “Good night, Spencer,” you hummed at him before closing the door.

He watched you leaving the parking lot before he got into his own car because he had to sit there for a minute, calming his pounding heart before he got out on the road. For the first time in a while, he was most excited for Saturday over Sunday.

[ravers8fantasy]

Hai bestie 🩷

If you're still taking requests what would each of the boxers favorite prank be if they had to choose one? Aran obviously is excluded bc he wouldn't be able to choose.

Ooooh interesting, lets give this a try😼

Punch out characters and their fave pranks!

Glass Joe:

His favourite pranks are jumpscares, he is really ass at doing them though. He also cant do them on purpose to save his life.

Most of the time he gets caught because either: 1) he laughs when he hides so its really obvious he is trying to scare people and 2) he sucks at hiding period.

As mentioned in the first bullet point, his jumpscares usually work when he isnt intending on scaring anyone

Von kaiser:

I think Kaiser would only prank people he is mad at out of spite so he would do really annoying or straight up mean pranks-

Like: filling donuts with mayo, putting laxitives in drinks, gluing peoples stuff on desks and shelves or the ground so when they try to take it they cant etc

He also sometimes just trips people up when they are walking past. He thinks its funny.

Disco kid:

His favourite would be that one using cling film (seran wrap for those in the land of 🦅💪🏽🇺🇸)

One time he put cling film on all the door frames in the shared gym and poor Hondo kept getting caught in them whilst running

He has also ran into his own traps before whilslt trying to lure others over so they can run into it

King hippo:

I like to think he doesnt know what a prank is

So whenever he wants to play a trick on someone, he just takes whatever they are holding and stares at them

Took a baguette off Joe one time and just stared at him. Its not even a nice stare as well its like a deer in headlights but make the deer possesed

Piston Hondo:

Does that thing where he calls everyone over to look at something cool.

Spoilet alert: there isnt anything cool. There isnt even anything to really look at as well

Called over the rest of the major league to try and find a cat somewhere. There was no cat, he let them all search for hours

Bear hugger:

Replaces photos with other subjects such as animals, food, other boxers, embarrasing photos of said boxers, the referee-

Did it one time with the major circuits baby photos. Everyone found it sweet except Hondo cus he had a fuck ass bob as a kid

Got caught printing said fuck ass bob photo out my the referee, he didnt get in trouble for printing out he got in trouble for breaking into the office to print it-

Great tiger:

loves disguising himself as objects and scaring people when they are walking past

Uses a clone to be in his place whilst he idk hides disguised as a fucking bush or smth, so when he jumps out its like boom double whammy there is two tigers

Got pissed on by a dog one time and he went crazy like super saiyan he was so mad. He therefore stopped doing the bush prank in public and started doing it inside.

Don flamenco:

Has a fake flower that squirts out water, he got it whilst he was having a moment when drunk

Whenever he gets mad at someone though he changes the water to vinegar so boom double whammy (oh I love saying that)

Sometimes he mistakes the rose for an actual one and goes to smell it. Gets confused af as to why it smells like vinegar before realising

Aran ryan.

Soda Popinski:

Those cartoony flipping snake in a can pranks

Somehow tells the others that the can is like really protein powder or smth. Then boom double whammy there is a fake snake AND powder everywhere

He adds idk like chalk powder in it to make it funnier because afterwards, the victim is covered chalk.

Bald bull:

He doesnt prank people usually but when he does its usually him throwing his emotional support fake brick out of anger-

Hes like "fuck yall" and just chucks this comedically large fake brick at paparazzi

Giggles and runs away whilst they are all screaming about the massive brick he just lobbed at them

Super macho man:

This mf sneaks around like a slimy rat and swaps their boxing kits for swim wear

Obviously it gets really annoying, who wouldnt be annoyed when before a match you need to get changes and you pull out a fucking speedo (i mean soda wouldnt be but-)

Got in trouble about it with the W.B.V.A officials but he said he would pay them thousands if they let him keep doing it. Yeah they definitely didnt let him. they let him keep doing it. The greed is crazy

Mr Sandman:

The classic. The 'handshake buzzer'... Idk what its called let it slide

The ref is the usual victim of this, sandman goes to hand shake him after a match but boom. He gets shocked

He knows its sort of old and there are new more exciting pranks but. He just really loves it😭

This gonna be me tucking myself into bed knowing I finally managed to finish this cus goly gosh did I sort of struggle😭😭 I hope you enjoy tho!!!

[rey-jake-therapist]

is it really *that* delulu to consider the possibility that sauron softened her fall tho?

i was thinking, and galadriel could barely manage to stand up after crushing down from those rocks with sauron!celebrimbor. it took her several moments of crawling on the ground and catching her breath to get up and continue fighting.

(also, reddit is such an un-nuanced place. after liking haladriel questions, i get notifs from the sub, and smn made a post saying how sauron kicks galadriel's sword bc he wants her to crawl for it. but they made it so clear that sauron wants her to stop fighting and she just refuses to, lol.)

so, my point is, if she struggled so much to take that small fall (while wearing nenya), HOW could she survive falling the fucking mountain? while nenya wasn't even in her hand anymore?

+ remember how she is drowning in s1 and sauron goes down to save her? would parallel well with her falling and sauron softening her fall with his magic.

Yes, that was exactly my thought while I was watching the fight again yesterday.

It just makes no sense for Galadriel to have survived this fall, even if she's an Elf. She was deeply wounded, extremely weak ! She definitely expected to die here, because she knew exactly what Sauron had done to her, and she knew the only way to escape him was to die before he could completely possess her.

I saw people speculating that Nenya saved her, but I don't think it's possible because she wasn't wearing it, and we never saw Nenya heal anyone unless it was worn by someone. I mean, Elrond could heal Galadriel's wound because he reluctanctly accepted to wear it, aware that it was the only way to save her friend (and how did he know that? Probably because Nenya "told him".) We also saw Adar's corruption taking over his face again as soon as he took Nenya off. Besides, healing is what Nenya does ; it doesn't prevent people from getting hurt ! Or that would be easy then : just keep Nenya in your pocket and you'll be immortal... That's not how it works, imho.

So far, the only theory I read that could work, imho, is that the Valar saved Galadriel, because they want her to stick around up until Sauron is defeated. I can see that and I think it will end up being the official explanation, if they ever give one (they probably won't and it will be just another plot hole I'm afraid).

But I also think it could be Sauron, as delulu as it may sound to some. It would explain why he didn't seem devastated but only bitter, because she rejected him again despite the bond he created between them. I'm currently working on a post where I'll try to explain that even after forcing Galadriel to bind herself to him, he still needed her to make the choice of joining him, while he could have just forcefully brought her to the Unseen World. He didn't seem affected by the prospect of her death which seems kinda strange, unless of course we admit that she isn't that important to him and he doesn't care if she lives or dies, since he doesn't want to make her his queen anymore.

But then, if he doesn't care I'm really curious as to why he looked shocked and *scared* when Galadriel fell, or why he turned his hand so he could catch hers...According to this logicn he should have rather tried to catch Nenya. It was clearly Galadriel he wanted to save here, anyone who says otherwise should get an eye check because it's pretty obvious. Nenya isn't even in this shot ! And yet Galadriel had rejected him again, so why trying to save her?

Or maybe those people who say that the show also wants to deceive the audience are right, but then I'm asking again : what's the point?? We know there's no redemption in the cards, it seems very pointless to deceive us about Sauron's intentions now.

Sauron kept his hand down and looked at her as she fell, so it's not beyond the realm of possibilites that he did something to soften her fall, yeah. It would also explain why he didn't immediatly shapeshift into an animal that could quickly go down the cliff and go pick Nenya, because he wouldn't want Galadriel to die from her wound. I mean, he wanted that ring, right ?

Ah yes I read that thread from Reddit. Lmao it's so ridiculous, I can't even. He "wanted to relish the sight of her crawling"?! Really? He didn't even look at her when he did his speech about seeing her/knowing her mind ! It's very much obvious that he wanted to get some time to speak before she attacked him again. They should rather wonder why he left her sword so close to her that she could easily take it and attack him again. I think I know the answer to that : he wanted her to have the possibility to say no again and keep fighting him. It would have been sooooo easy for him to best Galadriel at this moment. And yet in the end, he always lets her the possibility to make her own choices. Did you also see that in the same thread, they claimed that he stabbed her with the crown to "calm her down" lmao? Like, they believe that it was just a weapon to him. And he kept carrying it around with him while fighting, because it was so practical to fight carrying that thing I guess... What brilliant thinkers they are.

remember how she is drowning in s1 and sauron goes down to save her? would parallel well with her falling and sauron softening her fall with his magic.

Yep ! it would also mirror the ending of season 2, where he didn't save her but let her believe she was drowning (which she was not... her face wasn't even in the water when Elrond found her, and she was pretty much alive). It would all go back full circle...

[takenbypeter]

Hiii i love ur writing!!!

I was wondering if you could write a young Kurt Wagner x fem!reader hc or fic about kurt liking the reader who is really cool and funny and he thinks shes way out of his league, it doesnt help that some of the more extroverted students are always flirting, and he doesnt get how it comes so naturally to them. Anyways he's lowkey jealous and insecure (esspecially bc he looks so different compared to her and the other students) and oblivious to the fact that the reader only has eyes for him!! Angst and fluff are my faves ugh

(+bonus if peter tries to give him advice on how to hit on a girl and its a total trainwreck bc kurt is so obviously not acting like himself and shes lowkey freaked out and trying not to laugh in his face💀)

Stick to the Plan

Kurt Wagner x reader

Words: 1486

Authors note: I totally forgot about the jealousy aspect of this whole thing sorry but I hope you still like it and this is like my first Kurt fic so yayyyy!

Kurt was already easily known as the nervous type around people. Didn’t always know what to say, didn’t want to do the wrong thing.

But with you? He was terrified.

Now he knew you weren’t perfect, no one is. But he was pretty sure you were just about close to it.

You were quite beautiful yet weren’t afraid to wear silly expressions. Your laugh was very infectious that even when he wasn’t a part of the conversation, he could feel his cheeks uplifting at just the sound that he recognized from far away.

Kurt didn’t talk to you much but he did always find himself coincidentally in the same area as you. He found it quite admirable how it seemed like you got along with practically everyone and never let anything get you down.

You could say he had a crush.

He wanted to talk to you, to connect about anything, but like mentioned earlier…he was scared. It also didn’t help that he could tell that he wasn’t the only one who had a thing for you. He knew of at least two other guys who were very obvious in their likings of you. But unlike himself, they actually had the guts to talk to you, you’ve laughed with them, shared jokes.

It also didn’t help that Kurt couldn’t help but feel like he looked like a freak most of the time. The tail, the teeth, the blue, sometimes it was hard for him to believe that people could accept him this way—that you could accept him this way.

Despite what he felt, he believed he kept his feelings well hidden, but that wasn’t exactly the case because a certain speedster had caught on quickly.

Kurt had just watched you leave the small group that you had been chatting with, you just about stepped out of the room when a voice suddenly appeared right beside Kurt’s ear. “So when are you planning on puttin’ the moves on?”

Kurt jumped, shocked at the question, “excuse me?”

“Come on, you’ve been pining for weeks, just make your move already.”

Kurt freezes for a moment, but then grabs the man unexpectedly and disappears as a puff of smoke left behind practically dissolves into air. He teleports the two to Kurt’s own room before releasing the speedster.

“You will keep what you know, only between us,” Kurt insisted but Peter was already nodding. “Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me. I actually wanna help you.”

“You want to help me?” Peter nodded again and Kurt couldn’t stop a scoff from escaping past his lips, “because you’re so good at this type of stuff?” Kurt added, tone more sarcastic than positive.

“Hey at least I can talk to ‘em.”

He’s got a point there.

Despite everything in Kurt telling him not to take Peter’s advice he still hung his head in defeat. “Alright, I will accept your help…but what do you get out of this all?”

It was hard for Kurt to believe that Peter was doing this out of the good of his heart, but Peter shrugged. “Bored,” is all he said before clapping his hands together, “okay let’s get started.”

Kurt should’ve known better than to trust Peter. He taught him strange things that he guaranteed would “woo” anybody’s heart and although it all seemed unlikely, Kurt took each and every one of his advice to heart.

The strange way of talking, the attitude that he should carry, all of it he took in until Peter deemed the blue mutant ready.

It wasn’t until the next day while you were seated in a corner of a busy room that the plan went into action.

You were clearly occupied with your head buried in a graphic novel but your attention got deterred when a body sat directly across from you.

Eyes leaving the pages, you were met with a set of bright yellow eyes taking you by surprise, but you quickly collected yourself.

“Oh hey Kurt,” You were trying your best to conceal your surprise at the sight of the man in front of you, especially since typically it seemed like the boy did his best to avoid you, “what’s up?” You asked, setting your book down in your lap but with your thumb holding your place.

Kurt could already feel himself wanting to duck underneath his shoulders and disappear from your view but he fought every urge to do that.

Fighting his instincts he slumped his shoulders down and leaned back trying his best to look what could possibly be perceived as cool. And in that position he let out a line he’d practiced in the mirror the night before, “something must be wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off of you.”

Your mouth forms a little oh shape as your eyes widen and your eyebrows lift. Kurt obviously can see how shocked you are by his words and he himself could feel his body getting ready to prepare for the cringe he was beginning to feel, but he pushed through and delivered another line, “hey, you’re pretty and I’m cute. Together we’d be pretty cute.”

Oh God, your expression told him all he needed to know about that one. He instantly regretted that one.

Your face contorted from confused to surprised then half amused before you started cracking up.

You were laughing.

You were laughing at him right to his face.

Kurt pushed his teeth together before muttering, “I’m sorry,” he was about to disappear as it seemed that was the only thing he was good at, but you rested a hand on his shoulder stopping him from doing so.

Once you controlled yourself you let out, “I’m sorry, you think I’m pretty?”

His whole demeanor flipped, his shoulders leaned up, his arms suddenly were in his lap as he brought his hands together in the middle.

He knew he said those words but it felt so strange hearing you repeat the line when he technically hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet.

At Kurt’s silence that’s when you spoke up, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything by…that,” you said, referencing to your more than little laugh session, “it was all just…unexpected. This,” you waved a hand in the air motioning towards whatever that display was, “just doesn’t seem like you at all, are you okay?”

He felt the air in his throat hitch as he began to panic about what to say next, should he just confess now? Peter didn’t cover this. Should he just relay back to the things Peter had taught him? But with all this thinking he couldn’t come up with something fast enough and instead finally let out a breath.

“It’s not me.”

“Yeah I know,” you chuckled.

He finally seems to relax for the first time since your interaction began and his eyes drift down to your book still in hand.

“What are you reading there?” he asks and your eyes follow where he was looking. “Oh this? It’s just a murder mystery.”

“How is it? Do you like it?”

“Yeah I love murder mysteries, I love when there’s a twist ending but I also love when it ends in a real cliche way. I’ve actually read this one before but the movie for it just came out so I’m rereading it before going to watch it later this week.”

“I’ve actually read that book before too, it’s pretty good.”

“Right?”

“I didn’t know there was a film for it,” Kurt truly meant nothing by that statement, if anything it was more just a way to continue the conversation with you.

“Yeah…did you want to watch it together?”

There was nothing on earth that could’ve predicted this moment for him. He truly had to take a moment, and when he finally came to he just nodded, shock still written on his face. You mirrored his nodding with a smile, “great, it can be a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, and you can continue telling me how pretty I am.”

Again he seemed to still be in a daze, “yeah…wait what?”

With that you packed your things and stood up from your spot, “okay I have to head somewhere now but we’ll make plans later, but um, I’ll see you later?”

He blinked a couple times coming out of the trance you seemed to put him under, “yeah.”

“I’ll see you,” you added, taking steps backwards as you exited the room.

“See you.”

“Okay—sorry,” you said to the chair you had accidentally bumped into while you were walking backwards and with that you gave a last wave before finally turning around.

As soon as you left the room in came Peter who surprisingly actually wasn’t listening.

“How’d that go? Did you make your move?”

“…yeah,” Kurt responded eyes stuck to where you last waved to him.

“Did you get a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that the only word you know right now?”

“Yeah.”

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Upstairs

Barbie dolls: Blaise Zabbini x reader

Warnings: I tried to keep it gn but like it's kinda difficult to do that with smut, jealousy, Blaise is in love?, he fingers you, he cums in his pants btw, poor grammar, I think that's it

Summary: fwb kinda Blaise gets pulled upstairs by you bc you need him and he's more than happy to ditch a party for you

When Blaise first heard about a party being thrown, by your house nonetheless, he thought of you immediately. Would you be going? Are you going with your friends? What did you plan on wearing? Were you spending the whole time there? Did you plan to stop by halfway through? All things considered his mind was always plagued with you so it wasn't that out of the ordinary. Blaise asked Pansy if you were going and she told him to 'man up' and ask you himself. Which he did not. Blaise decided he would find out the night of.

He did find out the night of, you weren't coming. Blaise should've suspected. You didn't go to very many parties, even the ones a few sets of stairs away from your dorm. Too many people, too loud, too much B.O. If you did go to one Blaise noticed halfway through you'd disappear from his side and follow Pansy off to God knows where. Forty minutes or even an hour you'd come back, bee line for him, tell him you're turning in for the night and he'd walk you back to your common room. You'd always tell Blaise what shenanigans you and Pansy got up to. It was never something he'd classify as trouble making but you both had a very different definition of the word anyway. Blaise was bummed when he noticed your absence but he wasn't surprised.

Blaise stuck to Theo and Mattheo. Lorenzo had a date so he left the children in Blaise’s hands. Theo left to the dance floor with some Ravenclaw, but Mattheo stayed with Blaise. They talked next to the banister of stairs leading to the dormitories. Blaise kept an eye on Theo and Pansy.

Theo, Blaise knew would probably just head back to his dorm, Ravenclaw in tow. Pansy however had a tendency to climb on top of things, forgetting her outfit and often her state of intoxication.

Often when you did come to parties you and Blaise were on babysitting duty. You'd keep your eye on Pansy and Mattheo. Blaise had Draco and Theo. Lorenzo barely ever came.

Draco just rolled his eyes at everything everyone did and showed them the proper way. He was a snob for almost everything under the sun, wine, cheese, how to pour a beer, how to roll a blunt Theo taught him, how to properly tie a tie, proper dinner etiquette. The amount of times Blaise had heard "no elbows on the table." has made him question if the consequences were worth stabbing Draco in the eye.

Mattheo mostly kept to himself. Although if he had enough he'd take over whoever was Dj-ing, or he'd start making new drinks that had odd side effects. One night Mattheo made the whole Gryffindor house, even people who didn't come to the party, grow horns and fangs. Mattheo says he doesn't remember how he did it. Blaise doesn't believe him.

Blaise missed you, for more than a million reasons. Parties were boring without something pretty to look at, he had to babysit all of his friends alone, you were quite comforting in social situations, he could use you as a buffer when people wanted to talk to him, and Merlin you were hot.

While Blaise was having his crisis downstairs you were in your own predicament upstairs. You were gnawing at the walls kind of horny. It's all you could think of, it was tiring. You were frustrated. You've tried everything and while one or two orgasms lessened your frustration you were still pissed. You considered every option. You could feel the loud music through your floor and you knew Blaise was downstairs. This wasn’t new territory for you two. You started an odd friends with benefits expect you never clarified what you actually are situation a while ago.

It was raining outside, everyone had gone to sleep except for you and Blaise. You had started the night on opposite ends of the couch, by the time Mattheo dragged Lorenzo up the stairs you were pressed against each other. After a long moment of just staring at each other, you broke the dam. You kissed Blaise, barely a second long before you pulled away. He grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you back in. You prayed all the fish were blind that night because you were both too lazy to move to his dorm. Besides you all had roommates so the possibility of an audience would probably be lower in the common room.

Still it made you anxious to actually ask Blaise to join you in your dorm. You knew Blaise defiantly gave other people the same kind of night he’s given you. A pit of jealousy always crawled in your stomach, up your throat, and made you never speak or breathe again. But Blaise made it all worth it. He was probably enjoying himself fat the party. It’s Blaise. Well, maybe he was tolerating the party. You needed him in your bed, you needed him period. So you rounded down the stairs to the common room, still in your pajamas. The closer you got the louder the music and people became. First, you recognized the hand grabbing the bottom of the banister. Then, you heard his voice, talking Mattheo out of trouble. You slowed as you reached him. Blaise glanced up, he sighed when he saw you. Blaise noticed your outfit and gave you a confused look. Mattheo poked his head around, seeing Blaise's reaction. Mattheo rolled his eyes and leaned back. You settled a few steps above the floor, grabbing onto Blaise's hand.

"thought you weren't coming, but looking at your clothes you don't seem to be staying very long." You nodded. You leaned over the banister, getting into Blaise's face. He held his breath, staring blankly at you. You kissed the corner of his mouth before pressing your lips to his temple.

"come upstairs with me?" You wanted it as a statement, but it fell like a question. Blaise gave you a soft smile. He shoved his cup into Mattheo's hands and sprinted up to your step. Mattheo yelled something about a condom, to which Blaise flicked his wand at him. Blaise's drink spilled over Mattheo's head. Mattheo huffed. You pulled Blaise up the stairs by his hand. When you reached your dorm, Blaise pulled you closer to him. He interlocked his fingers behind your back, his arms around your waist. You rested your arms over his shoulders.

“Scale 1 to 10, how intoxicated are you?” You mumbled. You knew you sounded kinda geeky, but you knew better than to sleep with someone drunk. You had morals. Blaise hummed and kissed your cheek.

“Negative five.” You rolled your eyes. Blaise rubbed your back, slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt. He explained how he had only arrived a few minutes before you came bounding down the stairs. You squished your lips to the side. Blaise hummed in question. You nodded.

“I suppose we could continue.”

“Oh you suppose, do you?” Blaise gave you a mocking smile. You hummed and pulled him into a kiss. He tightened his arms around you. You nipped at his bottom lip. Blaise opened his mouth for you, letting you slip your tongue to meet his. You dropped your hands to his collar. You made fast work of unbuttoning Blaise's shirt, throwing it somewhere in your room. You walked him back. His legs hit your bed. You pushed Blaise down before straddling him. He ran his hands up the back of your thighs moving to the small of your back. As you tilted his head back, giving yourself a better angle, Blaise dragged his hands down your back, slipping past the band of your pajama pants. He gripped your ass. Your stomach twisted as you thought of all the times he’d done that to someone else. All the times Blaise had someone else’s tongue in his mouth. How many people he’d seen wrapped in his sheets. How many people he felt naked and pressed against him. You pulled back away from him. Blaise seemed to sense the change in the air, pulling his hands back to safety on your hips.

“You okay?” You sucked in a breath and sat back. You stared down at your hands slowly slipping away from his chest. Blaise gently pulled both your hands into his. He whispered your name. You stared into his eyes.

“Am I your favorite?” Blaise titled his head to the side. You still felt sick thinking other people pushing their hands past the band of his boxers.

“Favorite what?” You rolled your eyes at him. Lorenzo could play off the oblivious act but not Blaise. He said far too many filthy things in your ear for you to believe him. You gave him a knowing look. Blaise opened his mouth in realization.

“Ah.” You nodded. You pressed your lips together, feeling you already knew the answer. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle him actually saying it out loud. You already missed the feeling of his hands down your pants. You could feel the rejection boiling in your stomach. Blaise pressed his hand under your chin, pulling you to look up at him. Blaise gently pecked your cheek.

“Of course, baby.” You shook your head. He tutted. You glared at him.

“Stop looking at me like that. All pouty.” You glared at him more. Blaise rolled his eyes.

“You make my breath stop. Everyone knows how i feel about you. I don’t even look at other people like that anymore. It’s just you on my mind, darling.” Blaise pressed his hand to the back of your neck. You pulled him back into the kiss, this time with more fervor. Blaise understood you excepted that answer and wanted to pick up where you left off. He tugged at the hem of your shirt. You quickly pulled it off and flung it in the same direction you did for his shirt.

Blaise dropped his head to your chest. He pressed his lips to your collarbone, pulling the skin into his mouth. You moaned and traced your fingertips over his head. Blaise dragged his teeth over the new mark. You exhaled and gripped his shoulders tighter. You dropped your hands to his pants, tugging at the band. Blaise shook his head.

"No baby, clearly you're questioning my love for you. Gotta prove it to you, hm?" Blaise pushed you back against your sheets. He pulled your pants and underwear down, dropping them over the edge of your bed. Blaise gently blew between your thighs. You groaned. Blaise smiled at you before lowering his head. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue. Blaise nipped at the inside of your thighs before kissing your happy trail.

Blaise dragged his hand down your side. Blaise very gently pushed two of his fingers into your hole. You groaned and lulled your head to the side. He moved his fingers making you moan more. Blaise kept his pace as he moved up and connected your lips. You cupped his cheeks as he met your tongue with his. Blaise grinded down against your sheets as he swallowed your moans.

His underwear was just rough enough for him to know he'll be finishing without your touch tonight. Blaise quickened his pace with his fingers making your chest heave and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You felt your stomach tighten as you arched your back. Blaise moved his mouth to your neck as he kept his pace with both his hips against your sheets and his fingers moving in you.

You moaned loudly cumming around his fingers. Blaise pressed his face against your bare chest as he came in his boxers completely untouched. Your breath returned to normal as Blaise slowly moved his hands away from between your legs. Blaise wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face further into your chest. You massaged his scalp as he came down from his own high.

Blaise peppered kisses against your stomach as he sat up. He told you he'd be back in a moment. You heard your bath running in your bathroom. Blaise came back to you, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulled you into your bathroom. Blaise joined you in the bath. He took his time to run through your entire routine. He washed your body, face, hair, and massaged your body once you made it back to your bed. By the time your roommates came back from the party your curtains were drawn and you were asleep in his arms.

[flowerinjuries]

Hii!, can u do a jaehyun or jeno type of bf? i loved the ones u did already

jaehyun as a boyfriend…

the soft side:

you two were probably good friends before you decided to say fuck it and start dating

very very casual thing at first

maybe he was just your fwb

jaehyun definitely caught feelings though

would start paying attention to the smallest details about you

what made you laugh, what made you angry, what you were wearing…

you just kept him on his toes and he liked that

he always looked forward to seeing you

then he started reaching out to you more and more because he was just addicted to talking to you

he’s more of a listener than a talker so he can just listen to you ramble on about the most random things allll day

he shuts you up by kissing you though

you two never really made it “official” but everyone knew you two were exclusive and super into each other

he’s super protective of you

always has an arm wrapped around you

only you make him smile so wide

he’s honestly miserable whenever you’re not in the same room as him

i think he gets irritated by people pretty easily, but around you he’s so easy going and patient

he really admires you and values your opinions on everything

jaehyun is a curious person and he loves that you’re so intelligent and passionate about whatever you love

so he just wants to be open ears for you

he thinks you’re so cute

he definitely babies you

coos and uses his baby voice

but if the guys caught him speaking this way lol they’d make fun of him

he’d get red and embarrassed but he won’t stop

bc you’re his baby :((

he feels the most comfortable around you

and wants you to feel safe around him

when it comes to you two, “home” isn’t a place, rather it’s each other

lmao that’s cheesy but it’s true ok!!

jaehyun is just the definition of comfy boyfriend

you love wearing his hoodies bc they smell like his boyish cologne and laundry detergent

jaehyun is kind of a goofball

he’s really clumsy and makes stupid jokes all the time

you roll your eyes but he still manages to make you giggle

he’s probably the type of boyfriend who likes to tickle fight lmao

he’s just overall super boyfriend vibes if you get what i mean

jaehyun also loves to spoil you

you like to dress up and go out to eat somewhere fancy and order expensive wine and dessert

he literally plans all your dates

he never forgets important days

he’s literally the valentine boy!!!

such a romantic

he’s the perfect guy to introduce to your friends/family

they all love him immediately

seriously when will you two get married?

jaehyun best boyfriend!

the not-so-soft side (18+ / nsfw):

daddy dom

he expects you to praise him

he obviously praises you too, but he wants you to treat him like a king

i think he has a god complex

as he should though because he does fuck like one

knows exactly how to use his big cock

loves when you choke on it and cry

thinks you look so pretty like this

if he’s being nice and soft he will call you sweet names like angel, pretty baby, my good girl/boy, doll, bunny, etc.

but if he wants to be mean he will degrade you and call you names like cockslut, filthy whore, fuckdoll

either way is good with you

you love to please jaehyun

you both think each other is the sexiest person alive so obviously the sex is great and hot

can we talk about his happy trail

you love to tease him by licking his abs, then go down his happy trail, until you finally reach his huge cock

he loves watching you do this

and it feels great for both of you

even though he almost always doms, you both are equally pleasured

he loves wrapping his hands around your throat

this is how he guides you

god jae loves to fuck you from behind like some type of cheap whore

sticks his fingers in your mouth so you can taste yourself and so that he can muffle your screams

sticks them so far down your wet throat you gag

i think if he’s into any toys it would be gag balls and handcuffs

but he thinks he’s too good for toys

like i said i think he has a god complex

strokes his dick in you just right

hits all the perfect spots to get you to cum hard

literally you cum so hard each time on his dick your body collapses

jaehyun just laughs and brags to you about it later

“what? want me to fuck you so hard you turn into my little rag doll? whatever you want, sweet girl/boy”

:(((

yes you want that :(

he wants it too!!

he feels so powerful knowing he fucks his girl/boy so good

just like you deserve

and he loves when you praise him telling him how hot he is or how big his dick is

boosts his ego

getting fucked by jaehyun is a dream

thanks for reading!! asks are always open btw! and i’m working on writing more nct members as boyfriends :)

[atsumwah]

lucky encounters

featuring : bokuto koutarou

includes : fluff ! this started off as a vent bcs i had no one to tell tbh so if the part w the manager seemes a bit personal, it was. anwuas stan bokuto foreva and allways <33

working in a convenience store isn't the best job to have. your manager nags you a lot for the pettiest things ever, you always always get the day shift so opening up at the crack of dawn all alone is exhausting oh and favouritism is a thing among you and your coworkers seeing as how differently your manager treats them and you (you're pretty sure she's just jealous you naturally attract people anyway.)

but you still get paid at the end of the day and job hunting is a pain in the ass so you're stuck with this for a while.

okay, it wasn't so bad. most of the time when the manager leaves for the day, you get to relax and blast out songs in the middle of the store. you get to have small talks with the vendors that come and go everyday so that cures your boredom.

the sound of the bell ringing caught your attention and immediately went into your customer service mode, yelling out a chirpy "welcome!" with your ever so easy fake smile. you never really expect a reply so when the customer yells a very energetic "good morning!", you couldn't help but look up. 

and boy did you not regret it.

this guy, man honestly, is just— well you had eyes and there's no sugarcoating it.  he's hot. like, extremely ridiculously hot. you can't help but let your eyes trail his well built physique and to his multi coloured hair that you're sure no one can pull off except for him. white with black streaks? if it were anyone else you're pretty sure they'd look like an old man— but he looked far from it.

you had to stop checking him out when he finally made his way towards the counter.

"hi," you croaked, cursing for it slightly, "is this all?"

"yep!" he says with a cheery smile, almost too cherry for a dull sunday morning.

good god even his smile is contagious. 

you ring him up as you usually would for any customer and if your cheeks were red then you could blame the humid weather. "thanks, have a nice day."

"you too!" he says, giving you a small wave before exiting the store. 

suddenly, you don't hate morning shifts.

***

your days definitely gets better when he comes in.

you don't know his name (and you don't want to come off as a creep to find out) but he's becoming a regular at the store since last week. he has white blackish hair and always wears a fitted t-shirt that hung in all the right places and a pair of shorts. you assume he jogs in the morning judging how he always comes in a bit sweaty and always always buys at least two bottles of water. 

not that you keep track of what he buys or anything. it's just, he's nice eye candy to have around, alright?

and he's so friendly. over the time he's come in, he's always the kind of customer that initiates small talk. most of the time you hate it seeing as you like to keep to yourself but his aura is so inviting you can't help but talk to him when you get the chance too.

but it's not like you like him or anything. not like you haven't a crush on a customer that treats you like any guy who was raised right should. 

but then again was it so bad if you did? 

ugh. yes. yes it was.

this guy could have a girlfriend for all you know and you're here ogling him like a snack. (which he is— no— stop looking at him!)

"morning!" 

his voice caught your attention and you realized he had just come through the entrance, precisely at 8:30 am like usual. 

"good morning." you gave a smile, a real genuine one than your default customer service smile. 

you kept yourself busy by arranging the pens in the holder even though it'll just spiral into a circle in the end. 

you saw him grab what he needed and walk towards the counter, mimicking his movements from behind it so you'd both get there at the same time.

"ooo what's this?" he said, pointing to the display of chocolates right on the counter.

"ah, it's a buy 1 get one free deal. since, you know, it's valentine's day and all that."

"oh, that's right." you saw his eyes widen slightly. 

is this your chance to finally know if he's going to buy something for he's maybe significant other?

"there's also a lot of selections behind you, special price just for today," you continued, pointing at the rack behind him. he followed your gesture and began looking through it. 

so he did have someone. right? why else would he get chocolates if it weren't for someone he liked?

"which one would you get?" 

"well a lot of people have been buying the one with nuts or fruits so—" you started but 

"do you like it too?"

"me? not really. I'd rather get the plain ones for myself." you answered. 

"plain, huh?"

"yeah, a boring choice but i like it simple." you defended.

"nah, i don't think that's boring at all." he says, almost enthusiastically. he grabs two plain chocolate bars and sets it up on the counter.

you ring him up as usual, and as he grabs the bag you packed his stuff in— he takes out one of the chocolate bars and hands it to you.

"happy valentines day." he says with a beaming smile, before waving you goodbye and exiting the store.

what.

****

you don't see him after that. 

he doesn't come in when he usually does and your morning shifts honestly got a little boring. 

it doesn't seem as lively as it was and you curse yourself that every time the front entrance rings out, you're kind of hoping it was him.

and besides you didn't get to thank him for the chocolate properly! granted you did splutter out a thank you after composing yourself from blushing too much a little, but by then he was already out the door and out of earshot.

sighing, you chose to distract yourself from feeling too bummed mr hottie didn't visit yet again today and drag the box filled with— snacks ? candies? honestly you didn't give a damn— and settled yourself in front of one of the empty shelves.

you sat cross legged on the floor and tried your best to restock the shelves before you. and maybe tried to reorganise things that didn't even need to be organised, it was a long shift, sue you for wanting something to do. your manager was at the front so you didn't have to worry about paying attention to the cashier so much.

you were in the middle of organising, moving things to your entertainment when you felt a pair of eyes looking at you from the left. you turned your head and— oh. it was him.

he was peeking, rather cutely, from the aisle and looking at you as if he wanted to say something. 

"hi," he settled for instead.

"hi there, " you say, a little dumbstruck. "um, are you looking for something?" 

"no, not really. I just, I didn't see you up there." he says in an as a matter of fact kind of tone. 

damn it, why did he have to say it like that?

"oh." because that's all that was going through your brain now. cmon, say something else! 

"chocolate! thank you…for the chocolate the other day. I didn't get to tell you that." 

" 's'not a problem!" he says in his cheery nature. "I actually never had those so really I should thank you for letting me give it a try too!"

so it wasn't for someone else then?

but then again maybe he's just being nice. yeah, nice. he's just a really nice guy.

"of course. you didn't have to. i mean i could just get those for myself anyways. "

"i know but iwanted to. i hoped you didn't mind.” he said, then raised his eyebrows at you. “i hoped no one else minded too?"

you're lucky your brain caught onto his double meaning. 

“oh no, i didn't mind it at all. I think it was sweet.”

the smile he gave you was so bright you're sure it could cure anything. 

“great! I mean, uh, that's great.”

before you could continue—  someone clearing their throat broke your little trance and you could almost see the disapproving glare your manager was throwing at you. 

"ah,i have to get back to work."

"no worries. I'll catch you later?"

"sure thing." you said automatically, feeling the excitement of seeing him again rise inside of you.

***

the weather was hot when you exited the store and normally you'd retreat back inside the air conditioned space, but that didn't affect you today when you saw him again at the end of your shift. you heard him call out for you so now he was running and you slowed down for him on purpose.

"if i didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me." you teased.

he immediately panicked. "I'm not, I swear! I was picking up my mail when I saw you so I wanted to catch up with you." he said sheepishly, walking in step with you now. "I just moved to that apartment and well, you're in my morning jog route now."

ah, that explains it.

"I'm glad I caught you actually. I wanted to see you before I go." 

"oh, you're going somewhere?" 

"oh, uh, it's game season now so i have a few joint practices away from home." 

"oh, you're an athlete?" that makes a lot of sense. if he wasn't you'd just assume he was another gym guy because good god look at his body.

focus.

"yep! i play volleyball for the jackals." 

"wait, you mean MSBY Jackals? that jackals?"

"yeah, that's the one!" he says proudly.

now that you think about it, you've heard about his team once or twice on the TV playing in the background of your workplace. can't believe one of them actually lives so near you.

"i have some time left before i have to go and i was wondering if you're free after this," he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "would you maybe want to grab a cup of coffee with me?"

he might be a big shot in the sports world but standing beside you now, he looks nothing more than a guy in high-school asking the girl he likes out. you can't help the teasing smile that makes it's way to your face. "i will if you actually tell me your name."

"I never told you?" he says, mostly to himself than to you. "my name's bokuto koutarou!

"so can i call you kotarou?"

"you can call me anytime, honestly— I mean— ANYTHING—um—i'm good with anything." 

you couldn't help but giggle. he's so cute. 

"It's a date then."

[zarvasace]

I've been going through your ao3 bc I've n been having a hankering for Four/ colors content

Hyrule's fic where he has the loftwing tattoo is ouch in the good ways. Boy had it ROUGH and if I found out that happened to my bestie I would also puke so I get you, Sky.

And the one where Red and Vio grow up in a cult and Red is the perfect little cult angel so they'll be allowed to LEAVE and they haven't seen the sun for 16 years like my heart. Those poor boys. They just want to see their brothers and Red was too young to even remember them ;-;

I picture that Red and Vio found a nice house with a big garden and they spend all day relaxing in the sun and hanging out and nothing else happens to them and they're happy and also Red helps Zelda and the knights find and put a stop to the cult cause Red has alllll the information about them now.

Well I certainly have my fair share of Four and FS boys content. XD I've actually been meaning to add on a bit to the cult one, so here's a fun little epilogue! ~1k words, some CWs for implied religious trauma, some cursing, and moderate angst.

(said cult-themed fic is here! It's a whump fill and imo one of the more intense ones so.)

---

Green wipes his hands off on a towel and heads to the doorway to poke his head into the living room. “Hey, Vio.”

“Sorry!” Vio says, startling. The book in his hands jumps as he shuts it too fast. He looks up at Green, then blinks and settles. “Sorry,” he says again, this time apologizing for apologizing. 

Green takes a second to bite his tongue—he harbors an eternal, ice-cold hatred for the people who'd somehow managed to get it into Vio’s head that reading was something to apologize for—then shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant way. “I just wanted to ask if you had a preference between tomato sauce or cheese sauce for dinner. Blue and Red should be back soon.”

Vio slowly reopens his book to the page he'd been reading. “Um, I think Red likes cheese better.”

“Okay, well, what about you?” 

“I don't really have a preference.”

“Cheese, then,” Green says, just as the door to their little house swings open. 

Green’s little question had startled Vio, but Red's loud, enthusiastic greeting very much does not. 

“Viooooo! Guess what I have!” Red bounces in, wearing something a lot like what he'd worn that first day. It's red and yellow and reminds Green of festival robes. The thin fabric accentuates the way he dances in and presents a set of ominous-looking black iron keys to Vio in both hands. 

Those keys mean absolutely nothing to Green, but Vio raises his eyebrows. “You really did it, then.”

“Did you doubt me?” Red smiles. 

“Can we melt those down?” 

“Oh, I definitely plan on it.” 

Blue follows Red into the house, closing the door behind them both. He wears Vio’s old grayed cloak with the heavy leather mantle, though now there’s a splatter of blood across the side. Where Red is clearly very pleased with what they've done, Green can see Blue’s anger simmering beneath the surface. 

In a flailing of angry movement, Blue rips off the hood and tears the mantle off his shoulders. He bundles it all up and dropkicks the thing into the wall with a shout. 

“Woah, Blue,” Green says, stepping in but not touching him yet. “You okay?” 

“I'm fine!” Blue snaps. He throws his hands into the air. “I’m just dandy! I'm totally not traumatized at all! And I bet you aren't either!” He gestures to Red and Vio, who watch him warily. “We're all really well-adjusted members of society! Nobody treated me like shit while they thought I was you! Nobody at all!”

Green drops his towel and grabs Blue’s arms to stop him from throwing a punch at the wall. He's done it before. “Calm down!”

“Why should I?” Blue keeps shouting, but Green can see the shine in his eyes. “They kept saying, oh, they're good people, just misled, just take care of some of the leaders and everyone will be fine, but you know who gave a damn about me? About Vio? When we staged that—that—”

“Blue!” Green shakes him, hoping to snap him out of it, but all he does is shake the tears out. 

Blue is more prone to punching out his feelings than crying about them. The tears that fall down his face are out of the ordinary for him. He looks at Green like he did every time he became despondent: like he hopes desperately that Green can fix the world. His rage is quickly giving way to full-out sobbing, and it's a bit startling. This hasn't happened in years. 

Green has gotten good at dealing with Blue’s moods, but Vio and Red very much have not. Red has moved to stand half in front of Vio, as if to protect him, and Vio’s eyes have gone calculating. Then Red leans back to whisper something, never taking his eyes off of Blue and Green, and Vio responds, too quietly to hear. 

Blue starts to push away from Green, red in the face, but Vio is right there, hands raised as if he doesn't know what to do with them. 

“Um,” Vio says, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry!” Blue interrupts, his voice breaking. “I didn't mean to—to get mad—and we didn't find you—and I had no idea—” 

Red taps Vio on the shoulder and whispers loudly. “Ask if he wants a hug.”

A short, wet laugh interrupts Blue’s tears, and he shakes his head as if to say it isn't necessary. 

Vio’s face goes tight in a wince, and Green starts to move to interrupt, but then Vio raises his arms and wraps them around Blue, and Blue’s sobs go quiet almost instantly. After a few seconds, they readjust so Blue can hold Vio back. Vio definitely isn't crying, but he does hide his face behind his bangs and Blue’s neck. 

Red looks like he's about to cry, too, so Green nudges him. 

“Want to help me make some sauce for pasta?” 

“Really?” Red says, looking up. “Yeah. I do.”

“Come on.” 

Red drops the keys he holds on top of Vio’s discarded cloak, then follows Green into the kitchen. He's a little subdued, but still enthusiastic. By the time Red burns his half of the sauce (surprising no one), Blue and Vio have shifted to speaking quietly on the old couch. 

It's going to be a long road of healing, even considering how far the four of them have come so far. But now they know that the cult isn't going to come after Red and Vio, or kidnap anyone else, for that matter, since they got the princess and knights involved. But Vio has begun to keep his books in plain sight, and Red curses a little more every day. Red goes outside into the sun most days, and drags Vio with him every so often. They moved to a nice little house, and visit their father at least once a week. Blue has been happy, and so has Green. 

It's a long road, yes, and doubtlessly it's an uphill one. But they're on it together. 

[evilwickedme]

When I was in twelvth grade my school brought in a trans man to talk about his experience and I wanted him to know so bad that I had changed my name and that I accepted him and I was weirdly jealous in a way I did not understand bc I was perfectly happy being a teenage girl, right? In eleventh grade I decided I wouldn't shave my legs for a year because I was sick of beauty standards and then my dad time me I was hairier than him so obviously there was something wrong and when I got diagnosed with pcos my parents dragged me to laser hair removal, and then reminded me I needed to keep going every few months. I kept going, even though I hated it. I miss my leg hair. When I was 15 I changed my name. When I was 18 I shaved my all the hair on my head off even though I'd always loved my curls because they were too damaged to deal with anymore, and when a haredi man approached me to ask me if I wanted to put on tefillin, mistaking me for a boy, I spent the rest of the week strangely giddy and entirely unable to take it out of my mind, even though he'd immediately taken it back. I used to say before I came out as bi that I was an ally and didn't want to speak over queer voices, and I said the same thing about trans people, but I kept feeling like I had some much to say, like this mattered in ways I couldn't put into words. I've wanted a hysterectomy for years, and was devastated to learn it's incredibly unlikely that a doctor would agree to perform the procedure, since I was a young woman.

I thought, again and again, about that man. He thought he was a lesbian for the longest time. He used to avoid gendering himself, even in an incredibly gendered language, had gotten so used to it it came naturally. His partner considered herself a lesbian, except for him. I didn't know how to feel about that. What does it mean to keep your identity static when the people you love change around you. Is it easy to accept?

I changed my pronouns to she/they, then they/them, then in Hebrew I said please pick either she/her or he/him but stick to one or the other, then I said stick with he/him in Hebrew, then I switched to they/he. I said I was a demigirl, then I said I was nonbinary but didn't feel comfortable being called trans, then I started applying the trans umbrella to myself, then I said was transmasc. Around me so many of my friends were transitioning, mtf, ftm, exploring using gender neutral pronouns before settling back on their agab, exploring gender neutral pronouns and stopping there. A friend of mine told me that they were jealous of me because I was so sure of my identity as a person in their early twenties, while they were thirty and only just discovering themself. Did I know my identity? I wasn't sure. Another friend told me, they're currently nonbinary but they could see a future where they detransition. I cannot understand why my mtf friend was so sure she's a girl, when I didn't know, I had no clue, I didn't know where to go from here.

I thought of that man again.

I wanted to take my tits off and put them back on again and take them off again, just to see how it felt. I bought a binder, I told my parents it's just to fit into my button up shirts. I hadn't worn a dress or a skirt since the year after I graduated high school. I stopped wearing bras. I wore a button up shirt and a blazer whenever I could. I tried to find myself in the performance of gender.

I changed my named when I was just about to turn to fifteen, and a teacher followed me from middle school to high school, and she asked me if I was still going by that, cause she wasn't sure if I'd meant it, if it would've stuck. It stuck for ten years, even as I asked myself, is this really what I want? Is this my name? Would it be okay if I changed my name again, is it allowed? I told everyone who'd listen it's okay to changed your name for any reason, at any time.

I don't remember that man's name. I don't remember most of his story. I remember picturing him walking around, remember wishing I could pretend I wasn't a girl just for an evening. I wanted...

Well.

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter III

Chapter 3

Wordcount 4k

Title Dragonet

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Poseidon x reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Mentions of blood and piercing; mentions of nudity

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So, after almost saying sorry for the wordcount in the previous chapter, here I am with an even longer one lol I've put much effort in this one, specially bc it's the wedding night ;) (wedding nights are, apparently, on of my fav things to write).

A few words about the title: dragonets are a group/category of small, colorful fishes of "shy" behavior, greatly appreciated for people who raise fishes in aquariums. There are really interesting things about them to research :)

Also, I want to apologize in anticipation for the use of the word "manhood" in this chapter bc though I think it sounds good when it's isolated, it feels kinda ridiculous when you contextualize it (but this is just my opinion as someone who doesn't have English as their first language lol)

The Lord of the Seas, as silent as his own domain before a storm, didn’t give any signs that he has noticed your presence in the room until he stopped by your side before the altar, but a moment under his glare was enough to make you wish you were invisible.

He kept looking at your whole form, examining your appearance, that is, his servants’ work through the aspect of your hair, your skin and the gown you were wearing, analyzing your movements, the way you were staring at him, your breath, your shivers, everything. Those eyes, you guessed, were the eyes of someone who was used to have people’s lives and deaths in his hands, and you had no doubts that he could finish you right there if he decided you weren’t worthy of his time.

Fortunately for you – or not, you still didn’t know – you were worthy, and after his examinations, he opened his mouth… doing this to give you an order, as expected.

– Come forward. You are too distant from the altar.

Unlike you imagined, Poseidon had a soft, low voice, typical of a young man.

You hesitated, though you understood what was said, and for the first time a wrinkle of irritation appeared on his forehead.

– You are too distant from the altar, human.

The sentence was repeated in a slightly higher tone, but not even this was enough for you to make a move toward him. When he took one step toward you, it was the end of your self-control: you stepped back, and would have run away if he hasn’t reached you in a second. Your legs almost failed you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t let out a scream.

He raised his hand and you closed your eyes tight, too scared to see what was going to happen, but you opened them again when you felt his hand closing around your jawline; his skin was warm and his grip was far from rude.

What he did after that, however, made you doubt what you were experiencing.

First, he moved your face from one side to the other, as to verify its conditions; the second step was to raise his free hand to your ears’ height and snap his fingers beside each one, making you flinch; he then put his hand at your eyes’ height and showed you three fingers, moving them and observing as your eyes followed everything.

– Tell me – he ordered – How many fingers you see here?

You replied with some difficulty, less because your movements were limited by his hand than because of your nervousness.

– Three… – and, before you forgot the appropriate treatment, – Poseidon-sama.

Finally, he lowered his hand and let go of your jawline. Less patience was sensed in his voice when he spoke again.

– Now, tell me. If you can talk, if you can see me, hear my voice and understand what I say... Why don’t you respond when I speak to you?

You swallowed, and no word was heard from you. You could barely raise your eyes to him, but when you did, you saw him raising an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips curving themselves in a smirk.

What? A god can do this type of thing?

Apparently, not only he could do that, but he had also proficiency in teasing.

– Are you defying me, or are you just anxious?

You felt your cheeks warming up and looked away, but not before sensing his fingers touching your hair, brushing it behind your ear.

– So quiet, so hesitant and small... – he commented; and, with a chuckle, – I thought I would find a human here tonight, but instead of this… What are you? A dragonet?

Your eyes widened at the comparison. Now he was giving you names? What kind of man was that?

Your tongue was almost freed at that moment for you to make that very question, but before the words left your mouth, Poseidon grabbed your arm.

– There is no use for shyness here, woman. Come, now. Let's finish this.

He then led you to the spot he originally ordered you to take.

Now that you were seeing the altar from close, you could see details that went unnoticed before. For example, alongside the earrings, there was a white, folded piece of fabric on the tray, which use you didn’t find hard to guess: in case the bride didn’t have her ears pierced already, she would bleed, and the fabric would keep her clean. You used to wear earrings, but your last pair was taken away during the preparations for the wedding, as well as any other metallic object or jewel you might have had with you, so that you would be at least spared from the pain and the mess.

Poseidon took one of the pearls and approached it from your lips, holding it with his fingertips.

– Kiss it.

You obeyed, despite the strangeness of the instruction. He then moved your hair away from your right ear, exposing it, as well as your neck and collar, and pinned the earring on your lobe. You flinched at his touch, but one look from him and you stopped avoiding his hands.

The process was repeated with the second pearl, and you knew that the easiest part of the ceremony was over.

Poseidon was the first to speak after it.

– These pearls are the sign of the Emperor’s wives – he started – Not only for the others, but for yourself. From now on, your heart, your mind, your body and your spirit belong to me. Whenever I tell you to come, you come. When I tell you to leave, you leave. When I tell you to speak, you do it, and if I want you to be silent, you do it as well. You will carry my children, and only them; no one else can touch you and stay alive, for these pearls must be their only warning. No attempt of removing them will be tolerated, nor even if they come from yourself. Always remember this, and you will stay in my favor.

Finally, he raised the back of his right hand and told you to kiss it, as the ultimate sign of your compliance. No, you weren’t really agreeing with all of that; you never asked or expected it, but you gave him the kiss. You knew it was marking a permanent change in your life, but how many things have already changed since you were taken away from home? Even when you were trapped in the depths of the seas, marked as a god’s belonging, you still had hopes of finding your way, if not out of his domain, at least through it, but you would have to navigate between many things to get there, most of them unpleasing. You still had to learn where you were stepping into, and for this you had to study the territory.

Your study already began, with your arrival at the lodge and your friendship with Alyssa, and now it would continue with this strange wedding.

With the kiss, the ceremony was over. Poseidon held your wrist and, without any additional explanation, walked you around the altar, to the doors through which he arrived. With one hand, he pulled them, and a new path appeared before you.

His steps were steady, too fast for you to follow without panting; you would have stayed behind if he wasn’t holding you. At some point, when you almost stumbled, he finally stopped and turned to you, disappointed.

– Too slow.

You just stared at him, unable to speak.

– Humans used to be a bit stronger in the past – and, assuming a more serious tone, – I am not sure if I like what I see now.

And before you could think of a reaction, he grabbed you by your waist and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a little scream, and had no response from him but a tightening on his grip before he continued to walk on the same pace as before.

This is so humiliating.

The only advantage of this – if you could call it an advantage – was that you were spared from any anxiety that a longer trip to the chambers where your marriage would be consummated would provoke.

***

Poseidon only put you down when you passed the chambers’ entry, closing the door behind him.

You immediately stepped away from him when you reached the floor. You haven’t gone too far when you felt a warm, comfortable texture under your feet; you looked down and found a black carpet that covered the entire place, forming what seemed to be a black sea.

It was when you realized the wideness of that place.

It was like two or three rooms with your lodge’s size were built together, but without walls to separate them, and the existing ones were even higher, leading to a ceiling that reminded you of the skies out there, toward which you saw the bright star flying at that night. All around you, there was a cold, bluish light that touched everything, from the decorations on the walls and the furniture to your skin and gown, yet your sight was as good as if you were under the daylight.

Some meters ahead you, at your left, there was an enormous canopy bed with four columns and a golden shell on the top of each one, and with curtains and sheets so dark that they could be black or indigo under that light; the curtains were opened, but you couldn’t help wondering if you’d feel like drowning in an abyssal zone if they were closed around you. Not so far from it, there was a small table with a bottle upon it.

There’s oppression in each corner of this room.

All of this you noticed the instant when the door was being locked behind you; you turned to it, passing your arms around yourself. Your wedding night was going to happen, then.

Poseidon turned to you and, when he started walking at you direction, Proteus’ advice came back to your mind in a flash.

Trust the silence, the modesty and the compliance, and everything will be good for you.

Everything would be good if you chose to become his Lord’s wife. If you acted like he instructed, you would survive.

But would you still be you?

Anything that goes beyond this you will do at your own risk.

He spoke as if your death was a certainty in case you dared speak. However, if you didn’t do anything now, you would lose what made you human.

My freedom.

And maybe Proteus-sama needed to know more about humans, because if he understood that trying to prevent you from doing something by threatening you with the unknown was the precise way to encourage you to do it, he would never speak like that to you.

To him, my voice means my death. But, to me, it always meant change.

And because, besides a human, you were also a merchant.

And the best thing a merchant does is to trade.

You stopped trembling, and decided to make your first offer.

Right now, Poseidon was going to untie the stripes of his robe, but was still dressed with it. You pulled back and knelt on the carpet, with your palms before your head and your face hidden upon the ground.

You couldn’t see Poseidon’s expression when he saw that, but a sort of annoyance – and maybe a bit of confusion – was sensed in his voice.

– What is the meaning of this? Are you really going to beg for my favor right now?

You tried not to stutter in your reply.

– Yes, my Lord.

You heard him sigh.

– Well, whatever. What do you want to ask?

It was the moment.

– Please, my Lord… Kill me.

Now, a slight change in his voice was sensed: whatever he imagined you asking for, it was clear that he wasn’t expecting something like this.

– What?

You raised your eyes to him, afraid of going too far but eager to observe the emotions on his face while you spoke:

– Please... Kill me... Make me one of your servants... Or just throw me away... But do not make me a mother.

It was hard to tell if Poseidon was shocked or offended by your request. The best you could say was that he was intrigued.

– Do you understand what you are asking from me, human? I can finish you with a move of my hand if I want, yet you would prefer this rather than having my children? – and with a hint of indignation, – What kind of plead is this?

You couldn’t risk his patience now, as much as you couldn’t risk having your request denied. You took a moment to adjust your posture, kneeling with your hands upon your lap, not looking directly into his eyes, then started to speak lower, as if opening your heart to him.

– Poseidon-sama, if you give me a death like this, I would be honored. But if you make me bear a child, it would be the longest, the most painful death I can think of – your hands gripped on your gown – Please, show your wife mercy and don’t give her such fate.

The Lord of the Seas spent a moment observing you. Then, without saying a word, he turned his back on you and walked toward a corner of the room, out of your sight. When he came back, you shivered: he has now returned to his previous spot and had his Trident with him.

So... this is the fate he chose for me.

His grip around the weapon’s base increased, and he extended it toward you in the blink of an eye. You only had time to bow your head...

But the strike never came.

You looked again, and found the three blades pointing at you, at your eyes’ height, the metal shinning under the blue light.

He's not going to kill me, then?

– Touch it – he instructed – Beware of the blades.

You understood you were supposed to put your fingers upon the symbol beyond the blades, and did it. Despite not being made of the same material of them, it was sharp, and freezing to the touch. With all the possible caution, you moved your hand away, back to your lap, and the Trident was pulled back to his owner’s side.

– Here you have it. The sign of my favor. Now, on your feet.

You obeyed and he went to return the Trident to its place, then passed by the small table where you saw the bottle. He opened it and brought it to you: it was an interesting object, with an elliptical shape and a rounded cap, entirely decorated with small, reddish jewels and aged gold. Before you understood what was going on, he grabbed your jawline just like he did before and approached the bottle’s neck to your lips, making you swallow part of the content. You took two shots of the fluid, cold and bittersweet down your throat.

You coughed a bit when he moved the bottle away, putting it back on the table.

– What is this, my Lord? – you had the nerve to ask.

– I am simply answering your request – his reply was unfazed – With this, you will not be able to conceive for one month. The next month, on the same day, you will take it again.

You frowned.

– I don’t understand. If my request will be answered, why do I have to...

You never finished the sentence. You blinked and the next thing you knew it was your lips being silenced with his index finger, after he returned to your side in an instant. Apparently, moving so fast that mortal eyes can barely follow him was one of the Sea Lord’s abilities, something that you supposed to be both impressive and lethal.

He had the same smirk as before when he replied to you.

– Let me tell you something, dragonet. Killing you, thus making you a subject of my elder brother, would be rather a waste after bringing you here. Even worse would be making you a servant with these frail hands of yours – he grabbed your wrists and approached your right ear, whispering – And, concerning sending you away... do you think you would survive as a rejected offer? Do you even understand what it means?

You opened your mouth in shock and he chuckled.

– Not even your people would have mercy on you.

You remembered the relief in Alyssa’s tone when she said she was glad for being accepted.

So, there’s really a taboo surrounding rejected offers.

You didn’t have much time to think of this. You felt his arm passing around your waist and pulling you to him, in a way that you were forced to stay on tip toes, your hands upon his chest, with no chance to escape. With his free hand, Poseidon took a lock from your hair, approaching it from his nostrils, smelling it intensely as he let it slip between his fingers.

– Finally, I conceded you the favor of not becoming a mother, but you are still my wife, you understand? – he approached his lips to your neck, brushing them on your skin as he spoke – You were the one who took me out of boredom this year with this absurd request of yours. Who told you I would not want to see more of you?

Your eyes widened with that. So, he was indeed willing to keep you around.

Staying this close to him was not that bad, though: not only he was handsome, but his body was warm and the fabric of his robe was soft; besides, from him you could sense a deep, addicting fragrance that reminded you of the sweetness of flowers, with a hint of the salinity of the seas. You inhaled it in silence, wondering if it was elaborated to make women compliant.

All of this was observed carefully by Poseidon, and what he said to you about it made you hold your breath.

– Not only this, but you are a terrible liar, you know? – he whispered in your ear – I can sense, smell, your warmth, your arousal from here... It is still just a tiny bit, but it can always get better…

Just like at the beach, when you stood with the water at your waist and your body was too slow to react and avoid the next wave, there was no way to escape the one brought by the god who commanded all of them: the strength of his arm keeping you close to him, having only the thin fabric of his robe and your gown to separate you; his fragrance, which you still weren’t sure to be a perfume or his natural scent; his breath upon your ear, your neck as he spoke; his voice, soft and composed yet youthful, sweet even in the coldest threats and mockery, invading your thoughts like a lullaby, numbing your senses, making his authority acceptable.

If this is what facing a god feels like… how do I fight him?

Not knowing how, you didn’t fight. However, you hoped that one day you would find the answer, for the path to it was right there with you.

The answer is himself.

This thought barely crossed your mind when Poseidon suddenly released you from his grip, and you almost fell. Before you did, you felt his hand holding your left arm, while the other grabbed your gown by the cleavage and pulled it with no hesitation; in a second, the pretty piece was turned into shreds that were promptly discarded with one move of his hand.

You covered your mouth, then your chest with the shock. That was the reason behind that servant’s laughter and the enigmatic response of her partner: you didn’t receive anything more because you wouldn’t need anything more.

His eyes passed all over you, in a way that nothing escaped from them – not even the tremble in your legs. It wasn’t clear that if he approved what he saw, but whatever he might have found displeasing, he would discuss it with his servants later. You pitied them for the tyrannical lord they had to serve.

Poseidon let go of your arm and unraveled the stripe of his robe, getting rid of it as fast as he did with your gown. The blue fabric fell to his feet, exposing everything and making you understand that it wasn’t for nothing that he held such prideful posture.

He was perfect in every possible detail.

At that moment, none of you spoke, and you kept observing, feeling something between embarrassment and awe: the absence of flaws impressed and enchanted you, from the uniformed tone of his skin, to the thin, golden layers of hair shinning over it in different parts of his body; the line of his muscles, as defined as if made of marble; his broad chest and strong arms; the shape of his abdomen, his groins and manhood; his firm thighs and legs. It was hard not to imagine yourself being held, touched, taken by him, and that was precisely what he wanted you to think of, for he stood there long enough for you to catch all those details, fix them in your mind and give room to desire.

Of course. He expects me to give him my undivided attention.

And it was the easiest thing for him to get it, you had to admit.

He came closer to you again, but unlike you imagined, he didn’t surround you with his arms: instead, he held your left shoulder as to keep you in place while his free hand held your chin, in a way that looked more like a study than an attempt of seduction.

– I am going to prepare you first – he spoke more to himself than to you – Most humans use kisses for this type of thing, don’t they? It worked with the previous one – his thumb caressed your lips as he approached his own, whispering – It might work for you as well…

And it worked. As he approached his mouth and put it over yours, you closed your eyes, afraid that he would just suffocate you with greed, but none of this happened: he started with small, brief touches on your lips and the corners of them; noticing your compliance, he made the kisses longer and experimented with them, sucking your lower lip, opening your mouth to reach your tongue with his, while his hands started caressing your face, your neck and shoulders, then go all over your body, warming up your skin; they were strong, but didn’t lack gentleness.

As he extended his kisses to your chin, your neck and collarbone, with his hands continuing to work on the rest, you began to feel sleepy, even relaxed.

Even when humans aren’t common here, he really knows how to do it with them. Maybe these things are not that different with other folks.

When Poseidon understood it was the right time, he took you in his arms and carried you to the canopy bed. Concretizing your fear, he indeed closed the curtains when he laid you on the mattress, so the apprehension of being surrounded by darkness couldn’t be denied, but at the same time it was good not to have yourself exposed as before.

As cold ripples that reach your feet when you first enter the sea, you felt his hands touching your feet, then your legs; it tickled you, but when you tried to move them away, you sensed his hand closing around your ankle and pulling you down to him.

– Where are you going, dragonet? – he put his body over yours, and you sensed his hand leaning on the sheets beside your head – It is too late for this.

You didn’t reply. With his other hand, he searched for your mouth, and carried on with the kisses when he found it. At the same time, you felt his knee moving your leg to the side, separating it from the other as he laid upon you.

You were now one of Poseidon’s wives.

Chapter 4

[navire190413]

haha i got drunk and wrote like 2,000 words about my experience with learning japanese. read it sober and just sat in front of my computer like 😐

you know when old people talk a lot and sometimes its hard to tell if they’re trying to pass on wisdom or are just kind of full of themselves and want to talk about themselves? what i wrote was definitely the latter. i’m just an おじいさん who wants to drink and smoke and talk about myself and my hard work lol

one of my favorite 居酒屋 to visit on my way home from work is closing for good this weekend. its open 24/7 so it was always great for stopping by after drinking at the bar until morning. their squid and shrimp 串カツ are soooo good. i’m actually here now typing this on my phone. this izakaya is in a basement so i don’t have signal. i just end up scrolling through my photos or blogging in my notes while sitting here alone for an hour until my favorite bar opens at 7.

the last time i came here a server ive become acquainted with hit on me, and i didn’t pick up on it at all, so my reaction was kind of dull. i only realized he was hitting on me when he turned around and all the other servers were laughing at him bc they were all eavesdropping. he probably mentioned he was gonna do it beforehand haha. i’m so sorry. i would be totally down to grab drinks if i realized sooner 😂

he always makes me turn around and show him my backpiece when im wearing tanktops and croptops. and hes always basically yelling カッコいい！！its cute how not normal tattoos are here. i would never get these reactions in america but sometimes it can be annoying. yes yes i have a lot of tattoos. yes. expensive. yes painful. and then they find out about my scarification, which honestly most people in the states have also never seen, so then its a weird balance of explaining my love for body modification and not self mutilation.

money has gotten TIGHT lately. im literally courting my ex and bringing him to izakayas and nice restaurants every week and im going broke from it so i gotta stop hahaha. we did have a really good time last night, though. and hes always really grateful and respectful when im paying. he also initiated a lot of kisses and kept kissing my cheeks last night which was weird and not like him at all. im not gonna think about it anymore tho.

i am super excited about where we’re going on saturday. its an 青森県 restaurant and i guess they get fish delivered daily from there, so i hope its super fresh and tasty 😤. i unfortunately booked too late and couldnt get a private room, but i think sitting at the counter will be nice since we’re doing the all-you-can-drink course and itll be faster to get our drinks if we’re not in a secluded room.

my go-to drink for the past 2 years living here has always been highballs, but lately theyre way too strong for me. ive become obsessed with lemon sours, but because its not whiskey in them like highballs i become drunk super super fast. good for cost performance purposes but dangerous since im used to my highball drinking pace. i usually dont black out if i only drink for 2-3 hours on a work night but the other day i drank my usual amount, just this time they were lemon sours and not highballs. i was on the verge of blacking out returning home at only 9pm on a monday 😂

i can’t stop thinking about the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend two weeks ago. he’s american and he’s nice enough, but he’s been living in japan for over a year and cant even say すみません to get a server’s attention. he also doesnt eat meat, so i cant introduce him to yakiniku and yakitori which are my go-to. everytime we hungout i had to translate everything and guide him around tokyo. i brought him to an izakaya for his first time and had to teach him the words for squid and octopus. which he promptly forgot 2 minutes later. its literally taco and ika!!! we got lost in a department store one time and i had to ask for directions while he just stood there. it always felt like i was with a child who knew nothing when we were together. as friends, im more than happy to introduce tokyo and translate. but as someone who was obviously trying to be appealing to me, it was honestly a massive ick. i have no preference when it comes to what ethnicity or cultural background someone is, but i cant date someone who knows less about japan than me. it was a good realization actually! i always say i dont have a type, but i think im slowly starting to realize my type. he doesnt have friends so he would always say “lets go out and explore tokyo together!”dude i have been experiencing tokyo for 2 years. i have my favourite spots and my favourite neighborhoods and i know how to find good restaurants and i regularly go out and just do shit by myself because i can navigate it by myself. he also was expecting me to teach him japanese which was just soooo….

when you get to a level where you’ve lived somewhere long enough and can speak the language a lot of people expect you to be a free tour guide. when it comes to strictly friends with no expectation of me, im more than happy to plan a day of sightseeing and introductions but sometimes when i make friends with foreigners it feels like that’s all they want out of me. i mean it goes both ways. a lot of japanese men just view me as a fetish object. omg a white girl who i can actually speak to!!! maybe she can teach me english!!! ive never fucked a 6 foot tall white girl with tattoos!!!

for my established friends, i happily translate stuff for them and give them english lessons but man it feels like theres a lot of expectations of me meeting people here. from foreigners and native japanese people.

i have a lot of foreign friends who have lived here longer than me and dont speak a lick of japanese and dont have any plans on learning. i dont really feel one way or the other about it. theyve been here long enough and know they can get around and have fun without knowing the language. i cant imagine how tough that is sometimes so more power to them. but its always the people complaining they want to learn and want to understand and communicate but still for some reason just dont sit down and study or make an effort to make japanese friends so they can atleast pick up conversational japanese that i dont understand. why are you not studying???? sure its hard but just do it??? you dont even have to use textbooks. apps kind of suck once you get past the basics but its at least something you can do while riding the train and then atleast i wouldnt have to order for you at the bar after youve been living here for several months!!!

im a princess and a brat and am obsessive so studying is super easy for me. i studying during my lunch breaks and anytime im riding the train. i understand thats not the case for everyone, so i try to take the time to teach my friends who want to learn japanese important phrases for day to day life. maybe textbooks and studying isnt their thing, which is fine. okay i’ll teach you as we go. but even then they dont retain anything 😂 dont complain to me about not being able to speak japanese if you’re not going to put in a little bit of effort to atleast order a beer by yourself!!!! and if youre over thinking the difference between ください and お願いします before you can even say [名前]と申します, youre thinking too much!!!!! japanese is hard. theres a lot of info. if you start getting into super specific japanese before you can do self introductions, its gonna be a long long road. so im super happy i learned japanese in america where i went textbook step by step instead of being surrounded by confusing japanese all day long. when i try to teach my friends japanese they always somehow ask me about n2 grammar. and its just like. stop. ignore that. that does NOT have anything to do with you at this time. i was N2 before N3 grammar even made sense to me (i did get full points on n3 test despite none of it making sense to me though 😂) because i finally had context for it and could make the connections. without those building blocks and going step by step id be lost. and thats why you should study the language before coming to a foreign country.

god im judgmental.

[prodbyblush]

Just thought of something! It's ok if you don't wanna write it tho, of course!

What about a pre-borderlands!Chishiya at college with a s/o who's a drama major. My college is an exception that only has drama, but I know most colleges have a lot of majors in it. So I wonder how it would be like to Chishiya, a med student, to see his s/o running around with the most extravagant clothes and props and makeup, seeing her apparently talking to a tree (just practicing her lines), going to find her at her class only to hear people howling from inside the class like UUUUUUOOOOOOOOGGGFHHHHHHHH, or being in a date with her next to the drama major classrooms and hearing someone desperately screaming "HEEELP FOR THE LOVE OF GOOOOD PLEAAAASE HEEEEELPP" and seeing his s/o acting as if she's not even listening and only answering "is probably a rehearsal" when he asks her about it.

All of them are things that have happened to me at my college, so I just kept thinking how would Chishiya feel having a s/o that is the college version of "damn bitch, you live like this?" Kajskahsksba

You are amazing, sorry for the long text, hope you got yourself a treat today bc you deserve it💛 love ya💕✨😘

open mind - chishiya shuntaro

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

an: LOVE YOU MUCH MORE!!!

→ fem!reader

A med student dating a drama student, as they say, is not compatible. But who the hell cares about that?

To say the least, Chishiya already knows your pacing and workaround. They say drama major students can mask their emotions and feelings, but for him, he can still read you like you're still an open book.

Listening to a song on repeat? Chishiya may find it annoying at first, but he'll find himself humming to it while he's on his twenty minute break, a cup of coffee or energy bar in hand as he goes over patients' files on his clipboard.

Feeling pressured because there's an upcoming audition and feeling insecure as you're facing not only your fellow blockmates but your seniors as well? No problem. Chishiya will be with you, giving you pointers in areas you should work on while cheering you up with your favorite snacks and drinks. If you land yourself on the lead role, he'll be so proud of you. But even if you didn't, he's still proud of you, because you did your best and that's what matters.

"Why is Y/N doing jumping jacks while wearing a medieval gown?" He hears one of his blockmates ask.

"She's having a hard time memorizing her lines and the director is helping her. Don't worry, she's amazing. She'll be able to memorize it after that." Chishiya replies.

"Y/N's so amazing! She's already memorized the dance in just three minutes!"

"Of course." Chishiya responded, chest bursting with pride. "She's already a natural."

"Why is Y/N looking at her reflection with mascara running down her face looking like she's gonna murder someone?"

"Oh that?" Chishiya piques, turning his head to look at his blockmate. "She's playing as the antagonist of an upcoming play they're having."

"Y/N's growling like a lion in the other room." One tells him.

"They're having a workshop. It looks like the director has asked them to act as an animal." Chishiya answers.

"Do you guys hear that? Sounds like someone is vocalizing..."

"Don't bother. Y/N's part of a musical production. She's warming up her vocals."

Sometimes, it gets hard when the availability of days is not compatible. Chishiya could be free on the weekends, but you'd be having rehearsals and is needed in campus. But does that stop him from seeing you? Nope!

Holding a lunch box in one hand and the other holding onto your favorite drink, he's already on his way to see you, watch you rehearse even. It could take the whole afternoon, but you wouldn't hear a single complain come out of his lips.

Chishiya knows the cons of dating a drama major, but he knows what he's gotten himself into. And for that, he fully supports you through and through. Not only is he your romantic partner, but he's also your cheerleader and coach!

There's never a dull day between the two of you. Life may be hectic and demanding, but as always, Chishiya always knows how to find himself way back into you.

TAGS: @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds @boowoomuu @ang3liclov3ly @kenqki @shadowheads-shitshow @avacado-de-salade @lunoxxy @supercoffeeblogs

[misc-obeyme]

OKAY I'M WRITING THIS ON THE BUS TO WORK I'VE GOT 40 MINUTES AND PRAYING NO ONE LOOKS OVER MY SHOULDER.

Hello it's been over a month since the last part 😭 I've lost the groove. But uhh remember how I said Dia is a sponsor for the tour? He definitely ropes Belphie into attending some shows for promo pics. Belphie is going to attend the very first concert stop that night (there's maybe like four before the show in their city or something)

I'm thinking Lucifer is checking in on Mammon when I burst into the shop, running late but still making a stop for breakfast. Mammon slides my order towards me, waving his hand when I try to pay. Cue me glaring at him and stuffing a $20 bill in his tip jar BECAUSE HE CAN'T KEEP TRYING TO GIVE SOLOMON AND I FREE FOOD.

And he scoffs because I know I don't carry cash, BUT NOW I HAVE TO BC I GOTTA TO PAY HIM !! SIR !! YOU'LL GO OUT OF BUSINESS !! Lucifer is watching this all with a raised eyebrow. (He definitely makes his family pay. Luke is the only other one to get free stuff.)

anyway when I'm reaching for my drink he grabs my wrist impulsively because he notices I'm wearing new bracelets ??

"The hell are these?"

"I made them for my concert! Y'know, the one I keep talking about? Where I didn't come for a while because I had no money? It's in a couple days !!"

of course he knows about the concert. he knows about it, but Solomon and him kept forgetting the exact date. He also forgot to ask beg Lucifer to ask Dia for tickets.

"Why're ya making bracelets?" At the same time Lucifer asks "Concert? What concert?" because he did NOT know I was attending. He was actually planning to stop by after finishing checking on Mammon to present me with tickets.

"Fall Out Boy! My favorite band ever? The one I'm always playing in the shop? They're coming here! And I bought tickets so long ago and I'm so excited because it's my first concert and they're my favorite band ever and *wheezes for air* AND I GOT FLOOR SEATS TOO AND THEY'RE LIKE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE AND I CAN'T WAIT AND TO TRADE BRACELETS- ohmygod I'm even more late now okay bye guys!"

And Lucifer is kinda sitting there shocked. He doesn't know why he didn't expect me to buy tickets. Now he must recalculate.

"Hey Lucifer..." With the tone he used to use when he wanted to borrow money before starting the cafe. "I'm not bailing you out of bankruptcy for giving away food to your crushes." "C-CRUSHES? W-WHA? WHO SAID THAT, I AIN'T SAY NOTHIN LIKE THAT-" "Mammon." "Damn it, Lucifer, that ain't what I was gonna ask! I was gonna ask... Diavolo's sponsoring this thing, ain't he?" "And what of it if he is?" "...Ya think he has two extra tickets? I'll pay for 'em no problem. I just don't want her going alone, ya know?"

And Lucifer stares at him for a long time. So long Mammon is getting nervous, wringing a rag in his hands. And it clicks for Lucifer how he'll save this.

"Find out what seat she's purchased and let me know. I'll ask Diavolo and see what I can do. No promises, Mammon."

And Mammon practically beams while letting out a big breath. He nods enthusiastically and texts Solomon 'I need to find out what seat that ticket she bought is' to not forget, because he knows he'll be texting Solomon later anyway and will see the last message he sent, so he's sure to not forget. Foolproof plan.

"You need just two tickets, or three seats together?"

"...Three seats together. I said two tickets because she already has one, don't she? One for me, one for Solomon."

"Interesting. I'll let you know."

"Eh?! What is that supposed to mean?!"

okay uhh next part is gonna have beel and belphie i think at the cafe visiting mammon!! im happy to be writing this again. I did make bracelets when I attended this concert but I only made twenty the night before 😭 I had procrastinated so long and debated because I was too afraid of going up to people to hand them out. But I did get to trade !! I still have all the one's I got.

Um umm I had other things to say I'm forgetting. I looked up from my phone and panicked because I thought I missed my stop o(-( nah it was just construction making everything unrecognizable

have i named my mc before? i can't remember. i just keep avoiding using her name akwkwjd oops

OKAY BYE HAVE A GOOD DAY, MANAGED TO FINISH THIS BEFORE GETTING TO MY STOP

- ✨

MC NAME REVEAL, READY GO~

LOL but seriously, I have not heard her name and now I wish to know it! I know YOUR name of course, since I have stalked your blog a bit since you came off anon~ ah sorry if that's creepy~

But anyway!!

Lucifer to the rescue!!! What a guy, he's so nice in this story but still totally himself I love it~

Mammon giving away food to his crushes ;asldkfjdf and OF COURSE the only other one who gets free food is Luke that's so cuuuuuute!

I also LOVE the detail of Mammon texting Solomon something so that he'll remember it. It tells us so much about Mammon (ADHD lol), but it also speaks volumes about his relationship with Solomon at this point, too. Because if you know you're going to be texting someone that often, then they must be pretty important to you. And also you must feel comfortable with them if you're texting them little reminders for yourself. I just think this is a really cute detail~

Anyway, as always, I'm here for this sweet story!!

[stormblessed95]

I know a lot of jikookers are absolutely certain about jikooks relationship but I just don’t see it. I don’t ship them but there are things that will always I guess reassure that they aren’t in a relationship for me personally. I wanted to state them to see your opinion on it.

I want to start with jimin calling jungkook his younger brother, I think this is very telling on why it causes me to believe they’re probs just friends. I don’t usually see jk saying he’s my brother and my older brother as much as jm and it seems as though jimin is trying to like push a point if that makes sense but it could just be me perceiving it as that. No one who’s dating someone is gonna call them their sibling unless they have some crazy incest kink lol and we see jm do that. Another thing was jungkook saying Jimins girlfriend would be lucky this was prob in relation to jimin being a giving and kind person and I was like would anyone in a relationship ever say that even if they’re trying to hide a relationship.

Another big thing for me was the physical affection the members still all show each other (especially tae and jk I’ll explain further) and that’s not a problem of course but I would’ve thought there’d be some boundaries set and enforced considering jikook are in a ‘relationship’. Like receiving the same level of physical affection from them kinda said a lot but also didn’t. Like for example in life goes on at ptd las vegas jungkook grabbed jimins butt and everyone went crazy as they should but namjoon did kinda did the same and cupped jungkooks butt so I was kinda like? But that maybe something they’re okay with within their relationship. But other moments of physical affection that stood out with me are all regarding tae and jk. For example when he sat on taes lap which could of course be platonic but why would you do that on a stage with thousands of people and your so called boyfriend right there? And another was in the soop when jk sat on taes legs/thighs while he was laying down and they were both wearing shorts (this is kinda important because I feel like presence of clothing changes the level of intimacy of this moment) it made me question a lot. And a really big one again was when tae rubbed jungkooks upper thigh while jimin was right there which was very intimate considering it was yk bare skin and it seemed kinda normal for them. There are probably more moments like this regarding them and probably even other members but these rlly stood out and said a lot. There was also a time where jk kissed Jin’s leg or I think jm kissed hobis neck in hobis bday live.

And once in a run bts episode where jk succeeded in a game and he was really happy and jm n tae were there watching and he wanted to celebrate by hugging tae and jm also tried to hug him but it was awkward bc he only hugged tae n jm was kinda just left out it could’ve been that he just didn’t see him/register it(that he left him out). Or when namjoon commented on his live that he wanted to go on a date with jungkook and jungkook was like how can u say that here n a giggly tone (I mentioned this because flirting with smn who’s in a relationship) or a time where v kept telling jm he liked him n flirted with him. Like all these moments of intimacy wouldn’t be a big deal with me and my friends but we are all straight so I kinda can’t see it from the point of view of someone who’s attracted to the same sex and has physically intimate relationships with the same sex while being in a relationship with someone of the same sex I hope that makes sense. And im not an incel if my confusion comes off as that please understand im a bit special (neurodivergent)😭 and I do flirt with my friends iknow those are jokes so it could be the same for them too and me and my friends do all the same as I’ve mentioned here.

I think I’ll stop there. And I am in no way saying that because of all this their relationship isn’t as cute and intimate and special as before but this is just in regards to them being in a romantic one which could still be true because those theories of their relationship are all plausible. But I think you can kinda understand my confusion with the topic. Please share your thoughts

(I’m watching jungkooks 30/6 live right now 😭 he’s singing and working out i love him)

You are free to think whatever you want to think. My opinion doesn't matter more than yours. Although perhaps some advice, as a straight person, don't make comments and assumptions about how queer people interact with each other 😅 I'm bi, I'm married, I went out with my best friend the other day and we called it a "date" and I'm touchy with my friends all the time. I've sat on my friends lap at the pool before too and I promise I didn't even want to sleep with her at all. Even though I am also attracted to women as well as men. Soooo.... where do we go from here? Lol not to mention how queer people often have way different kinds of boundaries than straight people do. And how PERFORMERS and people in that kinda industry as a Job or hobby ALSO have way different types of boundaries and generally are happy being touchier together.... like these are straight people and they are dancers and they are dancing together and both are married to other people and you even see the girls husband get *jokingly* upset but never actually really bothered

Also please don't send me giant essays like this where you say you want my opinion unless you've actually gone through my masterlist first. Because I've literally already made posts about everything you've brought up. And I label it all so nicely and make it so easily to find if you wanted to go find it. If you would like help finding specific posts for specific topics. DM me. I'm actually really nice, promise. I've held conversations about my posts with non shippers and even tkkrs (which you lowkey sound like btw, no one other than tkkrs are usually so focused on taekooks skinship, which isn't as high or even as "sus" as many other member duos) and those conversations have gone just fine. My DMs are open.

My masterlist. If you really want my opinions here they are. You'll find posts over your specific topics mentioned under the Important Posts topic and the Jikook Posts topic. Happy reading from one ARMY to another.

And come back if you do read it and don't want to DM me and rather be anon. I'd be interested to see if you took me seriously (I'd be nicer in my replies then) or were actually just here to troll. I have posts about "younger brother" I have posts about relationship boundaries, I have posts about skinship. I have posts for tkkrs. I have posts about taekook being cute, I have posts for why I think jikook are a couple, I have posts for lgbtqia education, I have posts for practically everything. You just need to go looking for it.

[millipede-menace]

The bands back together! And they’re old lol

Art Notes/Rants below ⬇️

⚠️Warning⚠️

it is very long, I got a lot to say apparently lol

❗️They’re all aged up btw! In case you’re all wondering why i’m even redesigning them lol

🐱Chizu Mini Rant: I hate Chizu’s design in the show. Not the clothing more so the body model. I hate that they made her the stereotypical curvy cat girl with a tiny hourglass waist and tiny hands and feet. Really weird proportions, Like we’re going back to the betty boop era but no one else in the show looks like this? (Also, No hate to people who are curvy btw love you) It just doesn’t feel like it belongs in the show. Maybe if she were shorter, it would work better? Idk Also she’s like the only one in a full skin tight suit (like I get animation, but they didn’t even bother giving her implied loose clothes or armor like the other ninjas? Maybe bc she was undercover? but then she should’ve been wearing something closer to the bg character models) It’s like they’re trying to make her sexy but like why?????? for why????

I really liked the concept art of Chizu. She’s got a more sharp/rigid and square silhouette but still some curves (w/o it being weird). She still has tiny hands but her head isn’t the size of a watermelon and her face isn’t super tiny, the proportions are good. She’s all power stanced up lol She looks mean and menacing, someone not to trust or mess with. It’s literally spot on. ✨chef kiss ✨ It’s also probably why they didn’t really go with it, they probably rounded her out to be more appealing for the reveal? or she was hard to animate cause she did have baggier pants idk. Who am I, but a rando with a hard boiled egg for brains.

Art Notes: I took a lot of inspiration from the comics and I did want to keep her iconic red so she was still recognizable & stand out from the neko ninja. I made her a regular black cat! (with the idea of black cats being less likely to be adopted & be strays) (;-;) (I know she was kidnapped but still!! The stray cat vibes!!!) I gave her a more lean and tall figure, kinda like the comics but also to play off of Kistune’s height and it give scrawny stray cat vibes . . . again lol. It’s also a body shape I don’t see a lot in physically strong female characters (or maybe I do and just don’t remember? Idk but she can definitely kick your ass & she’s not here for anybody’s bullshit lol) I gave her the iconic ponytail from the comics along with the comb Kitsune usually wears. I wanted to give her green eyes (bc black cat & red and green) but i just kept them yellow. Maybe i’ll go back and change them. Her outfit is mostly inspired from Karai (bc she’s a ninja from eons ago & the gang is a little more traditional) just (pretend cuz i’m lazy) with traditional Japanese patterns. Chizu definitely got kunais and stars up her sleeves, but bc she doesn’t have to be a ninja anymore, I imagine her more into wearing pretty dresses with patterns and cute things. Stuff she never got to wear/ enjoy as a kid, you know. The show really wants to push her to be a bad ass girl boss who hates everyone and everything and is too cool and edgy for games but idk. I like to think she left the ninja stuff behind her and started living her own life based on exploring things rather than just being the cool ninja with an edgy backstory. I think she uses ninjitsu as a means of self defense but doesn’t like being connected to it b/c of the kidnapping and stuff. (We also see how she doesn’t really care about the tradition of ninjitsu cause during the show, she has no fucking clue what to do with the neko ninja, she just wanted them to stop hurting people and wanted to free the babies lol) Usagi and Kitsune are the ones who indulge her childish side. She wears a lot of red but her favorite color is pink. Kitsune def hypes her up and goes feral when she wears pink.

🦊 Kitsune Mini Rant: I hate Kitsune’s clothes in the show. Idk it just doesn’t look right on her. It’s got no shape it’s got no hiding spots for stolen goods. It’s not Kitsune. I like the concept art fit, it’s really cute. (She looks like a mini tank who will fuck you up in a cute way) but still #1 thing missing. Hiding spots for stolen goods!!! She needs some loose sleeves or flowy clothing like in the comics. (btw: I know it would be harder to animate in the show therefore I accept what they gave her but still!!!)

Art Notes: I’m not too sure about Kitsune’s fit tbh. I’m still workshopping it. She just needs something with loose sleeves! (Like she for sure is stealing shit and putting it up her sleeves, you can’t tell me i’m wrong/ it’s also where she could keep her fans!) I think i’m obsessed with her sleeves cause I imagine her gambling or playing a game of cards with a bunch of dangerous criminals and someone accuses her of cheating and she goes “What?! Me?! No, no. I’m just that good or maybe . . . you’re just that bad-” Then all the stolen cards fall out her sleeves and she just goes -fuck. and it turns into this picture vvv

ANYWAYS!!!! I gave her short hair bc idk, a girls gotta change it up sometime 💅 I actually liked her hair mimicking a fox tail but I feel like she would get bored of it and chop it all off one day. She's definitely the one who cuts and dye’s her hair at 1am then cries about it the next day. She’s got visibly longer ears and sharper face. Kitsune and Usagi wanted to get piercings together cause they’re besties and want to be edgy (she lowkey got it on her left ear to match Chizu) and so they did and Usagi’s Auntie was so PISSED lol. They got chewed out. Her hands and feet should be a little darker but i forgor. Also she’s got dark teal wrappings so it would be hard to tell anyways. I gave her the crop top with buttons from the concept art and the sleeves from the comic. They have the same maple leaf print from her comic too (i’m just lazy) and the cuffs are just lined to mimic the layers she had. She’s got her little pack, she’s also got some more smaller ones on the back (kinda like Leo). She also made a comment about not having money to buy herself shoes so . . . she’s got no shoes lol. It just wrappings under her shin guards. (no shoes just like Leo smh) It helps her be more sneaky tho >:)

Oh and they’re dating but i feel like that’s a given lol. I saw people shipping them at first and it literally went -> *sees ship* Oh they’re shipping the only two main female characters together again- yeah that’s greeeat- *Watches the show* oh. nvm I retract my sarcasm, they’re def gay for each other, thats nice. This is nice -w-

which is pretty funny, cause I think they don't like each other in the comics? (from what I saw in the singles panels I used as a reference at least) Chizu’s legit ready to kill Kitsune lol

Post Note: I totally forgot Chizu chose a bow and arrow as a weapon so now she’s just the stereotypical tall archer . . . i’m gonna go now ;-;

Gen Mini Rant: Holy Moly dudes, he was sooooo hard to draw ;-; I don't hate his design at all, actually it's one I like the most. I just don't like that there's not a lot of contrast on the 3D model and he kind just blends into a purple blob. (for me at least) I defiantly didn't do him justice but that's the best it's gonna get (from me that is.)

Art Notes: Don't look the feet . . . for any of them but mostly Gen lol. I don't really like the purple I chose but every color combo I did just looked bad idk. I can't do color, don't look at me man. Me and purple do not mix. He's still a bounty hunter so I wanted to keep his armor but I wanted him to have a long tail-coat/cape-ish jacket cause he would look cool as hell with one of those >:) (prob not practical but still) I wanted to add elbow and knee pads, but he's a rhino, he can take it. Also how can bad guys hurt him if he's too busy beating them up with his brass knuckles? He's still got his clubs but he likes clanging his fists together. lol His horn grew back! He's also got a goatee and everyone makes fun of him. The gang always threatens to shave it off in his sleep. I took more inspo from the show than the comic cause I don't really know Gen in the comics and what I did find was just miyamoto usagi but purple ;-; (clothes wise)

I wasn’t kidding, I had a lot to say, any survivors?

Feel free to suggest or critic my designs!! :0 Im not a design person and its mostly just for fun, but i looooove hearing people’s takes, especially hot takes >:) i like poking brains, its fun ^^