#technically i did do another book with the same page count once

[snek-panini]

It is Monday, and that means books! This is the series Summer of 1969 Road Trip by Princip1914. It's a fantastic story, absolutely full of longing and mid-century Americana vibes, and by far the shortest thing I've ever bound at just over 6k words over 48 pages. It's tiny. I was stumped on how to do the cover for a bit until I realized that a quarto-sized sheet of regular printer paper is about the same size as a polaroid photo, with a nice plain border to write the title in, and it fit the feel of the story so well I had to do it. It's one of the most complicated covers I've ever done. There's a layer of thin chipboard with a square hole cut it in, with this thick white paper wrapped around it, and there's a thicker board with this era-appropriate photo glued to the front of it, and then you line up the hole with the photo, sandwich them together and glue the outer edge of the white paper down around all the layers. Then I attached it to the text block and did the HTV for the title text. So many layers. But so very worth it, it's exactly what I wanted.

More pics under the cut! This one's super cute but it was challenging.

The endpapers are scrapbook paper printed with maps of the US. I saw them and knew they'd be perfect and I was right. There were come complications, though--that black border was not in the original plans. A couple of weeks ago I posted about making a case too big and then casing in the text block too far forward so it didn't open correctly. That was this book. I had to carefully peel up the endpapers from the case (only the back one came up; the front one had to be cut out and replaced entirely), then re-glue it further back. But the peeling process left some residue on the white cover paper, so I added some black cardstock to cover that before I tried casing in again. The case has a little bit of skew that wouldn't have been obvious if not for this mishap, but the black layer makes it really stand out, especially in the front. My other option would have been remaking the case entirely, but this was the second to last step and I decided to just live with it. It's handmade, and it's going to have imperfections. I think it's cute.

Top view. Very skinny. So skinny I was worried I wouldn't be able to do endbands and a bookmark like I usually do. I really like having those features, they make the book feel finished and professional, so I was glad they worked out. Was challenging to cut the endbands that small, though. I kept worrying I'd drop one and never see it again.

Interior images. I had fun playing with fonts on this one. I wanted the story titles to be fully in the fancy font but they looked really weird that way. The stories in this series are short but have very long titles, and since it's a quarto size book I scaled the fonts all down a little from what I use on the folio books. The fancy font was just too busy and crowded for the whole title at this size. This was my solution and I actually really like it, it looks so nice.

As cute as the results are, and as much as I love them and this story, I'm not sure I'll do another this length with this kind of flat-backed binding. It really was a challenge getting all the measurements right. I may learn another style for doing short fics in the future. Nonetheless, rarely has a book come out looking so close to what I pictured when I first start planning it, and I'm super proud of that complicated cover even though it was a bastard to put together.

That's it! I hope you like it, @princip1914!

[asexualbookbird]

August feels. Blurry. The Thursday of the year. Of the summer? IT feels like the year. I managed to fill out my entire Summer Bingo Board for the library. I haven't heard back about winning any prizes, but I had fun and that's what counts. Bingo made me branch out of my comfort zone which was really neat. Can't say I'll do it more often, a comfort zone is comfortable, but I do enjoy reading something Different every now and then. Did some crafty things this month, which has been a lot of fun, and I've been Smart and Wise and started on holiday gifts so I'm not scrambling in December. It's called personal growth~

The Bone Season: Tenth Anniversary Edition by Samantha Shannon ⭐⭐ - I'm salty about this. Yes, it's an improvement, but it still sucks. The world and magic is so neat, but we're stuck with a plot Like That. Made me do an actual full review on goodreads and on tumblr if you want all the details.

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon ⭐⭐- I kept my original rating because honestly I felt the same as I did years ago. It's worse than the updated version, but it's the core of the novel that needs changing. Props to this one at least for making Paige asexual. I do not want to see this book on ace book lists ever again.

The Adventure Zone: The Suffering Game by The McElroys and Carey Pietsch ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- One of the best installments so far. The art is AMAZING, I love the meta they're doing with Griffin and The Hunger, it was a little rushed and I'm bummed we aren't getting a full adaptation of The Stolen Century, but this is still right up there with Petals to the Metal for me!

The Hollow Places by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - T Kingfisher has never written a bad novel to me, but this one did take me longer than her others to really click. The audio narrator had some inflections that didn't work for my brain, but once they went through the door, things got Weird and picked up. These two made so many stupid decisions, but it still felt in character! Big Stan Pines energy coming from that uncle.

Frostbite: How Refrigeration Changed Our Food, Our Planet, and Ourselves by Nicola Twilley ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - For book bingo! Got me a square for Read Nonfiction, Read Something About The Environment, and Read Something You Found from Book Page (a magazine advertising new and upcoming books). AND it had a local connection. I learned a lot, it was really neat and didn't feel like I was reading a textbook. It was very engaging, and has me looking at grocery stores differently. It was hard to find, though, because Frostbite is a very common name in the urban fantasy romance genre.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Oof. Very heavy, very creepy, very GOOD. Did not expect the many graphic dog deaths, but that was on me. Technically I WAS warned, my brain just didn't register "SGJ dogs are not safe" as "The dog dies in this one". The audio narrator was very good, but I had to listen to the opening a couple times to really get everything to click. It might've been easier had I" read it myself, but the cadence of the narrator really added to the story.

The Last Heir to Blackwood Library by Hester Fox ⭐ - Wow when was the last time I had a true one star read. (Actually not too long ago. It was The Novice.) This wanted so badly to be The Haunting of Hill House, but if you want another book like Hill House, just read Starling House. We missed what actually happened in the book because the main character was losing her memory. If you want that, go read Harrow the Ninth. This was a mess and I hated it.

On that note, I need to read something to recharge my faith in books, so MURDERBOT TIME! That's my only reading plan for September, but now I'm feeling Rushed because the year is almost over and I still have about half of my reading goals list left. Whoops. I'd also like to at least attempt some of the Swordtember prompts, if not do all of them. That looks like a lot of fun! So! Onward we go!

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

So I just finished binding Trust Life by the absolutely amazing @chaiandsage (Hello, I am ready to be perceived now, I hope that I have done your story even the slightest bit of justice) and I just wanted to make a post both showing it off, and going through what I learned doing this bind because I did a few new things here and want to talk about it.

Also I'm not going to subject you all to this, so most everything but the final product here is going to be below the cut.

(Also so sorry that the photos aren't the best. I am... Very bad at photography, lmao)

Ok, so let's start off with some of the cool things I learned during this bind. Or, maybe not necessarily cool, but they are things I learned and I think that learning is cool!

First off, I learned how to download and add fonts to Microsoft Word, which while not interesting, does open up a whole world of fonts for future binds. Is it a little late in the game to have found this? Probably. But it is what it is. I actually downloaded a pretty good chunk of different ones, but the fonts I actually used were MF Love Dings for the heart motif dividers, which was a new download, and then a few standard fonts - Edwardian Script ITC for the title pages, Baskerville Old Face for the chapter headers, Book Antiqua for the chapter titles, and good old Garamond for the actual text of the novel.

Here is the divider and the title fonts. I just think they are neat.

Another thing I learned was how to make book cloth! I found these squares of white cotton fabric at a dollar tree and decided to give it a go. The way I did mine was by painting them first (a task in and of itself, and as you can see on the cover, did not turn out super even, but I love them nonetheless) and then I glued down a layer of tissue paper to give it a little stiffness and make it stick to the chipboard easier, it was a super cool process and I look forward to trying it again in the future now that I have done it once and have a better idea of how I can improve in the future

And now onto some of the other cooler parts of the process!

So I had a lot of fun doing the formatting, it's my favourite part of any binding process, I cannot tell you how many fics I have formated that I have yet to print out and actually bind because I enjoy the process so much (the answer is actually 5 that are completely formatted and ready to go, 3 that I am actively in the middle of formatting, 4 projects completed - including this one, which... may technically count as 3, granted 2 of them were gifts for other people - and 3 that I am planning on doing that I haven't gotten to start on yet. Oh, and a 5 part series that I have printed out but haven't actually bound yet. I have a problem, lmao.) As I mentioned, I downloaded a few fonts for this but it just ended up looking so good in the end. Here is what some of the inner formatting looks like (I did just take the screenshots from word, I thought it was easier than getting the pages in the book)

Something else! This was the first time I actually broke a single fic into multiple parts, and I do not regret it. Each section is fairly large on its own, so it would have been a monster all together. I gave them basically the same title pages and such, just used the main stories summary for all of them and copy pasted everything - work smarter, not harder - and kept the same format for the chapters and such. There were 2 obvious spots (at least imo) for breaking things up, those being at the end of chapter 24, and then again at the end of 57, if you know, you know. However, that made the divide be 24 chapter, 33 chapter, 9 chapters. I was a little worried about how that divide to affect the look of the books, but I was pleasantly surprised how well it worked out. Book 2 there is quite obviously the largest part (it's basically double the length of book 1) but book 3 was surprisingly long for being only 9 chapters and I think they look fairly cohesive together. I didn't realize how long the last nine chapters themselves were. The first and third ones are actually about the same size together as book two, which is pretty cool!

When it came time to put together the actual books, I stuck with my tried and true french link stitch, as I find it to be a sturdy stitch, and then used green, yellow, and red card stock for the end pages, I felt it thematic.

I'm super excited to have this as a physical book now, thank again to chaiandsage for allowing me to bind this amazing story and just for writing it in the first place! I read it like twice in the span of a month, and I swear I have read chapter 57 and 58 themselves way too many times to count. Not even going to mention the amount of times I read the last 6 chapters because I just love a good happy ending.

But yeah, I'm really happy how this bind turned out, I still have to put an actual cover in these - which I plan on doing, I have a friend who is going to help me with the cover design when they are free, so there will be an update at some point.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Is there any romance where the couple bath together?

Yes!

Princess by Gaelen Foley has a lovely scene where Darius and Serafina bathe together shortly after they hook up for the first time. They didn't go all the way~ because she's a princess and he's a kitchen boy bodyguard, but she's very overwrought about everything (she had a Big Day) so he holds her in the tub and it's very cute and hot.

The Duke by Gaelen Foley also has a scene wherein the heroine is in the bath and the hero like... helps her bathe? And then he helps her with other things while she is standing (and he is on his knees), still in the tub, so it counts.

Fantasy-wise, there's Charissa Weaks's Witch Walker series (not standalones). In the second book, Alexus and Raina go to these special pool hot spring things to bathe after a long journey, and they wash each other's hair and stuff. Tbh, they were definitely doing ALL OF IT in their little tents during the journey, so. What's super hot about this too is that they ran out of birth control during the journey (fantasy potions lmao) and the new doses haven't kicked in yet, so they have to... finds some workarounds...

Forget Me Not by Julie Soto is a contemporary romance with a REALLY good tub scene. The heroine is a high-strung overworked wedding planner, and she and the hero are kind of in a casual borderline FWB "what are we" situationship. He... helps her relax.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley has a scene where Isabella is in the tub and Mac walks in. He does some things. When the maid comes in he wipes his face off with a towel. So he wasn't in the tub, technically, but he did get pretty wet.

Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt has the infamous scene where Bridget is in the tub and Valentine is watching her and going on about her toes and stuff. He does not get in the tub. Scandalous Desires also has a scene where Mickey is in the tub and Silence comes over and he makes her ~feel him. So neither one is a mutual bath situation, but thought I'd mention it.

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe has an amazing bath scene after Nellie and Lockwood first hook up, where she's like "I don't want a relationship" and he's like "for sure I am on the same page now let's cuddle in the bathtub while we tell each other our deepest darkest emotional secrets". He is.... RIDICULOUS.

Bride by Ali Hazelwood has an extended, very very good bath scene.

Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole has another "not bathing together but he's watching" scene which is AGAIN fantastic. The hero and heroine are SUPER ENEMIES (he has her imprisoned and wants to annihilate all supernatural creatures, she is a supernatural creature) but as it turns out, they were lovers in SEVERAL past lives. And she remembers this, because she actually never died and is immortal, but he, the reincarnated one, can't. So she bathes and talks about all the things they did in his past lives while he sits there, gripping the chair to keep from jumping her... and then he starts telling her what he'd do to her in THIS life...

American Royalty by Tracey Livesay has a scene where the heroine is in the bath... the hero isn't, I think, but it's another one where he's like "while I'm here om nom nom".

The Music of Love by S.M. LaViolette has an ANGRY BATHTUB BANG scene. The hero and heroine are married but on the outs (she is also pregnant, which is why they're married lmao) during a trip to visit his family. So they're at this inn, and she's in the bathtub, and she's been Lustfully Watching Him Undress sneakily... And he walks in and.... It is SOOOOO GOOD. But also hilarious, because they're mostly just incredibly mad at each other throughout.

A Shore Thing by Joanna Lowell has the leads' first time in a bathtub (I mean, it begins in a bathtub) with what begins as a definitely not innocent bath. They're on a bicycle race together, so they stop in an inn and Things Happen. They also do it in a Victorian bathing machine later lmao

Once More, My Darling Rogue by Lorraine Heath has a bathing scene, I believe. I can't remember exactly what happens, but I'm pretty sure it leads up to this as the hero makes the heroine wash his back as a part of like, her job lmao.

Lisa Kleypas has scenes where the hero "tends" to the heroine in an afterglow bath in Seduce Me at Sunrise and Love in the Afternoon, but I'm not sure if they fully get in the bathtubs. Or just their hands.

[catreginae]

All the chosen heroes had anxiety in some way.

It came with the trauma that the Golden Three made them go through during their adventures.

Out of everybody, Legend was the most anxious out of them all.

(Did Ravio count? Wasn't he technically a Link like they all were? If he did, then Legend is second most anxious, right behind Ravio)

Tonight only proved that he was an anxiety-riddled bastard.

The hotel was tranquil, a near insanity-driving quiet. Wind was asleep against Wild’s shoulder, who was also asleep himself. Four was pacing around the room, biting at his already short nails. Hyrule tended to Sky’s arm, the first hero’s arm bruised and still slightly bleeding. He had opted out of having any magic done to heal him, so instead Hyrule was stitching at the concerning number of fang marks that ran deep into his flesh.

He tried to focus on the book he had, yet the words would meld and bleed off the page, and nothing stuck. At this point, he was just trying to make himself look busy since he knew that if he tried to sleep it'd be a waste of time.

Time and Warriors had long since disappeared into the room adjacent to theirs. Legend had never seen Time carry another person like a sack of potatoes, but seeing him do it with Twi was amusing. He silently hopes he will never be in that position, because despite it being hilarious to witness it would most likely be horrifying to experience.

But now, Legend was trapped in his own thoughts once again. He couldnt help but stress over what could possibly be happening within that damned room.

Wars showed he was more than willing to turn any of them. That, even if they didnt want to be turned, he wouldnt care.

All of them could be turned, even Legend himself. Sure, Wars would get sick for a while if he did, but Legend wouldnt be spared if he did go on a tirade of turning them all.

And that made goosebumps creep up his spine.

Hell, he could be turning Time at this moment and they would all be none the wiser…

By the time Legend had stopped his futile attempt of reading, he noticed that only he and Sky were awake now. Hyrule had joined the cuddle pile Wind and Wild had going on, and from the one foot that stuck out from underneath Wind, so had Four.

“I wonder what happened on that page that made you look at it for thirty minutes.”

“Shut your trap, Sky.”

“You're overthinking things again, aren't you?”

A hand ruffled his hair, and Legend looked up to see Sky. He was smiling, albeit weakly, at the other.

“No, what are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean. You think Warriors will do something to harm us now that Twilight is just like him.”

Damn it, how is it that Sky can always read him like an open book? It’s as if he doesn't need to try.

“Okay, maybe I am. But could you blame me? He turned Twi without him saying yes to it, so who knows if he won't do the same to all of us?”

“I have a feeling that he won't. This is Wars we are talking about, not some psychopath who finds enjoyment in hurting others. And even if he would, he wouldn't turn us unless it was his only choice.”

“But he turned Twilight!”

“Because he was dying.”

“You're acting like this is acceptable! It doesn’t change the fact that he turned him…”

Sky simply chuckles, as he mindlessly picks at the bindings on his arm.

“No, no it doesn't. But we are now going to have to get used to it. There isn't a way to revert vampirism, last I checked.”

A sigh escapes past Legend’s lips, and he holds his head in his hands. He couldn't believe Sky was acting so calm! Everybody else was on edge, and he was being too optimistic. He was the one who got attacked out of everybody…

A set of bandages falls to the floor, and Legend almost yells.

“Put those back on! Your wounds aren't healed!”

“That they are not, very good observation,”

Sky says sarcastically, which makes Legend stutter slightly. It wasn’t often that he would act so jokingly, even if he was now digging into the stitched-up wounds he had.

“Stop that. It’ll get infected.”

But Sky just shrugs as he finally digs deep enough into the stitching to draw blood again.

“At least Twi won't have to worry about such wounds like these now. Do you think that bite wound he has from Dink will heal fully? Will it even scar?”

“Are you insane?”

“None of us are sane, Legend. The goddesses made sure of that.”

He continued prying at the stitching, making Legend grab his hand and yank it away.

“What is with you right now, Sky? You're acting strange.”

Blood clung to Legend’s hand, and as he saw that it was pooling from the wound Sky reopened.

“Please, tell me you understand why I am doing this.”

“No, can't say I know why you're undoing all the hard work Hyrule did to clean you up.”

Sky shushes Legend, looking around the room for a second. Nothing but the soft blowing of the wind outside can be heard.

“I'm testing something. Notice how there isn't any fighting or shuffling from the room where Twi is? I would've thought that the scent of my blood would get him going again.”

This crazy bastard…

“You are either stupid or insane, and I'm starting to think it's both.”

“I'm trying to get you to realize that just because Twi is now a vampire, he isn't going to attack anybody. And that whatever theory you had in your head of what Warriors could possibly be doing in there is also just your thoughts getting out of hand. Wars won't hurt anybody, so calm down.”

Legend can only sigh in frustration. Of course, Sky was trying to get him to realize everything would be okay, but it didn't help the paranoia he still had. It's not like he could just stop worrying about Wars possibly turning them all into bloodthirsty monsters!

“If I had a rupee for every time you overthink about something, we would be able to have our own rooms whenever we visit hotels.”

“Can it.”

“No, I won't “Can it.” You need to realize that you aren't going to become Wars or Twi’s pin cushion.”

“Who says that’s what I’m worried about?”

“Then what are you so ails you? I can't help if you don't tell me.”

Silence.

Neither of them said another word.

That same silence that had racked Legend’s mind had returned, and he just grumbled before burying his face into his hands.

“Fine. I'm worried that he’ll turn all of us eventually.”

“Is that really it? Legend, your worries are unwarranted. Even if the worst case is to come, I doubt Warriors would be enthusiastic about turning us. He looked so guilty when telling us what he’s done to save Twilight.”

‘That doesn't mean he won't. What if he decided that it would be best if he turned all of us even if we weren’t dying? We don't know how his fucked up vampire brain works!”

“You really think Time would allow that?”

“Who knows if he isn't turning Time right now?! It might explain why it's so silent in their room right now.”

“...”

Sky chuckles. It’s a soft, almost mocking laugh with how carefree it sounded. He just shakes his head, muttering to himself in his native tongue as he ruffles Legend’s hair again.

“Well, I suppose we don't know if that is the case. You’ll just have to figure it out in the morning, won't you?”

“You are a bastard, Sky.”

“I try to be. Now, get some sleep. If anything does happen just get myself or any of the others. You aren’t alone in this, so don't try to deal with it alone.”

He leaves the room without a second thought, leaving Legend all alone with his thoughts once more.

Only the soft snores of the other sleeping heroes can be heard, the rest of the world silent besides that.

Grabbing his forgotten book, Legend joins the cuddle pile himself. He lays so that his head is propped by Hyrule’s side, and not a second passes before Four sprawls himself over his abdomen.

He tosses his book aside, and allowed himself to drift off into sleep. His mind was still uneasy, but he’d rather at least get a few hours of sleep than none.

(It's like 2 am here and I had a random spark of creativity hit me. I am never getting sick again making up school work is horrible 😭. I hope you're having a good day ♥)

-❄ anon

Do you ever just want to shake some sense into somebody but also give them a hug?

Also, not going to lie, but I've also thought about at least having Warriors justify why he won't turn his buddies. Other vampires would be curious about why only one of these heroes is a vampire and not all of them if they're so important.

It's an interesting thing to explore which is why I appreciate all these so much. The idea of any other boys being vampires was something I would only do for a dream or something, so it's fun to see somebody else take that idea places.

also somebody remind me to link all these together

[ladytauria]

i think i reblogged it from you but never sent you questions, so for the book rec asks: 1, 13, 23, 44, 50, 54, 79, 92, 116, 130, 131 please!! thats A Lot, so feel free to pick and choose haha

ahhh thank u bean! i love talking books uwu

coming back up after answering to edit... um. bean, i'm so sorry for my answer on the last one xD i should have picked a different book. (i ranted. a little.)

1. a book that is close to your heart

there are a few books i could name, but i'm going to do the one i thought of first.

a girl of the limberlost. i only remember reading it once, but my mother is the one who gave it to me, and told me that it was a book she loved at my age at the time. (same with the secret garden.) so i can't think of that book without thinking of her, which makes it a little bit more special to me <3

13. your favorite romance novel

immediate impulse is to say legends and lattes by travis baldree bc. it's so good. however, while there is a romance i don't know if i would count it as a romance novel.

so.

the lady's guide to celestial mechanics. historical, sapphic, featuring both women in STEM (or, yknow, historical equiv) but also an appreciation for domestic arts / crafts normally looked down on. also there's an acknowledgement that homophobia existed, but there's none on page.

the prose is also gorgeous.

i don't actually read a ton of romance novels, but i've been trying to pick up more!

23. a book that is currently on your TBR

mmm, too many

but Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield went on sale on kindle the other day so! it's mine now <3 and one i've been eying for a while. the kindle cover isn't the one i wanted, but that's okay.

44. your favourite fantasy novel

a very large chunk of what i read is fantasy. this is HARD 😂

uhhh.

the locked tomb is technically sci-fi, isn't it?

fuck.

i'm gonna go with The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle bc it is the only book i purposefully own more than one copy of! would love to get my hands on the graphic novel <3

honorary mention to the Inheritence Cycle bc reading Eragon was what got me to start writing my first novel.

which absolutely wasn't just. Eragon but with griffin riders instead.

(okay, legitimately, there were differences, but there was also definitely heavy inspiration.)

50. a book that made you cry a LOT

i don't actually cry at much? the last time i remember actually crying was when i was reading an abridged version of little women and beth died xD

i'm trying to think of another book which really grabbed me emotionally recently that also isn't. already on this list. and i'm coming up empty?

54. a book with the best opening line

i don't have a good memory for opening lines ^^; however for some reason i want to say The Lightning Thief, so. that's what i'm going with.

79. a book that reminds you of your favorite song

my favorite song changes by the moment, so i don't have answer for this one ^^;

92. a book about a redeemable villain

kay, so i almost answered this question with the book i gave for the next question, but i realized i don't? read a lot of multi pov books?? or at least not that i remember being such. i did remember one but it was the second in a duology, so.

so.

anyway!

the closest i can think of atm would be Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone. (highly rec this one, though i was a little disappointed when the pairing i wanted didn't happen xD)

116. a book with multiple povs

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley.

this book.

i.

woof.

okay, so. if you are. remotely squeamish, like. at all? you might wanna give this one a pass. (def check storygraph / other places for trigger warnings. im also happy to elaborate myself, lol.) i am. very squeamish, and made it through only because the story grabbed me tight and wouldn't let go. the worldbuilding is extremely interesting. the characters are all very different and both likeable and unlikeable in a million different ways. but.

oh boy, it was a tough one.

if you're NOT squeamish, though--

it was a 4 or 5 star read for me, iirc, so, y'know. recommended. not sure i'll ever pick it up again, but like. do not regret reading.

130. a book featuring flashbacks and/or intersecting storylines

i know i've read others like this, but the book that comes to mind is--and i had to google this bc it's been so long since i read it---Thirst by Christopher Pike. It was also published under "The Last Vampire." i don't actually recommend them; i read them during my middle school vampire phase and even i remembered being a little mindboggled. mainly bc i think there was an alien abduction in... the second or third book? idk, i had an omnibus.

131. recommend any book you like!

there's only one answer i can give to this, tbh. the locked tomb series brainrot is real and deep and i am. both highly anticipating and dreading the release of alecto so.

i gotta recommend Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir.

that SAID, i am well aware that this book has a reputation on tumblr esp for being poorly summarized, as the most oft-used pitch is "lesbian necromancers in space."

this is not an inaccurate summary.

BUT.

it is also not complete.

so first, some expectations: it's sci-fi, definitely, but also there are a lot of fantasy vibes? probably because of the swords and the necromancy and the sworn knights-esque plot. uh. basically, it's sci-fi like star wars is sci-fi, but also it's. it's not star wars.

second thing: this series is unreliable narrator central. tamsyn picks the least qualified person in the group for you to follow the story with, and it works. so well. like, firstly bc ofc things get explained (some; it does drop you in and expect you to pick up a lot through context clues) but ALSO because you WILL pick up things you didn't on re-reads. i did a reread before Nona and spent half of it screaming. i'm not much of an annotator beyond highlighting some lines on kindle but i was commenting all over the place.

uh.

i still haven't talked about the plot, my bad.

Gideon the Ninth follows the titular Gideon, after her childhood nemesis and heir to the Ninth House, is invited to the First House by the God Emperor of the Nine Houses to seek quasi-immortality and join him in fighting a war as old as the Houses themselves. When they get there, though, they soon find their fellow heir-and-cavalier pairs being picked off one by one.

this book also features a lot of gay... not pining, not really, but like. Gideon likes women and her pov spends a lot of time appreciating the other women with them xD (this is also part of what makes her unreliable as a narrator. plot? what plot? gideon is here for thirsting, and a little bit of pining.)

also mild enemies to lovers vibes.

ALSO there are memes. there's a none pizza left beef joke in book 2, i'm still not over it.

does get a little squicky at times with loving descriptions of bones and viscera, though.

if i keep talking about this book i won't ever stop <3

[ book recs ask game ]

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas Chapter 7

Read on AO3. Summary: Kaneki realizes something horrible. Word Count: 3741 Chapter 8 Chapter 6 Master Post

She wasn’t exactly subtle walking to the door. She wanted Shiono to know she was going out and that there was nothing he could do to stop her. They weren’t father and daughter, and they sure as hell weren’t friends. They were, at most, editor and author; that was all.

Despite that fact, Shiono called out to her as she grasped the doorknob.

“Where are you going?” he asked, full of fake concern for a child not his own.

“Out,” she answered curtly, hoping the conversation would end there.

It didn’t. “You’re going to see that Arima guy, aren’t you?”

She tried scoffing. “A-And what if I am?” Shit, not good.

“He’s twenty-two!” Shiono stood up and looked at her. “He’s twenty-two, and you’re sixteen!”

“Yes, and I’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Kishou’s good to me.”

What did Shiono know about dating, anyway? He’d been single his whole life, and the fact that she didn’t have any siblings running around their little apartment told her that he was a total virgin too.

And it wasn’t like she was stupid either. Kishou was obviously different from those guys. Maybe he always picked where they went, regardless of her tastes, and maybe he wasn’t really one for conversation— even when it came to books, their favorite subject— but she could tell he was a lot like her. Parental issues, no friends that truly understood him— completely isolated from his own life, where choices were an illusion to keep him pinned to the wall.

A lonely soul. A broken soul. 

She was the same way: no mother, and a ‘father’ that hated her, to the point of letting someone else care for her not once, but twice. To make matters worse, this second hire just pretended to care. He was nothing like Papa, because Papa was dead and he wasn’t coming back and it was all her fault.

It was in her isolation that Kishou found her, and she found Kishou.

“He’s taking advantage of you!”

“I’m sure he is,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Wait—”

She pushed the door open. “Bye.”

“\#-, I’m just trying to—!”

Every time Shiono said that ridiculous name, the one penned by a liar, that meant another lecture. So before he could get going, she rushed out and slammed the door.

———

Kaneki and Takatsuki bid their farewells to Big Bin and crossed over to the edge of the fence. In his eagerness to leave, Kaneki made the first leap over the fence. The moment his feet touched the ground, he let out a sigh of relief. Oh, it felt so good to finally not have to turn around every two seconds to make sure a guard wasn’t—

“Look out below!”

He looked up just in time to see Takatsuki freefalling toward him from above. He yelped and stuck out his hands, catching her safely in his grasp. She was surprisingly light.

“Oof!” She giggled as if she wouldn’t have broken her back without him, as if they hadn’t been in a high-security prison literal seconds ago. “Why, thank you very—”

She looked up at him and suddenly stopped. Kaneki pursed his lips, a bit confused. Was there something on his face? Takatsuki never stopped mid-sentence; she barreled through to the bitter end. Or maybe—

(Oh, it was a crescent moon tonight; he could see it in her eyes.)

It might be boogers that’s disgusting why would you think that? Then again, his nose had been feeling a little stuffy today. Or yesterday, because it was technically a new day.

(She smelled like hibiscuses, known partly for a short vase life. Ironic, considering he’d remember her forever.)

Maybe it was just the nerves; she was always able to identify whenever he was nervous. It was nice, in a way, how he didn’t need to use his words to tell her how he felt. He could be vulnerable and not be uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Touka or Hide, who lovingly peeled open his pages and flipped through; Takatsuki already knew the story by heart.

(Hey, was it warm? He felt warm. It was summer.)

Takatsuki let herself down and brushed off her clothes. The darkness hid her expression. “Um, thanks.”

Kaneki managed to keep his tongue from falling out of his mouth. “Y-Yeah… No problem.”

She took the lead to leave the premises, keeping two paces ahead when usually they walked in stride together. It was sorely needed distance, in his opinion, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her next to a walking tomato like him at the moment. What if she saw his expression in total darkness?

To distract himself, he thought about his message to Chie requesting Donato’s case file. She was usually up at strange hours anyway, so maybe he’d even get it tomorrow if he was lucky. And hopefully the price wasn’t too high; he’d never really worked with Chie in-depth before, but Hide had some crazy stories about the things he’d done to get her (illegal) information, ranging from simple cash to stealing someone’s underwear.

Kaneki prayed for the former.

A few turns in multiple eerie alleyways shrouded in darkness later, he and Takatsuki were bathed in the streetlights of civilization once again. She darted back and forth on the local street, searching for something, before pointing out a bright white and red car.

“There’s our ride!”

Kaneki squinted at the driver’s seat, and the color drained from his face.

“Tatara! Over here!!” Takatsuki waved wildly, jumping up and down. “I don’t think he sees us— Wave, come on!”

Kaneki reluctantly waved one of his arms in a wide arc, the other glued to the strap of his satchel. He hadn’t seen Tatara since their first meeting, but he knew that Tatara wouldn’t be happy to see him.

As if to prove his point, when the car slowed to a stop in front of them, a pair of thin scarlet eyes looked past the glass and Takatsuki to definitely scowl at him.

“He’s so reliable, don’t you think?” Takatsuki grinned.

“Y-Yeah…” It wasn’t that Kaneki disagreed; he just would have preferred Shiono.

He would have entered the car from the street side (not that it was busy, but it was a courtesy), but she beat him to it, forcing him into the easily-accessible sidewalk side (he was not riding shotgun).

Once both were seated, Takatsuki undid her pigtails with a sigh of relief. Each strand freed from the hair ties jumped out in a different direction, as unpredictable as arcs of lightning. Kaneki felt the air get sucked out of his lungs at the sight, and turned away just to breathe. The city was super interesting at this time of night! It was dark, and there were… lights, and— and it was dark— Some artist he was. ‘ It was dark’?! Really?!

“Where do you live?” Tatara, for the first time, threw him a bone.

“O-Oh! The uh, the 12th ward.” Kaneki cleared his throat, trying to air himself out. It was so hot in here.

“Across the city!” Takatsuki exclaimed. “Lucky us, Tatara.”

“Sure.” Tatara started the car and got driving.

At least she was going to be with Kaneki the whole ride home; he didn’t think he could survive a car drive with Tatara. At least Yomo gave a thumbs up when he was thanked.

“By the way, the Japanese version of Chì Shé’s latest production is premiering next weekend,” Tatara suddenly said.

“Oh? Then congratulations are in order.” Takatsuki was also staring out the window. “What was it about again?”

Kaneki, despite himself, was a little curious too; were there any changes between versions, and why? Was it due to censorship laws? Language barriers? Cultural barriers? Despite being close to each other, it was always surprising knowing how different China and Japan were. He’d never been one for plays, but after months of Takatsuki dragging him to place after place after place, maybe stepping outside his boundaries every once in a while could be good for him.

“The last surviving member of an underground mafia pursues revenge overseas,” Tatara explained curtly.

Interesting… Maybe a story about the fruitless nature of revenge? Or maybe it would embrace revenge, telling the story of how some people need closure in order to finally live their ideal life? 

“Anyway, Naki and Miza rented out a resort for the same weekend to celebrate. I’d like for you to come.”

Oh. Alright. Kaneki kind of wanted to hear more, but that was fine too. It wasn’t his place to pry.

“Hoho…” Takatsuki sounded interested enough. “Who else will be there?”

“The Bins.” Oh, Big Bin had a family? Well, of course he did— everyone did— but it was more—

“Yumitsu too?” Who was that?

Tatara nodded. “I’m inviting some of my crew, and Naki and Miza are bringing Shiori as well.” Shiori? Wait, was that—

“Shiori!” Takatsuki squealed and clapped her hands. “He must be so big now!”

Tatara’s voice also took on a lighter tone. “Yes. Actually—”

As Kaneki listened, he felt more and more out of place. It was like peeking into a world that he had no right to peek into, let alone context with which to enjoy it. Who exactly was Miza besides a co-owner of a restaurant? Naki and her had a child? Big Bin had… siblings? How long had Takatsuki known these people?

Such were the things running through his mind, and it just emphasized the fact that he didn’t really know her. These past few months had just been work, work, work; the casual nature of it didn’t change that fact. Sure, he enjoyed Takatsuki’s company, and she clearly kept him around for a reason, but that didn’t make them friends: just good colleagues.

They were nothing more, and with each unfamiliar term and phrase in a conversation he had no part in, he became more and more aware of that.

Vengeance.

Not only that, but Donato’s answer continued to plague him. Did anyone else know about her connection to the Priest? If so, that meant she didn’t trust him enough to tell him herself, and despite everything, that hurt. He wanted her trust. He wanted her to believe in him. Then again, who was to say she didn’t want him running his mouth and jeopardizing her career? It was better, not to mention easier, if he was in the dark, and she was already probably in hot water after the lawsuit from Hanged Man’s. She shouldn’t be risking her career like this, even if she was a well-known figure.

Then again, she’d left Kaneki alone with Donato, trusting that he would come out the other end still on her side. If she truly didn’t want him to find out, she would have pushed more to stay in the room. But then that begged the question: why him, and not someone else? Why not Tatara, who clearly knew her more than Kaneki ever would? It didn’t make sense; he’d barely known her for three months. So what if he saw inklings of himself— his rage, his sorrow, his longing— between her pages? So what if she might have followed Haise for similar reasons?

Kaneki didn’t matter.

Vengeance.

Kaneki shouldn’t matter.

(But he wanted to matter. He was terrible like that.)

He leaned his head against the window with a sigh, staring out at the city lights. The curvature of the glass made the landscape appear like watercolors. He hadn’t done a watercolor painting in a while, he realized; maybe this could be good inspiration. His paychecks had gone largely unspent too, so he could purchase replacements for his brushes, and paint too.

He closed his eyes and imagined the process. It would feature cool colors— blues and violets— to portray a rainy night. The figure of focus was alone on a street corner, the streetlight casting a shadow over their expression. Kaneki would pay attention to the eyes, however. Silver, like his own, which glowed against the night. He would dab paint beneath them— a harsh red, perhaps, to contrast the rest of the piece— and let gravity streak bleeding tears and rain down his cheeks, neck, and shoulders, and then—

“Can Haise come?”

He jolted from the window to stare at Takatsuki. She was staring intently at Tatara through the rear-view mirror.

“Why?” Tatara vocalized Kaneki’s thoughts perfectly.

She quirked her brow. “Because I want him to? Why else?”

Tatara squinted. “It’s my gathering.”

“It’s my invitation.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and Kaneki took the time to regret living across the city. Arguing over him, of all people, and for what? He wouldn’t belong there; he didn’t know half of the names they’d mentioned, and he knew even less of the ones he did know.

“I-I don’t have to go; I really don’t think—” he began, hoping to nip this in the bud. He’d just take up space, take up necessary oxygen—

“Fine.” Tatara relented.

Huh?

“Yay!” Takatsuki clapped her hands together. “You’ll love Middle Bin, Haise. Little Bin, not so much, but it’ll be fun!”

Fun? With a bunch of strangers? “I, um…”

He was about to gently refuse, maybe use Hide for an excuse, but when he saw her looking at him, the memory of the crescent moon lingering in her eyes, his brain fooled him into thinking she might actually, genuinely want him there.

“Okay. Yeah, I can come.” He smiled at her even as his voice strained.

Were he a bit more presumptuous, he would have said she was glowing.

—

Kaneki closed the car door and made his way around to get to his apartment, when he heard Takatsuki open her side and go after him.

“Haise, wait!” she called. “Come back!”

He turned back, confused. “What is it?”

She stopped just before him, her smile brushing against her eyes. Entrancing. “I wanted to say thank you for tonight. I’m glad you came with me.”

A set of clouds had passed over the moon, and there weren’t enough lights to illuminate her, yet he thought she shone anyway. Not like the sun, but a flash of lightning, for she came and went as she pleased because none could nor should stop her, drawing more toward her for it.

Oh. She asked him a question. He nodded dumbly. “N-No problem.” Yeah, breaking into Cochlea for Sen Takatsuki was ‘no problem’. Good job, brain.

“And I’m glad you’re coming to the resort after the show.” She glanced behind her before leaning closer to whisper. “Between you and me, I don’t think I could bear it alone.”

His brow furrowed. “Aren’t they your friends? I’d think—”

“Plays are fun, but my idea of a post-play vacation is being curled up on my bed with a good book,” she admitted. “Or maybe revisiting an old favorite and jotting down some new things I learned.”

“Oh! M-Me too!” Kaneki smiled, elated to have finally found a kindred soul. Not even Rize understood the appeal. “I’m not really one for outdoors stuff, even if we were going to spend most of it indoors. So honestly, a resort is a bit— much.”

Takatsuki giggled. “I knew you’d understand. You always do.” His heart swelled with pride at that. He understood her. “That’s why if you’re at the resort, then I think I could look forward to it.”

Another dumb nod. “I-I feel the same.”

If he were a bit more presumptuous, he’d say there was some pink dusting her cheeks. “See you at work, Haise.”

“S-See you at work…” he repeated like a total idiot.

He stood in his spot long after Tatara’s car left the lot. Later, he drifted into his apartment, trying not to disturb Hide in case he was asleep. Once Kaneki dressed in his pajamas, he retrieved the notebook full of Takatsuki sketches and went to the couch to add one more for the night.

It was a routine that he’d accepted at this point: come home, grab the book, and find a spot. He was already formulating the outline in his head; two jade orbs that reflected a crescent moon, freckles like stars in the sky, and a constellation of lips that he wanted to—

It was full.

The sketchbook was full.

Why was it full? When had it become full? He could’ve sworn there was more space. He flipped through it again, Takatsuki’s smiles, frowns, glares, and more filled his vision in an overwhelming amount. In just a few short months, he’d practically memorized every angle of her face like the disgusting creep he was.

And now there was no space left.

The sketchbook slipped out of his hands and landed gently at his feet, like a landmine. His mouth turned dry as he covered his face with both hands.

The answer had been staring at him ever since the park— maybe even before then— and only now did he dare look up to meet it.

Oh no.

———

Hide came home in the morning, presumably from a business trip or overnight shift. Kaneki, meanwhile, was curled up on the couch with his Takatsuki sketchbook held tight against his chest.

“Uh, I’m home…?”

Kaneki didn’t dare look up. “Welcome back…”

Hide dropped his bag by the couch and sat down next to him. “You, uh… You okay there, bud?”

“No…” It was pointless to hide anything from Hide. “I’ve just realized something horrible.”

His brow furrowed again. “Yeah? What?”

“I think I have a crush on Takatsuki.”

“You don’t say?” Hide’s body language betrayed the shock in his tone.

“What am I going to do?” Kaneki sat up. “If I come to work, how am I going to talk to her without it being weird?”

Hide scratched his head. “I mean, you’ve held out this long, haven’t you?”

“What?”

“C’mon, dude, seriously.” Hide gestured vaguely. “You’ve been crushing on her since you were like, ten. I think you can pull it off.”

“That was a celebrity crush, Hide! There’s a difference!” Kaneki protested. “I just— Ugh…”

Hide sighed. “Oh boy… Hey, you want a change of pace?”

Kaneki glanced down at the sketchbook full of Takatsuki, then at Hide, and nodded.

“Here, look what I got.” Hide took out a manila folder stuffed to the brim with papers and pictures and handed it over.

Kaneki took it into his hands, staring blankly. “What’s this?”

“The Priest’s case file, as ordered.” He gestured to it. “All his crimes, the victims’ autopsies, and the trial itself. Chie got you everything.”

Kaneki tilted his head. “She did? Why would— Wait, what’s her price? Don’t tell me I need to steal—”

Hide put up his hands. “No underwear for this one— I checked. But she does want a reason for why you wanted this.”

Vengeance.

Kaneki gulped, rubbing his chin. “I-It was for the book… We, uh, had an interest in the Priest’s history for inspiration…”

Hide raised a brow. “And…?”

“And…” He sighed in defeat. “Takatsuki… has a history with him.”

“With the Priest?” For some reason, Hide sounded less surprised and more interested. He even whistled. Then again, it was Hide; his interests were often at odds with regular expectations. “Quite the woman you fell in love with.”

Kaneki turned scarlet. “Stop…”

Hide chuckled. “Well, want me to go over it with you? These things are dense, and you might not get through everything by yourself.”

Kaneki didn’t like the implication that this wasn’t Hide’s first criminal case file, but it was simultaneously comforting, as he had no clue where to start. “Alright. Thanks, Hide.”

Hide grinned. “Anything for my best pal!”

“Thanks…”

This was a pretty apt distraction. Plus, he was honestly overreacting a bit, and this could get him back on track. It was just a crush; he’d had crushes before right? The only difference was that if he acted on it, his entire career could end in the blink of an eye. No big deal.

He opened the folder and got reading.

Donato Porpora, the Priest. Close to two hundred documented victims across twenty-five years since immigrating to Japan. As the man himself said, he preferred heavier victims, and they were abducted with only their clothing left behind with a cross. He resided in his church and orphanage, taking care of many children, but it was discovered that they were unwittingly being fed the remains of his victims.

Among these children was a young Koutarou Amon, Kurona’s fellow worker at Taiwa. He didn’t talk much, but Kaneki could tell he was a kind person. To think, such kindness was founded in blood.

Hide was skimming a separate case. “Hey, Kaneki, look at this,” he said, bringing it over. “Yuka Nagoyama, a new politician at the time of her death.”

Kaneki’s brow furrowed as he looked at her photograph. “She’s… thin. And her weight—”

“It doesn’t match,” Hide finished. “All of his typical victims were around or above ninety kilograms. Not her.”

“Everything you need is in my case file.”

Kaneki put his current paper aside and focused on the victims’ weights.

“What’s your opinion on people in your profession getting hired?”

Hide did the same, and they piled their results together.

“Politicians, financers, rising businessmen…” Hide muttered aloud, reading each victim’s occupation.

Meanwhile, Kaneki read their names. “Tsukiyama, Rosewald, Yasuhisa…”

All members of influential families or working toward influential positions. Not only that, but their clothes were always bloodier and the scene was always messier, so that it was easy to identify the victim at the scene of the crime.

“Okay, picture this—”

Hide and Kaneki arrived at the last crime Donato committed— the one that got him caught: a double murder in an alleyway in the 8th ward. Skimming the report, Kaneki immediately realized something was wrong: both bodies had been discovered at the site.

“A lobbyist organization with a lot of government influence…”

One victim was a worker at Kaiko Industries: a woman named Kasuka Mado. She was currently survived by her husband and daughter, both cops. Kaneki vaguely recognized the surname; Amon might have mentioned it once or twice. Kasuka had had her stomach sliced open and her back broken over a dumpster, left to bleed out, and was pronounced dead by the time authorities arrived.

“… has been using serial killers to get rid of inconvenient opponents.”

The other was a homeless man residing in the local shelter. He had died of a similar injury.

Vengeance.

His name was Noroi Takatsuki.

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || FEELS LIKE SILK

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna + a hint of Itadori Yuji from jujutsu kaisen 

| warnings : grammar error, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1159

| published : 15 november

| request : Could I request Sukuna taking over Yuji body to touch Yujis girlfriend hair? He finds her intriguing and is also learning new feelings while being inside of Yuji.

| barista’s notes : when i finished this imagine, i thought it was quite short until i looked at the word count and realised that i typed out 1159 words ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ i guess i’m used to writing a lot ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request) and that you have an amazing day! please come back again soon ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ

Ever since the second he laid eyes on you, Sukuna couldn’t help but become intrigued on who you were as a person due to the surprising fact that you were able to accept him so easily into your life - as if he was just another normal person that was introduced to you by a close friend or so.

Technically speaking, Sukuna was introduced to you by your boyfriend Itadori, who was willing to let you go once he explained that the King of Curses was living inside of him since the day he swallowed the cursed finger. However, you reacted in the complete opposite way to what the pink-haired boy expected and what shocked him, even more, was the question you asked after the whole explanation was done - this question also shocked the man in question himself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Y/N, if you want to break up I understand, I just want to keep you safe,” Itadori explained, as he scratched the back of his neck nervously, anticipating your response.

However, all he felt was a little jap to his forehead, causing him to look at you with such confusion in his eyes as he saw a small smile on your face with your index finger pressed onto the middle on his forehead. “Introduce him to me sometime yeah? Whenever you feel comfortable,” you casually said, before you continued with, “I’m not going to leave you, I’m going to be with you till the end whenever you need me, so don’t let me go so easily okay Yuji?”

“What an intriguing woman,” Sukuna curiously muttered, before leaning forward as if he would see you through you if you did. Weren’t you scared of him? Were you taking this whole situation seriously? Were you even being serious in the first place? Or were you actually being serious?

As time went on, you slowly asked Itadori if you could get to know Sukuna - which he was a bit hesitant at first - before he slowly allowed you to do so bit by bit - from you asking his name to what his story was since you weren’t a jujutsu sorcerer at all. That was what made Sukuna more irritated. He was irritated at the fact that he was slowly investing himself into a human that had no curse energy surrounding her at all, a human that had nothing but physical strength to protect herself, a mere human that was somehow not affected by his intense presence nor the threats that he came with.

“Once I’m done with that silver-haired jujutsu sorcerer, you’re next woman,” Sukuna threatened you randomly one day, only for your response to be, “that’s nice to know Sukuna, Yuji where should we go to eat?” - once again surprising the King of Curses on your lack of fear, it was like you had no sense of it at all. 

However, as each day went by, the curse began to take a warm liking to you, wanting to spend as much time with you when you would visit Itadori in Tokyo when you had some free time to spare and would make some sort of effort to talk to you or make a comment when you and Itadori would be on a date.

“If you read that book, you can gain more knowledge about the Jujutsu world Y/N,” Sukuna suddenly informed you, causing you to look at your boyfriend to find a mouth on the side of his cheek.

“This one?” you then asked, as you pointed at a thick beige book that was within the shelf in front of you leading to Sukuna reply with a ‘yes’ as you slid the book out from its position to then flick through the pages.

“Thank you Sukuna”

                                               ꕥ

Today there was no expectation of his sudden appearances. However, this time it was a little different to what you had expected. It was the first time you had arrived at Itadori’s new school ever since he left Sendai.

“It really does look like a prestigious religious school on the outside ha?” you commented, as you took in the scenery that was surrounding you. You couldn't help but be amazed at the sight that you were beholding, you were surprised that Itadori’s teacher even allowed you to step foot into the school in the first place since the place was really secretive, even to the people in Tokyo as well.

However, what you didn't realise was that Itadori wasn’t answering you at all, you were so distracted by what was in front of you that you didn’t realise what was actually happening from behind. As you were about to take one step forward, you suddenly came to an unexpected halt once you felt a little tug on a small section of your hair.

Yet, you couldn’t turn around. Your mind was telling you to, to see what your boyfriend was even doing, but your body just refused to turn with its feet and see what was happening.

“Your hair is really smooth Y/N”

Once you heard that voice, you instantly knew who was talking to you at this moment and time. Finally being able to suddenly have the power to turn around, you quickly said: “Sukuna, my hair isn’t that interesting, It really just-”. But once you had a full view on what was going on behind you, you didn’t see what you were expecting to see at all.

It was Itadori that was in front of you. It was your boyfriend physically in front of you, but it wasn’t at the same time. You knew for a fact that Itadori didn’t have black markings on his face as well as his wrist and you knew that your boyfriend didn’t have his hair spiked up like it was now. 

“I thought we agreed to meet on Yuji’s terms”

“Well you agreed that with the brat and not me, besides I was getting a little impatient”

From what you could see, Sukuna was still looking down on the few strands on your hair that he was holding before rubbing his fingers to explore the feeling of your hair that was finally on his skin. “Your hair feels like silk,” Sukuna commented, before lifting it up slightly to see how the sunlight shone upon the strands, viewing how the colour would somewhat lighten up causing Sukuna to wander back through his memory to visualise what your hair looked like in the wind.

“You’re exaggerating”

“I’m really not, your hair is extremely beautiful just like you,” Sukuna casually stated back at your comment before bringing the ends of the strands to his lips, causing you to be surprised at the sudden affection that was being displayed only to suddenly blush once his red orbs looked directly at yours - such beautiful ruby eyes that you could get lost in within seconds.

“Even on my lips it feels like silk, I wonder if your skin feels the same”

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[pretty-boys-book-club]

Bylines to my heart - Chapter 3

Summary: You are a young journalist navigating the turbulent job of reporting for a local newspaper in D.C. What happens when you constantly bump into a cute boy genius? Can FBI agents befriend journalists? Can they fall in love with one?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x journalist!Reader, Spencer Reid x y/n, Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Trigger Warning: Reference’s to Maeve Donovan’s death, mentions of Canon-Typical Violence, Mostly Fluff.

A/N: Special mention to my beta reader, @sweetandsunny​ who is an absolute angel and has helped tremendously with this fic!

Previous chapters: 1 | 2

My Masterlist

Turning Page

“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― Marcus Aurelius

Last week, Spencer's pretty sure he met his soulmate. He was just going to grab some coffee during a case but there she is, basically waiting in there for him like the universe had gift-wrapped her and stuck him in the same precinct only for the two of them to run into each other once again.

The idea of getting coffee was the best one he's had in years because it meant he got to talk to her. She was adorable. He was a dork.

Spencer believes that you can tell a lot about someone from their coffee, with it being a language in itself. He takes note of how nice she is to the barista, how she orders a ‘regular coffee’ and makes sure to explain that she means a drink with cream and sugar, a sign that she must be familiar with New York jargon, something he wants to ask her about later. He also observes that she probably drinks as much coffee as he does. Their conversation flies by so quickly, the hot beverage they occasionally sip on makes their chat even more memorable.

“So, care to explain what exactly an FBI profiler does?”, she asks.

“Profiling is used to identify the person, or persons, behind a crime based on the manner in which the crime is committed, the evidence left behind, and sometimes the type of victims. So by investigating a crime scene, a profiler can make educated guesses as to various aspects of the UnSub-“

“UnSub?”, she interrupts.

“It’s short for unknown subject or unidentified subject, basically the unidentified person whose crimes are being investigated.”

“Okay. So how did you end up in the FBI? I mean, what did you study in college? Criminology or something else?”

“Actually, I got fast-tracked through high school, graduating at the age of twelve." He notices how her eyes widen in admiration. "After a while, I was accepted to a PhD in Mathematics program, then came Chemistry and Engineering. For a while, I considered studying Literature, but I had already read all of the course material. And then I decided to do my Bachelor degree in Psychology and then another one in Sociology. ” he told her. “But I feel less developed in the areas of social and emotional skills than perhaps I would have been had I not been so technically focused," Spencer admitted.

“Quite a story you have, huh? So I take it you learnt to read so fast because of that?”

“I actually grew up learning nearly everything from books. My mother used to be a college professor of 15th century literature so she read all the classics to me.”

“Oh, that’s cute. And certainly explains why I always see you with so many books.”

"You're watching me, are you?" He notices how she laughs, and Spencer feels himself get slightly flushed. “So you’ve probably seen my face of despair, no doubt."

"Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but I suppose the routine must be rather difficult, yes. So, then, you decided that all that knowledge would be best put to use in catching criminals.”

“Not really. Me and a friend just kind of decided to go to the Academy and there I met—”, he says, blushing. Now he’s close enough to count the lashes around her eyes if he wants. “You know what, enough talking about me, why don’t you tell me why you became a journalist?”

“Well, firstly, at my parents' house, we always discussed the news. Two newspapers were delivered to our house each and everyda. One was for my dad who works as a history teacher at the high school from my hometown, and the other was for my mother, who's a marketing consultant for a company.” Spencer nodded, looking at her wide eyed, soaking everything she's saying, obviously interested in… well, her story. “So even when I was a little girl, their conversations fascinated me. Then I grew up and became captivated by storytelling in general. I’m sort of a free spirit, you could call me, so obviously I was very into literature, art and philosophy. I guess I understand your sense of ‘why didn’t I keep doing that’, in this sense” She makes quotation marks with her hands and he is curious, waiting for her to continue. “So, when the time came, I couldn’t choose just one of my passions, so I got a degree in Comparative Literature, then a Masters in Journalism at Columbia. And somehow was lucky enough to do a bit of both things as a reporter.”

"Wow, that's even a more interesting story than I thought it would be. I thought it was going to be something like 'I was not good at math or science, so that was all that I had left’.”

“Are you saying you told me to come here expecting to have a boring conversation?” She playfully says, with a smirk lighting up her face. Spencer cast his eyes downward as a he feels his cheeks warm. He was embarrassed to have insinuated that.

“No! Of course not. Actually, I was trying to figure out if you're as cool as you seem, and, more importantly, to measure how likely you are to be a potential murderer. You see, it’s a matter of personal safety.”

"Right, Mr. FBI profiler.” She laughs. Spencer looks around, just to see most people either at their phones or working on their computers.

He turns to face her, noticing how she seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. “Isn’t it strange how our society is so disconnected? Everyone’s head down, looking at their mobile. Is this how it was meant to be?”

“Well, come to think of it, phones might be just the contraption that would likely decrease your chance to be associated with crimes. You see, from a young age we've been socialized to not speak with strangers, what you might have heard referred to as 'Stranger Danger'." he says, matter-of-factly. "The whole concept arose when various campaigns ran through USA in the 1960's, which was later spread in other parts of the world, regarding child safety. From an evolutionary standpoint, that makes sense, as every meeting with a stranger has a higher risk of resulting in violence. But it has been criticized for ignoring that the most child abductions and harm result not from strangers, but rather from someone the child knows."

"I guess I get it, but isn't conversation the most humanizing thing that we do? It's when we talk to people that empathy is born, where intimacy is born—because of eye contact, because we can hear the tones of another person’s voice, sense their body movements, sense their presence." She rests her hand on the table and their hands touch for the briefest moment, electricity coursing through both of their bodies.

"Well, I've seen many times at work that sometimes people are not who they seem. Liars can seem honest, cheating spouses can seem loyal, nervous people can seem guilty. People’s facial expressions are not a reliable guide to what they are thinking. Or, to put it in Hamlet’s words, one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. A study found that being around strangers actually raises our levels of cortisol, a hormone that produces stress responses. We use a variety of methods to avoid feeling our emotions, one of them is lying. We want to be agreeable, to make the social situation smoother or easier, and to avoid insulting others through disagreement. It's partly based on wanting to be polite and partly based on self-preservation. We'd rather share a 'preferable truth' than the 'real truth'."

“Okay, but this is the line in the sand. This has to stop. No more insincerity. No more social scripts. Let’s go off the script entirely. Tear the page. Say something outlandish and totally true.”

“So we’re asking each other questions?”

“Yup. And you have to answer one hundred percent honestly.”

“Of course. What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He thinks for a bit and then answers: “Yes. Okay, next question. What do you think is you —”

“Wait a minute, just a one-word answer?”

“Why not?”, he wondered.

“I, just... So many people, consciously or unconsciously, have this passive way of thinking about love. Like it’s a sensation that magically, spontaneously generates when Mr. or Ms. Right appears. And just as easily, it can spontaneously degenerate when the magic "just isn't there" anymore. You fall in love, and you can fall out of it. It's just so passive. In real life, you can't easily define it.”

“Well, I suppose that's true. Shakespeare did say that 'Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs'. So you’re not one of those people, then, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, I think that you can make it happen. Love is active. You can create it. Love is a choice, not something that just happens to you. You choose to let it happen.”

“You know what this makes me think of?”

“No, what?”

“All those people you briefly intersect with, maybe make eye contact with, and then pass by, we could have done that. Now it’s like…”

“No matter what happens, we have met.” She cut him off.

“Exactly.” Spencer smiled. “It's my turn now. Tell me something that pisses you off.”

She looked at the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts. Where to start? “I hate small talk. It’s just so boring! Talk about something that inspires you! I don’t care if it’s quantum physics, the books you've read, your favorite scents, your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your insecurity and fears... Anything! Just get to the good stuff. Whatever it may be. I just hate small talk. I'd rather meet that person who asks inappropriate questions and laughs at all the wrong times. I don't want to know 'what's up’.” she continues. “I also hate that I know I need to leave at exactly 8:26pm, because it takes me precisely 34 minutes to get to work, and I’d like to give myself a two minute window to actually get there. Or that occasionally I find myself waking up in the middle of the night to check that my phone alarm is still working.” Being so immersed in each other, an unexpected call to the girl catches both of them by surprise. “Shit. Now I’m going to be late through no one's fault but my own, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” she says as she stands up, and he does the same. She's quick to apologize and thanks him profusely for paying for her drink. So polite.

Then she wraps her arms around him. Spencer accidentally breathes in the scent of her perfume, eyes locking and smiles lingering, he who was inwardly freaking the hell out, breaks out in a goofy grin. She returns the gesture and after a few seconds she pulls back, leaving him seeing in blurs.

He turns around to gather his things to make his way out of the shop, back to the station. He sees her walk outside, cup still in hand, waiting for a taxi just outside the café. Feeling super savvy and not wanting to throw away his shot, he's written his phone number on her cup before handing her drink, before the two even struck out a real conversation, so sure he was that this was a special opportunity he had been given by whatever powerful deity or deities existed. He thought it was the perfect plan for him to seamlessly hand off his number. That way she could reach out to him afterwards, but putting significantly less pressure on her to do so.

He even sees the tiniest of smiles creep up on her face when she notices his handwriting on her cup, on the side of the cup that had been facing him for the entire conversation. Damn, that was smooth. Morgan would be proud.

So now, he can’t stop staring at his phone screen. He, who is usually so technology adverse, keeps checking to make sure that he doesn’t miss a notification. His mind can’t help but wonder when she’ll text him — or whether she'll text at all. Work takes up a good deal of his time, but with such a fast mind, he has enough free time to fill himself with worries.

He’s quick to jump to conclusions. He finds himself more than once thinking that he isn’t good enough for her. That she can’t possibly be interested in a guy like him. That she wants nothing to do with a guy she barely even knows. Did he act too eager? He knows that it really boils down to the fact that all humans are constantly looking for connection and validation. And text messages provide an instant form of that. But still, he’s checked his phone enough times during the workday for Emily to notice.

"Give her some time.”, Prentiss says during a shared car ride between the duo. “Just like you, I’m sure she’s had a few busy days. Don’t worry.”

He can’t stop thinking about her: her kind eyes, her smile, her body. And every time she comes to his mind, he flushes. There is something about her, something… different. And Spencer just can’t put his finger on it.

—

You are now a firm believer that coffee dates are the perfect social interaction. It's so simple. It requires both of you to be yourselves, no space for pretending. You think that maybe that’s why it's so nice, you don’t have enough time to brainstorm any elaborate pre-planned topics of conversation — you have nothing to do except talk, relying on each other to keep the conversation going. And the conversation is electric, all of your jokes make him laugh, you can’t keep smiling.

At first you felt a bit self-conscious, not having time to change clothes, but when fate hands you an opportunity like that, you’re going in the flats and pants you wear to work. And, maybe it’s a bad thing to admit, but the fact that you didn’t have to go through a whole meal during your first significant interaction was a relief.

So as soon as you come home, you stare at your phone wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do next. Do you text? Do you not text? What do you say? How long do you wait before you say it? What if he has his read receipts turned on, and he reads it but doesn't respond immediately, and you spend the next three hours and 45 minutes agonizing how you blew it in only so many words? You’re too busy replaying the splendor of it all — and relaying details to your friends from NYC over the phone — to even think about crafting the perfect text.

You need to have a game plan. Maybe you’ll tell him you saw how they caught the guy behind the terrible murders. Or you send him a photo of a book you want to read and ask if he’s read it before. You can’t decide, and you keep writing and deleting all the text messages you come up with for the next few days.

On day four, you’re convinced that you're approaching a deadline of sorts, and that you need to text him something, anything, if you hope to see him again.

11:23 AM

Y/N: Hi, Spencer, this is Y/N! Just wanted to say hello and see how your day is going. I hope that this is the right number

Y/N: My week is a bit busy with work, but I’m free on Saturday night if you’d like to meet up again!

Spencer 📚☕️: Hey! I’m saving your contact here :] I’m just flying over to a case right now actually, but I’d love to see you on Saturday

Y/N: I hope it’s not a tough one

Y/N: I mean, I know all of the cases are probably pretty tough

Y/N: But I hope you catch whoever did it

Spencer 📚☕️: I hope so too

Y/N: I really meant it when I say that I enjoyed talking to you. It’s hard not to fall for people who quote Shakespeare. And for some random coincidence, I just happen to have two tickets for the new Midsummer Night's Dream production so I thought it was a perfect match haha

Spencer 📚☕️: That sounds like a great plan :] I’ll text you if I get stuck on the case, but count me in

Y/N: Great! Can’t wait xx

You feel your heartbeat speed up. Is this a date? Although neither of you have called it that, you’re sure that has to be clear. Does that mean he’s interested in you? Even more important, you’re sure that you like him a lot, a big difference to the last few times you tried to go out with someone. So this can only mean that it’s extra important to you that your next meeting is a success.

You glance at your clock, it’s almost time for your lunch break. Your mind wanders to Spencer flying away on his FBI jet to somewhere in the country. Does he miss home when he’s gone? Does he bring a couple of books with him or does the jet always have a few to spare? Is he thinking about you too?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Janet stopping by your desk. She’s looking much better after her sick leave. From what you heard, she’s been a reporter for almost twenty years, one of the most senior members of the newspaper. She’s usually a nice person, although you’ve only talked to her a couple of times.

“Hi, Y/N. Just thought I’d pop over and let you know that you did great last week with the article on the Jameson murders. I read your interview and I’m impressed, really”

“Oh, thanks for letting me know. It really means a lot to me.” You say truthfully. “It was my first time writing about something like that.”

“Really? I would never have guessed it. I was wondering how you even managed to talk to the families of the victims in the first place.” She sits up on your desk, lowering her voice as if telling you a secret.

“Agent Jareau had a part in that.”

“I didn’t know the BAU was involved. She’s a good person, Jareau was their media liaison for a while. Did you get to meet Agent Rossi?” She looks very curious.

“Rossi?” You try to think about someone with that name but come up empty.

“Yeah, he’s one of the guys who founded the BAU, wrote lots of books about being a profiler. Great read, really helped me understand how they do their job. I’ve interviewed him a couple of times during the years about a case or two.”

“I didn’t meet him, I’m sorry. Just Agent Jareau, Agent Hotchner and Spence-I mean, Dr. Reid.” You try to sound casual about it, not wanting to leave your crush so evident. You’re not sure it works.

“Reid is the genius one, right? He’s an odd man, that one.”

“Why is that?”

“Once I asked about a kidnapping and he proceeded to recite the statistics of the past ten years by memory. But he means no harm. He’s about thirty and has already been at the BAU for pretty much a decade.” Janet seems to notice your blush at the mention of Spencer’s name. “I’m sorry, are you two close?” Damn, she’s good at picking up people’s body language.

“Not really, I just had some coffee with him the other day. We’re going out on Saturday night.”

“Oh. My. God.” Janet widens her eyes. A smile appears on her face. “Is it a date?”

“I’m not sure.” You confess. “We’re going to see a play together.”

“Do you want it to be a date?” She enquiries.

“Actually…” you think for a moment. Oh, screw it, you like him and are going for it. “I do.”

“Then it’s definitely a date.” Her smile grows bigger. “Tell me all about it! I still remember when I met my husband, I was so nervous. Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“Not really, I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“There’s this store down the street, what do you say about grabbing something to eat and then stopping there to see if we find something you like?” She offers. “Lunch is my treat.”

You notice that this is an opening for a chance to make your first friend here. Sure, she’s a bit older than you, but Janet looks like someone genuine and you’ve been so alone lately that you can only benefit from her friendship. You wonder if she feels the same.

“I’d love to.”

—

He knows that most people find it difficult to share their thoughts in front of a crowd of their coworkers and colleagues – a study even proved that at least 20 percent of the population fear public speaking even if just in front of a few coworkers - so he knows that inviting Tara to talk about her previous experiences over coffee may help the newest team member feel comfortable opening up.

Tara joined the FBI as a forensic psychologist, having extensively interviewed several psychopathic criminals to determine whether they were fit for trial or not. Through her job, she has seen many depraved minds up close and personal. So, naturally, Spencer enjoys asking her about the strangest cases she dealt with.

“The weirdest killer I ever worked with was Archie Sutton, the truck stop strangler.”, she tells him.

“Even worse than the Indonesian female cannibal?”, he mentions something he read about on her file.

“Oddly enough, yes. Archie had this strange obsession with talcum powder and butterflies. So he would sprinkle talcum on all of his food and then carry a dead butterfly in his pocket everywhere he went.”

“It's amazing you were able to find something that you could identify with.”, he thinks out loud, and suddenly he’s brought back to the reporter from the week before. It’s a miracle he managed to talk to her as well, for almost an hour, without much effort. So, knowing he’ll see her once again on Saturday, he’s trying to think of topics for the next conversation that don’t involve murders.

Tara explains: “Well, I had to, I met with him every week for a year. It was the only way to establish a therapeutic alliance.”

“What was it you guys had in common?” Spencer suddenly finds himself very interested in this conversation. The two of them start to go back to the conference room.

“We were both obsessed with fossils when we were kids, and both of our mothers attended the same elementary school class. A bizarre coincidence, right?” Spencer pays special attention to the use of the word coincidence. It seems to be following him for the last few days.

“What's a coincidence?”, asks Rossi, turning to see them entering the conference room.

“Tara's mom went to the same elementary school as the Truck Stop strangler's mom.” Spencer points out, the coffee still in his hand.

“Ok, that's a little creepy somehow.” Morgan states.

“Yeah.”

Their conversation is interrupted by Hotch and Garcia telling them they need to go to Los Angeles to investigate a case where a bus was attacked with sarin gas. Spencer launches himself into work mode, he’ll worry about their date once the criminal is caught and the team is flying home. He starts to search his mind for all the statistics and information on sarin gas, eliminating all traces of her. Or rather, he tries. Before boarding the jet, he finds himself thinking about how much he'll have to wait until Saturday.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter was getting too long and I decided to split it in two, so the next part might be coming very soon. Hope you’re enjoying so far :) Thank you for reading! – Cat

✨ Tagging some lovely people ✨ @lil-stark​ @beeblisss​ @rexorangecouny​ @writer-in-theory @silverhetdanes @sideblogforcrimpy @honeyreid @dudeitiskarev

let me know if you spot any grammar mistakes!!

[alto-march-of-death]

A Flower for You

character: Reiner Braun x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: smut and fluff

synopsis: your first meeting with Reiner leads to more as the two of you get older; it all starts with a flower

warnings: they’re both virgins, fingering (f!receiving), Reiner cums early, just sweet first time things

a/n: the original plan didn’t include them both being virgins but it’s just how the story went; it had a mind of its own... also thank you to @kmorgzz​ and @ackerpotato​ for hyping me up and betaing this bad boy <3

Reiner kicked at a rock. It went sailing through the air, landing who knows where. There was a small yelp, followed by a sniffle. Had he hit someone?

He went to investigate, following the sound of the exclamations, and saw you sitting there. There was a scrape on your knee, a bit of blood running down the skin. Your hands looked raw too, the skin a very angry color. He knelt beside you, making sure you could see him before he did, trying not to scare you.

You hastily wiped at your tears, mustering up a look that you hoped screamed “don’t talk to me” or “leave me alone”. If it did, the boy doesn’t listen, instead pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from your knee.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly. “You’re going to ruin that.” He looks up at you, doesn’t respond, and continues to wipe your knee clean. Once he’s done, you take the cloth from him. “Let me wash it for you, and give it back. What’s your name?”

He stands, dusting his clean trousers off, then holds his hand out to you. “Reiner. Reiner Braun.”

You take his offered hand, letting him tug you to your feet. “Well, Reiner, thank you for your help. You’re a warrior candidate?” He nods. “I’m sure you’ll make a great warrior.”

Reiner watches you go, wondering how you’ll find him to even give him the handkerchief back. That was his favorite one, too. He’d better get it back.

A few days later, Reiner is walking home, the sky above him dark. There’s a commotion up ahead, a few kids his age fighting in the street. It’s not my business, he tells himself. Keep your head down and keep walking. Don’t ruin your chances of being a warrior.

As he passes by, he catches sight of you. The scrape on your knee is healed, but now you’ve got a blossoming bruise on your cheek, your knuckles are cut open, and the boy on the other end of your fist has a bloody nose. 

The group catches sight of him, scattering when they see his armband. A couple of them spit at your feet before turning tail to run. Reiner turns to you, preparing to offer his handkerchief. You hold your hand up to stop him, pulling the one he’d given you at your last meeting out of your pocket.

“Fancy seeing you again,” you mumble, handing his now clean handkerchief to him. He pockets the now clean one, using his other to dab at your knuckles. You let him, defeated that he’s cleaned you up twice now. “Would you like to know why I’m bleeding every time you see me?” He glances up at you, then back down as he gently cleans your hands. “They make fun of my brother. He can’t help that he’s different, and he can’t stand up for himself. I know it hurts hearing people say awful things about you, so I… fight them on his behalf.”

Reiner hums, giving you your hand back once it’s clean; raw, maybe, but clean nonetheless. “You’d make a good warrior candidate too.” It stuns you, his admission. His cheeks turn pink, and he motions for you to stay where you are, and picks a flower from a patch of nearby grass. Technically, it’s a weed, but it looks like a flower, and that’s good enough for him. He gives it to you, placing it in the hand with the bloodied knuckles. “For you. Keep standing up for your brother.”

You watch him go, standing in the middle of the street until he’s only a dot at the end of the road. Your eyes trail down to the flower, a small smile on your lips.

The next time you see Reiner, he’s inherited the Armored Titan, and he’s preparing to go to Paradis. He finds you again, though this time, it’s different than the last two times he’s found you.

You’d heard that there was a boy, a warrior boy, the one who had inherited the Armored, knocking on doors, looking for a girl who matched your description and had a little brother. The majority of people were kind, telling him that she didn’t live here, and he’d go on to the next door, repeating the process. There were so many people here, and word tended to spread fast, so he was hoping to find you before he had to leave.

A knock on the door could be heard. Your brother, the one you always stood up for, answered the door. You stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder. On the other side of the door stood Reiner. He was holding a few flowers, ones like the one he had given you in the middle of the street those couple of years ago.

Reiner hands them to you wordlessly, a small hint of blush coloring his cheeks. “These are for you,” he mumbles. “I wanted to give them to you before I left. I know I’ll come back, but just in case I didn’t, I…” He trails off, noticing your brother in front of you, holding onto your skirt. Reiner squats down, much like he did the first time you met him, and smiles. “You’ve got a great sister.”

Your brother doesn’t speak, staring at Reiner as if he’d grown another head. “He’s mute,” you say quietly. “Hasn’t spoken a word since he was born.”

Reiner hums, then stands. “I still stand by what I said. He has a great sister. Can I visit you when I get back?”

You nod, smiling at him, your cheeks flushed at his question. Your brother tugs at your skirt, signaling you in his own way that he’d like to go inside. Nervously, and unsure, you wave goodbye to Reiner. He turns, hands in his pockets, and you close the door. 

The flowers are in your hands, a bit wilted from how long they had been in his slightly sweaty palm. You grab a glass from the kitchen and put them in water anyway. The last one finally wilts completely on the day Reiner leaves for Paradis.

Reiner comes back from Paradis today. You wait in the streets to see him, just like everyone else. He looks different, though you suppose anyone would. Sure, he’s changed physically, but there’s also a hardness in his eyes, one that wasn’t there when he’d left.

His eyes scan over people, landing on his family. You wait patiently, waiting your turn for him to find you. Of course he’d find his family first, they’re his family. A few moments pass, and you see him excuse himself and begin searching again.

You look up, and his eyes meet yours. Your shoulders visibly relax when he stands in front of you. He’s taller, taller now that he’s in front of you, and you look up at him. In your hand are some flowers, which you offer to him. He takes them, a small twitch in his lips as he does.

He offers you his elbow, and the two of you walk. There’s no particular destination in mind, just the plan to walk. You tell him what you’ve done while he’s been gone, and he tells you what he can about his time away.

You give his arm a gentle squeeze when he talks of Bertholdt, and again when he talks about the time he returned here, but didn’t have the time or option to really visit anyone. “It’s okay,” you tell him, “I understand.”

“There was a girl I met while I was there,” he had said. Your heart gave a painful squeeze. “She reminded me of you,” he added. Your heart gave another squeeze, this one fluttery and light at the thought that he had been thinking of you while he was gone.

The two of you walk until the sun sets. You don’t even have to lead him to your home; he remembers the way from all those years ago when he’d gone door-to-door trying to find the girl with your description who had a little brother.

When the two of you arrive, he waits on the stoop in front of your home, hands behind his back. While you had been unlocking the door, he had picked a flower from nearby. You turn to him, and he tucks the flower behind your ear, adjusting it so that it can be seen when he looks at you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The days, weeks, and months following, the look that Reiner returned with never goes away. A birthday comes and goes for the both of you, turning another year older, but this time together for the first time since he’s left.

Each day he sees you, he brings a flower. You jokingly told him the ones he used to bring were weeds, and now he brings you real and true flowers. They sit on the desk in your room, the fragrance they give off leaving your room smelling like a flower shop.

“I’ll love you until the last one dies,” he says nonchalantly. “It’s why I bring you one every day, that way you always have one that’s alive.” It makes your heart do that funny thing again, and his as well, though his is more so because he’s afraid you’ll laugh or something. He’d prefer not to lose you, one of the good and pure things in his dark life.

And now, the two of you sit on the couch, your feet in his lap while the two of you read your own books. He holds his book and turns his pages in one hand, the other resting on your leg, fingers trailing up and down your shin.

You’ve read the same paragraph once, twice, another time… His rough and calloused fingers on your skin are making it hard to concentrate on what you’re reading. 

A quiet huff pushes past your lips, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“You’re distracting me. I’ve read about Clarisse speaking to Guy six times and I still couldn’t tell you what she said.” He chuckles, and you press your toes into his side. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing, nothing.” He trails his hand higher, ticklish touches hitting your knee now. “What about now? Am I still being distracting?”

You swallow, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Is he… teasing you? He is. He’s teasing you. Reiner Braun, stoic warrior that he is, is teasing you. He cracks a small smile, just the corner of his mouth curving upward. Truly, he was nervous. He wanted to do… things… with you, but he was worried you wouldn’t want that. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you seemed to be getting flustered by it, and not freaked out. So, he continues, giving your leg a yank to pull you down towards him.

You gasp, situating your legs on either side of his lap, hands wrapping around his neck. “This is new,” you murmur. “Very demanding. Not that I mind,” you add quickly. “I’m just surprised is all.”

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. Sometimes kissing you just isn’t enough, and I want a bit more. Is that okay? You can always tell me to stop.” You nod, fingers running through the hair at this nape. “Okay,” he whispers.

Reiner leans forward, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and neck. It tickles slightly, and even more so when the hair on his jaw scratches at your skin. Your head tilts the opposite way, allowing him some room to work with. His lips find your collarbone, and you shiver, the feeling foreign, but good.

He looks up at you, large fingers finding the buttons of your blouse, his eyes asking for permission. You lay your hands over the top of his, undoing the first button for him, and he takes over from there. The blouse leaves your body, slid off of your shoulders and down your arms. Reiner reaches behind you, finding the clasp of your bra before that is removed from your body too.

His fingers trail over your exposed breasts curiously, the rough pads of his fingers raising goosebumps on your flesh. His thumb catches your nipple, watching it harden once his finger is gone.

You let out a soft sigh, and he looks up at you. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly. “I want to see all of you.” And see all of you he does. He stands, setting you down on your feet. Your arms go to cover yourself, but he places his hands on your shoulders, running his hands down your arms until he can take hold of your hands to kiss the palms.

You rest your hands lightly on his shoulders as he undoes the zipper on the side of your skirt. He lets it hit the floor, large hands tracing your sides before resting on your hips. His fingers skim the waistband of your panties, the ugly cotton ones you wear when you desperately need to do laundry but try to put it off another day.

It would make you embarrassed if Reiner wasn’t looking at you the way he was. It was a look that you couldn’t really describe, but one that made you think he wanted you, and not in the way he already had you, but in the ways he hadn’t. It makes you press your thighs together, toes curling into the rug beneath your feet.

Reiner breathes out a soft sigh, ghosting his fingers over your skin. It’s then that he realizes he’s still fully clothed, and takes your hands in his, placing them on his shirt. He kisses you gently, and you take over from there, pulling his shirt up and over, tossing it aside.

You fumble with his belt, hands shaking slightly. He kisses your hair, mumbling quietly, “S’okay. You don’t have to be nervous. It’s only me.” A shaky inhale, then the relaxing of your fingers. They’re no longer shaking, which is good, and his belt jingles as you go to undo the button of his pants. They drop to the floor, and his boxers along with it.

Reiner stands in front of you now, and you knew he’d be big; it was something you’d thought about frequently, but he’s big. It makes your mouth water, and you reach out, gently touching his cock where it sits half-hard against his thigh.

He sucks in a breath, head tipping back at the soft touch. He realizes that the both of you are still standing, and pushes you towards the couch. Ideally, he’d wanted his first time with you to be on a bed, but it’s too far away, and he wants you now, so the couch will have to do.

Your calves hit the couch, and you fall onto it. Reiner turns you so that you can lay down, takes your legs, and situates them on the couch so that he can sit between them. His gaze travels down your body, locking on to the way your pussy is already slick and wet. He rubs one thick finger through your folds, biting his lip at the way it just slides through.

“You’re so wet already… Is that just from me?” His eyes sparkle, cheeks slightly pink at the fact that you’re wet, and this wet, just for him. “You’ll let me get you ready, won’t you? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, caressing his cheek. “I’ve waited this long, I think I can wait a little longer.” He swallows, and you smile up at him. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me,” you tell him, echoing his sentiment from earlier. “Is this… your first time too?”

Reiner’s head snaps up to meet your gaze, and he gives you one swift nod. “It is. I was hoping you’d wait for me, and I’m glad you did. I…” He trails off for a moment. “I asked someone about the proper way to do things. I know it may not be perfect the first time, but I want you to feel as good as possible.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips as he gently inserts one finger into your fluttering hole. It’s much warmer than he had expected, and he finds himself panting into your open mouth, rutting against your thigh. “Is this okay?” he grunts into your mouth.

You grab onto his wrist, pushing his finger a bit further inside of you, a quiet whimper falling from your lips. “Yes, more please. And you can--can add another finger.” He nods, adding another finger in once he pulls the first out to the tip. The stretch makes you gurgle out a squeak, and you murmur reassuring words to him, letting him know you’re okay.

“Let me know if you need something else, or need me to do something. You know your body better than I do.” He blushes, the arm he’s holding himself up on flexed tight, his hips seeking friction against your thigh. “What would make you feel good?”

So, you teach him what you like; curl his fingers just a little, use his thumb to circle your clit, but not too harshly, and not too rough. Soon, your hips are bucking up into his hand, and you claw at his back, head tossed back. With a cry of his name, you cum, walls of your pussy fluttering around his fingers. 

His eyes widen, and he’s so enthralled that he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, thumb still circling your clit, and fingers lightly pushing in and out of your sopping wet pussy. He’s only stopped by your breathy plea, and a grab at his wrist. “Reiner, s’too much,” you mumble. “Give me a second and then… we can keep going.”

He pulls his fingers from you, watching the strings of your slick web between his fingers, then split and break. Without a second thought, he puts his fingers into his mouth, moaning quietly at the taste of you. You watch him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, a shiver going up your spine as you do.

Once his fingers are clean, he rests his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin there. He glances down, seeing how red and angry his cock looks, and he gasps when your fingers wrap around just below his head.

His body moves forward, the head of him pressing against your entrance. He pushes in slowly, choking on a moan as he does so. You grip his forearms tightly. The stretch burns, bordering on painful despite the bit of prep he had given you.

Reiner stops once he makes it in to the hilt, chest heaving. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he inhales deeply before opening them to look at you. The way you’re squeezing him has every muscle in his body burning, and he’s glad he let you have one orgasm, because he surely wouldn’t be able to hold back long enough to give you another. 

A strangled “Move” flies from your lips, and Reiner’s hips begin moving. He lets out a grunt, and a moan. Embarrassingly, his hips begin to stutter after a handful of thrusts, and he lays his head on your shoulder as he cums.

He stills then, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t last long. We can… work on that.” Reiner blushes, tracing your jaw. “Was it okay?”

You nod, pulling him down on top of your body, fingers trailing up and down his back. “The first time isn’t ever great I’ve heard, but as far as first times go, I think this one was pretty good. You took really good care of me. Thank you, Reiner.”

He hums, kissing your forehead. Then, he reaches down to where his jeans lay on the floor, and pulls a small flower from his pocket. He places it behind your ear. It’s a little wilted, but it lays against your head limply, and he smiles. “Just as lovely as the first time I gave you one.”

tags: @bloobell @sweetberi @ivsahi @lovesakusa @needs-serotonin

[benedictscanvas]

sage-coloured glasses - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: This is just a barrel of soft cardigans thrown in your face, with just the smallest mention of nightmares

A/N: This is technically a 2nd part to ‘a shared heart’, but there are only vague mentions of it and this can easily be read on its own. I simply wanted some soft Spence in his natural habitat and I hope this can be of some comfort to you too, if you’re in need of it <3

---

His hair was oh-so-soft underneath your fingertips but the thought felt forbidden. You hadn’t expected him to have soft hair. It always looked soft, yes, the small, unruly strands that he regularly curled behind his ear looked like the fluffy hair of a man who felt most at home in a library and wore cardigans. But in the line of work you were in, you were used to things having hard edges and sharp corners.

Not Spencer’s hair. It delivered on its visual promise as you slowly wove your fingers through the strands and tattooed the memory of them into your skin, let it sink into your very bones. When his head had hit your lap on your flight back home with a murmured question of permission, it had been like a magnet. Your hand was in his hair before you even gave him your answer, but it was an answer in itself.

“‘Course, Spence.”

A reassurance. His only response was a grateful hum as he tucked his legs up onto the sofa and you shuffled to make as much room for him as you could. You were slightly falling off the end of the sofa, getting cramp in your toes as you put your weight into your left foot to keep yourself in place. The armrest was digging into your hip and it should have been uncomfortable.

And yet, it wasn’t. Not when you lightly scritch-scratched at his scalp and he turned further into you, the curve of his nose pressing into your knee. Comfort wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket and you could only hope he was swathed in it too.

“Sleep,” you mumbled a few moments later, “I’ll wake you when we land.”

Silence. A rustle of fabric as he brought his arm up from his side, graced your knee with a feather-light squeeze then let his hand rest against your knee, right by his nose. A relieved exhale.

Twenty minutes passed. His breaths were deep and even, bordering on a snore every once in a while. Your fingers hadn’t stilled their dance through his hair, although they had slowed down in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Your neck ached and your heart did too.

Emily crept over with some paperwork after another ten. You reached over and took it with a nod and a smile, grateful that she kept silent too as she returned to her seat next to Derek. There was a little nudging and whispering as she sat back down, Dave turning in his seat to glance back at the two of you sporting a smirk that spoke volumes. No matter, as long as Spencer’s shoulder kept digging into your thigh for the rest of eternity.

It was tricky to complete the paperwork over his head without anything to lean on except your own hand. Another worthwhile sacrifice. Cases like this one were difficult for everyone. It was the type of case that set up camp in your mind in preparation for the nightmares that it would guest star in for the weeks to come. When you relayed that analogy to Spencer a few months ago, he’d laughed. Only someone who understood the feeling could laugh like that.

“Sorry I crashed on you,” Spencer spoke up just as you were forging his signature on a document that you’d all have to sign in time. He’d done it for you before, an unspoken agreement to save each other time.

(it was similar to the unspoken agreement to care when no one else had the time to, or the silent pact to share ‘good morning’ muffins whenever they were available, or the wordless understanding that he was your person and you were his)

You glanced down at him and were surprised to see that he’d rolled to lie on his back, just to stare up at you. Your hand was, embarrassingly, still carding through his hair each time you placed your pen between your teeth to read something through and you couldn’t imagine the angle he was staring from was your most flattering. Still, his eyes sparkled under the overhead aeroplane lights, which you wouldn’t have thought possible. It was likely a matter of perspective.

“Don’t be,” you waved him away, focusing your attention back on the paper in your hand before you gave it all away. Your hand fell limp in his hair, if only because you were too stubborn to remove it. Removing it now, after all, would only be an obvious admission of something you had been failing to hide for months now, “I’ve been told I have a comfy lap.”

“By whom?”

“Cats, mostly.”

He huffed a small laugh that travelled right the way up your spine.

“Cats are intelligent,” he mused quietly, resting his hands on his stomach, one on top of the other. A grounding technique that made you blink, “You can’t be comfortable though, doing paperwork like this.”

“What can I say? I’m a generous person.”

He hummed in lieu of an answer, but you could tell he felt guilty for the position he’d put you in. If only he could see that you were practically hanging off the seat, see the ridge that the armrest was definitely imprinting into your side, then he’d really feel guilty, but of course, that was the last thing you wanted him to feel.

(of course, there was also a part of you that dreamt of apologies whispered into your skin, of fingers skimming over fabric, of delicate kisses pressed to your hip-bone. of a guilt that melts away with each murmured confession of adoration. of a blissful atonement for a sin you’d already forgiven)

“Honestly, Spence, you’re fine. I would’ve moved you if I was uncomfortable.”

And you would have moved by now if you really felt that bad, you thought to yourself, relishing in the fact that he hadn’t moved yet, that you could still feel his gaze on your chin as you pretended to skim over the words on the page, once, twice, once again.

“You want me to take over paperwork duty?”

“I told you to sleep,” you said instead, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I did sleep, for at least 30 minutes, which we both know is good for my standards.”

His rebuttal was punctuated by his hands both reaching up, making grabbing motions towards the stack of papers you were pouring through. Knowing how much faster he would be at getting through whatever was left, you heaved the pile into his hands with a sigh and watched as he held them up in front of his face and began reading, blocking your view of him entirely. It was impossible not to feel cheated.

When he reached a section he had to write in, he held his hand up for a pen. You gave him one from your jacket pocket rather than the one that had been in your mouth, knowing that he would be grateful if he knew. When he’d finished scribbling, you’d take the pen back from him, lean your head against the headrest until the cycle repeated. Occasionally he shuffled his head in your lap and your hand would slide a little further into his hair, but nothing was said. You took it as a cue to stay right where you were.

As expected, he finished the paperwork far sooner than you would have done. When he reached behind his head to put it on the table next to you, you took it from him before he could pull a muscle in his shoulder and he muttered his thanks. Now you could see him again, it was difficult to fight off a smile. Maybe the paperwork in the way had been more beneficial than you thought.

Briefly, you wondered how many of your signatures he’d forged in the documents he’d gone through, wondered how much better he was at forgery than you, but you didn’t check the paperwork in case he thought you were checking his work was up to par.

“You just saved me an hour’s work,” you sighed happily, “My angel once again.”

It was a nickname that had stuck around. From the time he’d shared his muffin around a month ago, you couldn’t shake the sentiment off. Not only had you grown closer - bolder - in that time, you’d also adjusted your language accordingly. Angel made a regular appearance, if only to bring the dusty pink to his cheeks that you treasured.

“It’s nothing, you know that,” he insisted, that very same pink blooming up his neck as you basked in the glow, “Besides, you’d done half already.”

He was being ridiculously kind, because you’d be surprised if you’d made it a third of the way through. There was no use arguing it, because compliments were far from Spencer’s strong suit and you’d already got the upper hand using the word angel. Better to agree to disagree.

“Thank you anyway,” you decided would be a good compromise, and from the smile on his face as he stared up at you, it seemed he agreed. It was funny that agreeing to disagree with Spencer mostly just felt like being on the same book, same page, same line. Unfortunately, you couldn’t quite tell exactly which word he’d gotten to, because if you did, you might have kissed him a long time ago.

(and goodness had you thought about it enough times)

When he abruptly sat up from his place in your lap, you suppressed your whine of disapproval as best you could, but there was still a small noise of disappointment that you couldn’t contain. He smiled at the sound, face the right way up now with lines and grooves in all the right places, around his eyes, his mouth, his cheeks. Smile lines are notoriously pretty on people whose smiles are the highlight of your very existence.

“I’m not as comfy as you thought, hm?” you teased, mainly to prevent him from seeing any of the hurt shining in your eyes. He saw it anyway.

“Nope,” he said easily, already sliding all the way over to the other side of the sofa, each inch of distance deepening your frown, “Now I, on the other hand, have it on far better authority that I provide a comfortable lap experience.”

“And whose authority would that be?”

“Henry, of course, and I know you trust his judgement above all others. Come on.”

He actually patted his lap and the swooping of your chest was enough to make you slightly lightheaded.

“Are you sure?”

He gave you a withering look that gave you no choice but to scoot over towards him. Lying down, you mirrored his previous position as your head came to tentatively rest in the little dip between his thighs, as near to his knees as you could get without becoming uncomfortable. He was unspeakably warm and it seeped into your very soul.

“Better?”

“You’re not that comfy.”

A lie. Blatant to both parties as you snuggled into him a little more, allowing his leg to take the weight of your neck. Before you knew it, his hand was resting in your hair too and even though you knew it wasn’t as soft as his, you hoped it was enough. It didn’t move, save for the sporadic slow sweep of his thumb through the strands, but it didn’t matter. He was always more than enough, after all.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you when we land.”

His words were an exact repeat of your own. There was no chance of a long sleep, not with your nerve endings flaring at each and every point of contact between the two of you, but there was also no use arguing. Rest, in place of sleep, was better than nothing. You smiled up at him one last time before closing your eyes, drifting into a half-slumber that consisted mostly of vague musings about the individual notes of his cologne.

Occasionally, when you simply couldn’t help yourself, you’d open one eye, maybe even two, and peek up at him. He looked ethereal, even from this angle. It was likely a matter of perspective.

(it just so happened that spencer thought you looked positively celestial from all twenty seven of the angles he had painstakingly catalogued into his memory. that was likely a matter of perspective too)

---

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! i’m not currently tagging people, since i was away for a while and i don’t want to tag people who are no longer interested - if you would like to be tagged in my fics from now on, send in an ask and i can add you to a main taglist or a character-specific one <3

[saphirered]

Hello! What do you think it would be like if Essek had a fire genasi S/o, like they're normal really calm and collected unlike most fire genasi but the times they do get really general angry it's like watching a volcano erupt! (Maybe they got angry cause Essek got hurt by someone?) Thank you!

Essek is so caught up in his work he doesn’t even hear you enter his laboratory. Papers are strewn about, books opened, some flat, some propped agains anything and everything for better readability. The sound of the metal nib of a fine pen moving across paper, the only constant in the room besides the occasional mutter to himself.

You knock on the door. No response. You call out his name. Nothing. You think whatever Essek’s working on must be very important to have him be so unaware of his surroundings. You notice Essek’s in his robe, shoes and a shirt given the mostly exposed lower arms. Did he not get dressed in the morning? Or did he simply never go to sleep? You’re not sure. Could be both. Could be either.

Since he’s not responding you simply approach. You place a hand on his shoulder, slide it down over his chest as you kiss his temple. You look over the pages out in front of him as he slowly becomes aware of your presence, leaning into your kiss.

“What are you up to?” You ask softly recognising some of the spells as the schematics of healing magic and to a lesser extend regeneration. Essek must have noticed your confusion as he quickly pulls from your grasp, begins to gather the papers and pile them together, closing the books as he goes.

“Nothing of importance. I did not hear you enter.” Essek gets up leaning against the desk and faces you with a smile reaching for you and pulling you closer to the point you no longer have visual on any of the papers and books. He’s definitely hiding something.

“I knocked, and called your name. You seemed to be pretty caught up in whatever you were working on.” You try to look past him but the moment you do his hand finds its way to your cheek brushing his thumb over it lovingly.

“My apologies. Shall we go somewhere else? I think I’ve been crammed up in this study long enough for today. Perhaps some fresh air will suit us both?” Essek suggest with a somewhat nervous laugh. You smile back at him and give him a kiss. If he’s not going to talk, you’ll find out yourself and you’re prepared to use whatever you can to get to the bottom of this.

Reaching for the stack of papers behind him once they are securely in your grasp you break the kiss taking several steps back and leaf through the notes before he can get to you. So not just healing magic… herbology, physiology and anatomy, manual healing, treating injuries, medicine, recipes for concoctions, ointments and potions to cure anything from bruises to broken bones, wounds and burns.

“Why the sudden interest in the art of healing?” You frown as the pages are snatched from your grasp and the drow holds them behind his back with an unreadable expression, head held high; the same one he uses whenever he’s dealing with any kind of official and none casual business.

“A sudden interest. I found myself with time to spare and decided to spend it learning until your return. And since you’re here, there’s no need to continue.” You notice the nervous smile break through again leaving you more leery of Essek. If he’s gonna play this game you’ll play along but last you remembered chess is a two player game and you’re not about to be tricked into making a certain move by the wizard.

“You misunderstand. I’m not judging your ‘sudden interest’ nor questioning your reasonings for wishing to study healing. However, last I remember you were the one to tell me healing magic is not exactly within your capabilities. I’m just curious.” You take a step closer to Essek and he steps back. You take another and close enough to the desk he puts the stack of paper back where it was before he steps back in towards you.

“There are some very capable healers among my friends and you are an exceptional one. I simply wish to learn the deeper meanings to the abilities they have at their fingertips and gain a better understanding of it.” You smile at him innocently. Such a liar. Such. A. Liar. Half truth if we’re being technical but deception nonetheless.

“Well then, I would leave you to your studies but I have missed you, Essek.” You kiss his cheek snaking one arm around his waist. You can see the panic in his eyes. Normally he’d happily indulge, return your affections without even a second of doubt. He pulls the robe around his torso a little closer as your free hand dances up his chest and over his shoulder.

The moment you reach his shoulder he grits his teeth, jaw tightening holding back a a whimper or a gasp as his entire posture freezes up. You quickly remove your hand and look at him worried. Essek gives you a look of defeat as you put a bit more space between the two of you, allowing you to move freely.

“Essek…” You all but threaten as you reach for the neckline of the robe. He has half the mind to stop you but refrains from doing so with a sigh as you push the fabric aside.

His shoulder and upper arm seem very much bruised, the bone slightly out of place. Seeing it continues over the top of his shoulder you turn him around inspecting his back too. Two deep cuts, luckily no longer bleeding mare the back of his shoulder. The injuries agitated, left untreated. Essek sighs deeply as you gasp at the sight.

“What happened?” You go over the outline of the open wounds, careful not to touch.

“Let’s just say the Martinet Daleth did not appreciate my comments on his personal relations very much.” Essek grits his teeth as you accidentally brush over a particularly painful area. You bite your lower lip keeping yourself from making a snarky remark but can’t prevent yourself from feeling the threads of control slip. How could he have done something so stupid? He’s aware how powerful those people are, not only that, in the position he is in, being less than friendly will not do him well in any circumstance when he doesn’t have any leverage anymore.

“Have you gone mad?!” That may have come out a little less… calm than you had hoped it would. Deciding to focus on the now and not all the things you may want to say, shout or scream, or actions you may want to take, you instead focus on healing the worst. You make sure the wounds are clean before they close up, reset the bone in the right position and allow the bruises to fade.

As your magic sets in and begins to work its wonders Essek lets out a breath of relief, rubbing at his priorly injured shoulder testing its movability. Nothing remains of the injuries and you’re able to contain the fire feel burning within your chest and throat. You take a few deep breaths as Essek thanks you.

Brushing Essek off, knowing the way well enough, you head for the component pantry. Essek follows behind you calling after you but out of fear of blowing up in his face you keep going and ignore him. You go over the shelves grabbing jars and vials as you go. You had to channel your anger somewhere so if this was going to be it, then so it be.

You had worked very hard to keep your own fury contained when it arose. You’re usually calm and collected even in the most dire of situations, but when someone comes for your friends, let alone lover, you will put the burning fires of the Nine Hells to shame, living up to the ‘hell hath no fury’ expression. It’s also a side you prefer to keep away from your loved ones if it can be avoided.

Normally a few deep breaths, counting to ten and another few deep breaths would do. In the rare cases that didn’t work you’d try occupying yourself with something else entirely. But now… you’re slipping. You can feel the rage burning within, so to the components you turn.

You pick up another vial inspecting it and Essek interrupts placing himself between you and your already gathered components.

“I don’t know what you’re planning but please, don’t do anything you’ll come to regret.” Essek practically begs. He takes the vial from your hand but drops it immediately, hissing in pain. The vial shatters as he waves his hand as if to cool it down. You push past him, gather the components and throw them into a sack as you leave the pantry. Essek quickly follows behind still clutching his hand to cool it down.

“Where are you going?” You stop, put on the most composed look you can and turn around to face him.

“I’m going to murder the leader of an infamous order of magic users. Now if you will excuse me, enjoy the rest of your day.” Words like poison. No more anger, just pure unrestrained hatred. You turn back around and continue your way towards the front door. You clench your fists feeling the burning heat gather within your palms.

“Don’t do anything stupid! You’ll get yourself killed!” Essek shouts after you but you keep walking. He calls your name. “Do not do anything stupid!” He repeats. You stop in your tracks feeling as if something inside of you just snaps. The last thread of your composure perhaps.

“Don’t do anything stupid? Anything stupid he says!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Like how you didn’t do anything completely and utterly stupid when you did what you did? How you lied to so many people, were the one responsible for so many terrible things. Or how you made choices ignoring the consequences of your actions?” You shout back, the ground beneath your feet’s temperature starts rising to the point where you are scorching the fine carpet beneath. Admittedly, your words are a low blow.

“You know what I meant!” Essek retorts getting closer to you, his frustrations also clear.

“Oh, I know what you meant but let’s no longer pretend you’re the only one you care about suffering from the consequences of your actions. Can you for just a moment just open your eyes and realise you have so many people around you who love you and would go to the ends of the earth for you. Can you just understand that when someone hurts you and threatens your livelihood, your life, that maybe that doesn’t sit well with me?” Unclenching your fists embers drift to the floor leaving more holes in the carpet.

“Why do you have to be so stupid!” Scorching heat radiates in the hallway as a brief rush of flame passes through the space like burning oil. Essek is quick enough to float and avoid the fire, but you watch it spread.

Essek’s face softens as he quickly puts the fire out. He goes to place his hand on your arm but feeling the heat of your skin before even making contact, he’s forced to refrain and his hand falls back to the side. He’s never seen you quite so driven by hatred and anger. It scares him in a way. He’s not afraid of you. He trusts you. But he is afraid that letting you go off on your own so driven by those negative emotions, allowing them to fester and grow, will not do anyone good, least of all you. He worries for your wellbeing, just like you have for his plenty of times before.

“I know I may have a hard time coming to terms with others’ affections towards me and may have made some stupid decisions but I beg of you, please, do not walk into a lions’ den unprepared carrying bait around your neck.” While the fury still burns in your eyes and your skin is still much hotter to the touch than it should be Essek is able to grasp your hand without burning himself.

“I must ask you to refrain from brutally murdering the Martinet… for now. His time will come, just as those who are loyal to him. Just not yet.” Essek strokes your cheek as your eyes soften, expression saddening.

“They hurt you still.” The words come out almost like a cry of frustration and sadness. Whether that be because of what had happened to Essek or from losing control like that you’re not one hundred percent sure but you guess the latter.

“They did, and I assume they will be a thorn in my side just a bit longer but, if that means I’ll have you at my side to eventually deal with them, I feel more comfortable for it, no matter how much I would love to see you set their pretentious ship ablaze, in retaliation, you yourself said, calculated moves are a necessity, especially now.” Essek had already made his peace with this, he only hopes you would see the same. Wrapping your arms around him hiding your face in his chest you compose yourself in a silent thank you as he returns your embrace, holding you until you pull back enough to see his face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper looking at the scorch marks all over. “I didn’t mean to… I never-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone breaks at some point. You’ve been there for me plenty of times. I’m glad I get to return the favour, regardless of the circumstances.” Essek looks around already mentally making a list of what to get replaced and what to get repaired.

“You can be quite intimidating in your fury.” He smiles at you and you raise an eyebrow.

“I guess…” You feel regretful for the damages done.

“I might have use for that in the future if you’d be willing.” You give Essek a look of disapproval.

“What? I would love to see you do this, in some other places with less than friendly people, who you’ve already deemed deserving of your wrath.” Essek laughs.

“So I can repay you for this? I can do that. But only in the most dire situations.” You poke an accusing finger at his chest laughing with him. You give him quick kiss.

“At least it was not my library, or the study.” Essek sighs as you gawk and swat his arm jokingly.

“Rude! But yes. Because I can see you being the one in a fiery rage should anyone ever damage your precious books.”

[beyscape]

The Intern - 1

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Warnings: Age gap, technically cheating, swearing and stuff

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N Spoilers as it progresses! I’ve not read the book and only saw the first two episodes so if you haven’t seen episodes 1 and 2, what are you waiting for go watch them! I’m putting the reader around 26 and Andy around 40.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

 02:37 am

You sighed at the clock, slightly feeling cheated that only 9 minutes had passed since you last checked it, when it felt like it should have been hours. Sipping at the now cold coffee you bought from the vending machine down the hall, you leaned back in your chair. You had been staring at the mountain of paper scattered around your desk for hours now, yet it didn’t seem like you were able to make a dent into it. It sat there, almost mocking you; you scowled at it.

The office was dark and empty, it had been for some time now as the last person had left sometime after the clock stroke 10 pm. Without the occasional whistling of the night guard patrolling the building, you seemed totally alone. Not just physically too, you felt like you had no one with you, supporting you. Your gaze drifted to the big desk left unoccupied behind the glass wall. Andy Barber, the plaque on the desk read, right next to the messy pen holder and another mountain of paperwork, almost identical to the one you had on your desk. Great, you thought, they could mock you both. Even the pile of paper had someone. You rubbed your eyes as even your thoughts stopped making much sense.

You were tired.

It had been two weeks now that Andy was forced to take a paid leave, following the arrest warrant for his son. Fourteen days. Then why the hell did it feel like fourteen months?

Being Andy’s intern was something you simply loved. You were excited and eager to do your job, straight out of a prestigious law school you had gotten such a good job, so of course you were fresh and happy to please your bosses and wanting to make a great career for yourself by learning from some of the very best. At least, that’s how it started almost a year ago. You had heard of Andy’s name, followed some of his cases as he was one of the best district attorney’s of the whole East Coast. The job wasn’t easy by any means, even though he was a kind man he would never go easy on you about your job. You liked that air of professionalism he carried around him though, it seemed as if he was good at everything he did.

He was incredibly smart, funny, kind, not to mention downright gorgeous, and he would always look at you with such emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t help but feel your heart jump a little every time he gave you one of his deep looks. So, it was an understatement to say you had a crush on him. It was impossible not to! That’s how you tried to comfort yourself in those late-night hours when you were up from tossing and turning and all you could think of was how his lips would taste on yours. It was just a simple, tiny crush that you couldn’t do anything about. Aside from obstacles such as the age gap between you and him technically being your boss there was also the matter of him being married. You had met his family on a couple of occasions, they had seemed like the perfect little American family. No matter how deep your feelings ran, you knew you couldn’t possibly be the reason for breaking apart a family.

It was just a tiny crush anyways.

Your mind drifted to Andy, how his once bright and sharp eyes now seemed tired and the bags forming under his eyes made him look older than he was. It was funny how two weeks can change a man’s life so drastically.

Defending Jacob wasn’t an easy job, what with so many in the office believing that he was responsible with the murder of Ben. You thought of Jacob, images of him visiting Andy in the office sometimes after school flashed in your mind, and how he would shyly smile at you when you offered him some candy or asked about his classes. You just didn’t think that a boy like him could be the murderer. You wanted to catch the actual murderer and put an end to this whole ordeal so that maybe, hopefully things would go back to normal. You had forgotten what normal even was in those two frantic weeks.

You didn’t need to pull such long hours at the office, in fact if Neil found out he would probably make a sly remark about it, but you wanted to. You wanted to catch a murderer and make sure a teenage boy didn’t go to prison over a crime he didn’t commit, but more than those you wanted to help Andy.

You thought of the times he would smile at you, thanking you for your hard work. “I have no idea what I would do without you, Y/N,” he had once said, the words still burning bright in your memory, “I can’t even remember how things were before you came in and started your internship.” His gaze was so intense at that point, his blue eyes so deep you thought you would drown in them if you stared for too long, his smile so relaxed and curved to the one side, his hands playing with the end of his tie he had loosened moments ago, he was everything you had ever wanted and some more. You had lowered your gaze back then, a bashful smile appearing on your heated face. Oh, how you wished you were back at that diner he had taken you out to celebrate after a long and tiresome case.

A sad smile played on your face as you reflected on the many memories you had made in the passing year, all of them equally leaving you flustered. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts however, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching your part of the floor. Your head snapped as movement entered your peripheral vision, sending a dull ache down your neck sore from slumping over your desk for hours. It was too dark for you to see the face of the person approaching, but you knew him well enough to recognize him just from his silhouette.

Your mouth fell open ever so slightly, your heart picking up its speed as he made his way towards you. What was he doing here at three in the morning on a Tuesday night? He wasn’t even supposed to be allowed in the building! Despite these thoughts and many more swirling through your head, there was one main thought blaring in your mind: you missed him very much. You had seen him around town of course, but it was only here and there and in the passing. Neil had made it very clear that you weren’t to see Andy as “it would create a conflict of interest” he had claimed. You knew though deep down it was because Neil hated Andy’s guts and was probably happy to have him out of the office.

He finally walked close enough that the light of your desk lamp washed over his tired features, you noted the way his hair was a mess spiking up in different directions as if he had been tossing and turning restlessly in bed. He wasn’t wearing his usual work attire, those suits you loved seeing him in, and instead was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple hoodie on top. Your gaze shifted back to his face where surprise now gleamed in his eyes along with something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” He said and momentarily all you could think of was how much you loved the way your name rolled off of his tongue.

“What are you doing here so late?” He asked as he stopped right in front of your desk, hands casually in his pockets. He didn’t need an answer however as his laid on the paperwork you had sitting in front of you, going page after page about him and more specifically his son’s involvement with the murder case.

“I see. That asshole Neal keeping you here all night? You look like you need some rest.” He remarked with a darkened, displeased look in his eyes. You shook your head, wanting to explain, to say so much, yet never finding the right words.

“I’m here because I want to, Neal has nothing to do with it. I wanna figure out a way to prove Jake’s innocence, to see if we maybe missed something. I don’t believe he did it.” You replied with a fierce passion, your words breaking the silence engulfing the whole building.

“That makes the two of us.” He smiled at that for a briefly, then seemed to catch himself. He frowned, almost feeling guilty for smiling. Your heart panged.

“How about you Mr. Barber? You really are not supposed to be here.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Andy? Kingston was at night shift, told him I forgot to grab some of my personal stuff I needed. And he let me in.” He scratched the back of his neck, slightly swaying on his heels.

“No offense but if Kingston’s just letting people in maybe he needs a little talk.” You teased him, wishing to see him smile once again. He didn’t, but you could easily read the amusement in his eyes. You had spent too long by his side, watching him, to miss those little things.

“You wanna take a walk? Clear your head a little. I know I need that.” He asked in response, surprising both you and himself.

“What about those personal stuff you needed to grab?” You shuffled on your feet to pull on your coat, hoping it would be enough to brace you against the chill of the night.

“Nah, I honestly didn’t know what to do or where to go, one thing I knew was I needed to get out of that house. Next thing I know, I’m in front of the building. Figured I’d try my chance at getting inside. But now that I’ve ran into you, my night’s a bit better.” He motioned towards the door with his head, his hair swaying slightly in the same direction, “Let’s go.”

The elevator ride and the couple of minutes it took to walk through the building was spent in silence aside from Kingston wishing you both a good night at the front security desk, as if you both didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. In that same silence you walked towards the park close to the tall grey building you had left moments ago, shivering against the cold of three a.m.

“So,” you started after minutes of silence, not being able to take it any longer, “do you wanna talk about it?” You hugged your arms around your body, tucking your already cold hands.

“It’s just,” he sighed and rolled his shoulders, almost as if trying to drop some of the weight he was carrying, “it’s crazy how fast everything went to shit. He didn’t do it, Y/N, I know my son. And they are ruining his life just like that. I can’t believe all of this and there is nothing I can do as I watch them ruin my son’s future so easily, just like that.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing for things to go back to normal, just as you. You both knew that normal was a long memory now, things could never go back to the way they were. Not entirely.

“I’m so sorry you are going through all this, Mr. Barber. Neither you nor Jake deserve this.” You let out a sigh matching his, desperately wanting to comfort the man who haunted every waking thought you had, yet finding yourself unable to as you glanced at the ring shining on his finger under the orange-ish street lights.

“How many times have I told you to call me Andy?” He turned his gaze to you now, you swallowed.

“More than I can remember the number of, Mr. Barber.” You gave him a cautious smile, unable to hold it in. Your heart swell with happiness as he snorted at your last remark, a soft look on his face as he took you in. You bit your lip before speaking again.

“How is Laurie?” You had to know. Damn your hands which ached to hold him, damn whatever may stand between you, you wanted to take action and do something as the urge, the need to close the distance between you got stronger and stronger. To do that, however, you had to know.

Andy flinched slightly at the mention of his wife, as if he didn’t expect for you to bring her up. Or like he even forgot that he had a wife. A bitter, short laugh escaped his lips as he ruefully examined the sliver band on his finger.

“Laurie is… Laurie. We are fighting again.” He raised his gaze to meet your eyes. You were caught off guard, you raised an eyebrow at the word ‘again’. He continued when you said nothing.

“We have been having some problems, we even had counselling a while ago. Laurie was always so keen about wanting to keep it quiet and locked away, and we tried it for Jake’s sake. Coming from a broken home type of situation, I wanted to try for Jake. These two weeks however, things have been really bad, on top of everything. This whole thing brought back a ton of unresolved bitterness from years ago. I never told anyone that.” He looked at you as if he was seeing you under a new light, his shoulders stood higher and more relaxed. A warm feeling spread in you as he confided in you things he never muttered to another soul, you smiled at him softly, his eyes drawing you in and spinning your head.

“I’m so sorry, Andy.” Was all you needed to say as you lay a delicate hand on his arm, the gentleness in your eyes surprising him and make him feel things he got the taste of so long ago.

One look at the hand you lay on his arm and another at your face, and Andy found himself to be in trouble. He already was, don’t get him wrong, his life seemed to be a magnet for all things bad and problematic at the moment. This, however, was a new kind of trouble as he looked at his intern, this young girl who had diligently followed him for a whole year and always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Before he knew what he was doing, he closed the distance between you with two small steps, and now was so close that you were too afraid to breathe, scared that even the smallest of moves would fully erase the very little gap left between your lips.

Despite your whole body feeling as if you were thrown into a scorching flame and every inch of your skin itching to get even closer, you waited, staring into his eyes with slightly raised eyebrows and hooded eyes. Your mouth was barely open and so was his, you were so close that every time he ruggedly breathed you felt his hot breath caress your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered before giving in and closing the distance after a painful minute, placing those soft lips you had spent hours fantasizing about on yours. There was nothing gentle with his kiss, getting more and more heated and frantic as if he was a man needing cold water after spending his whole life walking around the desert.

You whimpered against his kiss as Andy’s one hand wrapped around your waist and the other finding your neck, pulling you towards him with no more distance to cover. You were so entangled with each other in the dark, it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other started. Placing one last, this time gentler kiss on your lips, he rested his head against your forehead, his eyes for closed as he breathed a deep breath.

“Oh Y/N,” he said, his voice strained and barely above a whisper, “what are we going to do, baby girl?”

You had no answer for him, a mess of emotions after the kiss that you felt your knees wouldn’t be able to hold you for much longer. So, you clung on Andy, his tense and broad shoulders feeling like they could carry you for as long as you needed, just as Andy’s hands clung on your waist, holding you close to his chest, his forehead still laying against yours.

In the park next to the towering building you both belonged to, you stood together some time after three. The chilly wind making its way into your lungs did nothing against the heat you felt all over your body, not cooling down one bit. In that park, in the safety of the shadows and the quiet of the town, you were safe. Not a defense attorney and his intern, just two people desperately needing to hold each other, too frightened to let go and face the world.

As the clock showed a little past 3 in the morning, you and Andy were safe in the dimly lit park, unaware how much that would change so very soon.

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There you have it folks! I’m so so whipped for this man. Make sure to follow me so you don’t miss the other chapters! My inbox is open for requests, feedback or just to scream about Chris Evans! :P 

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Seven-o-three

Summary: After your car decides to (literally) go up in flames, you’re forced to take the train to and from work and you find yourself drawn to the man who sits beside you every day on your way home.

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader

Genre: Romance, fluff,

Prompt: Meet-cute

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: This is for the @btsghostiewritersnet drabble marathon.

Ever since your car exploded on you (literally), you had found that your train ride home was the best part of your day. You knew that was a sad sentiment, especially as there was nothing at home worth rushing back to, but it was. Of course, you hated the rush of people shuffling onto the carriage, bringing with them a mirage of smells (most of which were unpleasant) and noises, but there was one benefit to catching the train.

The first time you noticed him was the day your headphones stopped working. You still had about ten stops until your station and, usually, you would have spaced out as you listened to music. But without your usual comfort, you had been forced to be more aware of the people gathering around the train doors.

They moved in sync, reminding you of a group of meerkats trying to peer over one another’s heads as they waited for the doors to open. And there he stood. He was slightly taller than the others, bleach blond hair tucked beneath a red beanie and earphones. He was dressed casually in a striped shirt, denim jacket, and strategically ripped jeans. He was typing away on his phone as he approached the train door and you couldn’t help but be transfixed by him. He was, quite simply, the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

He was the kind of man women dreamed of meeting. Handsome, well dressed. You could only hope that he was as kind as you thought his eyes looked. Because they did. A soft brown that seemed to sparkle as he looked at his phone.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you missed the moment he boarded the carriage and made his way to your row of seats. You looked up at him, almost missing his frown as he stared down at you with his warm brown eyes. His expression quickly morphed into a tight-lipped smile as he took the seat beside you. Your heart started beating harder in your chest. The handsome man was next to you; this was better than any daydream. If only you could think of some funny opener, something to capture his attention. Then, maybe there was still hope that he would take your hands and-

He was frowning at you…

That was enough to knock the fantasy away. Obviously, he was someone who preferred the window seat and you had ruined his perfect evening routine. After all, before your car had blown up, you had a usual driving route that made you frown with distaste when it was disrupted. So, you shrugged the encounter off. Unlike your car ride, there were many trains in the day. Who was to say you were going to ever see him again?

Only you did.

Once again, he paused to stare down at you for a moment before taking the seat next to you. You shrugged it away as coincidence. Maybe he just happened to make it in time for this train again? But as the week went on and the man continued to catch the same train and take the same seat, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you really had stolen his seat.

Your gut wanted you to apologise to him, but you knew that was ridiculous. It was public transport; he didn’t own the seat. Besides, your heart knew why you really wanted to break the easy silence that settled between the two of you. Even though your head knew it was illogical, your heart still clung to the dream of a romantic chance encounter. That this beautiful man beside you would turn out to be your one true love.

So, you bit your tongue. You weren’t about to make a fool out of yourself and follow a fantasy. Yet even as your mind told you to drop it, you couldn’t help but observe him. You’d watch as he’d take out his book from his bag to read (and subtly try and read the title without him noticing), or his notebook as he made hurried notes. You noticed that he always removed his earphones as he climbed aboard the train and shoved them into his pocket before sitting next to you.

You tried to stop noticing him, to stop looking up at him every time he sat down next to you. But it was hard to stop the flutter in your heart every time the train rolled into his station. It was hard to stop the smile from growing every time you caught his eyes.

Then, one day, as the train pulled quickly out of the station, it happened. A shuddering jolt ripped through the carriage and your body was almost thrown into the seat in front of you if it had not been for his strong arm pulling you back into your seat. You slumped as your mind raced to comprehend what exactly had happened as the man beside you bent down to pick up his fallen notebook.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your driver speaking. We’re having a few technical issues but we hope to have the train back up and running in a few minutes. We apologise for the delay and thank you for your patience,” the driver’s voice droned across the carriage, a ripple of groans following it as passengers pulled out their phones to inform their loved ones about the delays.

You turned to the man beside you. “Thank you,” you spluttered, trying to shove away your intense need to hide behind your hands.

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” He bowed his head slightly in return before closing his notebook, tucking his pen in between the pages, and resting it on his thigh.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you found yourself asking before you could stop yourself.

He smiled as he frowned at you. “What is?”

“We’ve sat next to each other every day for the last few weeks and this is the first time I’ve spoken to you.”

He studied your face for a moment before offering you his hand. “Namjoon.”

You placed your hand in his, hoping beyond hope it didn’t feel as sweaty as you thought it did. “YN.”

“It’s nice to meet you, YN. So what brings you to the seven-o-three train every day?”

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Nothing exciting. I’m just heading home. What about you?”

Namjoon hummed thoughtfully. “I’m heading to work, to tell you the truth.”

“So late? What on Earth do you do?”

Namjoon hesitated, surveying you as if he was judging your worth before reaching inside his bag and pulling out a leaflet.

“I’m a musician. I have a regular gig at this bar.” He offered the leaflet to you. “You should come by.”

Your eyes skimmed the leaflet before widening. You had heard of the bar before, or rather, knew how notoriously difficult it was to get in.

“Or not,” Namjoon amended. “I know bars aren’t everyone’s scene.” He averted his gaze as he closed his bag.

“I would love to!” You placed your hand on his arm as you tried to catch his gaze again. “It’s just I wouldn’t be able to get in even if I wanted to. It’s a pretty popular bar.”

“You would if you came with me?” Namjoon’s eyes widened as he realised what he had said. “I-I mean, I can understand why you wouldn’t. I’m just some stranger on the train who could be some freak or something.” He held up his hand in protest. “I mean, I’m not a freak. I’m just-” He closed his eyes. “I’m just going to stop talking now.”

You giggled as you glanced at the leaflet once more. “I’m in,” you replied softly. You knew how dangerous it was to do something like this and, normally, you were the first person to warn anyone of doing the same. But something in your gut sang to you. It nudged you to do the thing you feared; to befriend a stranger on the train.

As you disembarked the train with Namjoon standing by your side, you weren’t sure if this was the beginning of something, but you certainly were excited to find out.

BGW Drabble Master List

Master List

[isthisthingeven0n]

look, nothing happened, really : j.w

brief summary: during a work trip with your friend jeff, you somehow end up sleeping together and try to act as if it never happened. but that would be easier said than done.. 

word count:  2.1k requested: yes by the sweetest ass anon and this idea omg i love love LOvE it! warnings: nothing that i’m aware of?? 

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

It was your first trip away with a company, and the only other person you knew who was going happened to be Jeff. You didn’t mind the fact he’d be your buddy, your go-to guy on this trip because he’s Jeff, your friend.

“Come on, it’s a weekend, you’ll love it.” Jeff wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against him as he squeezes you playfully. “Now where’s your bag?”

“I can carry it, Jeff.” You chuckle as you pick it up, only for Jeff to quickly intervene and carry it out to his car. “Such a gentleman.” You batt your eyes at him, watching as he covers his heart before you climb into the passenger seat, setting off to the airport to meet everyone else.

As Jeff drives, you can tell he’s glancing over, ensuring you’re still awake. “You know anyone on this trip?” Jeff speaks up, breaking you from your attempted slumber.

Resting your cheek against your hand, you shake your head. “Can’t say I do beside you.” You tell him with a small smile, watching as a proud look crosses his face. “It’s mostly small creators across various platforms, be a good chance to meet new people.” You shrug your shoulder lightly, noting Jeff nodding as he turns into the airport parking.

“Well, let’s meet the team I guess.” Jeff shrugs your bag over his shoulder despite your protests as you follow closely behind, camera in hand to start recording.

*

“Psst, Jeff?” You nudge him lightly as his head remains on your shoulder, still fast asleep as the plane begins to descend. “We’re close to landing, bud.” You mutter, glancing up to the elderly lady sat beside him with a smile on her face.

“Young love, huh?” She chuckles, and you simply smile instead of correcting her as Jeff begins to stir.

“You’re comfy, Y/n.” He mumbles before opening his eyes, suddenly remembering where he is as he clears his throat, sitting upright as his cheeks heat up momentarily. “So we’re almost there?” Jeff quickly changes the subject as he looks past you to see the view from your window.

Following his line of focus, you can see the beaches already. “I can’t wait to chill out on the beach.” You admit with a light sigh.

“Who knows what they’ve got planned for us.” Jeff adds as you turn to see him closer than you anticipated, not missing his brief glance to your lips before he relaxes back in his own seat.

Once you all made it to the hotel and checked into your suites, you immediately started filming. “Oh my god how cute! Look at these lil packs.” You pick up the gift package left by the brand, including a polaroid camera. “So cute!”

A knock on the door interrupts you filming. “Room service?” A familiar voice calls through the door and you roll your eyes, opening it to see Jeff stood with two iced coffees.

“You lifesaver.” You moan as you take a sip of the coffee, fighting back fatigue as Jeff wanders into your room, taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

“So, what’re you gonna do with your day? According to the plan outline, today is a free one.” Jeff explains, reaching into your box of goods and pulls out the plan for the next few days.

Reaching over, your eyes scan the plans and your smile widens. “We get to go scuba diving? No fucking way.” You giddily laugh and Jeff simply nods, trying to remain composed as you collapse on the bed beside him.

“Wanna go to the beach?” Jeff suggests, glancing over his shoulder to see you lying down with your eyes closed.

“Give me ten minutes.” You tell him as you force yourself back upright. “Let me get myself sorted. Meet you out front?” You pat his shoulder and Jeff departs, taking one longing look as you’re unable to wipe a smile from your lips.

Exiting from the elevator, you wander through the reception to see Jeff stood outside, patiently waiting.

“You waiting on someone, stranger?” You call out, watching as Jeff turns and rolls his eyes.

“Just some girl, not sure if she’s worth it yet.” He jokes, causing you to nudge him before wandering through the town, nearing the beach just a mile away. “We could’ve got a cab you know.” Jeff pitches in halfway, noting you drinking your water supply more frequently.

“Get better views this way, Jeff.” You comment, taking another swig at your water as you make it to the entrance of the beach. “Oh wow.” You breathe out, seeing the waves ripple as children play on the sand.

Once you and Jeff settle, you both relax in the silence of each others company. You didn’t feel the need to force conversation as you read your book, oblivious to Jeff wandering off and returning with two drinks.

“Technically, we aren’t working right now.” He reminds you as he passes you a rather strong cocktail, chuckling at how you squirm momentarily. “Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

You clink your glass against his, and before you know it you’re six drinks in and the sun is beginning to set.

“I think we should head back.” Your words slur as you try to stand up, feeling Jeff rest his hands on your waist to hold you up with ease. “Tomorrow is the banana boat.” You state and Jeff shakes his head.

“A few cocktails and you’re legless.” He chuckles before gathering your things, helping you back to the road where a cab is waiting. “Can you stay awake for just a few minutes?” He whispers as you sit beside him in the back of the cab, eyes closing as you begin to drift off beside him.

“No.” You mumble, missing his smile shared with the driver. “You’re cute, Jeff.” You yawn as you snuggle closer into him, unaware of Jeff tensing at your comment. “Like, in a hot way.” You laugh at your own sentence before tilting your head up to see Jeff looking down at you. “What? Did I say something bad?”

Before Jeff can respond, the cab pulls up outside of the hotel. “Come on, Y/n. Let's get you to bed.” Jeff mutters after paying the driver and helping you to the elevator.

“I said something bad, didn’t I?” You fight back tears as you hug your body, focusing on the floor.

“No, no you didn’t, Y/n.” Jeff reassures you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. “Just threw me off that’s all.” He smiles, seeing the way your eyes wander to his lips before shyly looking away. “But, you’re cute too, Y/n.” He adds quietly, unsure where this might lead to.

“You think so?” You mumble, your hands now resting on his waist, pulling him closer toward you.

“Course, I do, doll.” Jeff states as if it were obvious before leaning closer until his lips brush across yours.

*

The sound of your alarm causes you to stir and a quiet groan leaves your lips as you reach over, turning it off.

Forcing yourself up, you rub your eyes and head to the bathroom, oblivious to a sleeping figure in your bed.

As you return, fresh-faced and more alert, you scream at the sight of Jeff in your bed, lips ajar as a bit of drool hangs from his chin.

Upon hearing you scream, Jeff sits upright quickly, looking back at you with the same level of panic. “Why’re you in my room?” Jeff blurts out.

“Why’re you in my room?” You repeat back, motioning to the suitcase of yours still not fully unpacked.

You watch as Jeff pauses before his eyes widen as he points to you. “We slept together.” He states, and you quickly scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and I’m the CEO of YouTube.” You joke as you gather your things for the day ahead, ignoring his statement until you glance back to see him still sat in your bed, shirtless and frozen. “Jeff, you’re joking, right?” Your voice wavers slightly as Jeff focuses on you.

“I, I don’t think I am, Y/n.” He tells you with a guilty expression, causing you to groan loudly as you try to wrack your mind for any clear memory of last night. “How much of last night do you remember?” Jeff rises from your bed, luckily in boxers as he picks up his pants, slipping them on.

Rubbing your eyes, you focus on him as he perches on the edge of your bed. “Erm, I remember being in the elevator and,” You trail off as you can picture pieces of last night. Making out with Jeff in the elevator, his hands rising beneath your shirt whilst you fumbled with his belt. Dragging him back to your room, undressing each other and-

“Y/n?” Jeff cuts you off, and you clear your throat suddenly feeling the heat in the room rising.

“I remember it.” You state, scratching your arm lightly as Jeff nods. “We fucked up, right? Is this going to be awkward?” You question, but Jeff rises to his feet and walks toward you, kneeling down in front of you as his hands rest on your thighs.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jeff shrugs his shoulder, smiling up to you. “do, do you regret it?” The question quietly leaves his lips, but to his surprise, you shake your head.

“Does that make things awkward?” You chuckle before looking away from Jeff’s intense gaze.

“Not at all, angel.” Jeff speaks up, catching you off guard as he tugs on your hands, pulling you back onto the bed.

*

“So, we both know the plan, right?” You double-check as Jeff drives back toward David’s house, snickering at your rising nerves.

Reaching out, Jeff takes a hold of your hand, running his thumb over your skin. “Baby, we discussed it enough,” Jeff reassures you, but you can’t help but sigh heavily. “no one will know, it was just a trip and nothing happened.” He repeats the agreement, glancing over to see you nod.

“I just don’t want anyone knowing, not yet.” You admit, not wanting to burst the bubble you’re currently enjoying with Jeff.

“They won’t know, I can assure you of that.” Jeff brings your hand close to his lips, kissing it softly as you roll your eyes, taking your hand back with a light laugh.

Arriving at David’s you both walk in, fresh from the airport and immediately you’re greeted with a hug from Todd. “Don’t take Jeff away again, Y/n. David’s been terrorising me without him.” He pleads and you look over to see David simply shrug his shoulders.

“Sure thing, Todd.” You nudge him as you move over to sit on the sofa with everyone else, Jeff soon following and sitting beside Todd on the other end of the sofa.

“So, how was it? You’re both glowing!” Erin comments and you nod along, looking over to Jeff who chuckles nervously.

“It was a lot of fun. We went scuba diving,” You start, but briefly pause. “Well, I did, Jeff was too chicken to.” You laugh and Jeff momentarily pouts before smiling back at you, a look that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others.

“I wasn’t, someone should stay on the boat, so I took that brave role.” He reminds you, ignoring the glance you share with Erin. “It was good to get away.” Jeff adds, trying to suppress his smile as he hears you laugh at something Erin said.

“So, nothing happened?” David speaks up, catching you off guard.

“What’d you mean?” You play it cool, leaning back on the sofa, ignoring the intense beating of your heart as you avoid focusing on Jeff.

David shrugs a shoulder, looking between you both. “I don’t know, Hawaii, drinks, just the two of you. Sounds romantic.” David laughs and you shake your head.

“It was far from romantic I can assure you. Someone was seasick most of the time.” You try to change the topic, but everyone focuses on Jeff.

“That so, Jeff?” David raises an eyebrow to Jeff, and you can see he’s trying not to crack as a nervous noise leaves his lips. “Nothing happened between you two, huh?”

Looking around at everyone, Jeff glances over to see you with wide eyes, pleading him to not say anything.

“Okay, so we slept together.” Jeff blurts out and you groan loudly, burying your face in your hands.

“Jeff! We agreed on this!” You yell back as everyone remains in a silent shock at the news.

“Sorry, Y/n.” Jeff mutters before walking over and sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “I’ll make it up to you.” He comments quietly whilst your friends try to process what they just heard and witnessed.

“No wonder you’re both glowing.” Carly breaks the ice, and you laugh, watching as Jeff simply nods.