#and i have no evidence telling me otherwise

[katsu2ji]

ignorance is bliss — k. tsukishima

a/n: he's so silly i wanna take a 0.5 of him

you never thought in a million years that you'd have a picture on your phone of your boyfriend—your sweet but sour, sometimes asshole-ish (lovingly) boyfriend—cuddled up with your stuffed animal, but here we are.

tsukishima had come over late to study and, naturally, that meant he was spending the night. you could tell from the moment he called you saying that he was on his way that he was exhausted, but you knew he'd never tell you that. even when his yawns broke the comfortable silence of pens scratching and fingers typing along a laptop keyboard, he still didn't give in. it took you looking at the clock reading 1:47AM and reminding him that you guys had all weekend to study together before he finally accepted his fate, changing his clothes and settling onto your bed as you went in the bathroom to get unready.

"oh, and tomorrow we need to review chapter 36 and 37, since we didn't get to them tonight. you have your test on wednesday, right?"

no answer. you turn off the water faucet, wiping your hands on the towel as listened for him. now that you've thought about it, you hadn't heard more than a quiet "mhm..." from him since you first started talking.

you turned off the light, adjusting your sleep shirt as you stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. quietly, you walked over to where he lay on the bed, finding him still.

"kei?" you tested. no answer again—he was out. you smiled as you heard soft snores coming from him; that smile became even bigger as you watch him stir in his sleep, wrapping his arms around the dinosaur jellycat he'd gotten you for your birthday and pulling it close to him.

trying to make as little noise as possible, you turn and grab your phone off the nightstand; this moment needed photo evidence, otherwise you knew your boyfriend would deny it ever happened. what you didn't realize, however, was that your flash was on, meaning that the moment you snapped that 0.5 in the blonde's face, he jumped, his whole body waking up and moving away from the stuffed animal he was so adorably holding moments ago.

you couldn't help but laugh, a hand going over you mouth as you watched him slowly sit up and look at you with a both sleepy and slightly surprised expression. you felt bad for waking him up so suddenly, but that was quickly suppressed by the humor you found in his reaction.

"what the hell were you doing? what's so funny?" he was used to your antics, but it didn't stop him from questioning you.

you looked down at your phone and smiled. you'd gotten the perfect picture, even if you had woken him up for it. you decided you wouldn't say anything to him about it for tonight, keeping this to yourself. you turned your phone off, setting it back down on the nightstand before moving to get into bed.

"no, no, it's nothing. i'm sorry i woke you up, though. if it helps any, you looked adorable." you laughed out, kissing his cheek as you settled next to him.

aside from his face slightly reddening, kei didn't say anything, just shuffled over to make room. he knew you were lying, his eyes narrowing in the dark, but he was too tired to give a damn about what you were lying about. watching you for a moment, he sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes as he muttered something along the lines of "blinding me with your freakin' flash." he reached across you a bit and set them on the nightstand.

he then moved to lay down in the bed, pulling you down with him as he settled back to sleep. he laid on his back, an arm around you as you laid at his side.

"it doesn't, but thanks. now sleep."

his eyes were already closing, a yawn finishing his sentence. he muttered a good night to you, kissing the crown of your head before letting out a sigh, grateful to finally be resting—for real this time.

you knew that in the morning, he'd probably have more questions about what was really happening, but for right now you let him drift off. you soon followed after, the only sounds in the room being the steady breathing between the two of you.

as soon as you could, that picture was gonna be your phone's home screen. but for now, ignorance was bliss.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[liloinkoink]

hey guys, someone just sent me a weird ass ask claiming my incredibly close friend cherri @cherrifire secretly hate me and is talking abt me behind my back. i was not the only person to get one of these identical slanderous asks. i’ve already blocked the anon but like. open letter to them, and for the benefit of anyone else who gets an ask like this….

1) anon, you’re genuinely fucking stupid

2) hysterical to send this when i was actively chatting w her, while we were in the process of fleshing out yet another renchanting au, something we have done all day every day for… gosh, how long has it been now? nearly two years? i would say that it was really bad timing to send this ask to me while i was actively chatting aus w her but there really isn’t any moment you could have sent this that i wouldn’t have been.

3) if you thought i wasn’t gonna call bullshit and snitch immediately you don’t know shit about me or cherri, which, granted, is evident by the ask in general, but you really are stupid

4) if a gc like this existed—which it does not, bc cherri is not like this and would not do this—i would be in it. this idiot doesn’t even know im cherri’s emotional support writer. do you have any idea how many gcs and servers she’s dragged me into w her.

5) get your facts right cherri talks shit about me to my face. this is mutual. fake ass fan. if you were a real cherri friend you would know this smh

6) no, actually, you’re right, she definitely hates me. that’s why i met her irl literally like 3 months ago on her invitation, we hung out for a genuine week, spent basically the whole time arm in arm or hand in hand. this is also why we were planning a second meetup last night. you idiot. you fool. you complete and utter moron

anyway, if anyone gets this ask:

it’s complete bullshit. theyre sending this to cherri’s best friends for some godforsaken reason. it’s very weird and deeply cringe. also incredibly poorly planned. idk how many ppl you sent this to, but a few of us are in a gc and we have been making fun of this ask for like an hour (anon, im one of cherri’s friends and she’s been telling a small group of friends about you— lol. lmao even)

anyway like. to reiterate. cherri’s one of my best friends, she’s absolutely lovely and i’m lucky every day to know her. we hang out and chat constantly and we’ve met irl and it was an incredible experience i would love to repeat. i have told her things i have not fuckin told anyone else and you could not otherwise waterboard out of me. i love talking to her all the time and i miss her when she’s busy for even like, an hour. i love writing w her and creating things w her. she’s an incredibly bright spot in my life, often the first person i think of upon waking and the last i think of before i sleep. she is kind and funny and i love her a lot.

i’m a bitch tho so like @ this anon go fuck yourself. you better hope that when you die that the devil finds you before i do. sending this ask to a bunch of our friends, trying to turn the people she cares about against her, and for what? you clearly don’t know her well enough to be talking like this. trying to ruin my friend’s reputation and friendships w a vague as hell and entirely baseless copy paste is super fucking weird. why would you do this? and like, do you think we were born yesterday to fall for this? i’m insulted for her for whatever it was you were trying to pull and i’m insulted on behalf of myself and everyone else you sent this to that you think we’re as stupid as you are. what is your damage. get a hobby.

[ssailormoonn]

❛ REPUTATION ❜

YANDERE!Chrollo Lucilfer X Fem!Reader

WC; 900+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: chrollo is a yandere here, well he def ats like one, fem!reader, virgin!reader, AGE GAP, gonna say reader is around 18-20 bc she a virgin and a good girl, chrollo is still 26, possessiveness, claiming + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * REQUEST :: (filled request) Hi! Could you please write with yandere Chrollo and virgin female reader(she likes him, but didn’t want to be with him because of his reputation) - ANON

HONEY'S A/NOTE :: I WAS FEELING DIFFERENT DONT MIND THE PINK/PEACH THEME LMAO, lmk if you like it tho 👀

m.list | hxh m.list

You knew this was a mistake the moment you caught his eye.

Chrollo Lucilfer was the type of man who commanded attention. He's dark, unreadable, and dangerous. You'd been warned by friends, by acquaintances, by common sense to steer clear of him. None of them knew that he was the leader of the Phantom troupe, but they could tell that something was up with him.

You, on the other hand, knew very well who he was. He had made it loud and clear that should you ever leave or do anything rash, Chrollo was in a position to threaten you with all he could do. Every time being on duty with him, fear always boiled up inside your stomach.

But the fear that was evident within you, there was just something so irresistible about him, something that couldn't make you stay away no matter how much you did. Chrollo's presence causes your heart to beat in ways that it really shouldn't. You, however, because of his reputation, are to be kept from him.

But standing now in this darkened room, boxed in by his stare, one knew there was no more escaping Chrollo.

Not anymore.

"I know what you're thinking," his voice is like silk. "You're afraid of me, you think you can keep your distance because of what you've heard. But you forget one thing."

He leans in closer, each movement intentional. His dark eyes never left yours, staring with an intensity that would make you want to shrink under his gaze, at the same time you wouldn't be able to look away.

"You want me, too."

Your breath had caught in your throat. How could he know? You'd tried so hard to conceal it, to deny the pull you felt whenever you were near him. It was wrong, all wrong. But his tone made it sound as though you had no say in the matter.

"Chrollo, I... I can't." Your voice less than a whisper. "You're dangerous. I don't want to get involved in. whatever this is. whatever you do."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, and the touch sent your heart racing even faster. You suck in the air shakily while your lip trembled softly.

"I know that's hard to accept," he whispered, almost softly. "But I've made my decision already. You are mine. "

There was a finality in his words that dropped the bottom of your stomach into a sick feeling. This wasn't a silly love confession, this... this was more like he was claiming you. And much as you tried to deny it, the thought stirred something within you.

"Chrollo, I... I am not." You had managed to stammer out the words while a hot fire had burned in your cheeks.

How would you even explain that you have never been with anybody in your life? That part of you does want him, but the fear of his world and your inexperience holds you back? You have never done a relationship in your life, never kissed anyone, never touched anyone, never had sex.

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. Something... changed in his gaze.

"You're scared of what you don't know," he whispered. "That's okay. I can be patient. But don't you ever think otherwise. I will have you. Every piece of you."

His hand slid down, stroking your jawline, and a chill ran down your body. There was no hesitation in his touch, no doubt in his claim over you. It was terrifying and yet you enjoyed it.

"You can run from me if you want," he said, continuing now in a voice so much lower it terrified you. "But I'll find you. Always get what I want."

Your chest constricted as Chrollo left you no choice. He made it clear no matter what you did, he would find you and when he did. he would take you in every sense of the word.

"I. I don't want to be a part of your world," you finally stammered out, beyond your shaking lips. "I can't."

He chuckled low and it was a shiver you felt run over your skin under his touch. "It doesn't matter. You're already a part of it. The moment I laid eyes on you, it was over. For both of us."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in, his lips caressing the shell of your ear.

"Accept it, love," he whispered. "You can't get away from me. Not now, not ever." "N-" Chrollo cut you off, his lips trailing up your neck, his voice low, humming against your skin. "You don't struggle against me. I'm going to take care of you. No one else can have you now. Can't you see? You're already mine, and nothing you say will change that."

His breathing was hot against your skin, the weakness rising inside you as the fear coiled in your body. But despite that, despite all you knew of him, the fact that he wanted you with such intent sent your heart racing within your chest.

Honestly, could you resist?

He drew back just enough to look into your eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He knew. Your gaze betrayed your thoughts, and he noticed, of course he fucking noticed.

"You're mine," he leans down, his warm breath dancing across your ear as your hands clench into fists against his black suit, trembling. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | hxh m.list

[velisle]

ᯓ♡ not maid for love .ᐟ

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 // nika x fem!reader, 2.8k wc, sfw. 𖹭 ── 𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 // pre-relationship, reader is (in denial) crown's fairytale keeper but not kate, nika being nika, likely ooc since there's only bread crumbs of his lore, al cameo, invented side characters, harassment from non-suitor, canon typical plot. 𖹭 ── 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 // I wish cherry boy was as popular as his twin but sadly he isn't. So here's a little something i maid for him hehe (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

Twilight stains the sky in a messy palette of oranges, pinks and reds. Its rays spill into a certain room, enveloping it in its warmth. It goes on to veil the pure white walls, the ink splattered papers on the table, and — the soft profile of a person.

You nervously tug at the frilly hem of your apron, throwing quick glances toward the mirror and back at yourself. The reflected figure on the clear surface is donned in a maid’s attire from head to toe.

Sighing gently, you pull and tweak on its parts. From the lacy head-dress to the ends of the creamy bow tied behind your back, and to the concealed handgun on your garter belt. At last, you twirl around a bit, making sure there would be nothing amiss.

Still, immersed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice the pair of deep ocean eyes eagerly sinking you into its depths.

Your heart leaps through your chest when the sharp wolf whistle penetrates your ears. Head whiplashing, you glare at the culprit leaning against the doorframe. A cheeky grin from the dark-haired man welcomes you.

Nica.

The two of you have been going out on awfully many missions the past few months, courtesy of his white-clad leader, who proposed that both organizations should work together. Though you suspected foul hand to be at play from your Palace Reaper as well. Why else would you find yourself tied to the frivolous German each time?

“Where are your manners?” You cross your arms as you question, displeasure evident in your posture. A small chuckle escapes him, “My bad, Miss Robin.”

He taps his knuckles on the wooden material — twice, thrice — his rings clinking against it.

“So then, may I enter?”

Was he not practically inside already?

“Go ahead.”

Nica strolls in, turning to admire the delicate crystals of the chandelier and the brilliant gold that matched the otherwise pale room. Were you a stranger to his habit of unplanned visits, you would have thought it was his first time here.

Casting you a prolonged once-over as you button up your maid cuffs, he manspreads on the rich chesterfield, sprawling an arm over the top of it.

“Sure you can play your role well, cute Robin?”

“I think we should be worried about you instead, Clever.⁽¹⁾ Are you sure you'll be able to behave yourself?” You furrow your brows tensely.

The event you were going to attend was to last two days and three nights. Coupled with his charming penchant for going off script and improvising things by himself… You had a not-so-wonderful intuition that everything would eventually end up heading south.

He curves his lips impishly, visibly amused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ll be a good boy.”

“When pigs fly.”

“Autsch,⁽²⁾ after all the time we've spent together! I'm rather disappointed you still refuse to trust your partner in crime.”

You throw a glimpse at him from the corner of your eye. Not a tinge of sadness marred his features.

“There are,” you begin, “plenty of reasons as to why I shouldn't.”

A pervading silence follows as he falls unusually quiet. As if he were trying to figure out the convincing reason you had. The golden hour crowns him in its soft light, shadows fleeing from behind.

“Is it because I used my Curse on you before? I just couldn't help myself. We don't always have a choice, you know~”

You were not too fond of how you liked the way he drawled his words sometimes.

“Or maybe it's because I lent my hand for other uses? Buuut, I don't recall you telling me to stop,” his grin widens.

“Nica Schwartz.”

You swivel to face him, with a twitching smile and a raised nerve on your temple. The way he spoke had to be on purpose. Your mind inevitably flew into the direction he wanted.

Though you could not deny enjoying your banter with him. Few people manage to truly push your buttons — such as that cranky fairy or lascivious mirror, but never quite like the sly swan.

“Ja,⁽³⁾ Robin?” He asks in an innocent manner, which would be more befitting of his twin than himself.

“We’re running late,” you curtly state as you wrap your fingers around the handle of your leather-bound luggage. When you lifted it up, its weight dragged your hand down slightly.

You then make your way to the double doors, only to be stopped by blunt nails digging into your wrist. That and the coolness of adorned rings.

“Say, doesn't it look heavy for a little bird like you?” Nica had the sleeve of one arm rolled up, revealing the veins climbing on his skin like a vine.

“Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten.⁽⁴⁾”

It was not all that heavy, but who were you to refuse if he's so kind?

“Oof!”

A low, misty layer of fog covers the forest of oak trees. The wind wails a scream, tearing dead leaves from their spiny branches. One of them slams flat against the glass, which you were staring through.

Bump!

Every so often, the wheels of the crested carriage jolted when it collided with the rocks on the path. You fidget in the cushioned seat, annoyed at the feeling of polished boots digging into the side of your waist.

Much to your dismay, Nica thought it was apparently a good idea to stretch his legs in the already cramped space. This left you sandwiched between the wall and his lower limbs — and it was not the most splendid combination.

You travel a glance from the tip of his pristine shoes, to the river of white that ran across his trousers and vest, until you docked at the port of blue that was his eyes. If you stared hard enough, vague dark circles polluted the edge of the waters.

He must have been staying up late. Despite his slacking attitude, he knew when to take work seriously. Or rather, fool you into thinking you have the winning cards when he conceals a royal flush beneath his table.

“Am I that charming tonight?”

An abrupt question pulls you back from your shores to reality. He had caught you in his net. Biting your tongue lightly, you shift your attention to the scenery rolling past the window.

Poke!

Poke!

Nica nudges his foot against you.

“Robiiiin~”

“Stop,” you narrow your eyes in warning.

“Oh, this?”

Poke!

“Or thiiiis~?”

No words could describe the urge you felt to scuffle over and clasp your hand on his mouth. Tape it shut.

You steal a quick look at the smooth arch broadening on his face. It seemed to always dance on his lips. Rare were the instances you found it halting into a frown. Even then, it was likely feigned. Will all you ever see of him be his superficial side?

“What’s your pretty head thinking about now?” He doesn't move this time.

“The mission.” A lie.

“Nothing to fret about when you have me.”

“That’s if you don't get kidnapped first,” you retort. A surge of missing socialites is what drove Crown to investigate further into the case that could be human trafficking.

Oddly, the victims all had received an invitation to a banquet from the same organisation a week prior to their disappearance — Regal.

“Chances are that I could charm my way out of it, Robin. If not… Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten,⁽⁵⁾” Lazily tapping on the holster by his thigh, he flashes his pearly white teeth, as if it were a everyday situation for him.

Thump!

The landau stopped before the gates of the venue. Nica promptly sets down his legs, motioning his head towards the place, “Ladies first. I'll be joining you later.”

Upon entering the estate, you are greeted with a towering hallway of a golden hue; enormous paintings that cost more than money than you could ever make hanging on it.

You briefly peek into the open ballroom. Velvet curtains draped the windows, with ornate candelabras fixed to walls. The sound of violins and the piano flows into the room, but not many guests.

Your next stop should be servants’ quarters. Wooden baggage in hand, you saunter through the luxurious building, the layout of which you have memorized beforehand.

It was not hard to imagine someone could get lost here, given its size, you muse. Still, vanishing into thin air without any traces? A nigh impossible feat for anyone… Well, save for the curious Cheshire cat you knew.

“Oh!”

“Ah!”

Moments later, you unceremoniously crash into a petite figure while taking a turn around the corner. Vivid green, partly hidden behind a fringe of blond, widens as she stumbles on her heels.

“Sorry, I-” the two of you spoke at once. You pause awkwardly, waiting for her to continue.

“Don’t worry! I was in no hurry,” she steadies herself, a soft smile curving up the corners of her mouth. You take in her appearance — hair that cascaded down to her waist in thick drills, scattered freckles on her fair cheeks — and a surprisingly similar maid dress to your own?

“Wait, by any chance, are you new here?” a sparkle lit in her eyes at the realization as she too observed you and the case you carried. You nod your head, holding out your free hand, “Robin. Nice to meet you…?”

“Dahlia!” she shakes it with an extreme fervor. “The others and I have been talking a lot about you. Not in a bad way, uh I mean, it's rare for Regal to hire a new employee, so we were just really excited!”

It was the Queen's Aide who pulled some strings to let you enter as a maid, under the common alias Crown, and a certain Vogel member called you by. Strangely, you cannot recall a time where Nica called you by your real name.

Dahlia links her own arm with yours. “Come! I'll show you where the quarters are. And the rest of the place, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Oh, and maybe we can share a room?” She sings sweetly in a jovial tone.

She talks a lot; you note mentally.

After setting down your belongings, you head towards the grand ballroom where the gathering was held. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the horde of perfumed bodies.

The billowing, silky skirts of noblewomen graze your body as you shuffle in between them, clutching a tray with both hands. Bubbles pop off in the champagne flutes on it.

“It is rumored Count Fitzwilliam is looking for a bride…”

“Have you heard about what Lady Spencer did during the last outing…”

Conversations, both hushed and outspoken, were easily heard by you. The aristocrats paid no attention to a mere maid after all.

“They say we have an ambassador from another country here tonight,” a faint whisper makes you perk up your ears. “Whom?” another person inquired.

You concentrate on their words, feeling your heart pound faster for an inexplicable reason. It must be the adrenaline from trying to not come off as suspicious.

“I don't know his name, but they say he's German.”

“Did you get to see him?”

“From afar, yes…”

Pat!

You felt a sudden, foreign touch on your shoulder — not in a good way. It made the hairs on your nape rise warily.

“Why, hello there, lass…” A harsh, gruff voice.

Standing behind you was a man with wrinkly, creased skin and a head bald. Except for the auburn patches groomed evenly. He was dressed to the nines. A high born no doubt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask politely, despite how you felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“Such supple skin and bewitching body you have,” crooked fingers caress your hand, which grips tighter onto the tray. Mild irritation growing into a flame simmers in your eyes, “Excuse me?”

“You poor thing, all alone… I could help you become less lonely,” the invading touch slowly crawls up your arm.

Who did he think he was? Drawing in a sharp inhale, you grit your teeth, “Leave me alone. Or else.”

“Don’t you mean… pretty please?”

“—Master!!”

He paused mid sentence as a call interrupted him. With a dissatisfied huff, he grabs the stem of the last glass you carried, withdrawing from your side. You release a sigh of relief at his departure, scanning the crowd for who could have called him.

Familiar, curly locks of gold appear in your vision.

The night deepens, and the sea of people is still flooding the place. An ache struck your back and feet from how long you stood to distribute the drinks.

Unfortunately, your attempt at intel gathering has not been particularly fruitful so far. Most chatters were full of gossip and the latest trends.

But you did learn of one thing: apart from the revelry at night, Regal also held exclusive activities to engage in during the day. You reckoned it was a technique to make more visitors pay for a room and stay until the event is fully over.

Wondering if you should rendezvous with Nica about this, you try to search for his tall figure in the crowd. In spite of all the buzz surrounding the philanderer, you had not once seen him. Perhaps you were too absorbed into your task to properly notice him, or he passed by you without a single comment.

“—Mr. Schwartz! Mr. Schwartz!!”

Think of the devil. There he was. You catch a bevy of young noble women and men flocking to him. The sight of his usual disarrayed jacket was absent. Instead, it was worn snuggly on his well-built frame.

“Say, are you truly not free tonight?” A lady coyly twirls her hair around her finger with her strawberry lips stuck out in a pout.

Another one cooled themselves quickly with their hand fan facing up, “I’d love to dance with you~”

“Here, my trade card. You are free to drop a visit to my shop any time you want! I'll even give you a ten percent discount!”

It was apparent he was no short of desperate admirers. You tap your shoe on the hardwood floor softly, thinking about what your next course of action should be.

You could always meet up with him later, and there is still a floor you have not yet searched for clues: upstairs. Since everyone else was down here…

Fwoosh!

Startled by the sensation of a warm breath being blown into your ear, you scramble to grab your flailing tray. Your train of thought had been forced to halt. Again. At least there were no remaining glasses.

“My, my,” A rich, teasing tone. And you knew exactly who it belonged to this time.

“Alfons!!”

“One could easily get the wrong idea if you call my name out so passionately, Miss Robin. Especially... Your partner tonight.”

“He’s not sharing a Curse with Roger, Al.”

“If you will, please refrain from uttering that brute’s name next to mine. It is truly something out of a nightmare to hear.”

The manner in which he shook his head with a distressed expression — it was as if there could not be an ordeal more mortifying for him.

“Should I even ask what you're doing here?” To be fair, it was not entirely shocking for him to be here. Though, Victor did not mention he would be assigned to this mission…

“Here’s a better question. Don't you just feel yourself greening with envy by how they're fawning over him?” Alfons shifts closer, nearly touching heads with you as you both gaze at the star of tonight's banquet.

“Of course not!” Right then, Nica’s eyes meet yours. As if he really heard what you said. Air catches in your throat as a familiar, conceited smirk is formed on him.

“Don’t be mistaken. I wouldn't... ever like him,” you subconsciously clutch at your dress with one hand, crumpling up the delicate fabric. You were sure that he wouldn't come to like you either. You would nip any attraction towards him in the bud before it would ever have a chance to bloom.

Alfons clicks his tongue. “I would advise you to make wiser choices — but then again, the little robin who brought water for the sinners in hell was not so clever either.”

You lift your face to glare back at him, intending to rebuke. When you did, the space next to you was empty. Gone like the illusionary phantom he was. Or was he there in the first place?

What a shame. If only you had paid a little more attention to the black swan. You would have spotted how his smile faltered upon seeing that raven head with you.

𖹭 ── 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉 // notes + tl. cross-checked with multiple translators, but if you think that it could be corrected or further improved please let me know!

1. LINE chat reference

2. Autsch ➛ ouch

3. Ja ➛ yes

4. Sie könnten mich um Hilfe bitten ➛ you could ask me for help

5. Es wird für mich leichter sein, zu töten ➛ it will be easier for me to kill

𖹭 ── 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒑𝒕 //

and that's the end of part 1! to be honest, i think i will be putting this on hold, since I feel that my skills have not caught up yet with this kind of plot-heavy fic.

feedback would be greatly appreciated so that I can improve my writing! I still have a lot to learn.

i'm also thinking of starting a taglist. so let me know if you want to be tagged for all my works or for a specific character(s).

next up: hcs for when you ‘borrow’ your lover's clothes

[whsprings]

"I feel like you're desperately holding onto your ed" that's because I am. next question.

[yuttikkele]

the constant of nines and gavin dating in the dbh fanon is so funny to me because despite these two never even learning of each others’ existence, of COURSE they’re madly in love

[amartianonmars]

Description: Four panel comic

First Panel: Julian Bashir and Miles O'Brien kissing in Mile's quarters on a bed, shrouded in darkness. Julian is on top cradling Mile's head while Miles strokes his hands down Julian's back, which show's that his jumpsuit is zipped down

Second Panel: Julian pulls away from the kiss with a sigh and sits up. Mile follows and asks Julian, who has an anxious expression on his face, " Julian? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

Third Panel: Julian has now shifted towards in the end of the bed, where you can now see the rest of the room is accommodated with a small side table, a round lamp sitting on top, and a large chair besides the bedside, all hidden in the dark besides their outlines. Julian is leaning on his hands with his worried face dipped low, Miles behind him sitting up on his knees, a reassuring hand on Julian's shoulder and a mild expression on his face. Julian says " This doesn't seem right, Miles. What about Keiko?"

Fourth Panel: The room is suddenly bathed in yellow light as the lamp is clicked on to reveal Keiko, who has been sitting on the large bedside chair. She tells a screaming and exaggeratedly shocked Julian, "It's alright, Julian". Julian is holding tightly onto Mile's, his legs and arms draped over his body and his mouth thrown open in a scream, his eyes popping out of his skull. Mile's, casually holding Julian's back, says "Hi, Keiko!"

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

[cave-monkey]

It dawns on me that the journey to the west took 5,040 days exactly, right, and while the book goes from tribulation to tribulation, there were still only 81 of those. And they were missing one when they got there. And some of the tribulations Tripitaka went through happened before the journey even started.

So, even being generous and saying that most of the tribulations that occurred during the actual journey could be said to have taken a few days to handle each, that's still only about 10% of the journey. A tribulation was anything that happened that put Tripitaka in danger or presented any sort of obstacle to him. Anything even remotely exciting would have fallen into that ~10%, and nothing else could have happened, because otherwise they wouldn't have gotten west one moderate inconvenience and/or major trauma short of the prize. (I mean, unless the thing that happened managed to not involve Tripitaka at all in any way, but that's very hard to do when you are all attached at the hip.)

Holy cow they really were just walking. ALL THAT TIME. No wonder Zhu Bajie was stirring the pot at any given opportunity. It was literally the only thing to do.

[waugh-bao]

“Tell Me Straight” Lyrics (KR, 2023)

[safetytree]

Trey has turned into an asshole.

He treats me like shit most of the time.

I legitimately hate the weekend now because he's here during it.

10 years of friendship desiccating right before my eyes and there's nothing I can do about it.

His girlfriend is the only person that matters to him so I hope he doesn't regret destroying our friendship.

[prokopetz]

I'm not gonna claim that most Tumblr polls are anything like rigorously structured, but I've seen a lot of folks rather smugly asserting that having a "not applicable" option that ends up dominating all other responses is evidence that the person who created the poll is incompetent, and y'all: under the specific circumstances in which these polls are constructed and distributed, that outcome is evidence of good poll design, not bad poll design. Yes, even when the "not applicable" responses outnumber all other responses ten to one. There are several reasons for that:

At the time of this posting, Tumblr polls have no "see response" button. The only ways to see a poll's distribution of responses are to wait for the poll to conclude, or to respond yourself – and not only are people on social media typically curious and impatient, many of them also know that there's no way they'll remember to check back later once the poll has concluded, so in practice, their opportunity to see the results is now or never. Adding a little note to the poll insisting that people who aren't part of the targeted demographic should refrain from voting isn't necessarily going to restrain that impulse. Indeed, it may end up encouraging folks who otherwise wouldn't have picked a random result-revealing response to do so, because fuck you, don't tell me what to do.

Many respondents genuinely won't realise they're not part of the targeted demographic until after they've voted. It doesn't matter how much text you add to contextualise the poll, because they'll read the poll first, and if they read the accompanying text at all, it's only after they've responded. Heck, a lot of folks don't even bother to read the question before responding to a poll; they just start going down the options and reflexively click the first one that seems like it might apply to them, then go back and read what was actually being asked (and complain in the notes if it turns out that they misunderstood). Even a well-meaning person can only comply with instructions they've actually read; for those folks, clicking the "not applicable" option is what compliance looks like.

Even folks who do fit your poll's targeted demographic can fall prey to the imp of the perverse. Giving the most accurate response rather than the most entertaining one can be a real struggle for a lot of folks; in scientific analysis of polling data, this is known as the "mischievous responder bias". In an informal setting like Tumblr, it's reasonable to suppose that the mischievous responder effect might be exaggerated compared to polls conducted in more formal contexts, and a well-designed poll is going to take that into account. A humorous "not applicable" option provides an escape by affording folks the freedom to screw around with the knowledge that they're not polluting useful data by doing so; in practice, the "I am a toaster" option is a mischievous response filter.

What this adds up to is that a poll where 90% of the responses hit the "not applicable" button is more likely to have yielded useful data than a poll with a narrow target audience where some unknown percentage of the responses represent folks not reading the instructions, clicking random options to see the results, and/or taking the piss.

[snekdood]

anyways if nick fartez and any of his skeevy fans are spying on me online I needja to know this: no one will ever love you or like you or fuck you and its all your fault bc your a nazi. the only way you'll ever get anything is if you rape someone and you and I both know that doesnt mean shit except how desperate you are to stick your dick in someone and how much you're willing to violate people who actively dislike you and would never be around you if it was their choice. it didn't hafta be this way but you decided being a ugly skeevy nazi was more important than anything, which is sad. honestly jump off a cliff, save yourself the time.

[lunarninja613]

Bellatrix is only attracted to men who don't have noses.

That is all.

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[maiteo]

he did this for meeee