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clockwayswrites · 3 months

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Like Betta Fish Do- Final Part

WC: 3359, Masterpost

“The response to the article has been great— better even than we had predicted,” Tim informed the various family members as he joined them at the breakfast table, tablet in hand.

Jason glanced up from his porridge to look his little brother over. The eye bags were a little dark, but not to the point of concerning yet, at least not on Tim. Still… “You weren’t up all night running numbers, were you?”

“I slept, I just woke up early.” Tim said defensively. “Besides, it’s best to get data like this when it’s new. It allows me to compare the first reaction to the long term response and see if there are any shifts.”

“Good data gathering is important,” Jazz agreed, “but so is taking care of yourself.”

She set the bowl of porridge that she had just finished adding toppings to in front of Tim and blatantly stuck a spoon in his hand. Tim blinked down at the food for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. Cass, smiling in amusement, handed Jazz a fresh bowl.

“Best news is,” Tim continued after he had swallowed, “that everyone thinks Danny is, and I quote, a ‘Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure’. I mean, that’s not really a new opinion, but the new article really cemented it.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” Danny said after a pause.

“I mean, I’d just be glad to not be a poor little meow meow,” Duke said as he leaned over to look at Tim’s screen.

“The big change,” Tim continued and tilted his screen for Duke to see better, “is that public opinion of Jason has recovered. It was always solid in Gotham, we get it here, but outside of Gotham people were really having some issues with how quickly Jason pressed the button. Danny going on record to say that he asked Jason to press it— that he knew that’s what he was saying— has made a real difference.”

That was good news, but something about the way that Tim was presenting it made Jason tense and he had to purposefully relax his grip around his spoon. “What’s the bad news?”

Tim glanced over at Jason for a moment before looking back down at his tablet. The way he chewed on his lip pretty much assured there was bad news.

“Tim,” Jason pleaded. He got they were all trying to protect them while Danny was still recovering, but he needed to know, “just tell me. I’d rather hear it here from you than out there on the street.”

“There’s a small, and I mean really small, group that claims we made Danny say those things,” Tim explained with a grimace. “It got dug up that Danny’s on a Wayne Inventors’ Scholarship. They’re saying that we threatened to pull the scholarship if he didn’t clear Jason.”

Maybe it was best just to set the spoon down before he bent it in half.

“We don’t publish those names,” Bruce commented, a heavy frown in place as he joined the breakfast table, own tablet in hand.

Tim nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll look into who at the school may have leaked that information.”

“I mean, it could have just been a classmate?” Danny pointed out. “It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting it to the heavens or anything, but, like, I haven’t kept it a secret how I ended up suddenly mid degree in the program.”

“It could have been,” Bruce acquiesced, “but it still bears looking into. Even if nothing comes of it, reminding the school of how they’re bound by FERPA hardly hurts, not with you returning to classes in a week.”

“Yeah that’s going to be… yeah,” Danny said with a sigh.

Jason leaned over to wrap his arm around Danny’s shoulder and brush a kiss against his temple.

“I’ve got to leave in a few days too,” Jazz said apologetically.

Danny nodded and leaned further into Jason. “You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“She will also have assistance in that matter,” Alfred said. The clink of the fresh plate of hot cross buns was a firm period on his declaration.

“That’s a sweet thought,” Jazz managed after a moment, “but I do live in a different state.”

“That is hardly an issue, Miss Jasmine. Master Richard will accompany you for the first week to simply make sure that everything is both secure and calm. When he is certain you will be well, he can make his way back easily enough,” Alfred explained. When Jazz opened her mouth to protest, Alfred held up a staying hand. “Miss Jasmine, I assure you it is not a hardship. You are family now and we very much look after our family. It would do all of us well to know that you are safe and sound.”

“Yes, family now,” Cass agreed as she made a grabbing motion at the plate until Tim passed her one of the buns.

“I, well…” A faint blush spread across Jazz’s cheeks. “I guess if it wouldn’t be a problem? And if you’re okay sleeping on the couch, Dick? We’ve only got one actual bedroom in the place, we use the other as an office for us both.”

“Hey, a couch isn’t the worst place I’ve slept by a long run,” Dick chirped. “But if you’re feeling guilty, I’ll taking getting to pick the tunes on the drive.”

“Don’t do it,” Jason said, an attempt to save Jazz that hell. “Seriously, not worth giving him that power. His music tastes are atrocious.”

Dick pouted. “They’re fabulous.”

“No, Jason’s right on this one,” Tim said.

“If Drake is agreeing with Todd, I am afraid that one has to accept there is some truth in the statement,” Damian interjected.

“Baby bat, no,” Dick whined.

From the look he aimed Dick, Damian was unmoved by the plea. “While you have a great many skills, Grayson—”

“Thank you.”

“—your taste in music, fashion, and other matters of culture is not one of those skills.”

“I’m wounded. You wounded me Damian, my baby bat, so cruel… so callous,” Dick said as he basically melted down into his chair.

“Keep up such antics and you will have a true wound to worry about, Grayson,” Damian said with a sniff.

Jason chuckled. “Ah, it’s not breakfast at the Manor without a threat of violence.”

Duke leaned around Tim to look at Jazz. “You still have time to run, Jazz, you don’t have to be part of this family. You can still get out.”

“Hum, I don’t know. Give me a Creep Stick—”

Multiple people looked at Danny and mouthed ‘creep stick?’.

“—and I think I can manage. Besides, none of the food has come back to life yet so it’s a better breakfast than I had most of my childhood.”

In the following silence, Bruce very carefully set his tablet down and folded his hands on top of it. “Food that came back to life?”

“Lab safety was just sort of an ignored suggestion in our childhood home,” Danny said.

“They kept samples in the fridge,” Jazz continued. “It sometimes had… unexpected results.”

“I don’t know, I think after the tenth time the hotdogs come ‘alive’ it’s an expected result,” Danny argued dryly.

“Good heavens,” Alfred declared softly. “And… the Dr. Fentons did nothing?”

Danny just shrugged. “I ate at school or out with my friends a lot.”

“No wonder you’re so pint sized,” Dick cooed.

“Hey!”

“You are, fish. Just a little guppy,” Jason teased. When Danny grumbled, Jason only pulled him closer.

“It really was just the way things were,” Jazz said, apparently still trying to soothe the table. “We know it’s not normal now, but that was just life at the time. It almost made more sense when there were actual ghosts around haunting Amity Park— and I don’t just mean Danny.”

“Boo.”

“Oh, yeah! You still haven’t shown us your ghost form,” Steph pointed out.

“But only if you’re up for it, dude, like… physically and emotionally,” Duke cut in quickly. “You don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I mean, it was strange showing Jason the first time— showing someone who knew me as Danny first,” Danny said, “but, like, there are times when I want to be in that form. I even get restless if I go too long without changing over.”

“Or sometimes he just needs something off the top shel-oof,” Jason winced as Danny elbowed him hard. “Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here.”

“You’re the one who used me instead of a step stool to hang cameras,” Danny said with a perfectly sweet smile. “But anyways, yeah, it’s no issue to show you all! You might want to cover your eyes though, it’s a bit bright.”

“Bright?” Dick asked, right as Danny transformed.

It served him right if he was left blinking away spots.

“Oh wow, your lights are totally different like this,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at Danny.

Danny peered back. “Lights?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m a meta, I see… like, after images of stuff, kinda You’re all sorts of wild like this,” Duke said, waving a hand at Danny.

“And inverted,” Tim pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, it seems to be a thing with halfas? Like, I was wearing a white with black hazmat suit when I died and the inverted version was what my ghost form was in for ages. I’ve learned to make changes to it since, but it’s easier to stay close to that original form.”

“Easier, how?” Bruce asked. He was clearly brimming with questions now that Danny was talking about ghostly matters, but he was obviously trying not to ask everything at once.

Tim didn’t seem much better in his eagerness.

“Oh, hum, there’s this resistance? Think of it like trying to pull apart two things that have been glued together. If you have the right solvent or heat or tools you can do it, but you have to have that and you still risk damage if you don’t go carefully. So small changes are easier. Also what um, role I’m in changes things.”

“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured.

“Wait, hold up,” Dick interrupted before Bruce could ask a follow up. “If you’re a halfa and Jason is a halfa, does this mean that Jason has a ghost form too?”

Jason had to resist pushing his chair back as all eyes spun to him. Sure this was his family, but that single minded Bat focus was still intimidating.

Cass tilted her head. “Like Duke said, only if up for it.”

“It’s just, I haven’t… transformed yet,” Jason said. He tried for a casual shrug and felt like he had missed by a mile. “We had to wait for my core and everything to form first.”

“But you could transform now?” Tim asked curiously.

Jason glanced at Danny.

“I think you could,” Danny said. He was floating a little above his chair now. Casually, as if it was odd, he crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them. “Your core is strong. You aren’t having the power issues I did, but you aren’t trying to go through this when a teen either. Question mostly is if you’re ready to try.”

Did he want to try?

Jason didn’t know. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to experience this aspect of being that Danny experienced— to experience it with Danny. Another part of Jason was still afraid. It still felt like the final period on everything that had happened with the Joker all of those years ago.

But maybe it was time to put that period on it.

Maybe it was time to let go.

Maybe it was time to live.

“I’d… I’d like to try.” At least if the worst happened he’d have his family here with him. One of them would be able to talk him down from a panic if he came back as Robin.

“After breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said firmly.

“Yes Alfie.”

“So… how does this work?” Dick asked.

They were gathered in the gym— originally a room converted for Dick’s gymnastics and since expanded to have various workout gear— on the bright blue mats. Danny was still in his ghost form and drifted in a lazy circle around the group. Jason and Jazz paid him no mind, but Duke and Steph kept glancing at the ghost.

“Well, I mean, when I was a teen I had to say a catchphrase and everything, but I was a lot more in flux at that age so it was all harder. Now it’s much more like just… taking a breath and jumping.”

“Yeah, fish, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific than that,” Jason drawled, his attitude a thin veil over his nerves.

Danny stopped, hovered in front of Jason, and gave him a chaste kiss. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered.

Jason gave a terse little nod.

“Really,” Danny continued, “you’ll be okay. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”

Breathing slowly through his nose, Jason focused on the feeling of Danny’s cold fingers against his cheeks.

“Now feel for your core. Think of what we saw with Frostbite— the fire, the ash, the movement of it. The light of it. Think about how warm it is there under your sternum. Even in this form, it’s part of you.”

Jason let out a breath slowly, feeling his chest fall with it. He focused on that warmth that nestled itself just under skin and bone. He thought about how it had looked in his hands, destructive but full of the promise of life.

“Keep a focus on your core, but think about how it feels to fly through the air as Red Hood. Think about that moment when you’re at the height of a swing and gravity doesn’t seem to matter. Now let go of all of that and fall. Your core will catch you. I’ll catch you.”

Jason gasped. His knees went out under him. He couldn’t breathe.

No…

He didn’t need to breathe. There simply wasn’t that demand on his body. Everything was just… calm. Static. Still. And he felt so warm. He hadn’t been this warm since before he had died only to wake up cold and alone in his own grave.

Jason looked down at his own hands. They were a dark ashen grey and when he flexed them, soot flaked off and scattered. The bat symbol— his bat symbol— glowed molten orange on his chest. He wasn’t in his Robin costume.

His knees felt weak for a second time, but he still didn’t fall. He looked up into Danny’s fanged grin. The other was holding him up by the elbows. Danny had caught him, just like he promised.

Danny's slow grin only uncurled further. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

Jason let his head fall back as he groaned at the joke.

“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with my puns because wow you really took the whole lava core thing to heart, didn’t you?” Danny said, looking Jason over. “Not that you aren’t totally rocking the look.”

“Really?” Jason asked. It was odd to hear his own voice come out modified from the black mask, deep but without the mechanical edge his Red Hood mask did. Steam escaped from the mask at the filters, swirling up into the still air.

“Payback for months of fish jokes,” Danny said and met the glowing red eyes without an ounce of shame. He drew his hands back along Jason’s arms from where he was holding onto his elbows. Jason could feel cold run along his arms and he held back a shiver. “You good to stand?”

Jason nodded. He felt fine now, weird, but fine. “Yeah, I am. Just… this is a lot different.”

“I know,” Danny said easily and a little sadly. He squeezed Jason’s wrists before letting go and drifting back. Without warning, he plunged his hand into his chest to find his Tucker™ phone.

“What the fuck,” Steph whispered from the sidelines.

“Hey, it’s an easy way not to lose things,” Danny said, “and you need a special phone to be able to handle stuff in the ghost zone so I just keep it on me.”

“In you.”

“Same diff,” Danny said with a shrug. He floated back enough to get all of Jason in the frame and snap a photo.

Jason took the phone carefully as it was passed over to him. That was him. He didn’t know what to think of it all yet, but that was him— as much him as Jason or Red Hood were him. This form certainly drew from his current Red Hood uniform, there was no question of that, not with the face mask and hood, but the coat was longer. The end of the coat ended mid thigh in drips and drops of bright red lava that turned to rick black ash and drifted away. The drips gave a clue to the make up of the rest of the coat, an oddly, roughly iridescent black that glowed bright on edges and seems. Inside the hood was almost blindingly bright.

“It’s definitely a look,” Tim said.

“I like it,” Steph interrupted. “You’re going to make the bad guys shit themselves.”

“Miss Stephenie,” Alfred sighed.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” Tim grumbled. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… otherworldly after Danny’s form.”

Danny shrugged and tucked himself into Jason’s side. The coat sizzled where Danny touched it. “I’m really the odd ghost out. Most of them are much more dramatic and themed to their obsession or core.”

“I think it is impractical. There will be no ambushing anyone when you glow in such a manner,” Damian sniffed.

“Jason’s ghost form isn’t for taking on criminals, Damian,” Bruce said. Jason knew B was thinking it through though from the slightly constipated look on his face.

“I guess with that coat you could totally say that look is dripping,” Duke said and then reached over to high five Dick as Cass signed ‘fire’ dramatically.

“This is your fault,” Jason let Danny know, “the puns.”

“They were like this when I got here,” Danny said, repentantly. “Come on though, open up.”

“Open up?”

“Your mask,” Danny said, tapping on the hard black surface. “I bet you can retract it. Just think about it pulling back and tucking away.”

Jason frowned under the mask but Danny was right before, so he took a breath and tried to picture the mask collapsing on itself and pulling back behind his neck.

The air of the room felt cold on his face.

“Oh, wow, your hair’s inverted,” Dick said, “just like Danny thought it would be. That’s almost more wild than the outfit.”

Jason reached up self consciously to tug at what must now be a black lock only for Danny to catch his hand and kiss it lightly.

“There you are. It took me a long time, but I finally found you,” Danny said.

“Found me?”

Danny gave a little hum. “Yep. Found that ghost whose haunt I crashed into all that time ago. Who would have thought I’d go from being worried about how angry your haunt felt to actually getting to know you like this— getting to know all of you. Getting to see you.”

Danny drifted up just a little more, just enough to press their lips together into a kiss. Icy cold met magma hot and Jason closed his eyes to sounds of cat calls and ‘steamy’. His siblings might be damn annoying, but they weren’t wrong, the kiss was literally steaming.

“Careful or you’ll be smoked salmon before you know it, fish.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d put up with it for you. You know why? Because I lava you,” Danny said with a cackle of laughter.

Jason rolled his eyes, but pulled Danny into another kiss. He had better get used to the puns, he supposed, but somehow he thought he would manage. He thought he would manage because he was no longer just a dead boy, because he had his family around him supporting him, because he also loved Danny. They had not only their afterlives, but their whole lives ahead of them.

And Jason… Jason was determined to live.

---

AN: And here we are... done! I hope you all enjoyed every moment of this fish's adventure, the love he found, and the life he helped give back! It was a journey for sure, and it took me longer than I expected, but I am ever so grateful for you all being along for it! I'll update ao3 tomorrow!

Stay delightful, darlings!

#the end #dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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sillysillygoofygoose · 9 months

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Cuddling With Toji Headcanons!

MDNI

Depending on his mood, Toji is either the most clingy person ever or the most "ew, don't touch me" person ever. And there's no in-between.

"Wait, baby c'mere..." Toji rolls over in bed, facing you, grabbing at your waist. You roll your eyes, gripping onto the sheets to stop him from rolling you over.

"You said you didn't want to cuddle... well, no, you said, "Ugh, no, not right now." And swatted me away." You smirked to yourself, theatrically crossing your arms over your chest. He groans, attempting to uncross your arms.

"Well, I changed my mind. C'mon, let me hold you." His calloused hands pull your back flush against his chest.

BIG SPOON. This man grabs you and holds you tight, like his own personal teddy bear.

"Holy shit, Toji, no one's taking me away." You whine as you attempt to loosen his grip on your torso, eventually breathing out a sigh of defeat. He grunts in response, nuzzling his face into your neck, smiling softly.

Avid hair-player. Toji LOVES scratching at your scalp and innocently studying your subtle spilt-ends when he can't fall asleep. If you have curly hair (like me! Where are my curly babies at?? 😩🥰) he focuses on a single curl, wrapping it around his finger and watching it slightly unravel.

"You're gonna make it frizzy, stoooooppppp."

I think he's very mischievous. Pinching and tickling your tummy, kissing your neck, playing footsie with you.

"Ew, wait, why are your feet so cold?" You pull your knees into your chest, trying to escape the freezing skin of your boyfriend's feet. "You're so dramatic, c'mon, they can't be that bad." He took the criticism oddly personally, slightly pouting at you as you laugh, "Put those icicles AWAY!"

While you're watching TV, your spot is permanently on his lap. His favorite time of the night is when you're so tired that you stop caring about the program, shifting in his lap to face him. He always pecks you on the cheek after you nestle your face into his shoulder.

The only time you get to hold him is when he's dead tired or blackout drunk. He'll never ask for it, either. Even when he's upset or sad, he finds comfort in holding you.

"Fuck, 'm sorry... didn't mean to wake ya princess." Toji stumbles into your dark bedroom, exhausted, deeply frowning when he sees the outline of your soft figure sit up. "It's okay, I wasn't sleeping too well anyway." You gently speak out into the darkness, hearing Toji strip of his work clothes. The soft foam of the mattress sinks as Toji sits next to you, hunched over. "Tired?" You ask, rubbing and scratching at his drowsy shoulders and back. He hums, hovering over you slightly, allowing you to pull his head to your chest, attempting to envelop his brobdingnagian body in your small arms. "Love ya to pieces, sweets." Is the last mumble you hear before bass-like snores fill the room.

Toji, much to his dismay, learned that he can not fall asleep without somehow feeling you.

After an explosive fight, Toji found himself tossing and turning on the small, boxy couch. After hours of trying to soothe himself to sleep, Toji began the short journey of walking to the bedroom, tail between his legs. Once he arrived outside the door, he quietly swung it open, standing in the middle of the door frame, arms dangling at his side. A beautiful combination of "Mom, I threw up" and creepy home-intruder.

He trudged over to your side of the bed, pushing your shoulder passive-aggressively to wake you up. "Can I sleep here? Please. I know you're mad... just, please?" He pointed at his side of the bed, embarrassed by his own actions, feeling wildly pathetic. You grunt in confirmation, the desire to be unbothered overtaking your previous anger. He smiles, plunging into the sheets, trying to hold you. His smile quickly vanished when you pushed him away, accompanied with a half-hearted "nuh uh".

He huffed, crossing his arms like a child until you begrudgingly offered out your hand to him. He interlocked his fingers with yours, taking what he could get, squeezing tight. Not long after, he's knocked out, sleeping like a baby.

This one felt a little lackluster idk 😕

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

#jjk x reader #fem reader #size difference #age difference #jjk toji #jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #18+ content #toji smut #dilf toji #toji x you #toji zenin #headcanon #toji headcanons

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eyrieofsynapses · 4 months

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why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

#aurora comic #aurora webcomic #comicaurora #art analysis #...I hope those are the right tags???#new fandom new tagging practices to learn ig #much thanks for something to read while I try to rest my wrists. carpal tunnel BAD. (ignore that I wrote this I've got braces ok it's fine)#anyway! I HAVE. MANY MORE THOUGHTS. ON THE STORY ITSELF. THIS LOVELY STORY #also a collection of reactions to a chunk of the comic before I hit the point where I was too busy reading to write anything down #idk how to format those tho #...yeet them into one post...???#eh I usually don't go off this much these days but this seems like a smaller tight-knit fandom so... might as well help build it?#and I have a little more time thanks to break so #oh yes also shoutout to my insanely awesome professor for teaching me all the technical stuff from this he is LOVELY #made an incredibly complex program into something comprehensible <3 #synapse talks

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sassypossumm · 8 days

Text

Finally

Art cred: mao0047 on X (they're really so good...)

FINALLY getting around to cleaning out my inbox, to the lovie that requested Professor!Miguel x Student this one's for you (made reader a TA grad student) MDNI TW: smut,brief mention of child's death, infidelity, P in V,degredation

"Professor? You in here?" Knocking on the heavy door, you frowned when you got no response.

He always did this.

Miguel O'Hara, stodgy genetics prof that he was, had a bad habit of falling down research rabbit holes. And when he did, you might as well have been dealing with the absent minded professor.

Sighing, you shoved open the door and stepped inside, immediately taken aback by the musty smell and horribly dim light. As your eyes adjusted to the light, your heart squeezed at the sight.

When you'd first started this TA program, you'd dreaded your assignment. Genetics?! You'd balked. What on earth did you know about genetics?!

Then you'd met your assigned professor.

Miguel O'Hara, genetics 101 prof. The man was a giant, disheveled, socially awkward, cerebral...teddy bear.

There was no other way to put it. One look at those wide, tired, gorgeous brown eyes and you knew you were sunk. Now, leaning against thr door frame, watching his hulking frame dwarf the dingy hole of an office, you couldn't stop the thundering of your heart.

You cleared your throat, and Miguel's head shot up. You stifled a smile at the way his glasses slid down his nose, and made note of the sheer exhaustion etched into his features. He looked far beyond his 38 years, in fact, he looked ready to be carved into the side of Mount Rushmore alongside the stony faced founding fathers.

"How long you been in here, Professor?" At your concerned tone, Miguel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stepping into the space, you struggled to not let your eyes wander to the way his frame practically swallowed his chair as he man spread.

Sitting across from him, you busied yourself with papers as he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. You rubbed your thighs together, trying not to imagine what those gorgeous thighs of his might feel like braced on either side of you as you-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" The sound of his voice shot through you, bringing you back to the present. Looking up, you met his eyes, and took in his expectant stare. Clearly he'd been trying to get your attention. Your cheeks heated at your foolish thoughts. Blinking hard, you pushed down the unrealistic notions.

There was no way a man like Miguel O'Hara would ever be interested in you. After all, hadn't you been throwing out hints half the semester.... and after that last poetry session you'd both attended...maybe Hobie was right...you were reading more into the lingering stares than was actually there.

"Yes, professor," You cleared your throat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening." Miguel gave you a tired smile and pulled off his bifocals.

"It's okay, Y/N. I remember my last week of finals before I received my PHD."

"Did you get your PHD before or after Fred Flinstone received his?" His eyes creased at the corners at your light banter.

"Before, you smart ass, who do you think tutored him?" He said with a conspiratorial grin. Of all the things you'd done and accomplished in thr past year, this was what you'd miss thr most.

The easy familiarity you and Miguel had slipped into. After papers were graded, and everything was organized, you'd occasionally relax and just... talk. Over a cup of coffee, and even at his house once or twice, you'd just talk.

It was crazy to think just how familiar you'd become with his life. Over the past several months, he'd begun opening up more and more. About his first girlfriend, how he'd left her for his brother's girlfriend. You'd been struck at the thought of the Miguel you knew cheating on anybody...it seemed such an alien idea.

Then he'd shown you the pictures of his daughter, Gabi. The daughter who'd been cruelly taken from him in a car accident. Your heart had broke. To have something so tragic happen, and then to top it off, his wife blamed him for the whole thing.

Youd tried to assure him that it clearly hadn't been his fault, but he'd stiffened and shook off your attempts. On thst one, you'd backed down. He'd put up a clear boundary, and you hadn't wanted to push him away.

Miguel, however, had no qualms about dragging his ex wife through the verbal mud, and venomously at that. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he had no remaining good will for the woman who'd blamed him for his daughters death, and insulted him at every turn for his supposed 'giving up' when he'd begun gaining weight.

Your blood still boiled when you thought about it. The woman was hurting, but that hadn't given her thr right to hurt Miguel. Righteous indignation burned in your belly as you looked at the tured, beautiful man across from you.

He deserved the world.

"Professor,"

"Please, Miguel, we're practically colleagues." He said, stretching his arms above his head.

Now that was odd...

Miguel had always been very strict about remaining professional. Come to think of it, he'd been calling you by your first name since you'd entered... maybe...

"Professor, I don't think that's very," he cut you off with a pointed look.

"Next fall you'll be just as much a professor as I am."

"Shakespearean Poetry and the Romantics can hardly be considered of equal value to genetics." You balk, but not for long. Miguel leaned forward and looked at you intently.

"Poetry is just as valuable as genetics, if not more so." You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes quieted you. The eyes were thr same, that visible exhaustion seemed a permanent addition to his features, but there was something...something different.

There was an unfamiliar intensity dancing in those deep pools of brown you'd fallen for. Before, you'd adoring thought of his eyes like those of a big puppy, but now...now the only phrase that came to mind was 'bedroom eyes'. You shivered at both the thought, and the electricity you felt growing between you.

On your end, you'd always known that draw existed,but youd never dreamt this giant teddy bear felt the same.

"Professor," Your tone was breathy. His brow raised slightly.

"Miguel." He instructed simply. Your tongue stuck to the rood of your mouth, and your skin grew warmer.

"Miguel." You murmured. He hummed, and you felt a thrill of pride run of your spine at the idea that you'd pleased him. "What, um, what is, what are we," He silenced you with another seerimg look.

"I'm socially awkward, Y/N," he gave you a warm smile. "But not entirely oblivious." Sliding his hand across the table, he grazed your fingers with his thumb. "I'd have to be entirely ignorant to ignore this...spark, if you will, that exists between us."

You shuddered at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut at his husky tone. A deep rumble went through his chest and he raised your fingers to his lips.

"Why wait so long?" You chanced a look at him, and felt your breathing shallow. He smiled against your fingers, and drew your thumb into his mouth, sucking softly, before withdrawing it, nipping the tip teasingly.

Where on earth did this man come from, and what had he done with your Miguel?

"For one thing, it hardly seemed prudent to risk either of our positions for something that was so clearly more than a one time fuck." He said calmly, turning over your hand to kiss thr inside of your wrist. You shuddered at his calculated tone and bit back a sound.

"You don't want to fuck me?" Your voice wavered, the words no more than a breath. Miguel's eyes darkened, and a predatory grin slowly morphed his features from placid genetics teacher to something...lewder.

"Oh, I want to fuck you, hermosa." He purred, sucking at your fluttering pulse point. "But I also want to make love to you, decadently." His lips dance up your arm. "Voraciously."

He stands, leaning over the table to dwarf you completely, pressing delicate kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. "Over. And over. And over again." His voice rumbles low in your ear, sending tendrils of arousal straight to your core.

Your head falls to the side, invitingly. You're not entirely certain what's come over him, but you're not about to question it. A whimper escapes your mouth as he finally turns your face up towards his with a firm hand on your jaw.

"For another thing," he breathed against your lips. "I wanted to see who'd break first."

"You." His lips quirk momentarily at your quip.

"Si, nena. You prove to be quite stubborn." He growls the final word before capturing your lips with his. You moan softly, and when his tongue brushes against yours, you surrender completely.

Whining desperately, you rake your fingers through his hair and tug wantonly at his shirt as his tongue expertly coaxed a litenty of primal praises from your throat. His hand slid down your jaw to enclose gently around your throat, and he groaned as your moans and whimpers sent vibrations through his fingers.

You trid tugging him across the desk, but Miguel simply grunted, tearing his mouth away from yours to press bruising sucks and kisses down the column of your throat. You whined at began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ah-ah" Miguel growled, catching your hand in his. Biting down on your collar bone, he pulled back and looked at you. "Greedy little thing... we do this my way."

His way meant bending you over the desk, wrists held behind your back in one of his large hands as he took you mercilessly from behind.

"Th-this the fucking you mentioned?" You panted between thrusts, groaning when the base of his cock grazed your clit. Miguel hissed at the way your walls fluttered in response to the stimulation and slowed his pace, wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, pushing your further into the desks surface.

"Callarse la boca." He grunted, picking up his speed. Miguel's hips slapped against your ass, accompanied by his occasional moan and your profuse broken sounds of pleasure. The erotic sounds seemed to spur him on, and his grip on your neck tightened as he released your wrists to slap your ass soundly. You cried out, clenching around his deliciously hard cock.

"You like that?" He growled, slapping your ass again. "You like being fucked like a slut?" Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned. He reased your neck and gripped your hair, turning your face roughly as he continued steadily pounding into you.

"Answer me." He hissed, slapping your ass again. You like being fucked like this? Like my own personal cock sleeve?" Your breathing was labored and you moaned weakly. You could feel the veins of his cock as he brushed passed your g-spot with ever thrust.

"I, Uh-huh, so good, Miggy...." He groaned at your needy tone. "Please, need, need it, so bad..." You whimpered, thrumming and flushed, teetering on the edge of climax.

"Shhh. I got you, bebita. I'll give you what you need." He shushed you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts. You cried out as his cock bullied your clit and pussy with quick rhythmic thrusts.

"I'm gonna, Migs," You babbled, scrambling for purchase on anything to cling to. Folding himself over you, Miguel laced his hands over yours and murmured nonsensical praises in your ear, not letting up on his punishing pace.

"Let go, I got you."

With those words, you toppled over the edge, twitching and shuddering as you came all over his cock, and went boneless against the desks surface, lost in a haze of white hot pleasure as your walls clamped around his cock like a vice. Miguel groaned and his hips stuttered before his cock twitched, and he came soon after you, filling the condom with his cum.

Sighing heavily, Miguel scooped you into his arms before flopping back in his chair. Cleanup and damage control would be a job for later. Right now, you were sat, warm and sated in his arms.

And that was enough for him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #Professor Miguel #Sassy requests

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queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

Affirmation King

prompt: ( requested ) attending university as a full-time student is hard, but your boyfriend makes some of the stress worth it.

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.1k+

note: author gives unsolicited advice in the form of sharing a citation website to make college essays a little easier! this is not meant as promotion or anything, it's just your author trying to share a resource they know of.

warnings: cursing, small hurt large comfort (reader snaps a little at Carmy but he handles it like a fucking pro), author gives unsolicited college advice in the form of a recommended website, reader is in a masters program and not undergrad, fluff.

The 16 inch screen glared into your retinas, fingers feeling numb from the hours pounding away at the loose keyboard. When the screen started to warble and darken, your head ducked down slightly to try and preserve your visual; glaring up at the offender when they pressed the screen closed after forcing you to retract your hands.

"You're cute and all, but not so cute as to interrupt me like that," you deadpanned, eyes wide and burning from your lack of lubrication via blinking.

"You've been sat here for hours, it's time for a break."

"Funny when I say that to you, it's always, 'Get outta my kitchen.'"

Carmy smirked, "Come eat something."

"Let me finish this essay and - "

"No, it's time for a meal."

You felt your irritation spike, narrowing your eyes slightly, "I'm on a deadline, Carmen, so either be fucking helpful and productive or get the fuck out of my space. I've got work to do and you're just slowing me down."

He offered a patient look, asking, "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

You paused, then shook your head, "No... May I try again?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I appreciate you trying to... Alleviate some of my stress," you spoke slowly, stringing the sentence together in realtime, "but this project isn't something I can ignore right now, so, I'd like to finish this thing before we do whatever else."

"Better," he teased, knowing you ran a short fuse when stressed out and overworked. "What's got you riled up?"

"I have this 20-page paper due."

"20 pages!?"

"It's not that bad, honestly, once you have your thesis together," you chuckled dryly. "it's just time consuming and meticulous."

He frowned and stepped forward to press a kiss to your forehead, mocking in a sarcastic tone, "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"I'm so tired," you pouted up at him. "Do I really need this degree? This is so much stress for such a little thing such as a piece of paper that cost me $50k just to say I'm allowed to join the work force."

"Hey, hey," he laughed. "Just remember what you're working towards. You're one assignment closer to your internship turning into a full-time gig, right?"

You nodded, "You're right. I want that job so bad... I just hate how busy I feel - it's like, how can I remember to eat let alone write 6 different response posts to my classmate's work?"

Carmy nodded with empathy, "Just remember that end goal, baby. Keep grinding, keep moving. Almost at the finish line, right?"

"Right," you nodded with a smile. "Thank you, angel face."

Carmy smiled at you before softly asking, "Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, drink, a condom?"

"Stop quoting Mean Girls at me!"

His hands shot up in defense, deflecting, "I was just trying to be a gracious host. If the missus wants anything, I'll make sure she has it."

"Pretty sure 'missus' is a term used for wives - " His groan made you laugh lightly, then covering, "No, thank you, baby, I'm okay. I should only be about another hour or so...?"

"All right, yeah, sure. I'll start dinner in 30, okay?"

"Sure," you smiled, already distracted again as you lifted your screen again to stare at the Word document that had been haunting your hard-drive for about 3 weeks now.

"Hey," he interrupted, "don't forget your glasses."

"Thank you," you mumbled, reaching for the special, blue-light filtering glasses Carmy had gifted you when you first started your Master's program. He claimed staring at a computer screen was going to cause long-term damage (he read an article) and got you a pair, which, you had to admit, made a huge difference.

Your hair was raked into a new bun as you reread the last of your essay, trying to get back in the academic mindset in order to finish the last bit of your assignment. There were textbooks spewed around your work table; laptop plugged in, highlighters and pens and notebooks within reach and a nearly-finished bottle of water was set to the side. You wrote ferociously once you got back on the right mental track, feeling your headache stir to life as you blindly reached for your water bottle.

However, when you picked it up, you blinked in mild shock when the bottle was heavier than before. Glancing over, you realized Carmy had replaced the bottle because there, under where it had sat, he left you a handwritten note:

replenish what you lost from crying!

You chuckled, knowing you were a stress cryer and when tackling big assignments like this, you were ten times as stressed as usual. Still you worked, even putting your headphones on to play soothing background noise - like rainfall. Your neck cramped, back ached, temples throbbed, and hands were cramping. Still you worked, using sticky notes to flag the important quotes you wanted to use from your textbooks and notebooks. Your stomach growled, your eyes begged for reprieve, chest felt tight, and shoulders were too tense.

Still. You. Worked.

Deadlines were important to you, and while you were a professional procrastinator, you always turned everything in on time - no matter your mental state. You could smell whatever Carmy had started cooking, focused on writing as you only used spellcheck as you went - and still you worked. You knew you surpassed the hour limit you told Carmy, but you couldn't stop, you were so close to finishing, it almost put tears back in your eyes, but this time out of relief. You only paused to look at online sources and apply chapstick, cracking your tightly-wound knuckles, and when you finished the last body paragraph of the essay, grinned to yourself.

All that was left was your conclusion, to create a bibliography, and to edit - but you were almost home free!

Suddenly, you jumped in fright when a hand planted on your shoulder; whipping around to see your boyfriend's own startled expression. "Sorry," Carmy apologized with a wince when you removed your headphones, "didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to check on you."

You nodded, 'Yeah, no, I'm almost done. Like give me 20 minutes, almost done-almost done."

He smiled softly, "Dinner's ready when you are."

"I'll be there soon, thank you, angel face."

"Can I help with anything?"

"Uh," you cocked your head, "you know what? Maaaaybe..."

"Really?" He grinned, perking up. "You never let me help!"

"It's not really work, per se," you amended, "but would you mind letting me read this out loud to you - see if it makes sense? The mark of a good writer is to act as if the audience knows nothing about the subject and make them understand, and you're exactly that."

"Lemme hear it," he nodded, taking a seat, "I might not be much help but I can still try."

You agreed and finished typing the outline of your conclusion, then scrolled to the top of your word document, and explained to him what your class was before starting to read. He listened intently, sitting on a spare stool with his elbows resting on his knees; keeping him leaned forward to provide his undivided attention. You managed to reword a few sentences, only noticing they didn't make sense when you read them out loud. Once or twice, Carmy even offered an alternative phrasing you liked - making the changes and rereading, then continuing through your assignment.

By the end, you were able to beef up the conclusion and Carmy was grinning at you in pride. "That's real good, baby," he complimented, "it all made sense and rolled nice together. I think that has to be an 'A'-worthy paper."

"You should be the one grading theses, my professor's the worst," you frowned. "It's why I got so in my head, I got a fucking 76 on my last essay and need to do really well on the next few to help average my grade."

"What about the tests?"

"We don't have any, this class is all about writing material and turning it in," you pouted.

"Hey," he spoke seriously, making you look at him in question, "I'm really proud of you."

You giggled nervously, "Oh, yeah? Why? What for?"

"For doing this," he nodded to the desk. "Look at all you're doing, baby, there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up with this kinda shit. You're doing such a great fucking job - I want you to remember that. What you're doing ain't easy, but you're handling this like a pro."

"I cry, like, everyday..."

"So what? You still get shit done while emoting - call that multitasking, baby."

"Got me there."

"Seriously, though, you're not told enough what a fantastic job you're doing; how strong and resilient you have to be to deal with this kind of stress day-in and day-out. I see the hard work you put in," he promised, "and I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. It's all gonna be worth it one day, but until then, I love watching you grind through school. I might not take the classes with you, but I'll help however I can, whenever I can."

"Thank you," you whispered. "It's really nice to hear... I feel myself burning out and it's nice to be reminded that what I do now will influence my future. Validates me in feeling stressed out, you know? Sometimes, I feel silly 'cause, like, there's so many bigger things to be upset about and here I am, stressed out at a place that's guaranteed to stress me out..."

"It's not silly, it's normal. College ain't easy," he reminded, "and you're just trying to keep yourself afloat."

"Yeah, but there's bigger things in life than something trivial as my education."

Carmy scoffed at you, shaking his head, "Ain't no way."

"What?"

"My girl just said her feelings are trivial... Nah, she said her emotions about her education is trivial," he shook his head again. "Should wash your mouth out with soap - talkin' crazy like that. Baby, you know, first and foremost, your education is high on our priorities list, but your emotions? You think they're trivial? Nah, if anything causes you to have any emotion, it's valid - it's not something silly or redundant."

You pouted slightly, "You always know what to say."

"Hungry?"

"You're the perfect man," you laughed, looking at your document again and humming. "Okay, so, lemme just cite my sources and turn this in."

"Then you wanna have date night?" He smirked.

"No, no, I'm so tired - "

"I meant we can stay in."

"Oh, then count me in!"

"Change into something cozy when you're done, we can watch a movie with dinner. Yeah?"

You agreed, accepted his kiss of encouragement, and then took his leave to reheat the dinner that had surely cooled off. It didn't take long to cite everything when you used an online citation source website - that IS N O T plagiarizing! It's a handy-dandy tool you discovered your undergraduate freshman year by an actual professor. It was as simple as choosing which style, APA or MLA, and then to either paste the URL of the website you need sourced or you type in the book's information. Hit the generate button and BAM! A perfect citation for your bibliography every single time.

Or if you didn't like that, you could always just Google citation examples and do your best to write it out yourself. But the website, Citation Machine dot net, was a great tool. After perfecting your in-text citations and saving your work, you uploaded it to your university's assignment portal, crossed the essay off your to-do list, and stretched on your feet.

Cleaning up your space minimally, you hustled to your bedroom to get a quick hot, relieving shower, change, and then met Carmy in the kitchen. "Hey," you sighed with a soft smile.

"Hey, doll. All done?"

"For tonight," you groaned, "but tomorrow's a new day with new assignments."

"That's a future problem we'll handle at a later time," he eased, showing you your dinner plate. "Ta-daaaa!"

You grinned, "Oh, baby, this looks amazing!"

"Yeah, well, I kinda figured as a full-time student right now, nobody was gonna remind you what incredible job you're doing, so, I'm more than happy to step up to the plate. And what better treat than your favorite meal, huh?"

"Thank you," you whispered, pecking his lips.

You often thought his love language was "food", but then you realized it was technically under the acts of service and quality time. He loved cooking for you - it was like a gift. He loved cooking with you - it was time spent bonding. He loved introducing you to new dishes - it's a present! He loved when you let him give you a culinary lesson - it was time well spent.

"C'mon," Carmy lead you to the living room, both crashing on the couch you had been gifted from your grandmother's house when she was put in a nursing home. Normally, you wouldn't have splurged on something like this, but considering it was free, you and Carmy were happy to use it. Settling together on the couch, you got cozy under a shared blanket and Carmy flicked some movie on for background noise, but instead of watching, he just asked you about your coursework.

You told him what you could, shaking your head and huffing about how annoying your program was. How hectic. How jam packed and fast-paced it all seemed to be. How your head felt like it was spinning. How you couldn't nail down workable coping mechanisms and just felt totally out of control. You were spiraling.

You needed this rant session.

Carmy listened intently.

He never once tried to say, "oh, but if you had time management," or anything like, "if you do THIS instead..." or some bullshit, "my way works better." His bright and wide blue eyes watched you the entire time, sighing when you got to the end of your meal and vent session.

"It just feels like, I turn in one assignment, I get three more right after. Turn in those three, and all of a sudden, there's another 10!"

"Does the syllabus say anything about that?" He wondered.

"No, it just said what our reading schedules were and when major assignments are due. But those dates all got shuffled around that it feels like a train wreck. You know, if the original schedule was kept from the syllabus, I wouldn't feel so worked up! It's the rearrangement and added assignments without warning that's throwing me off."

"That doesn't sound easy," he validated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, you're doing more than enough," you whispered, pecking his lips. "Thank you for dinner."

"I made dessert, too."

"No!" You gasped with a grin.

"Mhm - wait here. I'll grab it."

"Wow, dinner, movie, and dessert?" You teased, "I'm being spoiled tonight."

"You've been working your ass off for weeks now," he smirked, standing from his seat to pick up your plates, "this is the least I could do. I know I said it, but you know how good a job you're doing, right? Damn, baby," he chuckled, "ain't no way I could ever handle shit like that on the regular."

"I could't do what you do, either."

"We all balance our crazy different. Want some tea? Wine?"

"Tea would be great."

"Comin' up."

When Carmy returned, you pulled the blanket back to let him sit again with the dessert plate between you both; two steaming mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. "What's this?" You wondered, seeing a sort of pastry.

"Marcus told me 'bout this," he chuckled. "Kinda like a poor man's version of this one thing he makes. So, look, it's Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, right? In the middle, there's raspberry preserves - or jam if you want that instead. It's baked then drizzled in melted white chocolate."

"Wow, you got all fancy on me," you beamed.

"Hardly, more like I was a little impulsive after hearing your essay. Figured you could use some dessert - you really earned it, baby. You always earn dessert," he grinned, "but tonight, you were kickass. Know that? Hear me?"

You shook your head, "This is nothing compared - "

"Hey, hey, nah," he interrupted, "nah, nah, don't do that, don't try to invalidate or downplay yourself. Look, shit is always hard in college, right? But you handle it so well, I can see the work you're putting in and the little reward you receive in return, and know that shit's gotta add up for you. But my baby just keeps cool, does her work, and does what she can to earn the grades she does. Right?"

"I mean, I try to..."

"You succeed. C'mon, lemme hear you say it. 'I kick college's ass.'"

"I kick college's ass."

"'I work hard.'"

"Carmy - "

"Saaay it!"

You huffed, "I work hard."

"'I'm an incredible hard worker.'"

"I'm an incredible hard worker."

"'I am only human.'"

Another breath in, repeating, "I am only human."

"'I am a success.'"

"I try to be a success."

"That wasn't the quote."

"Well, I don't know if I'm succeeding because grades aren't finalized yet and I have - "

"No, no, no," he smirked again, "you're still successful 'cause you're doing such a kickass job. You could get a fucking 'D' on something, and guess what? You're still successful 'cause you don't let this tear you down, you learn from mistakes and apply whatever lessons you learn to your upcoming assignments. Some people say you might even learn more from losing and failing than from undisputed success. Look, I'll be honest, I thought my job was hectic as shit, but hearing your essay tonight? Goddamn, you're not just beautiful, but so fucking intelligent, too. Baby, I was shook - that sounded like some academic paper that college kids need to defend their thesis or some shit. Something scholarly, not some assignment you gotta hand in by a deadline so you just wrote down whatever. So, give yourself credit and tell yourself you're a success."

With a long, deep breath, you answered earnestly, "I'm a success."

"Good girl," he muttered, handing you a fork finally. However, unlike Mikey all those years ago, you didn't launch your utensil at anyone and used it to cut off a corner of pastry.

You moaned when you tasted the gooey goodness. You managed through a mouthful, "Mmhhh! Mhm! Mhm! If you make this every time I have some assignment pissing me off and stressing me out, I'm afraid I'll get used to this treatment."

Carmy grinned, "You deserve whatever dessert you want, whenever you want. Huh? Yeah? Lemme hear you say it."

With another grin, you mused, "I deserve whatever I want, when I want it... And however I want it!"

"Atta girl!"

"You're so fucking corny," you laughed lightly, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again, "but thank you, my Affirmation King."

requesting rules and masterlist

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somethingubercool · 2 years

Text

my petite protégée (bau x reader/spencer x reader)

Y/N is new to the BAU and works under Garcia. she finds herself being able to see something in the case no one else does, impressing the team, including a specific doctor

this is fem!reader but i will try to make my fics more gen later. in requests btw, if you would like to, please specify what gender you would like the reader to be

genre: fluff

word countL 8.7k

trigger warnings: just regular criminal minds stuff

A/N: So, this took a different turn, a fluffier turn. Originally this was gonna be an angst fic but then I was in a cute mood so. Tell me if you guys want me to continue the Techie Reader series because I would be happy too. Also, the reader is around 20, and I’m placing Spencer at 26-27 so there is a bit of an age difference, but not too much. This is around season 3

UPDATED A/N: I wrote this in 2020 and then deleted it when I deleted my old Tumblr. But, I was really proud of this fic, so....here it is.

This system was far more complicated than what you’ve practiced with when you were at the academy, but you shouldn’t be too surprised knowing the kind of equipment that the FBI tended to use, it was all taught to you at The Academy.

“And I’ve developed all the software myself!”

In addition to the fact that the software was designed by Ms. Penelope Garcia herself.

“This is...amazing,” You gawked, eyes scanning over the array of code Garcia so gracefully decided to show you, whether it was for you to study or be in awe at. Either way, you were doing both, leaning forward in order to scan your eyes over as much of the sequences as you possibly could, although you doubt you would remember it all. You were intelligent, IQ of 159 and almost perfect grades throughout all of your schooling, but you were better with making connections and remembering numbers than memory, so even if you wanted to remember all of Garcia’s code, it was nearly impossible

“That’s right, stare in wonder!” Garcia exclaimed in a grandiose tone, to which you nodded intrinsically, the blue hue of the laptop flashing into your eyes as you scanned the computer one last time.

“I am in wonder,” You replied directly, turning around in your rolling chair to look at the extravagantly dressed woman in all of her glory. “But how long did it take you to program this?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets, Y/L/N.” Garcia replied ominously, to which you gave her a deadpan stare before bursting out into a smile and shaking your head playfully.

“You’re the boss.” You whispered back, spinning around in your chair once more so you would be facing the computers, hearing the rolling of another set of wheels as Garcia pulled up an extra chair next to you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone telling me that, although it feels nice.” She giggled, smiling at me before pulling the keyboard closer to her and entering whatever information was needed in order to pull up the FBI’s security page. As you read through the page, you could see all the requested information pertained to you, and even before you could reply with the needed responses, Garcia began to type.

“Do you have a middle name?”

“Ah--”

“Oh, wait. Never mind, I know that.” She scrolled further down the page.

“Age?”

“20.”

“Oh! You’re a youngster, younger than Reid even.”

You did not recognize that name but decided to not inquire about it.

“Address?”

“3--”

“Oh wait, I know this too. It was on your introductory paper.”

You begged to wonder why she was asking you these questions in the first place if she knew most of the information, but frankly, you didn’t mind spending time with Garcia so you plainly allowed this to happen.

“Alright, all your information is in. You’re now my protege, my little bear.” You giggled at the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.

“Little bear?” You asked, raising your eyebrow amused.

“Cause you’re cute.” She replied, making you pout appreciatively at her. Yeah, you definitely did not mind spending time with Garcia.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do as your petite protege.” You asked, smirking at her when she raised her eyebrows appreciatively at you for your french,

“Well, mon petit ours, the BAU will be calling into us multiple times for references, further research on specific dates, events, records, anything regarding the situation at hand or regarding a potential witness or unsub.”

“Unsub?” You asked, confused.

“Unidentified subject. The bad guy.”

“The bad guy.” You confirmed, signaling her to continue.

“And sometimes, multiple members will call me at once, I’ll be too popular.” She exclaimed playfully, causing you to giggle again at her antics as you nodded in understanding. “So that is where you step in, my little bear. If I am currently researching a topic or on a call with another one of our special agents and am too busy to respond, they can call you.”

“And I can research the topic as well.” You asked in an attempt to confirm your position, which Garcia affirmed with a single nod.

“Exactly. I’m going to make a copy of my system to a whole new set of monitors that they should be bringing in tomorrow. It probably would have been here today but--”

Suddenly, the door was yanked open, shining a bright light into the relatively dimly lit room, causing both you and Garcia to squint and shield yourselves from the scorching rays.

“Garcia, we have a new case.” You heard a female voice say, one that you were too preoccupied shielding your eyes from to see.

“But there is a new case,” Garcia completed, sighing in relief when the blinding ray of light shrunk away as the female voice closed the door. As soon as your eyes were safe, you were able to unfold yourself from your shielded position and look at the source of the voice and the beam of light, a beautiful, petite blond woman with her arms crossed, a manilla folder in her hand, and an amused smile being the origin of it all.

“Aww, JJ! No sudden lights in the Batcave!” Garcia whined childishly, pouting at the woman, presumably JJ, who was now approaching the two of you with an entertained look in her eyes. She shook her head at Garcia as she leaned against her chair and held the manilla folder up at Garcia’s face. The moment Garcia’s eyes landed on them, they filled with dread.

“Please tell me this is just penny thievery.”

“Serial murders.” The woman replied flatly, causing Garcia to shut her eyes in discomfort.

“That isn’t penny thievery.” Garcia groaned, taking the manilla folder in her hands before throwing you an exasperated sigh to which you sympathetically smiled at. It was at that moment that JJ finally acknowledged you properly.

“Agent Jennifer Jareau, nice to meet you.” She greeted you, taking your hand in a simple shake as you smiled at her.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Techie.” You replied jokingly, to which Agent Jareau seemed to appreciate, smiling at you in a pleased manner.

“She’s my little protege.” Garcia commented, replying in an exaggerated French accent that caused all three of you to giggle.

“How old are you, by the way? You seem young.” She asked you, scanning your face as you politely smiled at her.

“I get that a lot. Contrary to popular beliefs, I can legally drink within a year.” You replied with a small smile, to which Agent Jareau tilted her head in acknowledgment.

“Can you believe it? She’s twenty. A literal baby.” Garcia whispered to Agent Jareau, however, clearly with the intention for you to hear, causing you to roll your eyes at her comment.

“Again, can legally drink in a year. In Europ,e I can do it right now.” You retorted playfully, smiling at Agent Jareau, shyly, who simply chuckled before nodding her head towards the manilla folder in Garcia’s handande gesturing towards the door.

“Come on, we need to talk to the rest of the team.” And with that, Garcia got up and prepared to head to where the team was, you presumed, leaving you perplexed on whether you should stay put in the room or follow Garcia and Agent Jareau, not wanting to intrude in places you didn’t know if you were even invited to. However, Garcia answered that question for you rather quickly, stopping her movements in order to spin around at her heel and point at you definitively,

“You should come with.” She stated, to which you looked back at her with wide eyes and an unknowing stare, baffled to what exactly is taking place. You could see that Agent Jareau had paused and look behind her in the corner of your eye, waiting for the both of you. You gawked at Garcia once again.

“Ahh...am I allowed to?” You asked dumbly, looking between Garcia and Agent Jareau for a concrete answer. Jareau fixated her eyes on Garcia who looked at you as if you were equally the most precious and most ridiculous person alive.

“Of course, you are. But, ah, just for investigation’s sake, why don’t you just sit so that we can give you the information precisely.” Garcia stated, looking back to Jareau for confirmation, to which she nodded and smiled at.

“Sure.” Jareau simply added, waiting for both you and Garcia to catch up with her. Pushing yourself up from the chair, you adjusted your top before walking towards Garcia, who threw you a proud smile and hum as both of you caught up with Agent Jareau and headed towards the briefing room.

“We call it the Roundtable,” Garcia whispered to you as the three of you started to mount up a set of stairs, your eyes preoccupied with scanning the numerous amounts of desks and workers around you, watching in awe. Even though you strived to work here one day, called even before you fully graduated, you still could not believe that you were now part of the Bureau. All those sleepless nights where you agonizingly worried if you would ever make it, finishing reports and projects on just caffeine alone, striving to be a part of the Bureau, none of it seemed real now that you were actually there. To you, all of this was insane.

“And this is it.” You were pulled out of your internal monologue by Agent Jareau’s voice, quickly fixating your eyes on the glass door that separated you and what seemed to be a round table surrounded by various chairs, propped a few feet away from a large screen and projector. Well, at least it fits the name.

“Come on, we have to set everything up before the team comes in,” Garcia said to you, taking your forearm gently and guiding you inside the room, to which you quickly pushed open and examined your surroundings. Wow, you were actually there.

“Can you two set up the monitors while I inform the team?” You heard Agent Jareau ask, causing you to turn your head around and stare at her with wide eyes.

Holy shit you were going to meet the team.

“Yeah, gotta call everyone in so we can stare at photos of dead bodies like any other Tuesday.” Garcia chirped sarcastically, causing Agent Jareau to throw her a playful, exasperated look while you let out a faint giggle. With that, Agent Jareau left the room, leaving you and Garcia to set up the monitors.

“Alright, mon petit ours, let’s do this!” Garcia instigated with an encouraging exclamation, to which you smiled and replied to with a slightly less optimistic exclamation of your own. Garcia could have told you to be more cheerful, but you were convinced that she saw your nervousness and decided that what you gave was sufficient. “Can you start setting up the monitors while I get the photos together? I’m gonna transfer you the file so that you can upload it to the monitor from your computer.”

“Why can’t we just connect the monitor to your computer?” You question with knitted eyebrows, to which Garcia smiled.

“It’s just basic training.” She stated simply, to which you snickered.

“Doesn’t everyone know how to set up a monitor?”

“You’d be surprised.” She said with an underlying tone of exasperation, making the smile on your face grow larger. Once you connected the monitor to your computer, you opened your account and waited for Garcia’s transfer, which happened immediately after you opened the account. You looked up at her in playful shock when the little ding exclaimed from your computer. “I’ll teach you how to be fast and efficient later.” She said with a proud smirk.

At that moment, the glass doors of the room were swung open, causing you to jump slightly in shock. In walked four individuals, of them only two recognizable to you, them being Agent Jareau and SSA Aaron Hotchner. He was the one who you first spoke to when you walked into the Bureau, and although he was quite stoic and straightforward, he was nice to you. When you two made eye-contact, he gave you an acknowledging nod, and you gave him a respectful one back, smiling quickly before turning your head towards the laptop, quickly downloading the slide-show that Garcia sent to you before projecting it to the monitor. Once you had finished, you looked up and sent Garcia a nervous smile, to which she sent you an encouraging one back.

At that moment, you could feel two pairs of eyes staring at you, belonging to the other two agents you didn’t recognize, one of them being a beautiful, raven-haired woman and the other a handsome, darker-skinned man, both of them looking between you, Hotchner, and Garcia expectantly. SSA Hotchner turned to Garcia, who jumped into action, walking over to your place in front of the monitor, near the table, and placing two hands on your shoulders with a firm grasp.

“My Power-Rangers, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Our new Techie and my petite protegee!” She introduced, making you blush at the sudden attention before bowing slightly, one of which you found embarrassing because who even bows in America before straightening yourself and throwing a nervous smile to the two agents. They both gave you polite smiles, the raven-haired lady coming up to you and holding out her hand.

“Hi, Agent Emily Prentiss.” She introduced, to which you replied with a soft smile before taking her hand and giving it a shake. The male agent followed, holding out his hand as well and throwing you a comforting smile.

“Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you Y/L/N.” He said, smiling as you shook his hand with a slightly more relaxed demeanor now that introductions were essentially over. You pulled away from them and looked at each member of the team, smiling nervously before tilting your head sideways to look at Garcia, who gave your shoulders another encouraging squeeze before you spoke.

“I look forward to working with everyone.” You said politely, to which Hotchner nodded, Agent Jareau smiled, Agent Morgan gave you an amused nod, and Agent Prentiss spoke up.

“Can I ask how old you are? Sorry, you just look so young for someone to graduate from the Academy.” She questioned, looking between Garcia and you for an answer. Before Garcia could explain, you decided to interject.

“A-actually, ah, I didn’t.” You explained, fumbling slightly as you attempt to elaborate on your response. “The, ah, the BAU was looking for another Technical Analyst to help with the spike in crimes, and, ah…” As you felt your words start to lag, Garcia gracefully stepped in and finished the elaboration for you, thankfully.

“And now she works under me, haha! I am the master.” She explained in an overexaggerated tone, one that made you giggle and relax, in alliance with how Penelope’s jokes usually made you feel.

“That she is.” You agreed, pushing yourself to make a playful comment. Agent Morgan gave you a smile for that, and even that slight gesture made your tension lessen.

“Well, we can all get to know each other later. Right now, we have a case.” You heard Agent Hotchner say, and immediately, your demeanor changed, becoming serious as you nodded at him and walked over to the computer you set up near the monitor. Garcia returned to her respective laptop, pulling a chair to sit in between Agent Morgan and Agent Hotchner as Agent Jareau handed out files to each member of the team. However, you could not help but realize that there were two extra files in her hands after she finished giving each agent their file. Neither you nor Garcia needed one.

Shaking your head slightly, you decided to not dwell on the miniscule detail and focus on the case, pulling up the slideshow Garcia had sent you before reaching for the remote near your hand, handing it to Agent Jareau who thanked you politely and gestured towards the empty chair at the table, inviting for you to sit. You took the invitation, kindly, and watched as various images popped up on the monitor. What you saw, what was presented to you, the team, caused you to flinch and divert your eyes for a second, before you realized that you yourself would now have to see these images almost weekly, daily even. So, stomaching your disgust, you turned back to the monitor and laid your eyes upon the images of the bloody and brutal girls presented on the screen.

“Two days ago, 26-year-old Lina Turner was found dead in her own home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her face was mutilated along with her sex-organs.” You tried to suppress the gag that was coming up your throat when you looked once again at the monitor, photos emphasizing the consequences of the gruesome acts committed flashing before you before the images switched to an entirely new woman, this one with red-hair and of short stature, contrasting the previous woman presented on the screen, who was a slender, yet tall brunette.

“Only thing consistent with the victimology is the fact that they’re females.” You heard Agent Morgan state, his eyes fixating on the two photos of the woman now displaying next to each other on the screen.

“Well, considering the fact that they’re both females and their sex-organs were mutilated,” Emily shook her head in empathy and disgust. “the unsub could be male?”

Your head tilted down as you reminded yourself what the term meant, mouthing ‘unidentified subject’ to yourself before turning and looking back up to the other agents. For a split second, you saw Agent Jareau smile at you endearingly before returning to the table.

“The women were also objectively attractive and fit, coupling that with the mutilation to their genitals, we could most likely have a sexual sadist on our hands.” Agent Hotchner said as he read through the files.

“Well, nonetheless, Philly PD wants us there as soon as possible.” Agent Jareau informed, to which Agent Hotchner closed his case files and stood up from his seat, nodding to Agent Jareau who turned off the monitor and handed me the remote with a quiet thank you. “Wheel’s up in 20.”

“Where are Reid and Rossi?” Agent Prentiss asked, causing your ears to quirk up and your eyes to land on her in confusion before glancing back at Garcia, who acknowledged your confusion with a smile.

“At the Academy. They’re giving a lecture.” Agent Hotchner informed, pushing the leather through the latches of his satchel before heading towards the door.

“Oh boy, Reid trying to talk to a group of young adults, that’s gotta be fun.” Agent Prentiss joked, snickering at Agent Jareau, Agent Morgan, and Garcia who all seemed to share the same opinion and knowledge on a subject you were completely oblivious to.

“At least he’s got Rossi,” Agent Jareau sighed, cradling her files in her hand before catching up with Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, Y/L/N, shouldn’t you be in class now too?” Agent Derek said as he turned towards you, a playful smile on his lips that you internally, greatly appreciated, but externally, you still donned a look of surprise.

“Ah, yeah.” Confidence, Y/N, confidence. “Should probably tell my professor I won’t be able to finish my programming project by tomorrow.” You joked, earing various laughs, chuckles, and snickers from the present agents in the room, causing you to feel accomplished.

“Hope he’s not angry,” Morgan added, leaning against the door.

“Ah, he might be, but I’ll just hack into his computer and delete all his files.”

“You can do that?” Agent Prentiss asked, slightly alarmed. “Those are files secured by the bureau.”

You grinned leisurely and shrugged your shoulders. “It wasn’t too hard.”

“Wasn’t?” Agent Prentiss gawked.

“Uh oh, with her you two are double trouble, mama.” Derek exhaled, to whom you assumed to be Garcia, who let out a chuckle before walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, which you easily relaxed into, feeling quite comfortable with her now, already.

“Apparently all you have to do to get a government job is hack into the government,” Garcia added, leaning her head against your shoulder, causing you to giggle.

“What a simple task.” You replied, sarcastically, causing Agent Prentiss to shake her head in disbelief before smiling at you.

“Oh, I like her.” She commented before pushing open the doors and heading down towards her desk, Agent Jareau laughing at the whole interaction before catching up with the dark-haired agent.

Agent Morgan looked between you two, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before letting out a quiet chuckle in content. “You two are gonna completely destroy the office,” he said before pushing open the door with his shoulder and turning outward. “See ya later, Baby Girl. See you later, Pretty Protegee!” He called as he walked down the hall and towards the stairs, leaving Garcia smiling and you with a slight blush on your cheeks, a grin plastered over your face as well.

“Pretty Protegee?” You asked, turning towards Garcia with a wide smile.

“Ah, he does that with a lot of people. Although, I will admit—well, gloat,” You snickered at this. “That I have the most nicknames. But yeah, he does that a lot. Its one of his endearing qualities.” She explained, causing you to nod in understanding.

“They’re really nice,” You commented, before remembering something that irked you earlier. “Who are Rossi and Reid, by the way? There names were mentioned before and Agent Jareau had extra files in her hand so, I assume they were for them.”

“Ah!” Garcia exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your bicep as she placed her computer under her arm and started to lead you towards the door, your laptop and file already in your hands. Rossi is this, like, super-rich author who was actually one of the original starters of the BAU. He kind of retired to work on his books, which are like uber-famous, by the way, but came back not too long ago.” You pouted in acknowledgement as she fed you the information, walking across the catwalk with her and towards the elevator. “And Reid—he likes to be called Doctor Reid, by the way.”

“Is he a Doctor?” You inquired, pressing the elevator button corresponding with your floor.

“He has like, 3 PhD’s and can read a bazillion words per minute. He’s super smart, like Einstein smart.” She ranted, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.

“Einstein discovered the theory of relativity, Garcia.”

“Well, Spencer has an IQ of 187!”

That shocked you, the piece of information donning on you as you both ascended to your chosen floor, your mind trying to rap around the thought.

“Jesus Christ…” You gawked, looking at Garcia with wide eyes.

“Yeah, he’s an actual genius.” Garcia cemented, wide eyes mimicking yours in empathy. You shook your head in disbelief before the doors of the elevator opened, allowing the two of you to step out and head towards Garcia’s lair.

“How old is he? You said he was young.” You asked, opening the door for her, which you thanked you kindly for before walking in.

“Twenty-six.”

“You’re kidding…” You whispered, eyes wrapping around the idea of working with a genius. Of course, everyone in the bureau was intelligent, but people easily get wrapped around by numbers, and you were quite enamored.

“Yeah,” Garcia said, waking up her computers before taking a seat in her comfy chair, and you had followed close after.

“Hmm, does Morgan have a nickname for him as well? Young genius? Einstein?” You asked, opening the case file as you started your laptop back up.

“Yeah, it’s Pretty Boy.” She said with a chuckle, causing your head to spin around in interest.

“Pretty Boy?”

“Cause he’s pretty!” Garcia giggled, spinning towards you in her chair, her fingers fiddling with the fluffy end of the pencil that she decided to pick up.

“He’s pretty?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow before turning back towards your laptop, which still had Garcia’s presentation displayed on it. You quickly exited the screen, shivering in disgust at the memory of the photos.

“Yeah…” There was a slight quirk in her voice that did not settle with you well.

“…Garcia.”

“Why are you so fixated on the fact that he’s pretty?”

“I’m not, Garcia I don’t even know him!” You defended, although you don’t know why you were defending yourself at all, but the slightly upbeat in Garcia’s voice pushed you to explain yourself as if you were caught doing something wrong.

“But the fact that he is pretty interests you.”

“Garcia, again, I don’t know him.

“I think you’d like him, my petite protegee. He likes Star Trek and reading and a whole lotta sugar in his coffee.” She giggled, turning back to her monitor, causing you to stare at her in defense as your mouth moved and contorted to spit out explanations and excuses that never came. Instead, you decided to sigh defeated, slumping in your chair before you loaded your file up to the presentation you desperately hated by knew you needed to look at, quickly skipping towards the ID photos of the two victims before you opened up your case file.

A beat of silence went by.

Screw yourself for being inquired by this guy.

“…so, he’s a nerd?”

Another excruciating beat went by.

“Yeah, he is.” A pause. “Are you into nerds, Y/N?”

You do not know how this escalated so fast, but god do you wish you could turn it back.

* * *

“Your magic oracle is here to serve you, oh wise one.” Garcia said as she picked up the phone, causing you to burst out into laughter behind her, earning a playful glance before she turned back around towards the phone. “Ignore my petite protegee, she has lost all her magical senses. Whatcha need?”

You heard a faint question of ‘petite protégée?’’ from the other end of the phone, and as much as you wanted to stop yourself, you could not help but wonder, Reid? However, logically, the voice sounded too old to be Reid, and by process of elimination, assuming that it’s not a Philly officer due to how the voice seemed genuinely confused by your presence, you concluded that it was Agent Rossi. Though, you cursed yourself for allowing even the thought of Reid to slip through your mind.

“Baby girl, can you look up to see if any of the victims recently had a plumber or any kind of manual worker come to visit them recently?” You heard Morgan on the line ask, and even before you could glance at her, Garcia had started to search away, which at this point you should expect.

However, what you did not expect, was for the other desk phone to ring.

Quickly, you looked at Garcia for guidance, who paused her furious typing to stare at you in expectance, encouragingly nodding at you to pick it up. You pushed yourself off your chair to reach for the phone, bringing it up to your ear in preparation.

“Hel—”

“Garcia can you check to see if the victims all went to the same school?”

The sudden question surprised you, causing you to become speechless as your nervous mind attempted to connect with your mouth and form concrete setences.

“Ah…”

“Garcia?”

“Ah…I’m not Garcia.”

“You’re not?”

Process of elimination.

“No, I’m her new assistant.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“Y-you’ve heard about me?”

Your nerves released themselves via soft chuckle as you awoke your laptop from sleep mode.

“Garcia told me a lot about you.”

“What did she say?”

‘Reid.’ It was faint, quiet, but it definitely came from Agent Hotchner, the firmness indicating for Reid to be punctual and to not become distracted by whatever you two were doing. It seemed like the two of your snapped out of your weird trance simultaneously, your fingers hovering over your keyboard and phone placed on speaker as soon as Reid started to talk.

“R-right! Sorry. Y/L/N, can you see if the three victims went to the same high school?”

At this point, you could barely feel the keys on your keyboard as your fingers aggressively typed away, pulling up various records of the victims before key-searching on education and diplomas.

“Same high school.” You concluded, surprised by the connection.

“That’s what I thought.” You heard Reid whisper on the other line, but you were certain that it was more towards himself than you. “Thank you, Y/L/N.”

“No problem, Reid.”

Then the line suddenly cut, and you were left in slight dazzlement at the little interaction you got with Doctor Spencer Reid, the man whose voice was too soft and adorable to be true.

You turned agonizingly slow in your chair back towards Garcia’s direction, dread evident through your body as your eyes fell upon her plotting grin, her smirk putting the Chesire-cat to shame.

“….what?”

“What was that little thing you two had in the beginning?”

You let out a groan in dramatic agony.

“Garcia! I barely know him!”

“But you seem smitten.” Her last word was too punctuated for you to be comfortable, so you threw her a sharp glare before turning back towards your laptop and pulling up your programming exam.

“Oh, you are not going to ignore me!” She exclaimed behind you in offense, to which you have an exaggerated shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have important matters to attend.”

“Oh, this is not over, missy.” She let out an offended gasp, and you bit your inner cheek to inhibit yourself from letting out a chuckle as you loaded up your Java program.

* * *

“Your oracle is ready for you, sir.” You heard Garcia say into the phone, your seat rolled up next to her as you both leaned in towards the device, the entire BAU team compiled on the other end.

“We looked through various records and backgrounds, but no one seems to fit the profile.” You heard Agent Hotchner explain from the other end, Garcia immediately pulling up the information you two have collected on the victims and previous suspects so far. Still, it seemed as if the team has got gotten anything conclusive, and since the last time you called, apparently, another body was discovered in a hotel room, more brutally mutilated than the others.

‘He’s evolving.’ You remembered Doctor Spencer Reid say in a previous phone call, only meaning that the situation was getting worse and the team was running out of time.

“Okay, let’s get over what we know so far,” You heard Agent Morgan start, speaking to both the team and the two of you present in the computer lab. “This unsub is efficient and quick,”

“He sexually assaults the victims, humiliates them,” Agent Prentiss added, disgust and fatigue evident in her voice.

Wait.

“Mutilates their bodies and their faces, so he has something against their looks” Agent Jareau voice emulated from the speaker.

Why is it…

“All the victims are from the same college, so the unsub is connected to them in that means. Former student or staff member?” Reid threw, voice questioning.

Why can’t it be…

“These girls were all pretty and popular, maybe he was upset that they made fun of him, or never dated him?” Rossi tried, hoping to find something, anything to add to the case.

Hold on.

“Why do you keep saying that the unsub is a ‘he’?” You interrupted, much to the surprise of Garcia, who looked at you, taken aback, and to the silence of the team, which you interpreted as surprise as well.

“…what do you mean, Y/L/N?” You heard Hotch ask through the phone, causing you to become flustered by your outburst, voice wavering slightly as you attempted to justify yourself.

“I-It’s just—” You felt Garcia’s hand squeeze your shoulder, helping ground you, and you took a soft breath before speaking. “You guys kept talking about how the unsub was neat and efficient. You said it was most likely a sneak attack, right?”

“Right, but the preference in females and in relationship with their sex organs—”

“Lesbians exist, Prentiss.” You interrupt, causing both you and her to chuckle slightly before continuing. “But, it doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“You think it might be revenge?” You heard Agent Rossi ask, and before you responded, you pushed yourself away from Garcia’s desk towards your laptop, opening up your closed device and pressing on the various files that you researched during the case.

“So, I got bored when you guys didn’t call us,” You heard Agent Morgan let out a chuckle. “And I started looking into the victim’s high school backgrounds since Doctor Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school.”

“You can just call me Reid.” You heard him tentatively say from the phone, and you forced yourself not to react to Garcia’s smirk before continuing.

“Okay, since Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school. These girls were the queen bees of the school, the Heathers, the Regina Georges.”

“The what?” It was Reid again, and you could not help but let out a giggle at his confusion.

“We’ll discuss that later, Doc. But they were the meanest girls you could think of, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted revenge. You said it might be a boy, but what if it was a girl? Girls, especially high school girls, can be vicious to other high school girls. Maybe one of them snapped.” You explained, displaying your findings to Garcia who scanned them impressed, rubbing your shoulder in pride.

“If they did snap, it would be recent.” You heard Agent Hotchner state quickly before continuing. “Garcia, can you look up any girls from that school who had mental problems during their time in high school, had any psychotic disorders after they graduated, or had any interaction ever with any psych facilities.”

You heard the furious clicking of keys before they came to a sudden halt.

“This is quite a list for such a small school.” Garcia said breathlessly, causing you to shrug.

“Not all of them were bad, some of them might just give anxiety.” You reasoned, to which she smiled softly.

“The unsub, even if brutal, was neat, almost professionally neat. They also would need the specific tools and information to correctly damage and mutilate their sex organs. Baby girl, look up doctors, nurses, med students—”

“Focus on med-students. The victims were 26 and taking in the change that the unsub is also, they probably would still be in med school.” Reid specific, causing Garcia to open her key-searcher and specific the search even more.

“Ahh, geez, I got three names.” She replied, to which you scrunched your eyebrows in shock and disgust.

“How?” You exclaimed softly, to which she shrugged before turning back towards her keyboard.

“The unsub knows the area well to dump the bodies in secluded yet well-visited sites, so search locals, people who were born here, raised here, and stayed here.” Agent Jareau finalized, and in a sudden halt, one name and picture centered at the screen.

“Rebecca Malwizer. Twenty-five. 3356 Walnut Drive.”

“Let’s move.” You heard Agent Hotchner command before the phone was picked up and his voice was heard sharply. “Good work, Y/L/N.” Suddenly, the line was cut, and the bat cave was filled with silence.

Until Garcia enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug and spurted various praises and exclamations to you.

“Ahhh! I have the smartest protegee in all of existence, that was so good!” She gushed, rocking you two back and forth as you laughed at her antics, your hands grasping onto her forearms as you two swayed, chuckling softly at her.

“I learned from the best.” You replied, enjoying the wonderful warmth that was Penelope Garcia.

“Aww, well I can assure you that Doctor Spencer Reid loves smart women like you.”

“Aaaand, you ruined it.” You replied flatly, rejecting her once comforting hug and making attempts to escape them, which she did not allow, only pulling you tighter into her mother-bear embrace.

* * *

“They should be coming any moment!” Garcia exclaimed, jitterily walking towards the elevator with you dragging your feet behind her, smiling softly as you hugged a soft, pink blanket around you,courtesy of Garcia herself.

“They’re probably tired,” You said behind her, catching up to the excited blond with a sigh, leaning against the desk you found yourself near, the entrance to the floor only a few feet away from you. The BAU had been gone for three days now, each day requiring the team to work for countless hours without sleep, meaning neither you nor Garcia got to sleep either. You mentally cursed at the bribing you would have to do with the professor before remembering that you now worked under the Behavioral Analysis Unit and could ask the department to help you be excused.

“Which is why we need to help cheer them up!” She countered, sending you a wide yet strained smile, forcing you to shut up and bend to her will, chuckling to yourself as you cuddled into the blanket, closing your eyes just for a moment as you waited for the team to arrive.

Not even a minute later, the doors creaked open.

“Hello! Hi! Welcome everyone! Hello!” Your head jutted upwards when you heard Garcia exclaim, body jolting straight so you could face the team in front of you.

Agent Prentiss, Morgan, and Jareau all laughed at Garcia’s greeting, with Agent Hotchner giving her a firm nod, acknowledging her before his attention turned to you,

“That was good deduction, Y/L/N.” He addressed to you, giving you a slight grin that filled your whole body with pride, even if all you could return was a tired smile.

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” You said, voice as professional as you could make it in your exhausted state.

“Call me Hotch. No one on the team calls me Hotchner,” He said before gracing you with a full smile, which only made you feel more accomplished.

“Okay, sir.” You replied, glancing slightly to see Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Garcia all smiling at me as well.

“Oh, on that note, call me JJ. That’s what everyone calls me here.” She said, tilting towards you,

“Will do.” You replied, nodding.

“So, you’re the new technical analyst.” The source of the voice was an older gentleman with dark hair and a slight beard, his face appearing as if it had seen the worst that the world had to offer, while at the same time the owner of seventeen yachts. “Y/L/N?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir. You’re Agent David Rossi?” You asked, feeling nervous again at the presence of one of the agents, especially one who apparently was world-renowned.

“I am,” He affirmed, holding out his hand to shake, which you took instantly. “So, tell me, what did these knuckle-heads tell you about me?” he teased, earning a chuckle from you, pulling your hand away from him to tug on the blanket that was slipping from your shoulders. You wanted to be polite, but you were cold.

“All good things, I can assure you.” You smiled, looking over to Garcia out of habit. However, when you did, you saw a slight twinkle in her eyes, snarky and maniacal, in the most well-intended, Garcia fashion possible. You decided to follow where she was staring, and as soon as you did, your eyes landed on her intended receiver.

Oh.

“H-hello.”

Oh fuck, he was adorable.

“H-hi.” You could physically feel Garcia radiating from where you were.

“I’m, uh, Doctor Spencer Reid.” He said, adorned with a soft, half smile and a quick wave of his hand.

Ohhhh, Garcia was never going to let this go.

“But you told me to call you Reid, right?” you said, smiling at him softly. He looked stunned for a second, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. He gave you a dazed nod, to which you didn’t know if you wanted to smirk at or blush, so, you decided to do both, looking at your feet timidly.

“Y-yeah. I did.” He finally chirped, his voice a tad higher pitched than it was before, for reasons that you were too red to consider.

“Well then,” Oh you did not like the airiness in Morgan’s voice either. “It looks like everyone knows everyone.”

“Well, we can get to know each other more later. Right now, we all need some rest. All of you have the weekend off.” You heard Hotch announce, followed by various sighs of relief and pure pleasure—that’s the most accurate way you could describe it—by the other members of the team, causing everyone to head to their desks tiredly.

You felt Garcia’s arm wrap around your bicep before she laid her head against your shoulder.

“Please drag me back to the bat cave so I can get my stuff.” She mumbled, cuddling into you, to which you giggled and rested your head on top of her hair.

“Come on, Garcia.” You said, affectionately, maneuvering yourself around so both of you could go back to the tech lab and grab all your supplies.

As you did, however, you quickly locked eyes with Reid, to which both of you gave each other a soft and timid smile before continuing your courses of action.

* * *

“Hey! Y/L/N!” You heard your name be called right as the elevator door was about to close, causing you to glance up in surprise. When your eyes locked with the warm brown ones of a certain doctor, your hand instantly reached for the elevator buttons and you pushed for the doors to open again.

“Thanks,” Spencer whispered softly as he got in, standing next to you in the elevator and waiting for the doors to close.

“No problem, Reid.” You replied, giving him a polite smile as the doors finally shut, and both of you started to descend downward. The both of you were silent initially, and at that moment, you quickly glanced over at the man, taking in his purple cardigan, the brown sweater-vest peaking from under it, as well as the sleeves of his white undershirt, and his leather satchel, which he held onto the strap of with two hands. With the addition of his converse, mismatched socks, one pumpkin themed while the other one contained math equations, and his floppy brown hair, the only thing that radiated from the man next to you was warmth, a warmth that competed with the pink blanket that was wrapped around your shoulders.

Oh, right, you still had that one.

“Is that Garcia’s?” Reid asked, referring to the suspected object.

You gave him a curt nod in affirmation. “Indeed, it is. I should probably give it back to her but its too warm.” You joked, causing both of you to giggle slightly, the young doctor giving you a soft smile that made your heart tighten.

Oh wow, he was adorable.

“You, ah, what you did during the case, that was really cool.” He complimented, looking up at you with appreciation and earnestness.

“Thanks, Reid. But I’m sure you have those breakthroughs all the time, being a genius and all.” You complimented, causing him to shake his head and smile.

“It was still impressive.”

“I appreciate that, Reid.” You thanked, looking at him softly, and keeping your gaze on him, your mouth slightly ajar in thought, to which he waited patiently for. Suddenly, your expression broke, and you decide to ask him now, or never, because what the heck?

“So…you like Star Trek?”

You have never seen a twenty-six-year-old’s eyes widen so fast.

“Do you like it too?” he exclaimed, voice loud and excited, causing you to giggle loudly.

“I prefer Star Wars, but—”

“What?! Why?” The way that he looked so wounded and sounded so devastated almost made your heart break if it was not for the current subject matter, which you were very passionate.

“Because Star Wars is superior!” You exclaimed, causing Reid to audibly gasp in offense.

“I couldn’t disagree with you more.”

“I am so sad that you believe that Star Trek is better than Star Wars, Reid. Truly, that is a great tragedy.” You replied in faux sympathy, causing him to scoff playfully before turning back to you. By this time, the elevator had reached your destination, but both of you were too engrossed in your conversation to care, walking off together into the parking lot.

Both of you continued to argue about which film series was better, animated, and passionate until you reached your car, to which you leaned against before turning back to the young doctor.

“Okay, fine. But answer me this: Sherlock or Doctor Who?” You looked at him challengingly, watching as the man paused his movements to ponder, expression frozen as he tracked through his mind to find his answer.

“Doctor Who.” You wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god. For a second, I thought I would have to murder you, Doctor Reid.” You joke, causing him to smile at you broadly before laughing himself, making your insides to fill up with warmth like they previously did, smiling dopily as your rested your head against the window.

“I like Sherlock, but the tenth doctor is just—”

“David Tennant is a gift from God, I completely agree.” You said, smiling widely at him. For some reason, this caused a pause in your conversation, one that was not odd, but almost relaxing, natural. You were honestly taken aback by how comfortable and easy the conversation between you and Reid was, and you had a hunch that he felt the same.

“Ah, it’s getting late. You should probably get home.” He said, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I should get home?” You inquire, causing his eyes to widen and his demeanor to change.

“I-I don’t mean that in, ah, a demanding way, its just ah,” He was fumbling for a response, and you didn’t know if you should relieve him of his anxieties or let him continue out of amusement. “I-I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself—”

“I’m sure that I am too.” You hummed, only causing him to spur further into his defense.

“I—Just, it’s late and unsubs are out at this time and—”

Of course, he still called them unsubs, even off the job.

“Relax, Reid. I get what you were trying to say.” You interrupted, your eyes softening as his body visibly relaxed, head drooping slightly as he looked down at his shoes, giving you a shy smile when he lifted it up once again. You returned him one equally as shy. “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“Ah, no problem…”

Then, you two just looked at each other, eyes soft and demeanors gentle, the quaint and quiet atmosphere that the nearly empty parking lot surrounding you in a serenity that made the situation more intense, but…warm.

Maybe warm was the best way to describe Doctor Spencer Reid.

“I should, ah…” You interrupted softly, breaking the quiet atmosphere that encompassed the two of you, to what seemed like Reid’s disappointment. But you didn’t want to read too much into things. “I should get going.”

“R-right.” He affirmed, nodding towards your car before looking behind him “I should get going too, enjoy the weekend before Hotch calls us in again for a sudden case.”

“Oh, god, does he?” You groaned and looked at him defeated.

“You sadly cannot control when a psychopath will attack”

“Those damn psychopaths.” You murmured jokingly, causing Reid to laugh. You let out another giggle before reaching over and unlocking your car door, throwing your bad into the backseat before turning to Reid once more, holding your blanket closed with one hand before extending the other out to him. “Well, goodnight, Reid.” You said, waiting for him to shake your hand in affirmation.

When he stared at your hand for more than a couple seconds, you could not stop yourself from being confused, scrunching your eyebrows at the young doctor.

“Reid?” You asked, looking up at him.

Suddenly, his head snapped back at you, then glanced back down at your hand, before unwrapping his hand from where it was on his satchel strap and taking yours, holding your hand gently as you shook.

“G-goodnight, Y/L/N.” He said softly, smiling at you timidly. After a few seconds, he stopped shaking your hand, and to your shock—and secret pleasure—he held on for a few more seconds, before letting go and quicklyreturning his hand back to his satchel strap, awkwardly rocking on his feet. “I-I’ll see you Monday.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” You confirmed, looking up at him.

Neither of you made an attempt to move.

“Hey, Reid?” You asked, slightly dazed at the continuous contact.

“Y-yeah?” He replied, seemingly as entranced as you were.

Whatever the hell was happening, you didn’t want to stop. But you had to go home. Your professor might kill you for not turning in your programming assignment on time.

“I really gotta go.” You giggled out, causing the boy to almost jump out of contact with you, pulling back his hand and wrapping it around his satchel strap. You smile at the flustered expression on his face, one that you are sure matches yours.

“R-right. Sorry…” He trailed, but you instantly shook your head.

“Don’t be. It’s just...I got this programming assignment, and my professor would kill me if I don’t turn it in on time.” You explained,

“Oh! I’ve programmed once. I programmed on Java and even was able to create a program where—”

“Reid?”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, blushing ever so darker at his own antics.

This, however, got you thinking.

“How about you continue your thought Saturday night, at my house.” You offered, and for a moment, Reid didn’t respond, choosing to stare at you stunned. He started at you long enough for you to regret your question, considering it a mistake, before he answered.

“Y-yeah! Sure!” He finally replied, his face sporting a wide smile that immediately allowed you to relax.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, umm, I’ll text you the address?” You offered, to which he looked at you awkwardly.

“I, uh, don’t text often.”

“But you text on the case?” You asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, but I don’t bring my case phone home.” You explained, to which you let out a soft breath, expecting nothing else from the doctor, with the minimal knowledge you had of him.

You hoped that the knowledge grew.

“Then…your home number? I’ll call you to tell you.” You offered.

“Can’t you just tell me now?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow, to which you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but this is more fun.” You giggled, and he smiled in response.

Quickly, you pulled on your backpack so you could unzip the small compartment, pulling out a sharpie before turning around and holding it out for him, as well as extending your wrist.

He ogled the two offerings in confusion.

‘Your number, Reid.”

“Oh!”

Quickly, he grabbed the sharpie, and with a gentle hold your wrist, one that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, he quickly jotted down his number. Once completed, he let go on your wrist and gave you back your sharpie.

“So, ah, Saturday?” he asked, to which you confirmed with a nod.

“Saturday. Then I can show you how much better Star Wars is than Star Trek.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” You retorted playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Okay, okay, or we can watch Doctor Who?” You asked instead, to which he gave you a satisfied nod. “Cool…” You turned back to your car, knowing now that you have to leave, or your professor will murder you. “See you Saturday, Reid;”

“See you Saturday, Y/L/N.”

You could not help your heart from fluttering when you saw Reid stand in the parking lot and watch to make sure you left safely.

You also could not help the soft smile you sported once you got home and when you saw Garcia’s text, exclaiming about how she saw you and Reid, and demanded you tell her the details.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #reader x bau

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sadoeuphemist · 5 months

Text

7 free startup ideas worth $1M-$1B

Customizable News Settings - A news website that generates three versions of every news story: a right-wing version, a left-wing version, and a centrist one. You can set your preferences depending on the topic - say you're right-wing on economics, but left-leaning on immigration. Or you can cycle between versions while reading an article to get a comprehensive overview of the issue at hand.

Twitch, but for Uber - With all the drama they have to deal with, independent contractors can gain a second revenue source simply by streaming their jobs. Rather than just offering rides, they can be hired to drive around performing chores and various tasks. The more outrageous the task, the more eyes they're likely to get on their stream. The more popular the stream, the more people calling in who want to be a part of the program.

Panera Lemonade, Your Way - Let the customer take control by deciding how many milligrams of caffeine they can handle. With sufficient warning about the risks, this puts the responsibility back on the consumer, allows you to upcharge for extra caffeine, and creates viral marketing from customers competing to see how high they can go. Variations of this can be created for other menu items, e.g., a version of the One Chip Challenge where the customer decides how much capsaicin to sprinkle on.

Shein, for NFTs - Whenever an NFT project hits the mainstream, there are always going to be people who miss out on being able to purchase one. This creates room in the market for 'knockoffs' - NFTs that mimic the aesthetic of the original, using similar but legally distinct AI art that uses the original set as training data, run on a parallel blockchain. Since the images themselves aren't tied to the blockchain, you can mint the NFTs beforehand and then change the image at the link to whatever happens to be in fashion at the time.

Twitch Chat Plays YouTube - Add a level quality control to AI-generated YouTube videos by allowing users to submit suggestions and vote on the results beforehand. Users can submit Wikipedia articles or movie summaries to be converted to text-to-speech, suggest keywords for the accompanying AI-generated animation, and vote on the best combinations. Users who submit winning suggestions get a portion of the ad revenue.

Buses, but Worse - The current obstacle hindering self-driving car technology is their difficulty adapting to unexpected scenarios. So instead plot a route around the city that minimizes roadway obstacles and heavy traffic, map out that route extensively to provide a model for the autopilot, and you can have a fleet of self-driving cars patrolling that circuit. Passengers can board and get off anywhere along the route.

Twitter, but for Bots - A social media platform populated entirely by bots, all programmed to maximize engagement. Memetic evolution in the wild as the bots latch on to trending keywords, spam each other with AI-generated meme images, mock up t-shirts hawking each other's designs, getting more and more degraded with each sub-iteration. Real people can't make accounts on the platform, but count for views and interactions as they stop to gawk at the virtual ecosystem. Advertisers can pay to have their brands injected directly into the discourse, like throwing a pumpkin into the polar bear cage at the zoo.

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nem0-nee · 1 year

Text

TEMPLATE - NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE ID CARDS!!

Ever want to prove that you're a bona fide student of NRC? No matter your response, I bear good news!

BOOM!! I give you the Not-so-official NRC ID cards! Featuring the front AND back. Yes, you're very welcome >:))

Do let me know if you have any questions or concerns! I'll do my best to respond ^^

[LINK TO DRIVE]

[LINK TO PNGS]

Features include:

8 colors for each dorm (yes, Ramshackle is included)

Completely customizable (if you want)

.clip and .PSD versions (Recommended to use .clip)

CRUCIAL NOTE: The font used is Georgia, which is readily available if you have CSP! I can't say the same for the other programs sadly.

[DISCLAIMER]

Unfortunately, the text can't be edited on the .PSD version. Though I've separated the placeholder text from the titles for easier editing and reference.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst template #template hell #weee another template #putting this simple one out there for now #would love to be tagged if you use this?? tho you dont have to pfff

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homeofthelonelywriter · 20 days

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Drawn to you | Pt. 4

(A/N) This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you like it! Also, thank you so much for 2500 Followers!!! Aaaahhhh I love all of you so much!

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: flashback to life on earth, sexism

Synopsis: Your life back on Earth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Earth - 1920

“You’re late.”

You raised your head to look into the glaring eyes of your boss. The fat, old man regarded you with a scowl before turning around and stomping towards his office.

“I-I’m sorry Sir. The bus was full, so I had to wait for the next one, and-”

He turned to face you again, his face red with anger.

“I don’t care! You are paid to be here on time! The next time you’re late, I’ll cut it from your paycheck, understood?”

You frantically nodded while holding your breath. Pointing out that you were actually twenty minutes early and just ten minutes late from your usual thirty minutes early, would just enrage the man even more.

With another huff, the man walked into his office and slammed the door, making you jump at the sudden, loud noise. You sighed and quietly made your way to your workstation, where you sat up for the day. You smiled at your colleagues that passed and led pleasant small talk with the ones that stopped for a chat. But the whole day went by without you seeing your favorite person even once.

Not that he had to stop by or anything, but he sometimes did and those were always the best moments of the day. He held such a passion for this job, it always infected you, made you hold on to the dream of one day being a host yourself.

But in your heart, you knew that that dream was foolish. A woman? A radio host? That would never happen. If you were lucky, maybe you could become the secretary, but your voice would never be aired live. At least not in this century.

With a sigh, you got to work. You quickly wrote up the weather report for the day, before handing it over to your boss, who would give the final go. After that you filed through letters and parcels, delivering them to where they needed to go.

You were basically done with your day’s work and it wasn’t even time for lunch. So, you decided to work on your dream some more. Whenever you had free time, you’d type out what you would do if you were the host. Corny jokes and funny advertisements. You’d make a list of the songs you’d play and what you’d be talking about.

Your shoulders slumped as you finished your dream program, the realization that that would never happen, catching up to you. Sometimes you wondered if playing into the dream made reality harder to bear. You still continued your wishful thinking, lost in a dream where you were calling the shots and where you would yell at fat, old men.

Two hands suddenly covering your eyes pulled you back to reality and a grin took over your lips.

“Guess who?”

You chuckled, trying to think of a witty response.

“Oh, Samantha, is that you?”

The laugh that escaped the man behind you made your heart race and butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Would you prefer it being Samantha?”

You shook your head with a smile and the hands lowered until they rested on your shoulders. With a wide grin, you spun in your chair, to come face to face with your favorite person.

“Now, how is my favorite lady doing?”

You rolled your eyes as he guided your right hand to his lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Ah, you know, same old, same old. Got my work done within two hours, wrote down my concept for the day and it’s not even lunchtime, got yelled at by boss-man once again,-”

The usually smiling host’s expression hardened when you mentioned the fat, old man. He glared in the direction of his office. If looks could kill, that man would be dead.

“Someone ought to take care of that bastard.”

With wide eyes, you raised your hands against the man’s mouth to shush him.

“You can’t just say stuff like that. You’ll get fired.”

He turned back to you with his signature smile.

“If I were to get fired for protecting you, it would be worth it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and quickly lowered your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. Your reaction caused the man to chuckle, before carefully ruffling through your hair. A complaint crossed your lips at his action and he stopped with a playful laugh, before helping you to fix your hair.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?”

You grabbed the pieces of paper and went through the different points you had written up, ending on the big story you’d talk about, were you in any kind of position to.

“Congress is supposed to vote on the 19th amendment in a few days. I really hope it gets signed.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, taking notes in his head. He was about to say something when his name was called from the other end of the office space.

“Gotta run, will you tune in tonight?”

He was already walking away, still facing you.

“I always do.”

He grinned, before turning around and running to where he was being summoned, leaving you with a soft smile and a racing heart.

By the time you had to clock out, you were sure you were dying of boredom. It was bad enough that you had considered asking for more work, but thankfully you made it through the day without. You quickly put on your gloves and hat, before you left the radio station and made your way home.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you hurried to the old radio in your kitchen and turned it on, just in time to hear him introducing himself.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the evening show. I’m your host, as usual, Alastor!”

Hell - now

“Why don’t you remember me?”

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor fanfic #alastor love

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bearotonin-international · 3 months

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Please don’t tell Beejee that Narwhal Slammin Saturday doesn’t really have the right ring to it.

#Salmon Slammin Saturday #just sounds better #Phonetically speaking #But far be it from us to tell a polar bear how to enjoy their day and slam their prey #Responsible Bear programming

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stirthewaters · 15 days

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Little with You

Summary: Cg Wednesday to the rescue after Xavier says some insensitive shit. Warnings: language, anxiety attack, heavy agere themes, blood Word Count: 2.1k A/N: uhh first time writing stuff like this, bear with me please T_T this is all completely sfw and non sexual stuff! Click away if this isn't your kind of thing :))

The hallways felt too crowded, too rough. Tight even. All you could hear was the mingling sounds of talking, laughing, shoes scraping against the floor, sounds that you didn’t usually pay attention to. now it was as if they were all you could hear. As you passed, rain pattered against the windows, a constant drum that no longer felt soothing.

Your mind felt fuzzy; like cotton candy was forming a solid barrier around your brain. It made sense after all; you hadn’t been little in at least a week. What with exams coming up you couldn’t afford to take the time to do so. Unfortunately, that was most likely what was causing you to be late to class. Again. Shouldering through purple uniforms you felt your mind fighting to release from its clutches and to sink into the comforting haven of littlespace; you couldn’t do it. Not here. Not now.

When you turned the corner into a less crowded hall, you paused and pressed your back against the wall, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ground yourself, blocking out every single thought that wasn’t anything close to a big thought. Focused on the feeling of your hands gripping the material of your backpack straps. It helped. A little.

Turning away from the small hall you headed into class; psychology. You would never know why they taught psychology at a school for exceptionally gifted students. Knocking on the door you were greeted by your professor; Mr. Hedgeworth.

“Late again, Y/N?”

Those stone gray eyes that fell on you made you shudder as you spoke up hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, sir- it won’t happen again.”

The man didn’t speak but you let out a soft sigh of relief inwardly as he stepped back, allowing you entrance to the class. You briefly scanned the room and felt yourself frown when you saw the only seat open next to Xavier. He was looking at you too; his frown almost matched yours. No, you didn’t want to sit next to him; it was always occupied by him going on and on about his artwork, how he’d gotten accepted to an apprentice program in town for doing wall art in some cafe. How lucky he was to have gotten the position.

Reluctantly you dropped your bag under the desk, sliding into the chair beside him. You didn’t make eye contact as your head fell into your hand, watching the professor scribble across the chalkboard. The silence was too short until he leaned over, muttering in your ear.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been late three times this week.”

You couldn’t help a soft roll of your eyes as you mumbled in response, “Just a lot of studying for exams; nothing special.” You felt your fists clench with irritation as he gave a soft chuckle, which came off as somewhat condescending to you.

“Come on, Y/N, be real with me. You don’t study that much.”

“Xavier just drop it, okay?”

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on Mr. Hedgeworth and nobody else. Your whole body felt too tense, your grip on the desk turning your knuckles white. The temperature of the room felt too hot; were you going to throw up? You wished, oh you wished you could be less obvious with your discomfort but Xavier noticed. He was leaning even closer. His shoulder was touching yours. You didn’t want him touching you.

“It’s not…your…your thing?”

You couldn’t help a scowl from crossing your face as you forced out through gritted teeth, “I’m not on my period, dumbass.”

“Okay, geez! Look, I’m just trying to help you, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. Don’t make me guess.”

You didn’t respond feeling your chest getting tighter. It felt as if all the air was crashing in around you and pushing in on your lungs, demanding faster breaths, and Xavier sure as hell wasn’t helping. You grimaced slightly, feeling the walls you’d built around your mind start to crumble as you fought to stay in your right of mind.

“Ohhhh…. Oh.” Xavier’s tone morphed into something akin to irritation; maybe even disgust. You felt yourself stiffen just at the sound of it. “It’s not that baby shit you told me about last year, right?”

The hands found each other, and you automatically began picking at your skin as you tried to pay all of your attention ahead of you. You didn’t want to talk about it. Especially with Xavier. Maybe you were imagining the breath you felt on your shoulder, tickling your neck. Taking your lack of a response as confirmation, he snorted and leaned back in his chair with disbelief, scoffing at you.

“It is, isn’t it? Y/N I thought you were over that.” He leaned his elbows on the desk as he tilted his head, frowning. “You get how gross that is, right? It’s a fetish.”

Your breaths were coming faster and faster; you weren’t gasping for air but it sure as hell felt like you were. You could barely put together a retort to snap back at him as he continued, stating his disapproval loud and clear.

“I mean, what, you can’t handle the big bad world so you act like a baby-? Everyone has to deal with it, that’s so sensitive, y’know?”

You stood, raising your hand and muttering a quick excuse about having to use the bathroom as you grabbed your backpack and stepped out quickly, gasping for air at this point as you ran for your dorm, trying to get your head to quiet. The hallways were thankfully emptier than usual so you were able to go faster than you normally would’ve.

Slamming open the door to your dorm you threw your backpack aside and slowly slid to the floor, drawing in rapid breaths as you tried to remember your breathing exercises, to ground yourself and calm down, but everything was so muddled you could barely form a cohesive thought.

Frantic tapping interrupted Wednesday in class as she felt the familiar hand on her shoulder. She briefly glanced over at Thing before muttering through gritted teeth.

“What is it now?”

The raven had a bit of trouble understanding his muddled mess of frequent signs and sighed with irritation. “Slower.”

When the hand finally managed to get a sentence through clearly Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought, as she paused. Eventually, she raised her hand, speaking coolly. “May I use the restroom?”

Once her permissions had been granted she was quick to gather her belongings, boots echoing against the floor as she hurried out the door and towards your dorm hall. She had known this would happen; you’d been pushing yourself too long, too far.

Arriving at your dorm rather quickly she knocked a couple of times, calling out your name. Met with no response her eyebrows furrowed and the raven pushed against the door, surprised to find it unlocked. A glance around the room proved to be fruitful as she spotted you, curled up in the corner, weakly gasping for air. Crossing the room in seconds she took a seat in front of you, hesitating for a moment as she watched you grip at her sleeves for some semblance of comfort.

Wednesday reached out, gently cupping your chin and lifting it to meet her gaze. She spoke quietly, trying to calm you.

“Focus on me. Only me.”

She watched as your scared eyes, swimming with tears, met hers and you nodded shakily at her. “In. Out. Slowly.”

Your breathing began to deepen and Wednesday let out a soft sigh of relief as her attention turned to your hands; blood streaked around your fingernails, leaking down your fingers in trails. You’d been picking at your skin, no doubt something you did when you were stressed. Oddly, she didn’t like how blood looked on you.

“Stay here.”

Wednesday stood, not making any comment on the soft whimper you gave as she did so. In a moment she returned with some wet wipes, kneeling at your side and taking your hands in hers, giving them a good gentle clean and removing any traces of blood from your skin. Once done she placed the wipes aside and leaned forward, giving you a quick and small kiss on your forehead.

“Good. Let’s get you out of this dreadful uniform, hmm?”

With her guidance she helped you to your feet, working with you on untying your tie and unbuttoning your blazer; she did her best to keep you from doing most of the work, occasionally glancing at the quiet expression you had on your face. You were close to slipping, that she could tell. As she worked on your belt she muttered casually.

“You know I’m perfectly comfortable with you regressing around me, Y/N. There’s no need to pretend.”

When you shook your head she gave a quiet sigh, her hands pausing as she looked at you directly, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Did something happen?”

Your little nod confirmed her assumption as she huffed slightly, snaking your belt from your pants and folding it. “Who?”

You didn’t respond, seeming to hesitate. Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday cupped your chin softly to have you look at her. “It is acceptable to sign instead of using your words.”

You hesitated, but she felt a small twinge of satisfaction as you signed “Xavier”. Of course. Sighing in annoyance over the idea of him insulting you she released you and headed for your closet, speaking as she went in an irritated tone.

“Ignore him. Whatever he said is wrong. Especially regarding your regression.”

She promptly returned from your closet, two outfits in hand. One was a plain white shirt and jeans, an outfit she’d seen you wear regularly outside of class. The other was a black onesie with a space pattern on the front, accompanied by some fluffy socks. Raising an eyebrow she watched your eyes dart between the two.

“Take your pick.”

When eventually you picked the onesie she felt her gaze soften just slightly. Oh, how your weakness softened her sharp edges; it was repulsive how she behaved around you. Stepping forward the raven wordlessly helped you into the garment, a hint of amusement filling her as she helped you with the snaps on the bottom. “There.”

Taking your hands the raven gently sat you down on the floor, trying to ease your drop comfortably. She could tell you were well in littlespace at this point; you were quiet, shy, and squirmy. It was quite amusing. Wednesday knelt by your bed, retrieving the bin where she knew you kept your little gear. Finding the dinosaur pacifier you seemed to favor she raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your nod before slipping it into your mouth. When you began to suckle she felt her gaze soften even more. The raven could’ve gone on for hours about her dislike of children but when it came to you being little… it felt different.

After clipping your pacifier to your onesie to prevent losing it she gave your hair a little ruffle, this time unable to suppress a smirk as she felt you melt into her hand. You were always so fond of touch in this state. ��I assume you wouldn’t mind a bottle?”

Wednesday saw your eyes light up and she rolled her eyes softly, heading to the small makeshift dorm kitchen you possessed. A quick search of the cabinets was met with a few choice bottles you kept on hand. Choosing a simple fish patterned design she retrieved the carton of strawberry milk you kept in the minifridge, filling the bottle to a reasonable amount; if she had any hopes of getting you to bed later she did not want you having a sugar high.

Returning she handed you the bottle, watching you let the pacifier drop from your mouth to be replaced by the nipple. She took a seat comfortably on the rug, thinking for a moment about her next move; should she offer a bit of playtime or try to calm things down further?

Her thinking was interrupted by a warmth at her side and she looked down in mild surprise to see you snuggling up against her, looking up at her with big eyes. The raven only hesitated a moment before gently pulling you into her lap despite her small frame, wrapping her arms around you and murmuring into your ear, “good bambina.”

The rain drummed against the window of your dorm as she sat there with you, perfectly content watching you nurse from your bottle, holding you loosely to give you whatever comfort she could. She would stay the rest of the afternoon with you if you wished.

#wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday agere #sfw littlespace #sfw age regression #agere #cg wednesday #wednesday littlespace #wednesday x little reader

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