#and like I’m very experienced in handling these animals

[woundedheartwithin]

Never let anyone tell you goats aren’t dangerous. My gentlest wether just bit the shit out of me while I was trying to get something out of his cheek

Blood cw under the cut

[reidmarieprentiss]

Forever & Always

Summary: At 28-years-old Spencer Reid finally has his first girlfriend, you. You are bold, confident, and experienced, everything he's not, and he feels very insecure because of it. You own your own nightclub, and when Sean Hotchner needs a job, you let him come and work for you. Spencer can't handle this attractive womanizer being in your space all day long. Will the two of you make it through this?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, virgin Spencer, insecurities, not trusting partner, arguing, threatening people, therapy

Word count: 22.3k

a/n: Sean Hotchner is a treat for the eyes ,, but no one will ever be better than Spencer -- genuinely one of my favorite fics !!

main masterlist

Additional warnings: grinding, finishing in pants (m), light breast play, handjob

Spencer had always been confident in his knowledge, his intelligence a constant source of reassurance in his life. But this—this was different. Sitting across from you in the dimly lit coffee shop, his eyes flickered nervously to the table, then back to you. You were animated, telling a story about your friends, your laugh bright and infectious, but Spencer found it hard to focus. His mind kept drifting back to that quiet, gnawing feeling that had been lurking for a while now. 

You were his first real girlfriend. At 28, Spencer Reid had never been in a serious relationship, at least not one that had progressed beyond awkward dates or brief romantic entanglements that always seemed to fizzle out before they even began. But you were different. You were confident, experienced in ways he wasn’t. It wasn’t just about the relationship itself. It was everything. You had dated other people before him, had your fair share of relationships and even casual hook-ups. The weight of it pressed down on him like an invisible burden, one he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Spencer forced a smile, willing the tension in his chest to settle as you finished your story, your words floating through the air like a melody. He didn’t want to let on that something was bothering him, not when he saw how happy you looked. He couldn’t be the one to disrupt that joy. 

“Spence?” Your voice softened as you noticed the subtle shift in his expression, the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long, as if he was lost in thought. “You okay?”

He blinked, his face instantly smoothing into a look of reassurance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied quickly, his voice a bit too light. “I was just really... engaged in what you were saying. You always tell such great stories.”

Your smile brightened, the warmth of his words making you feel lighter, like you were walking on air. You chuckled, your fingers playing with the rim of your coffee cup as you gazed at him. “You smooth talker.”

Spencer returned your smile, but beneath it, a twinge of doubt lingered. He didn’t want you to think there was anything wrong—didn’t want to give away the insecurity gnawing at him. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling unsure about something. But the thought of appearing inferior to you, of not being enough, was something he couldn’t shake.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to the internal struggle he was masking. You were just happy—so incredibly happy. In all your past relationships, there had been a constant feeling of walking on eggshells, of waiting for things to fall apart. But with Spencer, it was different. He was different. His kindness, his gentle heart, his brilliant mind—it was everything you hadn’t even realized you were searching for.

Spencer was the best person you had ever dated. And it scared you, deeply. The fear of messing things up gnawed at the back of your mind constantly. What if this ended the same way your past relationships had? What if this incredible thing you had with Spencer was fleeting, destined to crumble just like all the others?

But you didn’t want to think about that now. Not when you were sitting here with him, sharing moments that felt real, that felt good. You let out a breath, pushing away the nagging thoughts. Spencer made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

You caught his gaze again, your eyes softening as you took him in. “You know,” you started, leaning in a little closer, “I feel so lucky to have met you, Spencer. You’re... you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever been with.”

Spencer's heart ached at your words, a bittersweet pang that settled deep in his chest. You said it with such sincerity, such affection, but all he could hear were the things that made him different in a way he didn’t want to be. Of course, he was unlike anyone else you’d been with. How could he compare to the others? He was awkward, inexperienced, and—by his own assessment—weird. The guy who overthought everything, who could recite obscure facts but had no idea how to casually flirt or initiate a kiss without rehearsing it a dozen times in his head first.

So he forced a weak smile, nodding as if your words had filled him with the same happiness they brought you. But inside, it only made him feel more out of place, like he was somehow failing at this relationship without you even knowing.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell you that being with you was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But instead, he let the moment pass, watching as your face lit up with excitement, diving into another story.

He focused on your words, or at least tried to. You had this way of captivating him, of pulling him into whatever you were talking about, but right now, it was harder to stay present. The feeling of inadequacy, of not being enough, pressed heavily on him. As you talked about past adventures, dates with friends, and experiences that felt so far removed from anything he’d ever known, Spencer couldn’t help as his fingers nervously tapped against the side of his cup, his mind wandering.

—

It was late, well past midnight, when you noticed Spencer’s quiet sigh as he shifted beside you in bed. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You had been reading, but you couldn’t focus on the book in your hands. Not when you could feel the weight of something pressing down on Spencer.

You set the book aside, turning onto your side to face him, your hand resting gently on his chest. “Spence,” you whispered softly, “what’s going on?”

His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for a long moment before he sighed again, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your arm where it draped over him. “I don’t know,” he muttered, though the heaviness in his voice said otherwise.

You waited, knowing that he would open up when he was ready. That was how these late-night conversations always started. Sometimes it took a while for Spencer to find the words to express what was on his mind, and you had learned to give him that space.

Eventually, he turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowed, eyes shadowed with the insecurities he often tried to hide. “It’s just... I keep thinking about how different we are. You’ve had all these experiences, and I... haven’t. I’m still figuring things out, and sometimes I worry... I worry that it’s not enough for you. That I’m not enough.”

Your heart ached for him, the depth of his vulnerability cutting through the quiet of the night. You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. “Spencer,” you whispered against his shoulder, “I don’t care about any of that. You being a—less experienced… doesn’t matter to me. It never has, and it never will.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his arms coming around you in return, but the tension in his body didn’t fully ease. “But what if... what if you change your mind? What if one day you realize I’m... I’m just not enough? I don’t know how to be what you deserve.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. “Spence, listen to me,” you said firmly but gently. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I didn’t fall in love with you because of some checklist of experiences or expectations. I fell in love with you. All of you. The dorkiness, the brilliance, the way you look at the world. I don’t care if you never want to have sex, or if we figure it out together. What matters is that I love you, exactly as you are.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to where your fingers were tracing soothing circles on his chest. “I want to believe that,” he whispered, his voice so small, so fragile.

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “I know it’s hard,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. With you. Always.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing and the quiet hum of the world outside. Spencer’s grip on you tightened as if holding on to the reassurance you offered. The doubt didn’t disappear entirely—it never really did. But you could feel him relax into your embrace, letting himself lean on you, trusting in your words even if the insecurities still lingered.

“You know,” you said after a while, a playful lilt entering your voice to lighten the mood, “you’re not the only one who has insecurities, Spence.”

He turned his head, curiosity softening the edges of his earlier worry. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m terrified of messing this up. Of somehow ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Your voice was light, but the truth behind it was evident.

His brow furrowed, clearly confused. “You? You’re worried about messing things up?”

You nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Yeah. Every relationship I’ve had before this… it’s ended in an unsavory way. I don’t want that to happen with us, I don’t want us to end at all. You’re different, Spencer. In the best way. And I want this to last.”

Spencer’s expression softened, a small, almost shy smile appearing on his face. “I guess we’re both a little scared, then.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, resting your forehead against his. “But we’re in this together, okay? No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out.”

He kissed you then, a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a promise. When you pulled away, he whispered, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “You deserve every bit of happiness, Spencer Reid. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Though the insecurities never fully went away, they didn’t define your relationship. Over time, those late-night conversations became a safe place for both of you, a time to share your fears and your hopes, to remind each other of what you had.

And despite the occasional moments of doubt, you and Spencer were happy—truly happy. You built a relationship that was healthy, full of love, trust, and understanding. You were a team, navigating life together, and every step forward only brought you closer.

Because, in the end, it wasn’t about who had more experience or who was more confident. It was about being there, for each other, in every way that mattered. And that was more than enough.

—

Sean Hotchner leaned against the doorframe of Aaron’s office, his disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the professional atmosphere of the BAU. His hair was longer than Aaron remembered, tousled in a way that made it look like he had just rolled out of bed. The leather jacket slung over his shoulder was worn, his jeans frayed at the edges. Aaron barely looked up from his paperwork as Sean cleared his throat, but the tension in the room was palpable.

"Sean," Aaron greeted flatly, his tone carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken frustrations. He didn’t even need to ask why his younger brother was here. Sean only showed up when he needed something.

“Aaron, man, I need help,” Sean began, already trying to soften his tone as he stepped inside. He glanced at the bullpen behind him, noticing the open door but not caring enough to close it. "I, uh, got fired from my job. Again."

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching around the pen he held. "And?"

"And I lost my apartment," Sean continued, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have anywhere to go. I was hoping… I could crash with you for a bit. Just until I get back on my feet."

Aaron finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied his brother. His fingers drummed impatiently against the desk as he exhaled through his nose. “So, let me get this straight—you got fired, again, and now you’re asking to live with me? Sean, this is the third time. When are you going to take responsibility for your life?”

Sean shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at his boots. “I know, I know. It’s just... I hit a rough patch, alright? I’ll figure it out, I just need some time.”

Aaron’s frustration boiled just beneath the surface, his voice rising slightly, enough that it carried out into the bullpen. “You always say that, Sean. ‘I’ll figure it out.’ But you never do. I can’t keep bailing you out every time you screw up.”

In the bullpen, the conversation didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone sat at their desks, their eyes darting toward Aaron’s office. Emily leaned over to JJ, lowering her voice but not enough to hide her words.

“Is that Hotch’s brother?” Emily whispered, her eyes widening as she watched Sean from across the room.

JJ nodded, her gaze flicking between Aaron’s stern expression and Sean’s slouched posture. “Yeah, that’s Sean. He hasn’t been around in a while.”

Penelope, standing nearby, leaned in with wide, curious eyes. “Okay, but, uh... is it just me or is Sean... kind of hot?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk forming on her lips. “Oh, it’s not just you. He’s definitely got that... bad boy thing going on.”

JJ chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You two are terrible.”

Penelope shrugged dramatically. “What? I mean, I’ve heard stories, but I didn’t know Hotch had such an attractive brother! Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d be thinking some very impure thoughts right now.”

“Garcia,” JJ admonished lightly, but she was clearly amused.

They all tried to suppress their laughter, watching as Aaron’s stern voice carried into the bullpen, his frustration with Sean evident. But they couldn’t help the whispered commentary as Sean stood there, looking like the picture of trouble.

“I’d hate to see what Hotch is going to do to him once that door closes,” Emily mused, shaking her head. “But I have to admit, he’s got a certain... charm.”

Penelope wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Maybe I should go in there and offer him some moral support.”

JJ rolled her eyes, grinning. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what he needs right now.”

Back in the office, Aaron had stood up, his hands planted firmly on his desk as he glared at Sean. "You need to grow up, Sean. This can’t keep happening. I’ve got Jack to think about now. I’m not running a halfway house."

Sean's shoulders slumped, his voice lowering as he tried to appease his brother. "I know, Aaron. But I don’t have anyone else. Please, just this one last time. I swear I won’t mess it up."

Aaron ran a hand over his face, torn between anger and the sense of duty he always felt toward his family, no matter how much they disappointed him. His voice softened slightly, but only just. “This is the last time, Sean. I mean it.”

Sean gave a small nod, grateful but visibly embarrassed, as he mumbled, “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

As he turned to leave the office, the gossiping trio quickly straightened up, trying to look busy. But as Sean made his way toward the exit, Penelope couldn’t resist shooting one last glance, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean... Hotch’s brother, right? Who knew?”

JJ stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to her paperwork. Meanwhile, Emily just smiled knowingly, her eyes trailing after Sean for a moment longer before settling back into work.

No one noticed Spencer sitting at his desk behind them, listening to every word.

—

That evening you and Spencer sat across from each other at your dining table, plates of food between you, but Spencer’s voice held an unusual tension as he recounted the events of the day. His fork poked absentmindedly at his meal, his eyes flickering between you and his plate as he spoke.

“So, Sean Hotchner showed up at the bureau today,” Spencer began, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. “Apparently, he’s having a tough time. Lost his job again.”

You tilted your head slightly, setting your fork down to give him your full attention. “Sean? Aaron’s younger brother, right?”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. He’s... been bouncing around, trying to figure things out. He came to Hotch for help, and it sounds like he’s pretty desperate.”

You sighed softly, a familiar pang tugging at your heart. You knew that feeling all too well—the desperation, the uncertainty of trying to rebuild when everything felt like it was crumbling. “That’s rough. I feel for him. It’s not easy trying to make something of yourself when you’ve hit rock bottom.”

Spencer glanced at you, his brows knitting together slightly. He knew your story, knew how hard you had worked to pull yourself up and build something successful out of nothing. Owning a nightclub wasn’t just a job—it was a symbol of everything you had overcome.

You took a sip of your drink, lost in thought for a moment before something clicked. “Does Sean have any bartending experience?”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh, yeah, actually. He’s worked at a few bars. That’s where he got fired from, this last place.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reached for your phone, fingers quickly typing out a message. Spencer watched, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though his curiosity was piqued.

You looked up, still smiling as you explained, “I’m texting Hotch. I can offer Sean a working interview tomorrow at my club. We’re always looking for good bartenders, and if he’s in need, it’s worth a shot, right?”

Spencer froze, his fork hovering in mid-air, his brain scrambling to catch up with what you’d just said. He forced a smile, but there was a storm brewing inside him. Not because you had texted Hotch—Spencer had long accepted that your relationship with his boss had developed into a friendly, professional one—but because of Sean.

He had seen Sean walk into the bureau today, watched as the women in the office had practically swooned when they saw him. Sean was tall, undeniably attractive, with an easy charm that Spencer knew was irresistible. It didn’t help that Sean had a reputation. Spencer knew he had “gotten around,” experienced in ways that Spencer wasn’t. And now, Sean was going to be working for you, in your club, where you’d be seeing him regularly.

Jealousy gnawed at Spencer’s insides, dark and insidious, feeding on his deepest fears—that one day, someone else would come along. Someone like Sean. More experienced, more charming, more… everything.

But he couldn’t let you see that. He couldn’t let you know how much this was eating at him. So, instead, he plastered on a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s... that’s really generous of you,” Spencer said, his voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil he felt. “I’m proud of you, honestly. It’s such a kind thing to do, helping him out like that.”

You beamed at his words, unaware of the storm raging inside him. “Well, it just makes sense, you know? If he’s a good bartender, why not give him a chance? It’s not like I’m handing him the job—he still has to prove himself.”

Spencer nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you. He could see how happy you were to be able to help, how genuine your intentions were, and it only made him feel worse for the insecurities twisting in his gut.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “I love you, Spence,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m glad you’re okay with this. I was worried you might think I was overstepping by getting involved.”

Spencer swallowed hard, squeezing your hand gently. “Of course I’m okay with it,” he lied, his smile still in place. “I love you too, and I’m so proud of how much you’ve accomplished. You’re always looking out for people, giving them chances. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

You smiled again, leaning across the table to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Spence. That means a lot.”

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Spencer kept his mask firmly in place, not letting his doubts show. But deep down, that gnawing feeling refused to go away. No matter how much he tried to push it aside, the thought lingered: What if one day, you realized someone like Sean was better?

—

Sean had already impressed you the moment he walked through the doors of your nightclub, right on time for his working interview. Dressed in the attire you had specified—black from head to toe—he looked sharp and professional. You had expected someone more casual, maybe even a bit cocky given his reputation, but Sean Hotchner showed up ready to work.

Aaron had called earlier that morning, expressing his gratitude for your offer. "I really appreciate this," he had said, his voice heavy with something between relief and exhaustion. "But you don’t have to feel obligated to help Sean. He’s not your responsibility."

You had assured Aaron you didn’t mind at all. After all, you were always on the lookout for good bartenders. "Especially since I just promoted my best bartender to the VIP level," you had explained. “We’ve got space to fill, and if Sean can handle the bar, it’ll be a win-win.”

Now, as you watched Sean behind the bar, you felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. He moved with precision, taking orders smoothly, mixing drinks quickly, and keeping up with the flow of the night like a seasoned professional. It was clear he had experience, and that gave you a sense of relief. You had taken a chance on him by allowing him to skip the usual server stage, something you typically required of all new hires. But it seemed like that gamble was paying off.

You made your way over to the bar as Sean finished serving a group of customers. He noticed you approaching and straightened up, giving you a nod. "How’s it going?" you asked, leaning against the counter with an approving smile.

“So far, so good,” Sean replied, a hint of confidence in his voice. “I’m used to a fast pace. It feels good to be back behind the bar.”

You smiled, appreciating his composure. “I have to say, you’re doing a great job. I usually don’t let people jump straight to bartending, but you’ve handled everything perfectly tonight.”

Sean’s face lit up with a genuine smile, his posture relaxing a little. "Thanks, that means a lot."

You nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "I think we can skip the formalities—if you’re interested, the job’s yours."

Sean’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by the offer. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," you confirmed. "You’ve shown me enough tonight. You know what you’re doing, and I could use someone like you on the team."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback by the swiftness of it all, before breaking into a grin. "Thank you. Seriously, I won’t let you down."

"You’d better not," you teased, giving him a wink. "Welcome to the team."

As Sean returned to his work, you stood back, watching him interact with customers and noticing how well he fit in with the atmosphere of the club. He was a natural behind the bar, and you were already confident in your decision. 

The next day, before the crowd came in, Aaron stopped by to check on his brother. As you greeted him, he glanced toward the bar, where Sean was preparing before what was supposed to be a busy shift.

"I have to thank you again," Aaron said, his tone sincere. "Sean needed this, more than you know."

You shook your head, brushing off the sentiment with a smile. "He’s doing a great job. Honestly, I think I’m the one who got lucky. You were right—he’s not my responsibility, but I’m happy to have him here."

Aaron gave a small, appreciative nod, his face softening. "I’ll make sure he knows how grateful he should be. You’ve done more for him than you realize."

You smiled, watching as Sean continued his work, his focus sharp and his movements steady. "He’s earned it, Aaron. I’m glad I took the chance."

Later that night, the club was in full swing, lights flashing in sync with the beat of the music, and the energy was palpable. People crowded the dance floor, moving to the rhythm, while others clustered around the bar, talking and laughing as they sipped their drinks. You navigated the floor easily, greeting regulars and keeping an eye on how things were running. It was a typical Friday night—lively, loud, and just the way you liked it.

In the center of the dance floor, Derek and Emily were having the time of their lives. Derek had drawn Emily out to dance almost as soon as they arrived, and now the two were lost in the music. Emily laughed as Derek spun her around, her dark hair flying as she moved effortlessly with him. Their laughter echoed even over the thumping bass, and it was clear that they were in their element, shaking off the stress of the week.

“Come on, Em! You can do better than that!” Derek teased, flashing her that playful grin he was famous for.

“Oh, you think so?” Emily shot back, her competitive side kicking in as she matched his dance moves with a flick of her hips. “Watch and learn, Morgan.”

Nearby, JJ stood at a high-top table, sipping a cocktail while watching them, shaking her head with an amused smile. “They’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing softly.

“They’re having fun,” Penelope added, her eyes glowing with excitement as she scanned the room. “This place is amazing! Y/N has really outdone herself!”

But Spencer was quieter than the rest, standing a little farther back from the group, his drink untouched in his hand as his eyes remained locked on the bar where Sean worked. He wasn’t dancing or chatting like the others; his focus was entirely on you and Sean. Spencer’s jaw tightened slightly as he watched the two of you exchanging easy conversation. You stood at the bar, laughing at something Sean said as he mixed drinks with practiced ease.

Sean was good, no doubt about it. He looked completely in his element behind the bar, effortlessly charming customers as he handed out drinks, his smile quick and easy. And there you were, standing beside him, looking equally relaxed and at home in your own nightclub. You smiled at Sean, gave him a friendly nudge as you helped out, your laughter ringing out above the hum of the crowd.

Spencer’s grip on his glass tightened just a fraction.

"Spence?" JJ’s voice pulled him out of his spiral. She was looking at him with concern, her head tilted slightly. "You good?"

Spencer quickly forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

JJ gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. “You sure? You’ve been staring at the bar for a while now.”

Spencer swallowed, forcing his gaze away from the scene. “Just... keeping an eye on things,” he said, trying to sound casual.

But his eyes drifted back, drawn to the way you leaned in close to talk to Sean, laughing easily at something he said. Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the irrational jealousy. He didn’t want to feel this way—not when he trusted you so deeply. But the insecurities simmered just beneath the surface, no matter how much he tried to tamp them down.

At the bar, you noticed Spencer’s gaze from across the room, giving him a quick wave and a bright smile, unaware of the storm brewing in his head. Spencer waved back, forcing himself to return your smile, but his heart was still heavy with the weight of his unspoken fears.

As Derek and Emily continued to dance, their carefree energy a stark contrast to the tension building inside Spencer, he tried to push his jealousy aside. He wanted to trust in what you had, to remind himself that you loved him, not Sean.

But as he watched you lean against the bar, your attention completely on Sean as he worked, Spencer couldn’t help but feel that gnawing insecurity settle deeper in his chest.

Spencer’s eyes flickered toward you again as you moved across the club, checking on customers, making sure everything was running smoothly. Even in your all-black uniform, which was meant to look professional, you somehow made it look effortlessly chic. The fitted black blazer, the lace tights, and that sleek skirt—it all came together in a way that caught people's attention. And it wasn’t just the customers. Spencer saw how Sean’s gaze lingered a little too long every time you walked away, his eyes drifting down to the hem of your skirt, to the low neckline of your top.

It didn’t sit right with Spencer. He tried to tell himself that Sean wasn’t doing anything out of line—he was just looking, and maybe that was normal. You looked amazing, after all. But it gnawed at him, the way Sean’s eyes followed you, the way he smiled that easy, flirtatious smile at customers and coworkers alike. There was something too comfortable about the way Sean was acting, and Spencer couldn’t shake the irritation growing in his chest.

JJ was talking with Penelope next to him, her attention catching on Sean’s antics at the bar. She chuckled, leaning closer to Spencer, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Classic Sean,” she said, shaking her head as she watched him chat up a group of women by the bar. “Talking up every person within earshot.”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He didn’t find it funny. His fingers gripped his drink a little tighter, his jaw tensing as he tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy rising inside him. Sean wasn’t just talking to the women, he was clearly charming them, making them giggle and blush with every word.

Why did I even come tonight? Spencer thought to himself. Maybe staying home would have been the better option. Watching Sean work the bar—watching him charm the customers, and worse, watching him look at you—was a slow burn of frustration that Spencer didn’t know how to handle.

JJ nudged him lightly with her elbow. “You sure you’re alright, Spence?”

He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I promise, I’m fine,” he said quietly, though his thoughts were far from fine.

He didn’t want to seem insecure, didn’t want to show just how much Sean’s presence was bothering him. But it was hard to shake the image of Sean’s lingering glances, the flirtatious air about him, and the unsettling thought that maybe, just maybe, Sean was good for you in ways that Spencer wasn’t.

As you made your way over to Spencer and his friends, completely unaware of the internal storm that had been brewing inside your boyfriend all night, your smile brightened when you saw him. “Hi, baby,” you said sweetly, leaning down to give Spencer a quick peck on the lips.

But to your surprise, instead of the brief kiss you were expecting, Spencer’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips lingered on yours longer than usual, and the intensity of the gesture caught you off guard. You could feel the heat of his hands through the fabric of your blazer, the possessiveness in his grip that was unlike him, especially in public.

When you finally pulled back, slightly dazed, your cheeks flushed as you whispered, “Damn, baby, what did I do to deserve that?” You playfully tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, grinning at him.

Spencer’s grip on you didn’t falter. In fact, he pulled you even closer, positioning you between his spread thighs from where he sat on the stool. His gaze was soft, but there was something in his eyes, something deeper. “You just look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling heat rise to your face. Spencer wasn’t usually so bold, so forward—especially not in front of other people. The sweet boy you loved was often shy, reserved, but this moment? This was different. It was as if he was trying to show you something, stake a quiet claim that you couldn’t quite understand.

You gave him another quick kiss, smiling softly against his lips before pulling back. “Well, thank you,” you said, feeling your own cheeks flush. You glanced at the group with a bright smile before excusing yourself to check on a few things at the bar. As you walked away, Spencer’s eyes followed you, his hand still resting on his thigh, feeling the lingering warmth where he’d held you close.

No sooner had you disappeared from view than Penelope was already nudging Spencer with a playful grin. “Spencer Reid!” she teased, her voice brimming with amusement as she lightly slapped his shoulder. “Save it for later, horn dog!”

Spencer felt his entire face turn scarlet, his heart pounding with embarrassment. He wasn’t trying to be… well, that! But the way Penelope’s eyes twinkled, the implication that she thought the two of you were all over each other in that way, made him squirm in his seat.

“Oh, come on, don’t blush, pretty boy,” Penelope giggled, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “You’ve been staring at her all night. We know what’s on your mind.”

JJ joined in, her laugh warm and teasing. “Yeah, Spence, is that why you’ve been keeping an eye on her all night? Can’t wait to get Y/N all to yourself later?”

Spencer wished he could disappear into thin air. He shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the heat rising to his ears. “Something like that,” he muttered, but the truth weighed heavier on him than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t that Spencer wasn’t physically attracted to you—he adored every part of you—but the teasing only made him feel more inadequate, more aware of the gap between your experience and his. The others didn’t know. They had no idea that he hadn’t crossed the line into physical intimacy with you yet, despite your relationship being serious, despite you having already moved in together and said “I love you.” 

Most couples would have by now, he thought bitterly. And everyone else, Penelope and JJ included—they probably assumed you two were just like everyone else, that he was just another guy in a committed relationship. The teasing implied as much.

But Spencer knew the truth, and it gnawed at him—those dark fears he kept bottled up, that you would eventually find someone more experienced, more capable, someone who could offer you more than he ever could.

The soft click of the door echoed through the apartment as you stepped inside, already feeling the exhaustion from the long night creeping in. It was well past 3:00 a.m., the time when the world was quiet, and you expected the same from your apartment. Usually, Spencer would be fast asleep by now, his rhythmic breathing a comforting sound you’d find when you crawled into bed after closing the club. But tonight, as you set your bag down and kicked off your heels, you were surprised to see the warm glow of a lamp in the living room.

Spencer was sitting in his favorite green armchair, the soft pages of a book resting in his lap as he looked up, a sleepy but genuine grin spreading across his face. The sight of him there, waiting for you, made your heart swell. His hair was slightly disheveled, his long fingers trailing off the edge of the chair as he beckoned you closer with open arms.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice warm and low, the kind of greeting that made you feel instantly at home.

You couldn’t resist the invitation, crossing the room in a few quick strides before slipping into his arms, settling into the chair with him. “Hi, my love,” you sighed, leaning into his warmth, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you inhaled his familiar scent. The combination of coffee and books was something uniquely Spencer, and it always made you feel safe.

“How was closing?” he asked, his voice gentle as his hand moved to stroke your back in slow, soothing circles.

You shivered lightly at his touch, enjoying the familiar rhythm of his fingers. “It was fine,” you murmured, your breath soft against his neck. “Sean is so much faster than Amber was. It makes things a lot easier.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you felt it. The way Spencer’s body tensed beneath you, the way his hand paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. You didn’t think much of it at first—maybe he was just tired—but then his touch changed. The gentle strokes on your back turned into something more deliberate, more intent as his hand slid lower.

“Hmmm,” Spencer hummed, his tone almost too casual. “I’m glad he’s been helpful.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but your thoughts trailed off as Spencer’s hand slid down further, past the small of your back, coming to rest on your thigh. His fingers pressed into the fabric there, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver through you. At first, you didn’t think much of it—Spencer’s touch was always affectionate, but this felt different.

“Yeah, he really has been—” Your sentence was cut short as Spencer’s hand traveled higher, his fingers brushing over your ass with a boldness that caught you off guard. His touch was unmistakable now, filled with an intensity you weren’t used to seeing from your typically gentle and reserved boyfriend.

You lifted your head, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for the meaning behind this sudden shift. His gaze was dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen before—jealousy and possessiveness that simmered just beneath the surface.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asked, his voice a little rougher than usual, his hand still resting firmly on your body.

You blinked, your heart racing a little faster as you processed his question. “Yeah, baby, of course,” you whispered, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. You gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know there was nothing to be uncertain about. “You can touch me anywhere.”

At your words, you felt something shift in Spencer. A quiet storm brewing behind his soft exterior, flared up. His hand flexed against you, and you could see it in his eyes now—he was staking his claim, reminding himself, and maybe even you, that he was the one who had the right to be close to you like this.

He was the one allowed to touch you, to hold you, to love you. Not Sean, not anyone else. Only him.

Without another word, Spencer pulled you closer, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to make sure you understood. You weren’t sure where this sudden intensity came from, but it made your heart race in a different way. This wasn’t the soft, shy Spencer you were used to. This was something deeper, something more primal. And for a moment, you were both wrapped up in it, the quiet room charged with unspoken tension.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and tender, hoping to ease whatever storm was brewing inside him. “Spence,” you whispered against his lips, “I’m yours.”

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between you. He had always felt a deep sense of attraction for you, but acting on it had been something he’d carefully avoided—out of nervousness, out of insecurity. But tonight there was something about the way you had reassured him, the way you said he could touch you, that ignited a new kind of confidence in him. 

He leaned down, closing the space between you, and kissed you with a passion that surprised even him. It was much like the kiss you’d shared earlier at the club, only this time there was an intensity behind it—a hunger that had been quietly building for a long time. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved with yours, no longer tentative, but sure, as though he had made a silent decision within himself.

You were taken aback for only a brief moment, but not at all upset by the new direction your night was taking. If anything, you were thrilled to see this side of him, this bolder, more assertive Spencer. You brought both hands up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently stroking his jawline as you kissed him back, pouring all your affection into the moment. His hands, meanwhile, began to roam your body, exploring what little he could in this current position, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, your thighs. There was an eagerness in his touch, a yearning that you could feel pulsing from him.

You could sense that he wanted more, that he wasn’t sure how to ask for it, but you knew. You knew exactly what he needed. Without a word, you sat up from where you were nestled in his lap, moving slowly so you could shift your position. You swung one leg over him, straddling his lap and settling back down, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Then, with a teasing smile, you took his hands in yours, guiding them back to where he seemed to want them the most—onto your ass. 

“Better?” you asked, your smirk playful, though your heart was racing just as fast as his.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, the weight of your body on his lap combined with the newfound freedom in his touch making him dizzy with need. His fingers instinctively squeezed the flesh beneath them, reveling in the feeling of holding you like this, of having you so close.

“Much,” he managed to say, his voice weak with desire, his eyes wide as he looked up at you. He leaned forward again, capturing your lips in another kiss, more urgent this time. His hands tightened around you, holding you as if afraid you might slip away. You could feel the tension in his body as he leaned into the kiss, the way he was holding back so much yet giving in more than he ever had before.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the heat between you building as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, then found their way back to your ass, squeezing you with newfound confidence. He wasn’t just nervous Spencer anymore—he was Spencer who wanted you, and that thought made you smile against his lips.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to catch your breath and look into his eyes. His gaze was filled with a mix of awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, yet he was determined to take the leap.

“I love this side of you,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair as you leaned your forehead against his. “But we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

As you whispered those reassuring words, you saw the subtle flicker of doubt flash across Spencer’s face. His confidence, which had been so bold a moment ago, seemed to waver. You could practically see the question forming in his mind—Did you not want this? Was he misreading the situation? 

You were quick to close the gap between his fear and your truth. “I want to do everything with you, baby,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly, your lips brushing against his with tender intent. Then, in a playful move, you gently bit down on his bottom lip, just enough to make him whine, a small, needy sound escaping his throat that sent a thrill through you. “I just don’t want to rush anything,” you continued, your voice soothing but firm. “We have all the time in the world.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, making sure your next words landed where they needed to. “I am not going anywhere, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.”

Spencer’s chest rose and fell with the deep breath he took, his gaze softening as your words sank in. He nodded, his hand still resting possessively on your waist. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath but carrying the full weight of his emotions.

You smiled at him, a loving, genuine smile that only deepened his feelings. “I love you more,” you whispered back before leaning down to kiss him again.

In that moment, the kiss was everything. Soft, slow, reassuring, full of the love and trust that you’d both built together. But then, as you shifted in his lap, your body moved instinctively—rolling your hips ever so slightly. You hadn’t meant to, but the unmistakable hardness beneath you pressed against your core, causing a delicious friction that neither of you expected.

Spencer whimpered into your mouth, the sound raw and unrestrained, his hips jerking upward involuntarily in response to the sudden, new form of pleasure. The sensation seemed to spark something deep inside him, a rush of need that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. You felt his fingers tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as he chased the friction, his body moving beneath you as if on autopilot.

The way Spencer reacted to the brief touch, the soft sounds of desperation coming from him, sent a thrill through your own body. You could feel the heat rising between you both, the chemistry shifting from sweet to something more electric. Your lips hovered just above his, your breath mingling with his as you caught the look in his eyes—dark, yearning, and yet still so full of love.

You kissed him again, slower this time, savoring every second as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Spence…” you whispered, his name a quiet plea on your lips, “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Mhm,” he whined softly, eyes closed as he leaned into the feeling, chasing the sensation your touch brought him. His body responded instinctively, moving with you, completely lost in the moment.

You were just about to suggest something more, thinking about shedding some of the clothing between you, when suddenly, Spencer stilled beneath you. His entire body tensed, and before you could ask what was wrong, he let out a long, unexpected moan. You felt it—an undeniable wetness seeping through your tights. 

Spencer’s eyes shot open in mortification, his face flushing crimson as he realized what had just happened. Panic set in immediately, and without a word, he scrambled out from under you, pushing you off gently but urgently as he bolted toward the bathroom. 

You barely had time to process what had happened before he disappeared behind the door. The sound of it closing echoed through the quiet apartment, leaving you sitting there, still feeling the heat of the moment but now overtaken by concern. You stood up, adjusting yourself and taking a deep breath, your mind quickly shifting from your own arousal to Spencer’s sudden distress.

You followed him to the bathroom, heart heavy as you heard him breathing heavily on the other side of the door. Gently, you knocked, your voice soft and filled with care. “Spencer? Honey, are you okay?”

A sniffle came from the other side, a sound that broke your heart. “No,” he whimpered, his voice small, ashamed.

You leaned your forehead against the door, trying to offer him comfort without pushing too hard. “Can I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle and filled with reassurance.

“No,” he answered again, his voice cracking, clearly embarrassed.

You sighed softly, wanting nothing more than to hold him, to make sure he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. “Why not, baby?” you asked, your voice soft but persistent.

Spencer hesitated, his breath shaky as he tried to find the words. “Because... because I... I... ruined it,” he stammered, his voice thick with tears.

Your heart broke at his words. Ruined it? There was nothing to ruin. You leaned against the door more firmly, wanting him to hear the sincerity in your voice. “Spencer,” you said softly, “you didn’t ruin anything, my love. Please let me in. We can talk about it, okay?”

He sniffled again, his breathing still shaky. You could hear him shifting on the other side, his back still pressed against the door. “I... I couldn’t control it. I didn’t mean to... it’s so embarrassing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you reassured him, feeling your own heart ache for him. “It’s normal. It happens. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.”

There was a pause, and you could hear him take a deep breath, as if he was trying to gather himself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

Slowly, you opened the door and found Spencer standing there, his eyes red-rimmed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. His gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding yours out of sheer mortification. Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace.

He hesitated at first, still feeling the weight of his embarrassment, but eventually, his arms came around you, holding on tightly as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his voice muffled and thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes were filled with nothing but love and understanding. “Spencer, you don’t have to be sorry,” you said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He blinked at you, clearly still struggling to accept that. “But... it was... I didn’t even—”

“Shh,” you soothed him, gently placing a finger against his lips, your voice soft but reassuring. “How about we focus on how that felt, yeah?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, tilting his head at you, still unsure how to navigate this moment. His embarrassment was still fresh, but your calmness helped ease the tension that had built up inside him.

“Did it feel good, baby?” you asked, your tone gentle and coaxing. “Like something you’d want to try again?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the realization hit Spencer—what you were doing. You weren’t focusing on his embarrassment, his mistake. You were helping him see past it, guiding him back to what mattered: the feeling you had shared, the intimacy of the moment. His heart swelled with gratitude, a soft warmth spreading through his chest.

“Yes,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and sincerity. “It did.”

You smiled up at him, and that smile was all it took to melt the remaining tension in his body. Leaning in, you kissed him, a slow and tender kiss filled with the reassurance that everything was okay, that he was okay. “I liked it too,” you whispered against his lips. “Maybe we can do that again soon?”

Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile, more confident this time. “I would like that,” he admitted, his voice steady, a little more sure of himself.

Your heart swarmed with affection as you pulled him close, pressing your cheek against his as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his body relaxing into yours. You gently rubbed his back, feeling the tension ease from his muscles as he sighed against your skin.

“Do you want to shower, Spence?” you asked softly, your hand trailing soothing patterns up and down his back.

Spencer nuzzled closer to you, his voice a low mumble into your skin. “Together?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “We can,” you hummed, “but if that’s too much right now, I don’t mind leaving. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Spencer shook his head rapidly, pulling you closer. “Don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Okay, okay,” you soothed, your fingers still brushing lightly across his back. “I won’t leave. We can shower together.”

Spencer sighed happily, his arms tightening around you as if to confirm that you were staying, that you weren’t going anywhere. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck before mumbling, “Just… don’t look at my penis, please?”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up, but you quickly reassured him, kissing his cheek as you whispered, “Of course, my love. My eyes will stay on your face.”

With that promise, Spencer relaxed further into you, his trust in you deepening with every passing second. The shame and embarrassment from earlier slowly dissolved, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you accepted him fully, without judgment. You held him for a moment longer, your arms wrapped securely around him.

The shower was filled with steam and laughter, the sound of water splashing mixing with your playful giggles and Spencer’s rare, carefree chuckles. It was the first time you had shared the shower, a new experience that was turning out to be much more fun than either of you had expected. Usually, one of you would sit outside on the toilet, talking through the curtain while the other showered. But now, the barrier was gone, and the playful side of both of you was in full swing.

You couldn’t resist puffing your cheeks full of water and spitting it in Spencer’s direction, making him laugh out loud as droplets hit his chest. “Hey!” he protested, though his grin betrayed him as he retaliated with a splash of his own, his hands sending a wave of water your way.

You laughed, dodging the water as best as you could, enjoying this lighthearted, silly moment between you two. It was refreshing to see Spencer like this, so relaxed, his usual careful demeanor replaced with playful mischief.

But there was something else too. Spencer tried his hardest to keep his eyes on your face—his eyes darting up quickly whenever they drifted a little lower. You couldn’t help but giggle each time he looked away, a blush creeping up his neck, his face flushed for reasons beyond just the heat of the shower.

After the fourth or fifth time of catching him sneaking a glance only to immediately avert his eyes, you decided to call him out on it. “Spencer,” you giggled, crossing your arms over your chest playfully. “I am your girlfriend, you know?”

Spencer looked back at you, his brow furrowing in that adorable, confused way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “I know that, why are you asking?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, genuinely perplexed.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his expression, shaking your head in amusement. “Because, you big dork,” you cackled, “you’re allowed to look at my boobs! You can even touch them if you want!”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his blush deepening as he processed your words. “I—well, I just didn’t want to... I mean...” He stammered, looking flustered but also a little curious, his gaze flickering down before darting back up to your eyes. “I didn’t want to seem disrespectful.”

You burst out laughing, stepping closer to him, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Spence,” you said between your giggles, “you could never be disrespectful. Trust me.”

He blinked, still looking a little unsure but also charmed by your playfulness. “I... I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile.

You rolled your eyes affectionately, moving his hands from your waist to your chest with a smirk. “Here, I’ll even help you.”

Spencer’s face turned crimson as he felt the softness beneath his hands, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin as if he were still processing what was happening. His touch was tentative, delicate, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his nose. “See? Not so scary, right?”

He swallowed, finally letting himself relax a little, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. “Not scary,” he echoed softly, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and affection. Then, as if realizing the silliness of it all, he let out a small laugh, shaking his head at himself.

You both stood there in the warmth of the shower, your bodies close, the steam curling around you as Spencer finally allowed himself to look, to touch, to enjoy this new level of intimacy with you. It was another step in your relationship, one that made both of you feel more connected, more comfortable with each other.

But as always, you couldn’t resist keeping the moment light. With a mischievous grin, you puffed your cheeks full of water again and spat it playfully in Spencer’s direction, causing him to sputter in surprise and laugh as he wiped his face.

“Hey!” he laughed, shaking his head as water dripped from his hair. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, backing up against the wall of the shower with a grin. “What are you gonna do about it, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer, the playful dynamic back in full swing, earlier embarrassment long forgotten. It was just the two of you now, laughing, teasing, and enjoying each other in the most carefree way. And that, in the end, was what made this moment perfect.

—

As the weeks rolled on, Spencer found himself spending more and more time at your nightclub. It had become a routine for him during his free weekends, a way to be closer to you. On the busier nights, he would sit at the bar, watching you work, admiring the way you effortlessly ran the place. And on weeknights, when you invited the bartenders in during closed hours to practice making new drinks, Spencer would linger in the background, quietly observing.

But each time he visited, something gnawed at him. It wasn’t just the crowd, the music, or the dim lighting of the club—it was Sean. At first, Spencer tried to brush it off. He chalked it up to Sean’s naturally charming personality, how bartenders often carried themselves with confidence, flirting with customers as part of the job. But now, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like there was something more.

Sean’s eyes seemed to linger on you longer than they should, or at least that’s how it appeared to Spencer. Over the past few weeks, with Spencer spending more time at the club, he became convinced that Sean had started flirting with you. His words seemed just a bit too smooth, his smiles lingered a little too long. Spencer couldn’t ignore the casual way Sean would lean in when he spoke to you or how he seemed overly attentive whenever you checked in at the bar.

What Spencer didn’t know, however, was that Sean had recently confided in you about his lack of attraction to women. While he wasn’t out of the closet yet, he wanted to make sure his playful, flirtatious behavior was never misunderstood. It was all in good fun, a way to keep the atmosphere light and easy at work, and he trusted you enough to share his truth, knowing it wouldn’t affect your friendship or professional relationship.

One night, after a long day, you and Spencer were curled up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as the two of you settled into your usual post-work relaxation. You were absentmindedly playing with Spencer’s hand while a TV show played in the background, the glow of the screen filling the cozy living room. But Spencer’s mind wasn’t on the show. His thoughts were elsewhere—back at the club, and back on Sean.

“Hey…” Spencer began, his voice hesitant as his fingers traced small circles on your knee.

You looked over at him, smiling softly. “Yeah, babe?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to sound paranoid, but the thought had been eating away at him for days now. “I think… I think Sean’s been flirting with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his statement. “What? Sean?” The idea made you laugh—not to be dismissive of Spencer’s feelings, but the thought of Sean flirting with you, his boss, was almost comical. “Spence, no way.”

He frowned slightly, feeling a bit vulnerable after putting it out there. “I’m serious. He looks at you… and I’ve heard him make little comments. I don’t know, it just feels like he’s always trying to get your attention in a certain way.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, though your tone was softer this time, recognizing the seriousness in his voice. “Baby, bartenders flirt. It’s literally part of the job. They flirt with everyone—it doesn’t mean anything.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly. He knew you didn’t mean to dismiss his concern, but it stung a little. “Yeah, I know, but… it’s different with him. I see the way he acts around you. It’s not the same as with other people.”

You shifted, sitting up a bit to face him, brushing a hand through his hair. “Spencer, I promise you, Sean’s just doing his job. If he’s flirting, he’s doing it with every customer that walks through the door.” You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him softly. “And even if he was flirting with me, it wouldn’t matter. You’re the only one I have eyes for.”

Your words were meant to reassure him, but Spencer still felt that unease. He didn’t doubt your loyalty or love for him, but there was something about Sean that bothered him. He could sense it—the subtle charm, the lingering glances that made his stomach twist with jealousy. But he didn’t want to seem overly paranoid or insecure, especially not after you had laughed off the idea. So, instead of pushing it further, Spencer just nodded, giving you a weak smile in return.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” he murmured, though the knot in his chest hadn’t untangled.

You kissed him again, resting your head on his shoulder. “Of course I’m right. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

But even as you both settled back into your cozy position, Spencer couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. He didn’t want to keep bringing it up, didn’t want to seem annoyingly jealous or insecure, so he kept it bottled up after that night, silently watching from the sidelines each time he visited the club. But each time Sean’s eyes lingered too long on you, or every time Spencer caught the slight inflection in Sean’s voice when he spoke to you, the feeling festered inside him, unresolved.

—

Spencer hadn't realized just how much his pent-up frustration was affecting him—at least, not until the team started to notice. What began as subtle shifts in his demeanor during interrogations had gradually turned into something much more obvious. Spencer had always been the calm, logical one. The genius with a kind heart, who often sought to understand unsubs and their motivations. But recently, something had changed.

During takedowns, Spencer's grip on suspects was firmer, his actions more aggressive than they needed to be. When it came to interviews and interrogations, he was no longer the patient profiler with a steady voice. His words were sharp, cold, and sometimes downright cutting. He'd lean in too close, his eyes dark with intensity, and his voice would drop to a low, threatening tone that made even the most hardened criminals flinch. He became a version of himself that no one on the team recognized.

It all came to a head when they brought in a person of interest—someone who wasn’t even officially connected to the crime yet, just a potential witness. The woman had been nervous enough as it was, but the moment Spencer stepped into the interrogation room, his usual warmth and understanding were gone. Instead, he stared her down, his eyes hard, his tone biting as he drilled her with questions. The more she stammered, the harsher he became, until finally, the woman broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hotch had seen enough. The moment Spencer walked out of the interrogation room, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides, Hotch made the decision to pull him aside.

“Reid, conference room. Now.”

Spencer barely glanced up, his frustration still evident, but he followed Hotch without a word. The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances as they watched him disappear into the room, the door closing firmly behind them.

Hotch turned to face Spencer, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. "What the hell is going on with you, Reid?" His voice was stern but not unkind, giving Spencer the chance to explain himself.

Spencer, still bristling with residual anger, shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what Hotch meant, but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

“You made a person of interest cry, Spencer,” Hotch said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That woman was barely connected to the case, and you broke her down like she was the unsub. This isn’t like you.”

Spencer crossed his arms, suddenly feeling defensive. “She wasn’t cooperating. I was just trying to get the truth out of her.”

“There are ways to get the truth out of people that don’t involve scaring them,” Hotch countered. “You’ve always known that. But this—this isn’t the Reid we all know. What’s going on?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he considered brushing it off, making some excuse about the stress of the job, but he knew Hotch wouldn’t buy it. The truth of it was, Spencer didn’t even fully understand what had been driving him lately. All he knew was that something inside him had shifted, a growing aggression that he couldn’t quite shake.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Spencer muttered, though he knew how weak the excuse sounded.

“Reid, you and I both know that’s not true,” Hotch said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve been on edge for weeks. I’ve noticed it, and so has the rest of the team. Whatever’s going on with you, you need to talk about it. Before it gets worse.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind raced, filled with thoughts of the one thing that had been eating away at him for weeks: Sean and the club. The jealousy, the fear, the constant feeling that he wasn’t enough. He had tried to keep it bottled up, had tried to pretend that everything was fine, but clearly, it wasn’t. And now, it was affecting his work—affecting who he was.

“I…” Spencer’s voice faltered, his throat tightening as he realized how ridiculous it might sound to Hotch. But there was no point in hiding it anymore. “It’s personal.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, his gaze steady as he waited for Spencer to continue. The silence stretched between them, a gentle but firm reminder that Hotch was giving Spencer space to be honest.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the conversation hanging over him. He knew what Hotch was expecting, what he should say, but the truth was harder to face than he anticipated.

“I’ll talk to someone,” Spencer finally said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair in a tired gesture. His voice was laced with reluctance, but there was a genuine attempt to reassure his boss. “I promise.”

Hotch studied him for a moment longer, the skepticism clear in his eyes, though he didn’t vocalize it. He knew Spencer well enough to recognize when he was pushing something down, burying it beneath layers of self-control and avoidance. And as much as Hotch wanted to push further, he also knew that Spencer was an adult—one who had to take ownership of his own emotions.

“Alright,” Hotch finally said, his tone even. “I’m trusting you to handle this, Spencer. Don’t let it get worse.”

Spencer nodded, though a small part of him wasn’t sure if he’d follow through. But the weight of Hotch’s gaze made it clear that this conversation wouldn’t be forgotten easily.

Hotch gave a final nod, his demeanor softening just slightly as he spoke. “Take care of yourself, Reid.”

Spencer forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I will,” he said, though the truth of the promise felt heavy.

With that, the conversation ended, and Spencer made his way out of Hotch’s office, feeling the quiet pressure of everything that had built up inside him over the past few weeks. He knew he had to do something about it—he had to talk to you, or someone, before this spiral led him further down a path he didn’t want to follow.

For now, though, he’d keep the promise to himself, hoping that he’d find the strength to follow through.

—

Spencer had barely set foot through the door before you were there to greet him, your usual warmth and love surrounding him as you kissed him softly, welcoming him home. But instead of the usual sense of relief he felt in your embrace, something inside him snapped. The frustration from the case, from everything that had been building inside him, surged to the surface.

Without thinking, Spencer grabbed your face, pulling you into a deep, urgent kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you were used to from him—it was rough, almost desperate. He devoured your mouth like he was trying to lose himself in you, his hands gripping you tighter than usual. You assumed it was just the result of a tough case, and maybe he just missed you. But something about the intensity of it was off.

As Spencer’s hands tugged at the hem of your shirt, right there in the walkway by the front door, you tried to pull back slightly to ask him if everything was okay. But he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care—because he kept tugging, his fingers working to get your shirt over your head.

You let him pull it off, still unsure of what was going on but trusting that Spencer wouldn’t act like this without reason. Maybe he just needed you, needed to feel close to you. But when he backed you towards the bedroom with that same roughness, something in the pit of your stomach twisted with unease.

Then, when he pushed you onto the bed—aggressively, without the usual care he always showed—alarm bells started ringing in your head.

"Spencer!" you called out, your voice louder than intended, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

But Spencer didn’t stop. If he noticed your tone, he either misread it or ignored it, because he crawled over you, his hands fumbling with your pants now, too focused on what he was doing to realize you were uncomfortable.

Panic set in then. This wasn’t your Spencer. He had never acted like this before. You pushed at his hands, your heart racing as you called out again, louder this time.

“Spencer, stop!” you shouted, finally shoving his hands away from your waist.

Spencer froze, his body going rigid above you as your words seemed to cut through the fog of whatever had taken over him. His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the mix of confusion and shame washing over his face as he registered what you had said.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked, your voice breathless but firm, your hands still on his chest to keep some distance between you.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything. He looked away, the sting of rejection clear in the way his shoulders slumped and his hands fell limply to his sides. “Nothing,” he muttered, his voice quiet and defensive.

You sat up, pulling your shirt back on, your concern growing with every second that passed. “It’s obviously something, Spence. You’ve never acted like this before.”

Spencer kept his eyes down, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I just missed you,” he mumbled, though you could tell there was more to it than that. The way he was avoiding your eyes, the tension in his body—it all told you that this wasn’t just about missing you.

You reached for his hand, gently pulling him to sit down on the bed beside you. “I know you missed me,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone calm and reassuring. “But this isn’t like you. Please, talk to me.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might stay silent. But then, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if he was trying to push away whatever emotions were swirling inside him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted quietly, his voice thick with frustration. “I’ve just… I’ve been feeling so off lately. Angry. Insecure. And I keep telling myself not to, but… I can’t stop thinking about Sean, and how he looks at you, and how much better he is at everything, and—” He stopped abruptly, his hands clenching into fists in his lap as he tried to control the storm of emotions building inside him.

You blinked, finally starting to piece together the reason behind his behavior. “Spence, this is about Sean?”

Spencer’s shoulders sagged, his silence confirming your suspicions. He finally looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw all the fear, jealousy, and insecurity he had been trying to hide for weeks.

“I know it’s stupid,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you love me, and I know he’s just a bartender at your club, but… I can’t stop feeling like I’m not enough. Like you’ll realize you could have someone… better.”

Your heart broke at his words. You cupped his face gently, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Spencer,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “You are more than enough. I love you. There is no one better for me. Sean is just a coworker. You’re the man I want, please believe me.”

Spencer sat back on his heels, looking down at his hands, feeling the weight of his own frustration and shame. He had never wanted to make you uncomfortable, never wanted to act like this, but the jealousy that had been building inside him finally broke through. Now, here he was, on the edge of ruining something so precious to him.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we talked about it, and I know you don’t see Sean that way. It’s just… it’s so hard, watching him flirt with you every day. And you don’t stop him. It feels like… like I’m not enough.”

You sat up, still catching your breath from the intensity of the moment, but your heart ached hearing his words. You hadn’t realized how deep his insecurities ran. The playful flirting from Sean, which you had brushed off as part of the job, had been festering inside Spencer for weeks, and you hadn’t seen it.

“Spencer, baby,” you started, your voice gentle but firm as you reached for his hand. “You are enough. More than enough. I don’t let him flirt with me because I want him to, or because I’m interested. It’s his job to be friendly, charming even, but that’s all it is. I don’t see Sean the way I see you. I only have eyes for you.”

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But what if one day… what if one day you change your mind?” he asked softly, the fear evident in his voice. “What if one day, you find someone who’s more… experienced, more everything?”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “That’s not going to happen, Spencer,” you said firmly. “I love you. Not because of experience, or because of anything physical, but because of who you are. You’re kind, brilliant, thoughtful, and you make me happier than I’ve ever been. No one else even comes close.”

Spencer swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to… to act like that. I just—I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You stroked his cheek, offering him a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “But we need to talk about these things, okay? If you’re feeling like this, I want to know. I don’t want you to keep it bottled up until it explodes like this.”

Spencer nodded, his head dipping down as he let out a shaky breath. “I know. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”

“You’re not weak, Spencer,” you said softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

He let out a long sigh, his body finally relaxing as the tension drained out of him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin.

“I love you too, Spencer,” you whispered back, holding him just as tightly. "Always."

Later that evening, after Spencer had unpacked his things and taken a long, soothing bath, the two of you settled onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie playing softly in the background. The warm, familiar glow of your living room felt comforting, but you couldn’t help but notice how hesitant Spencer was. He sat beside you, his body tense, his hands resting awkwardly in his lap, as though he was afraid to touch you. 

It broke your heart to see him like this, to see him so uncertain. You knew he still felt guilty about what had happened earlier, worried that he had somehow ruined everything.

“Honey,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. “You can still hold me, you know… or if you’d rather, do you want me to hold you?”

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitation. But then, slowly, he nodded, his expression softening as he shifted on the couch. He leaned over, laying his head gently in your lap, and you couldn’t help but smile at how vulnerable and sweet he looked in that moment.

As soon as his head was settled, you instinctively began playing with his hair, your fingers threading through the soft strands as you stroked him gently. You felt him relax under your touch, his body finally easing into the comfort of your presence.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice soothing as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. “Earlier, I was worried because we haven’t gone that far before. That doesn’t mean I never want you to touch me again. Okay? I just want us to be on the same page, to make sure we’re both ready.”

He nodded again, his face nestled against your thigh as he let out a soft sigh. “I get it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to push you or anything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling.”

You leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. “I know, baby. And we’ll figure it out together, at our own pace. There’s no rush.”

Spencer shifted slightly, looking up at you with soft, grateful eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “For being so understanding.”

You smiled warmly, leaning down to kiss his forehead once more. “I’ll always understand, Spence. You never have to be afraid of that.”

As you continued to play with his hair, Spencer closed his eyes, letting the comfort of the moment wash over him. You could feel the tension in his body melt away, and soon enough, he was relaxed and peaceful, knowing that everything between you two was going to be okay.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Spencer felt like he could truly breathe again.

—

You had taken a Friday night off to be with Spencer, trusting your number two to keep things running smoothly. Spencer had taken you to dinner, wined and dined you before bringing you home and kissing you sweetly. Now the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate atmosphere around you both. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, tender and slow, taking your time with each other. Spencer’s hands had wandered, tentative at first, but growing more confident as the moments passed. You had already reassured him a dozen times over that you were ready, that this was something you wanted to share with him.

And now, the moment was here. You laid in front of him, completely bare, your skin bathed in the soft light. Spencer’s eyes roamed over your body, wide and filled with awe. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands shaking slightly as they reached out to touch you. He was gentle, reverent, as though he were afraid of hurting you by merely looking.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his fingertips ghosted over your skin. He took his time, memorizing every curve, every line, as if he wanted to commit every inch of you to memory.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection as you leaned down to kiss him. “Thank you, baby.”

Spencer swallowed hard, still staring in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re perfect.”

You laughed softly, your heart swelling with warmth. "I’m not perfect, Spence."

He looked at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "You are to me," he said, his voice full of honesty and affection.

With only mild hesitation, Spencer leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone, his lips trailing slowly down to your breasts. He explored every inch of you with care, his lips brushing your skin tenderly. You couldn't help but let out soft whines of pleasure, and Spencer, trying to learn what you like, paid extra attention when your sounds grew louder, lingering in the spots that made your breath hitch.

As your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, gripping softly, Spencer's teeth accidentally grazed your nipple when his lips suctioned to your breast. The unexpected sensation caused you to arch your back and moan loudly, the sound filling the quiet room.

Spencer immediately pulled back, his face filled with concern, eyes wide in alarm. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His voice was thick with worry, afraid he had crossed a line.

You shook your head quickly, reassuring him as your hands stroked his hair gently. "No, no, baby, I liked it," you whispered, your breath still shaky from the pleasure. "It's okay. It felt good."

Relief washed over Spencer’s face, his lips curling into a small, nervous smile as he realized he hadn’t hurt you. He leaned back in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and this time, he allowed himself to explore you with even more confidence, knowing that you were both in this together.

Spencer froze for a moment, his eyes wide with concern, his breath shaky as he pulled back just enough to search your face. His brow furrowed, worry evident in every inch of his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. His hands hovered over your body, not daring to touch you until he knew for certain that you were alright. 

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection at just how much he cared. Reaching up, you gently brushed a hand through his hair, guiding him back toward you. “I’m sure, Spence. I liked it, I promise,” you whispered reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me. In fact, I liked it a lot.”

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, still looking for any signs of discomfort, but all he found was warmth and trust. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, the tension in his body easing as he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, though his face softened with a hint of relief. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, pulling him closer, your hands threading through his hair again, this time more gently. “You don’t have to apologize,” you murmured against his lips. “I love everything you do, Spencer. Just… trust me, okay? Trust that I’ll tell you if something is wrong.”

He nodded, still looking a little unsure but reassured by the sincerity in your voice. His eyes softened as he leaned back down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before trailing them once more along your collarbone, and then lower, toward your chest. This time, there was a careful gentleness in his touch, though the intensity hadn’t faded.

You arched your back again, your body responding to his kisses, to the way his lips brushed against your skin with both tenderness and a growing confidence. As he felt you grip his hair again, Spencer’s lips paused just for a moment, as if waiting for any sign that you weren’t comfortable. But when your soft moans filled the room, he took that as all the permission he needed to continue.

His lips pressed harder, his hands exploring your body with more intent, and this time, when his teeth grazed your skin, he did it purposefully, testing the boundaries of your pleasure.

And when you moaned again, louder this time, Spencer felt a surge of something—both pride and desire—swell inside him. He kissed you again, his lips and teeth finding the spots that made your breath hitch, his hands moving with a confidence that he hadn’t known he possessed until now.

In that moment, you both shared something deeper, a connection that wasn’t just about trust but about exploring each other fully, knowing that in this space, in this moment, there was nothing but love, vulnerability, and acceptance.

—

The bookstore was a haven of calm, a peaceful retreat from the world. The scent of old paper, leather-bound books, and the soft rustle of pages being turned created an atmosphere of quiet serenity. It was the perfect place for you and Spencer to spend the afternoon. 

From the moment you walked in, hand in hand, you could see how at home Spencer felt here. His eyes lit up with excitement as he scanned the shelves, fingers trailing over spines as if each book held a personal story he was waiting to uncover. You loved watching him like this—so in his element, so absorbed in his passion for knowledge and discovery.

But, of course, the playful side of you couldn’t resist adding a bit of mischief to the day. As Spencer dove headfirst into the non-fiction section, his attention already lost in the spines of ancient history volumes, you snuck off into a different aisle, peeking around the corner like a spy on a secret mission. You had been teasing him since you arrived—jumping out at him from behind shelves, sneaking little pokes and playful scares.

You watched from your hiding spot, stifling a giggle as Spencer carefully examined a thick book, oblivious to your plan. His brow furrowed in concentration, a small smile playing on his lips as he skimmed the pages. You took the opportunity to tiptoe closer, hiding behind a row of shelves, waiting for the perfect moment.

Finally, when Spencer rounded the corner, deep in thought about which book to buy next, you jumped out, arms raised in mock menace. “Gotcha!” you shouted with glee.

Spencer yelped, his eyes going wide in surprise as he stumbled back a step. For a split second, his brain went into overdrive, trying to process the sudden "threat." But then, his startled expression melted into laughter. “You’re ridiculous!” he chuckled, shaking his head at you, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, your giggles filling the quiet space between the rows of books. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug, your face pressing against his chest as you felt his warmth seep into you. 

“Maybe,” you said with a grin, looking up at him, “but you love it.”

Spencer’s smile softened, his arms coming around you as he held you close. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “I do,” he murmured, his voice gentle, full of affection. “I really do.”

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, the world fading away as the quiet of the bookstore enveloped you. Spencer's hand moved up to your back, rubbing slow circles as you soaked in the comfort of the moment. There was something magical about being here together, surrounded by the books he loved and the peaceful intimacy of just being with each other.

After a few moments, you pulled back slightly, your playful grin returning. “Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, “what book are we getting?”

Spencer's eyes lit up again, and he immediately turned his attention back to the stack of books he had been eyeing. "Well," he began, his voice taking on that enthusiastic tone you loved so much, "I’ve been looking at this one on the history of cryptography. It has some fascinating insights into early codebreaking techniques used in ancient times, and—" He caught himself, his eyes flickering to yours as he smiled sheepishly. “But I’m not sure you want to hear me ramble about that.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him and placing your hand on his arm. “I always want to hear you ramble, Spence,” you said sincerely. “Tell me all about it.”

His eyes softened, and for the next few minutes, he explained the intricacies of the book, his voice animated and full of passion. You listened intently, loving every second of seeing him so in his element.

After Spencer finished his enthusiastic information dump, the way his eyes lit up while talking about cryptography and ancient codebreaking made your heart swell. You couldn't resist the urge any longer. Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips pressing softly against his, filled with all the affection you felt in that moment.

Spencer blinked in surprise, a grin slowly spreading across his face as you pulled back. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone playful, though his cheeks flushed pink from the unexpected kiss.

You shook your head, smiling warmly as you looked into his eyes. “I just love you so much,” you said softly, feeling your chest fill with warmth at how easy it was to be with him, how completely in love with him you were in moments like this.

His grin softened into something more tender, and his hand found yours on the table, squeezing it gently. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and that same vulnerability that always made your heart flutter.

—

The next time you found yourselves in an intimate position, the energy was different. The tables had turned, and now it was Spencer’s turn to be vulnerable, to bare himself completely to you. As you stood together in the hallway, you could feel the shift in the air, the weight of the moment pressing softly between you two. 

“Spence, are you sure?” you asked gently, guiding him by the hands into the bedroom, your fingers brushing lightly over his knuckles. “There’s no rush, baby. We can take our time.”

Spencer paused, meeting your gaze with a nervous but determined smile. His heart was pounding, but he trusted you—more than anything. “Yeah,” he said, giving you a small nod. His voice trembled slightly with nerves, but his eyes were soft with affection. “You showed me yours, I’ll show you mine, right?” He laughed, albeit a bit awkwardly, trying to lighten the tension.

You smiled back, your heart swelling with love for him. “Exactly,” you said softly. “But only if you’re ready.”

He nodded again, more confidently this time. “I’m ready.”

Once inside the bedroom, the atmosphere felt warmer, more intimate. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the space, and as you stood in front of Spencer, you gently reached for the buttons on his shirt. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling quickly as you carefully unbuttoned the fabric, your fingers brushing over his skin as you went. 

With each button undone, you let your hands glide over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. You couldn’t resist the urge to lightly trace the curve of his sides, your touch featherlight as you tickled him just enough to make him giggle.

Spencer’s reaction was instant—his eyes squeezed shut as a small, surprised laugh escaped him, his hands quickly grabbing yours to still them. “Behave,” he playfully warned, his face flushed but full of affection.

You laughed softly, loving the way his guard was down, how he trusted you so completely in this moment. “Sorry,” you teased, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his collarbone, your lips brushing against the smooth skin. “I couldn’t resist.”

He let out a soft hum, his fingers still holding yours but more gently now, as if to anchor himself. He was nervous, you could tell, but he was also present, allowing himself to be open with you in a way that made your heart swell.

As you helped him slip off his shirt completely, you took a step back, your eyes scanning his body with nothing but admiration. Spencer’s vulnerability in this moment only made you love him more. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but he was doing this for you, for both of you, and that meant the world.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice sincere as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. “You don’t have to be nervous with me, Spence. I love all of you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, the tension in his body easing slightly as your words settled over him. He leaned into your touch, his hands resting gently on your waist as he let out a small, relieved breath. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of gratitude and affection. “And I love you, too.”

Spencer took a deep breath as you carefully removed the last of his clothing, leaving him completely bare before you. The tension in the room was palpable, but you couldn't resist easing it with a light-hearted joke. “Can I look this time?” you asked with a teasing grin.

Spencer laughed, the sound nervous but genuine, and it was enough to break the heavy silence hanging over you both. “Yes,” he replied, his voice still a bit shaky. “You can look.”

So look you did, your eyes trailing down his body with genuine admiration. And when your gaze settled, you couldn’t help but let out a playful gasp, your tone incredulous. “You’ve been hiding this from me? Are you kidding, Spencer?”

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face for a brief second. “What? Is it… is it bad?” His voice trembled, the insecurities he’d tried so hard to suppress bubbling up to the surface again.

You immediately shook your head, moving closer to him, gently pushing him to lie back on the bed as you sat beside him. “No, baby, it’s not bad,” you reassured him softly. Your hand reached out, wrapping around him gently, and Spencer’s body tensed at the sensation. “It’s really not bad.”

“Ah—fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips instinctively bucked upward. It was the first time he had ever felt someone else touch him like this, and the overwhelming sensation sent shivers through his entire body. His breath hitched, and his hands fisted in the sheets, the intensity of the moment almost too much for him.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, your thumb gently brushing over his tip as you whispered, “You are so pretty, baby.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, his face flushing as he absorbed your words. The mix of vulnerability and pleasure left him almost speechless, his mind reeling as you continued to touch him, each movement slow and careful. He had never felt anything like this before, and the way you handled him with such care only made him fall even more in love with you.

As your hand moved with gentle strokes, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering between kisses, “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

Spencer’s groans turned softer, his body melting into the bed beneath you as he let go of his fear, letting himself trust in you completely. “I love you,” he murmured breathlessly, his voice laced with both awe and gratitude.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, knowing that this was more than just a physical connection—it was a moment of deep trust and love between you both.

You took your other hand, softly stroking Spencer's thighs, your fingers trailing gently over his strong, lean muscles. His body, always so unassuming beneath his clothes, was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. The way his thighs tensed under your touch made your mouth water, a thrill running through you as you explored this new side of him.

“Your body is so beautiful, Spencer,” you murmured, your voice tender and full of affection. “I hope you never hide it from me again.”

Spencer’s breath hitched at your words, his face flushed as his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, but also a growing confidence, fueled by the love and desire you showered him with. “I-I didn’t know,” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, “that you’d think that.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his thigh, feeling his body tense beneath your lips. “Well, I do. And I always will.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hand reaching out to grip your arm, needing something to ground himself as the intensity of your touch overwhelmed him. “You’re… amazing,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you continued to caress him.

You smiled against his skin, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. “I’m just showing you what you deserve, Spence.”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as your hand shifted from his thigh to gently cup his balls, rolling them softly between your fingers. His breath stuttered, and his body instinctively arched off the bed, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white as he fought to hold on for just a moment longer, but it was no use. His back arched further, his hips jerking as he reached his peak, a loud, unrestrained moan escaping his lips as he came.

“There you go, baby,” you whispered softly, your voice soothing, filled with nothing but love and reassurance. “Let it go.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over him. He felt vulnerable, exposed, but not in the way that used to scare him. This time, it was different. This time, he felt safe with you, completely open and raw, knowing you wouldn’t judge him.

He tried not to feel embarrassed as the aftershocks pulsed through him, knowing full well he didn’t last long—especially not when it was you touching him like this. But there was something comforting in the way you held him, in the way your hands never faltered, even in moments like this. You didn’t mind.

And that reassurance made all the difference.

As he slowly came down from his high, Spencer let out a long, deep sigh, his body sinking into the bed beneath him. He blinked up at you, his cheeks still flushed, his breath still uneven. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t last long again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but there was less hesitation this time.

You smiled gently, brushing a hand through his messy hair and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Spence,” you said softly, your tone full of affection. “You know I don’t mind. I love you exactly the way you are.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at your words, the lingering tension in his body slowly dissipating. He gave you a small, shy smile, his hand finding yours and squeezing it lightly. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

You lay beside him, pulling him into your arms as his body finally relaxed, his breathing evening out. You continued to stroke his hair, the gentle rhythm calming him as you whispered sweet reassurances. And in that moment, Spencer realized just how lucky he was—to have you, to feel this safe, and to be loved in a way he had never known before.

—

It was the kind of lazy Sunday morning that begged you to stay in bed, curled up in soft blankets with no obligations pulling you away. The sun streamed lazily through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room, but the promise of fresh pastries and coffee was too tempting to ignore. The two of you reluctantly peeled yourselves from the comfort of the bed, Spencer stretching languidly while you threw on something cozy for your impromptu breakfast outing.

The local bakery was a short walk away, and as you strolled hand-in-hand, the air crisp with a touch of autumn, you could smell the fresh bread and sweet confections wafting through the air long before you even arrived. The warm scent wrapped around you like a comforting hug, and Spencer squeezed your hand gently, smiling down at you as the two of you walked in step, enjoying the quiet simplicity of the moment.

Once you stepped inside, the small bakery was bustling, the display case filled with perfectly baked croissants, éclairs, and muffins, each one more enticing than the last. You and Spencer made your way to the counter, excitedly picking out a selection of pastries along with two steaming cups of coffee.

After grabbing your tray of treats, you found a little table tucked in the corner by the window, where the morning light spilled across the tabletop, catching the powdered sugar that had already dusted the surface. You sat down, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as the two of you settled into your seats, a quiet bubble of comfort surrounding you amidst the hum of the bakery.

The moment felt perfect, simple in its beauty, as you and Spencer started tearing into the pastries, the flaky layers scattering crumbs across the table. You picked up a piece of your croissant, the sweet filling spilling out, and with a playful grin, you held it up to Spencer’s lips. 

“Here, try this,” you said, your eyes twinkling with amusement as you offered him the bite.

Spencer leaned forward, always eager to try something you loved, but as he took a bite, he purposefully let some of the creamy filling smear across his lips. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking your head as you leaned over the table to wipe it away with your thumb. 

“Messy,” you teased, your voice full of affection as you swiped the pastry cream from his lips.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, am I?” he said with a grin, and before you had a chance to react, he swiped some frosting from the sticky cinnamon roll and playfully dabbed it on your cheek.

“Now you’re messy,” he declared triumphantly, his smile widening as he watched your eyes go wide in surprise.

You gasped dramatically, reaching up to touch your cheek and finding the sticky frosting smeared across your skin. “Spencer!” you protested, laughing as you grabbed a napkin to clean yourself up, but not before flicking a tiny crumb in his direction in retaliation.

He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! No more food fights,” he said, though the grin on his face made it clear he was enjoying every second of your playful exchange.

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the kind of uninhibited joy that made your sides ache and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the crumbs covering the table, not the frosting still clinging to your face, not even the curious glances from the other patrons. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own world of love, playfulness, and laughter.

—

The local library had always been Spencer's sanctuary, a place where he found comfort in the stillness, surrounded by shelves filled with knowledge, each book a portal to another world. He had spent countless hours there over the years, developing close bonds with the librarians who worked there. So, when the head librarian’s birthday party was being celebrated, Spencer was eager to bring you along, excited to introduce you to the people who had been a significant part of his life for so long.

As you walked through the library doors, Spencer’s hand tightly holding yours, you could sense how much this place meant to him. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a lightness in his step that spoke of his deep connection to this space. The library wasn’t just a building filled with books—it was part of his identity, a place where he found peace, knowledge, and belonging.

The event itself was small, intimate, just a gathering of close friends, staff, and patrons who knew the librarian well. Balloons were strung around the circulation desk, and a small table was set up with cupcakes and tea. The room buzzed softly with the chatter of people who clearly adored each other, and the air was filled with the smell of old books and sugary sweetness. It was simple, but it felt special, like you had stepped into a warm, welcoming corner of Spencer’s world.

As you entered, Spencer’s excitement was palpable. He gently tugged you along, his face beaming as he navigated the crowd with ease, weaving through the maze of bookshelves toward a small group of people near the front desk. The closer you got, the more you could feel his pride radiating from him.

Finally, you reached the librarian, a kind-faced woman in her sixties who immediately lit up when she saw Spencer. She welcomed him with open arms and a big smile. “Spencer!” she exclaimed warmly, her eyes twinkling with genuine affection. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Spencer smiled back, his hand never leaving yours as he took a step closer. “Of course,” he replied, his voice soft but full of enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t miss it.” Then, with a hint of excitement, he turned to you, his eyes sparkling with joy. “This is Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with love and pride as he introduced you. “I’ve been dying to introduce her to you.”

You could feel the weight of those words, how much it meant to him that you were there with him in this special place, sharing a piece of his world.

The librarian turned to you, her warm smile widening as she reached out to shake your hand. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she said with a knowing grin, her eyes flicking back to Spencer for a moment. “He never stops talking about how wonderful you are.”

Spencer blushed instantly, the pink flush creeping up his cheeks as he squeezed your hand just a little tighter, embarrassed but clearly proud at the same time. “She’s pretty amazing,” he said softly, glancing at you with such affection that it made your heart swell.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, your chest fluttering with warmth and love. In that small, cozy room filled with Spencer’s friends and colleagues, you felt like you were truly a part of his world, welcomed into the parts of him that were private, cherished, and deeply personal.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in easy conversation, with Spencer introducing you to more of the people who had become like family to him over the years. You could see how much they cared for him, how deeply they admired his intelligence and gentle nature, and how excited they were to meet you. Every introduction was filled with kind words and warm smiles, and each time Spencer’s hand remained in yours, his grip a reassuring constant, a reminder that this moment was as important to him as it was to you.

Later, as you both stood by the cupcake table, Spencer absentmindedly brushing crumbs off your chin from the chocolate cupcake you’d indulged in, you caught him watching you with a soft, almost reverent expression. “What?” you asked, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks under his gaze.

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a tender smile. “I’m just really happy you’re here,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible above the low hum of chatter in the room.

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “I’m happy to be here,” you replied softly. “I love seeing this side of you, Spence.”

He leaned down and kissed you gently on the forehead, his thumb stroking your hand as he pulled back. “You’re a part of it now,” he whispered. “A part of all of this.”

And in that moment, you felt like you truly were. Spencer’s world, filled with books, warmth, and the people who had shaped him, now included you. You were building something beautiful together—slowly, steadily, and with every shared experience, you were growing closer, learning more about each other, and weaving your lives together in ways that felt as natural as breathing.

—

Spencer had returned to the nightclub feeling confident and secure in your relationship. After all the beautiful moments you had shared—bookstore dates, Sunday mornings filled with laughter and pastries, intimate nights spent wrapped in each other's arms—he thought nothing could come between you two. But as soon as he stepped back into the club, all of that confidence started to erode.

At first, Spencer tried to keep calm, to enjoy the night as just another visit to your world. He watched you from across the room, smiling and laughing with the staff and customers. But then his gaze landed on Sean, who was standing much too close to you, his body language too familiar, his laugh too casual and comfortable. Spencer’s stomach churned, but he kept it to himself, telling himself that it was just work—that Sean had no place in your personal life. 

But then it happened.

Spencer saw Sean’s hand casually smack your ass. You had your back to Spencer, so you couldn’t see his reaction, but you laughed at Sean’s action, clearly finding it harmless. You didn't think twice about it, but Spencer's vision blurred with a sudden surge of anger. His blood boiled, his breath caught in his chest, and every rational thought flew out of his mind. The sight of someone else—Sean, of all people—touching you like that felt like a punch to his gut.

Before he could stop himself, Spencer stormed across the club, his footsteps heavy with intent. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into tight fists as he closed the distance between you and Sean. He didn’t care about the crowd or how it might look. All he could see was red—his insecurities and fears bubbling up to the surface with a force he hadn’t expected.

By the time he reached you, Sean was laughing, clearly oblivious to the brewing storm that was Spencer. Without a word, Spencer grabbed Sean by the collar, pulling him toward him with more aggression than he’d ever shown before. The music in the club seemed to dim in Spencer’s ears, and the people around him faded into the background.

“Don’t you ever touch her like that again,” Spencer growled, his voice low and dangerous, the words spilling out before he could even process them.

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to see Spencer—his face twisted in anger, his usually calm and collected demeanor gone. You had never seen him like this before, never seen him this furious, this close to losing control. You quickly stepped between them, putting a hand on Spencer’s chest to stop him from doing something he’d regret.

“Spencer, stop!” you exclaimed, your voice laced with confusion and concern. “What are you doing?”

But Spencer’s gaze was locked on Sean, his grip on the bartender’s collar tight. Sean, for his part, looked stunned but didn’t fight back, raising his hands in defense.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, man,” Sean stammered, trying to defuse the situation. “It was just a joke.”

But to Spencer, it wasn’t a joke. It was a direct assault on everything he feared—the fear of not being enough, the insecurity that had been festering inside him since the day he first saw Sean. And now, all that pent-up jealousy and anger was pouring out in one destructive moment.

You could feel Spencer’s chest heaving beneath your hand, his breathing ragged as he stood there, frozen in his fury. Your heart raced, and you knew you needed to stop this before it escalated any further.

“Spence,” you said softly, trying to get through to him. “Baby, please let go. This isn’t you.”

For a long moment, it seemed like he hadn’t heard you, his eyes still boring into Sean’s. But then, slowly, the tension in Spencer’s body began to ease. His grip on Sean’s collar loosened, and finally, he let go, stepping back and running a shaky hand through his hair. His face was still flushed with anger, but the look in your eyes—hurt, confused, pleading—cut through the haze of his rage.

Spencer glanced between you and Sean, suddenly aware of what he’d done, of how far he’d let things go. Guilt washed over him like a cold wave, and he took a step back, his hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the thumping music. “I didn’t mean to…”

But the damage was done. You stood there, still in shock, trying to process what had just happened, while Sean backed away, clearly wanting to put some distance between himself and the situation.

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of what had just unfolded. Spencer—your Spencer—had never acted like this before. And as much as you wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, you couldn’t ignore the heaviness in your chest, the weight of what had just happened.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes wide with regret, but all you could do was stare back, unsure of what to say, unsure of what came next.

The tension in the air was palpable as security started making their way over, eyes locked on Spencer with the clear intent of handling the situation. Your heart sank even further, realizing that this night had spiraled so far out of control. Before you could say anything, Sean held up a hand to stop them. “It’s fine, Steve,” Sean sighed, shaking his head. “We’re good.”

But his words didn’t ease the knot in your chest. You looked at Sean, “Are you?” Then at Spencer, who stood there looking lost and ashamed. “Are we?” you muttered, your voice heavy with sadness. Without waiting for an answer, you turned on your heel and walked away, unable to even look at Spencer right now. The weight of his actions, of what had just happened, was too much to process in that moment.

Spencer’s heart dropped as he watched you walk away, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with every step you took. “Y/N! Please wait!” he called after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You were too overwhelmed, too upset. He chased after you, his feet moving quicker as the panic set in. “Sweetheart, please!” Spencer begged, following you all the way back into your office.

You stepped inside, your hands shaking as you slammed the door shut behind you. The lock clicked into place, but before Spencer could say another word, you whirled around, the anger and frustration bubbling over.

“He’s fucking gay, Spencer!” you yelled, the words coming out with a mix of hurt and exasperation.

Spencer froze, his face falling in utter confusion. “What?” he stammered, blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of what you just said.

“I didn’t tell you because it’s not my place,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of the emotions swirling inside you. “And frankly, it doesn’t fucking matter, but Jesus, Spencer!” You raised your hands in disbelief, the frustration too much to contain.

Spencer stood there, his mind racing as he tried to grasp what you were saying. “I—I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice weak, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know… I just, he slapped your—your butt, and I saw red. I lost control.”

You ran a hand over your arm, trying to calm yourself down, trying to make sense of why this had gotten so out of hand. Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there as you asked, “Spencer, you’ve seen my friends do it all the time. Hell, your team smacks your ass, and it’s all in good fun. How is it different?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes dropping to the floor as guilt washed over him. He didn’t have an answer—at least not one that made sense. The truth was, it wasn’t different. But somewhere in the haze of his jealousy and insecurity, he had convinced himself that Sean was a threat. That somehow, Sean’s friendship with you, the easy banter and playfulness between you two, meant he had something Spencer didn’t. And tonight, all of that had come crashing down in the worst way.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his shame. “I—I guess I just got scared. I got jealous. I didn’t think.”

You shook your head, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t think at all,” you muttered, your voice tinged with disappointment. “You didn’t trust me.”

Spencer winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him harder than any reprimand could. “I do trust you,” he said quickly, stepping forward, his hand reaching out for yours. “I trust you more than anyone. I just… I let my insecurities get the best of me. I know it was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, rubbing your temple as you tried to process everything. You wanted to believe him, to believe that this was just a one-time mistake, but the hurt still lingered. “Spencer, I love you,” you began, your voice softer now, but still firm. “But you can’t keep letting your insecurities drive you. I’ve told you time and time again—there’s no one else. No one but you.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I know that, I do. But when I saw that… when I saw him touch you, it just—everything I’ve been feeling came to the surface. And I’m so sorry I didn’t handle it better.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the desk, still trying to calm your racing heart. “You scared me, Spencer. I’ve never seen you act like that.”

He stepped closer, his face full of regret, his hand reaching out again as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to scare you. I just… I messed up. I know I did. Please, sweetheart, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t walk away from me.”

You looked at him, his eyes filled with guilt and desperation, and you knew he meant every word. Spencer was never one to lash out like this, never one to let his emotions get the best of him. But tonight, his insecurities had taken over, and now you both were left picking up the pieces.

After a long moment, you took a deep breath and nodded, your voice steady but still firm. “You need to work on this, Spencer. This jealousy, this need to protect me from something that isn’t even there. We can’t have this happen again.”

“I will,” he promised, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. “I swear to you, I’ll work on it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please… forgive me.”

"You need to go apologize to Sean," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "And maybe... maybe you should think about seeing a therapist or counselor. This—this kind of insecurity, it’s not healthy for you or for us."

Spencer nodded, his head hanging low as he absorbed your words. He knew you were right. He had let his own fears and jealousy take control, and now he was faced with the aftermath. "You're right," he repeated, his voice tired and remorseful. "You’re absolutely right."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. His mind was racing, filled with guilt and the weight of what he had done. He knew he had crossed a line, and it hurt to think that he had not only disrespected Sean but also hurt you in the process.

"I’ll go apologize right now," Spencer said, his voice steady, though there was a slight tremble beneath the surface. He looked at you, his eyes filled with regret, but also determination. He wanted to make this right. Not just for you, but for himself.

You gave him a small, encouraging nod, knowing that this was a step in the right direction. "Good," you replied quietly. "But Spence, don’t just apologize for what you did—make sure you understand why you did it. That’s the only way this is going to get better."

"I know," he said softly, his hand reaching out to take yours, squeezing gently. "I’ll fix this. I swear."

You watched as Spencer turned and walked toward the door, his shoulders slightly slumped with the weight of everything he had to face. As he left the office, you let out a long breath, hoping that this moment would be a turning point. For both of you.

Spencer walked up to the bar with hesitant steps, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of what he needed to do, the guilt and embarrassment swirling together in a tight knot in his stomach. As he reached the bar, he stood there for a moment, awkwardly waiting for Sean to notice him. His palms were sweaty, and he rubbed them against his jeans, trying to calm himself.

Finally, Sean approached, clearly still a bit shaken from the earlier confrontation, but his expression was guarded, more curious than angry. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer to speak.

“H–hi, Sean,” Spencer stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked up to meet Sean’s briefly before dropping back to the floor, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I… I am so sorry for what I did earlier.”

Sean’s face softened slightly, though his guard didn’t completely drop. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter, waiting for Spencer to continue.

“I completely overreacted,” Spencer admitted, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I let my jealousy get the best of me, and I said and did things I never should have. You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t… I didn’t even know the whole story, and I just assumed the worst.”

Sean stayed quiet for a moment, studying Spencer. He could see the sincerity in Spencer’s eyes, the regret etched in every line of his face. Finally, Sean let out a soft sigh, uncrossing his arms.

“Look, man,” Sean began, his tone more understanding than Spencer had anticipated. “I get it. I’ve seen guys lose it over jealousy before. But that doesn’t make what you did okay.”

Spencer nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “I know,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s not okay, and I regret it. Y/N means everything to me, and I let my insecurities cloud my judgment. I’m not trying to make excuses… I just wanted to apologize.”

Sean leaned back slightly, his arms resting on the bar as he gave Spencer a small, almost sympathetic smile. “I appreciate the apology,” he said. “Just… maybe work on not jumping to conclusions next time, alright?”

Spencer nodded vigorously, his heart still racing but relieved that Sean hadn’t completely written him off. “I will,” he promised, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “I’m going to talk to someone about it. I’m… I know I need to deal with this.”

Sean nodded, his expression easing a little more. “Good. And just so you know, man, I’m not interested in Y/N. Like, at all.” He gave Spencer a meaningful look, letting the words sink in.

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah… I, uh, I know now. I’m sorry I ever thought otherwise.”

Sean let out a small chuckle, shaking his head and gave Spencer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re good. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Thank you, Sean,” he said quietly, feeling a weight lift from his chest. “I really appreciate it.”

Sean offered a small smile in return. “No problem. Take care of her, alright?”

Spencer nodded again, his heart swelling with a renewed sense of determination. “I will,” he promised, meaning every word.

And with that, Spencer turned away from the bar, feeling lighter than he had when he’d first walked up. He still had a lot of work to do, but this was a start—a step in the right direction.

—

Spencer navigated his way carefully through the hallway, dodging the maze of moving boxes that now cluttered the apartment. The feeling of excitement from his therapy breakthrough still thrummed inside him as he called out for you. 

“Y/N!” he shouted, eager to share his day.

“In the bedroom!” your voice echoed back warmly.

As he pushed past the last of the boxes, Spencer entered the bedroom and found you sitting cross-legged on the floor. A box of printed photos lay open in front of you, and scattered around were dozens of pictures, some slightly faded with time, others bright and new. You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, your cheeks glowing from a mixture of nostalgia and emotion.

“What do you have there, sweetheart?” Spencer asked gently, his voice filled with warmth as he crouched down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You sniffled and smiled, holding up one of the photos—a snapshot of the two of you from a Sunday morning at the bakery, crumbs on your faces, laughing uncontrollably. “All of our memories,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I found this box while I was packing. I didn’t realize we had so many photos together.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at the sight of the old pictures and the happy tears in your eyes. He gently took the photo from your hand and studied it for a moment, the joy from that day flooding back to him. He remembered the way you had fed him pastries, how you had teased him for getting frosting on his nose, how perfect the world had felt in those little moments.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve made a lot of good memories, haven’t we?” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over the scattered photos.

You nodded, blinking back the tears as you picked up another picture—one from the bookstore, where you had sneakily snapped a photo of him deep in thought, completely absorbed in the world of books. “I never want to forget any of this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything the photos represented.

Spencer sat down beside you, his heart full as he looked over the memories you had collected. “Hey,” He said softly, taking your hand in his. “I had a breakthrough at therapy today.”

You looked up at him, your tear-filled eyes widening with interest. “You did?”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. I think I’m finally starting to understand where all that insecurity came from… and how to manage it better. I’ve still got a lot of work to do, but… I’m getting there.”

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, pride swelling in your chest. “Spence, that’s amazing,” you said, your voice filled with love and encouragement.

He squeezed your hand back, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve been so patient with me, even when I wasn’t always patient with myself.”

Your eyes widened at his words, the weight of the question sinking in as you looked up at Spencer. The room seemed to still for a moment, the sound of your breath catching in your throat the only noise breaking the silence. You blinked, trying to process what he had just asked, your heart racing in your chest.

“Will you marry me?” Spencer repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less certain. His eyes were filled with love, vulnerability, and a touch of nervousness, as if he’d been carrying this question for a while, waiting for the right moment to let it out.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time from pure joy. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you took in the sincerity of his expression. He wasn’t just asking for a promise—he was asking to continue writing the rest of your story together, side by side, forever.

You cupped his face with your hands, your heart swelling with love and excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer let out a breath he was holding, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he pulled you into a deep, heartfelt kiss. Relief, joy, and love coursed through him all at once, making the moment feel surreal. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let you go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were laughing through the tears, caught up in the magic of the moment.

“You really want to marry me?” you teased gently, your forehead pressed against his, your fingers lightly brushing his cheek.

“More than anything in this world,” Spencer said, his voice full of conviction. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you nodded, still in awe of how this moment had unfolded. “I want that too,” you whispered, “forever.”

Spencer kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the sweetness of the moment, the promise of a future filled with more memories, more laughter, more love. And as you sat there, surrounded by the snapshots of your shared past, you couldn’t help but feel excited for all that was yet to come.

You pulled back from the kiss, a playful glint in your eyes. “And hey,” you teased, running a hand through his hair, “maybe you can wear white at the wedding.” Your smirk deepened as you watched Spencer’s expression shift from one of love to amusement.

Spencer threw his head back, laughing loudly, the sound filling the room and making your heart flutter. You always loved how his laugh could light up any space. “I have one problem with your plan,” he said, still chuckling, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? What’s that, honey?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, fully enjoying the banter between you two.

Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and full of playful confidence as he said, “I don’t plan on being pure for much longer.”

You burst into laughter, your cheeks flushed from both the teasing and the thrill of the moment. “Oh, is that so?” you teased, leaning into him, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”

Spencer grinned, his blush deepening as he kissed you again, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “I guess we will,” he murmured against your lips, his tone both playful and full of promise. 

The two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the lightness of the moment mingling with the deep love you shared. It was another memory added to the many you had created together, and you couldn’t help but feel that your future, together as partners, was only just beginning.

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[hallowxiu]

How the Brothers Would Deal with MC's Mortality

Mammon:

You casually brought it up as a joke

Probably something like “i’m here for a good time, not a long time” or “why should i care what happens in 100 years? It’s not like i’ll be around to care”

Would probably confuse Mammon at first as to why you wouldn’t be around, but he would put the pieces together in the middle of the night when trying to sleep.

A whole, eyes snapping wide opening and flinging out of his bed kind of moment.

Mammon would worry himself sick

Yes, he knows humans can die, hell, he used to mock you for being so frail when you first came to the Devildom, but now? 

Well, now things are different. How he feels about you is different

He's spending all his money on ways to keep you kicking longer. 

Anything he can think of that’ll help, he’s buying it. Vegetables, fruits, protein powder, comfortable clothes, a nice pillow, vitamins, shampoos- anything. He has no idea where to start, so he just starts grabbing everything. 

I mean, something will have to help, right? 

If you notice he looks panicked, don’t point it out, it’ll only make it worse. Unless you want to be smothered to death from his affection and worry, then by all means. ;)

Leviathan:

Look, he can barely handle his favorite anime characters dying, so you? Yeah, no, that’s way too much. 

Nothing actually popped up to remind Leviathan of your mortality, it was because of Satan throwing his books all around the house that did it. 

Suddenly, it was all he could think about. How did he not think of this before? 

Leviathan is no Satan though, and he’s certainly not Lucifer. Researching medical documents and trying to think of things to keep you alive longer are a little over his head. That being said, there were some things he could do.

Leviathan dove into his own research that would be within his realm of understanding, studying that humans who have more positive mindsets and who are less exposed to depressing forms of media, may live longer than the average person. This- this was something he could work with. 

Suddenly, you were constantly being invited to his room, Leviathan having a variety of slice-of-life anime for you to watch with him, all of which had happy endings to boot. If an anime was even remotely depressing, he made sure to keep that out of reach. 

Video games? He’s keeping it safe; he’s not risking anything here. If it’s not similar to Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, Dreamlight Valley, or The Sims (which must be on a good day), you’re just not playing it. Kingdom Hearts if you’re lucky. 

Satan:

Would do an insane amount of research 

Likely overheard the topic on a news segment about the tragically short lifespans of humans before it all clicked together.

Satan, unlike the other brothers, has never experienced death before, so while it sounds silly, he never had reason to think of you dying.

Looks up humans who had long lifespans to see how he can implement those things into your lifestyle.

Books will be littered everywhere (although that’s not really unusual, but what is would be the topic of said books- The Long Lives of Humans, Human Lifestyle for Dummies 101, The Road to Human Immortality, etc. etc.)

This is when Satan learns just how easy it is for a human to kick the bucket.

Heart attacks, brain aneurysms, strokes, seizures, cancer, the list goes on and on and it’s starting to scare him. He didn’t know humans could just drop dead. 

He’s going to start researching curses to increase your lifespan, or at the very least he’s going to make sure you’re careful as hell. 

You won’t even get as much as a cut without him being aware of it; he’s going to hover around and mother hen the absolute shit out of you. 

Try not to get too annoyed with him though, it all stems from good intentions. 

Asmodeus:

He’ll be damned if his shopping partner for life is going to die on him.

Asmo isn’t stupid; if anything he’s pretty emotionally aware. He's known for a long time just how short the lifespan of humans is.

But still, it came in the form of a nightmare. One where he couldn’t save you, despite giving his best efforts. The way you died was tragic, long before your life should have ended. 

This sent Asmo somewhat into a frenzied state trying to find things to keep you alive once he woke up. 

Vitamins, vitamins, vitamins

Humans benefit from vitamins, right? Surely you’d benefit from Devildom vitamins then. If it’ll increase the lifespan of a demon, he sees no reason why it wouldn’t increase your lifespan. 

Of course, it really only gives you nicer nails and shinier hair. 

He’s 10x more intense with your morning and night routines. 

He will be unloading all his facial creams on you, and telling you the benefits of each one and how it might add a few years to your lifespan. 

You want to stay up late at night to finish homework? Maybe watch a movie? Yeah, no, not on Asmo’s watch. 

Your ass is going to bed every night at 10pm, right along with him. You do realize you’ll be getting exactly 8 hours of sleep each night, too, right? 

Beelzebub:

Regarding his trauma with Lilith, it came as no surprise when he started to fret over your well-being. 

Poor Beel saw an article that discussed how tragically easy it is for a human to die. The cherry on top? How they could die from simply overeating. 

Overeating isn’t a concept Beel is overly familiar with (because to him, it’s never overeating), and while he knew most people couldn’t keep up with his eating habits, he didn’t think it could actually cause harm to a human, let alone kill them. 

Grocery trips are now a more anxiety-inducing event. 

He’s suddenly paranoid that any of the Devildom food could and will kill you. Are you allergic to anything? How would you even know? 

What if one day he serves you his favorite boiled dragonhead and you just drop dead at the dinner table?? No, that will never do. 

There’s a list of Devildom foods that he knows for sure you can have without dying, but then comes the issue of portion control. How much is too much for a human? 

Beelzebub swore he would never lose another loved one again, and it’s a promise he intends to keep. From now on, you will only eat what he deems safe. 

You want to try a new food in the Devildom that you’ve never had before? You better get some seriously good convincing skills if you want him to cave in. For someone who only ever thinks with his stomach, he’s surprisingly stubborn. 

Belphegor:

He’s still plagued with nightmares about Lilith, especially since he still thinks it’s his fault. Tack that on to the way he blamed you and the rest of the human race for it? The man is walking trauma. 

 Like Asmodeus, this was brought on by nightmares about you dying. Different from Asmo’s, however, you usually died by his hand. Naturally, considering your tumultuous history. 

Belphegor, unlike his brothers, takes a different approach. He just doesn’t approach you at all. 

What better way to keep your lifespan long than by staying away from you altogether? 

Is it something that he wants? Of course not! But how can he trust himself to never hurt you again? To never kill you again. 

He can’t. 

So, he locks himself away in his room, sleeping most of the day or just avoiding the areas you normally like to lounge. 

On a normal day, almost everyone in the household, including yourself, would notice this behavior change. However, since you’re now being cornered by all the brothers and their concerns about your lifespan, it’s easy for Belphegor’s absence to slip your mind. 

This hurts Belphegor, but at the end of the day, he believes this is for the best.

Lucifer: 

Lucifer didn’t need a reminder of your short lifespan; if anything, it’s something he’s thought plenty about. 

Lucifer has trauma, we all know that much. After Lilith, he’s absolutely terrified of losing another loved one to something outside of his control.

And your lifespan is not something that’s out of his control. At least not how he sees it, anyway. 

If you thought he was overbearing or overprotective before, brace yourself. He’s going to step it up several notches. 

No excess of junk food, no more pulling all-nighters, no more sitting around the house gaming all day, and definitely no more overexerting your use of magic. He’s no fool, he knows the toll your magic could eventually take on your body. 

Honestly? He wasn’t this bad until his brothers started to panic about your mortality, and though Lucifer told himself he was above such nonsense, he quickly found himself taking all the precautions they were taking (and then some). 

Fortunately, if you find yourself becoming overwhelmed, they’ll be more than willing to listen to you (granted you take some of their concerns into account).

[bubble-tea-blossom]

Hear me out fellow Joel sluts, the demon of horny hath possessed me.

Jackson era. Pure smut. Age gap. Frantic fucking on a couch. 18+ only.

Desperate not to cum, Joel thinks about what a terrible person he is.

I mean, he knows her parents for fuck’s sake. He’s over at their house on the regular. How the hell he’s supposed to look them in the eye now? Now after fucking their pretty little daughter like an animal on their own couch.

Joel has her on her back, her legs bouncing in the air while he fucks her in a mating press.

He likes it best this way. When he can get deep, grinding his pelvis against hers. He likes watching her cute face screw up in pleasure, her eyes and mouth popping open when he knocks on her cervix.

She claws at him, arching her back when he grinds even deeper,

“Fuck!” She cries. Joel stares at her lips, puffy and wet from when she sucked on his dick. She’s trembling now when Joel slides his cock in and out. In and out, he fucks her tight channel open with every thrust.

The girl is whining now, tears brimming in her big eyes as all she can do is lie there and take the brutal pounding from a man older than her father.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” she whispers, and indeed Joel can feel the walls of her tight little pussy start to flutter. Poor thing’s been put through the ringer tonight.

His mouth falls open in a groan. She feels heavenly, wrapped around his dick and pinned underneath him.

Shit this girl’s gonna drain his balls soon if he’s not careful. And Joel has no plan on this ending anytime soon.

So Joel thinks about what people would say if they found out. What they’d call him behind his back.

Dirty old man. Shit like that.

Joel’s finding it very hard to care when she finally cums. Her cunt squeezes around him like he tasered her. Her back arches as much as it can with all of his bulk pressing down on her.

Joel doesn’t let up his thrusts. No, he fucks her through her orgasm, pummeling her pussy with his cock, his balls slapping against the soaked skin of her asshole.

“Fuck pretty girl, you got a great pussy.” Joel grunts, feeling her tremble underneath him.

She gives a tired laugh, “Thanks.”

“Little thing takes me so well, stretches out nice for me.” He purrs, feeling his own orgasm pull low in his gut.

He slows his thrusts, wanting to savour this. The feeling of her warmth wrapped around him, her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. The smell of her neck when he sucks and licks.

Her little cunt, warm and wet and all for his taking.

Its too much. Without any further warning, Joel feels a familiar jolt in the base of his spine. He instinctually slams himself as deep as he can while his balls tighten and he pumps shot after shot of cum deep inside her.

The girl doesn’t react how Joel thought she would. She lies there, letting out a little moan at the feeling of his cock throbbing against her walls. It takes a few seconds until she looks up at him, her eyes wide,

“Wait what was that? Did you just cum?” She asks, her voice wavering.

Joel knew he was a bad man when the realization that he was the first man to paint her insides with his seed, makes him rut into her again. Giving short little thrusts, getting the last dregs of his cum inside her walls.

The girl gasps when Joel finally pulls out. He does so slowly, he knows he can be a lot to handle. Especially now that he’s rethinking how experienced she might be.

Breathing heavily, Joel rests with the tip of his cock still pressed against the girl’s seam. She sits up, trying to shift to better see herself. Joel watches with a soft groan when the pearly white fluid pools at the girl’s entrance, before spilling down.

Its thick. And there’s a lot. Joel’s not even sure when the last time he’d had an orgasm was but he must’ve been pretty backed up because now its at risk of staining her parent’s couch.

Joel gathers it with two fingertips, dragging his fingers up her slit before pushing back inside.

Her lip quivers and the shudder that passes through her is one of pleasure, especially when Joel starts to finger her with more rhythm. Pulling her libido back up of the floor, up and running again.

“I am sorry about that. Kinda came outta nowhere. I can get you anything you need.” Joel promises. His sentances are short, but the girl nods, the look on her face showing she understands.

“I might take you up on that,” she says with a sigh at the ministrations Joel’s laying on her.

“But first,” she moans, her knees falling wider, “my parent’s don’t get back til Monday.”

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

It’s wild how someone posted that Moo Deng post to reddit and someone responded with what basically amounted to:

“It’s fine because they only harass the baby hippo for a small amount of time during the day when they’re feeding them and the guy doing the chasing, poking and slapping has years of experience so it’s fine! :)”

That’s like if you ordered food delivery and instead of them leaving the food at your door, they barge into your house chasing you and smacking you while filming it on his phone before leaving. But it’s fine because they only did it a little bit, filming it for their social media and then leaving you alone!!! Oh yeah and the guy’s very experienced in food delivery, so he knows what he doing obviously!

I’m sorry but that’s the most pathetic excuse for shitty animal handling I’ve ever heard.

Anyway feel free to watch the videos and make up your own mind - I just don’t think any of this is reasonable. From the sheer volume of the crowds and the proximity of the public to the animals, to the keeper’s bullying and harassment of a hippo calf.

And even if it was play, which it isn’t. But let’s entertain the idea that it is… why are you teaching an animal that is going to grow up to be between 400-600lbs to bite and charge at you for fun?

[ponkydraws]

SUMMER SUCKS.

Yes, I said it, and now before you come at me for being a pessimistic piece of shit, lemme speak my mind.

Summer with autism is horrible. And I am tired of pretending like it’s this wonderful utopia when in fact it’s autistic hell for me.

So as an autistic teenager with ADHD, who has experienced 16 summers so far, I am here to tell you why it’s so difficult.

(Note that every autistic person is different, this is just my personal experience)

- the heat. Personally heat is a lot more unbearable than cold is, and I get overheated very quickly. I also struggle regulating my feelings as it is, and being in constant discomfort from an irregular heartbeat and clothes sticking to my body does *not* make it any easier.

- swimming. Now, swimming in itself is not bad, in fact I quite enjoy it. It’s the stuff around it - especially on the beach. I don’t like changing clothes, and I don’t like the feeling of wet clothes or wet swimwear. I hate the feeling of sand everywhere and the salt in the water hurts my eyes. You’re also expected to sunbathe on the beach for *hours* on end because “that’s how you spend your summer”. But I don’t like it at all. Yes, a bit of warmth is always appreciated, but laying in the sun for hours on end is painful and overstimulating beyond words.

- the light. I am very sensitive to light yet sunglasses don’t do it for me because of sensory issues. Which means that every time I step outside I’m subjected to painful light for hours on end (specifically when you’re forced out by your family)

- I don’t know why the entire animal kingdom has decided that I seem like a good contestant for their midday snack but I always find bites all over my body - and you guessed it - I’m overly sensitive to pain and itching.

- vacation. This is gonna sound spoiled and ungrateful but please hear me out here. Taking a week off to force the entire family together for the eternity of the vacation is hell. I need space. I need to breathe. Constantly being surrounded by people sends me into dissociation or meltdown, I cannot handle human interaction for so long with no break. It is exhausting and I’m expected to just accept it on top of everything else. I dread it. And while I do appreciate the time taken to have a fun time with all of us, I always feel like I’m trying harder to have fun than actually having fun.

- people pitying you. I constantly find myself being dragged into stuff by family and friends because they pity me, and my way of spending the summer. For some reason it’s unthinkable to a lot of them that I can actually enjoy the summer & the holidays in my own way. I don’t need to swim, or sunbathe, or stay out for long. I’m perfectly fine just drawing and playing board games or chilling at home. Despite repeatedly telling them I don’t enjoy their way of spending the summer, people keep trying to enforce it and I don’t like it. I am perfectly fine this way. I choose it. Leave me be.

So yeah here’s a couple of reasons I am not a fan of the summer, if you’re anything like me , pls lmk, my family thinks I’m crazy

[captain039]

PART 2 The predator grounds (Old man Logan)

Old man! Alpha! Logan x reader

Warnings: prey/predator, forced heats and ruts, sexual, smut, angst, age gap, claiming, swearing, nicknames, logan lets his feral side out, chubby reader, virgin reader(Is a slut) it works xD, harassment, sexual harassment, Logan’s a strong man babes he can throw you around 🫶🏻

Previous part <-

Has it been days? Hours? A damn week? You don’t know all you know is that either you need to get railed right away or you will possibly die. Logan’s quiet too quiet, won’t say a damn thing, won’t look at you. You can see his muscles all tensed and ready to fight his eyes narrowed on the entrance, like anyone would dare go near him. You’re at wits end you need something because frankly it’s horrible. You’re covered in sweat and your panties are drenched, your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin, your heads too hot with your hair, and the need, the fucking need is crippling. You’ve never experienced a heat like this, usually it’s moderate, you can handle it, few orgasms here and there and you’re functional, this though, you think your mouths hung open and your eyes are drooping.

“Logan” you call your voice hoarse and he grunts, just grunts like an animal.

“Fuck you” you whine already even more pissed at him than you already were, he doesn’t have the decency to answer you like a normal fucking human. You’re wondering if you could just stumble out the cave scream like a female sloth and eventually another alpha will come. You barely register his growl and you mimic a mock growl back. You look to him and he’s looking back there’s something in his eyes, dangerous, on edge than normal, his pupils are blown and his muscles are tight.

“Don’t test me” he warns, it’s a deep alpha command that makes you all gooey on the inside and makes your stomach clench. Oh testing him sounds exciting, especially right now. You roll your eyes at him, you’ve played brat plenty of times with him out of sheer pettiness to get a rise out of him but he’s always too tired or doesn’t budge, but there’s something different with his induced rut and the way he’s looking.

“I’m starting to think I’ll go out there and just wander around see if another alpha finds me” you throw out and the whole body freeze and tense and deep frown he gives makes you grin on the inside.

“I need something, I feel like I’m dying, you’re not doing anything so you won’t mind” you continue watching him get impossibly tenser and more narrowed eyed.

“It’s not like you’re my alpha anyway why would you care what I do?” that does it, he’s quick, quicker than you’ve ever seen him, one minute you’re on the ground the next your upright and pressed against a rock, hand around your neck and a very pissed alpha in front of you. He’s panting heavily, actually you are too breaths mingling in front of you. He holds you up with a hand on your hip and one around your throat, he’s not squeezing though.

“Say that again” his voice is low and gravelly, his eyes might as well be black with how blown his pupils are.

“You’re not-“ he growls cutting you off it makes you shiver he leans down to your neck his breath fanning the hot skin there.

“You live with me, you’re under my protection, I say that qualifies as being ‘your’ alpha” he grits the words out with uneven breaths like he’s straining with control.

“You have no claim on me” you bite back. You know you’re signing your death warrant but he’s finally touching you. You’re a sick freak you know, you’ve always wanted him even outside of this fucked up place, you always want to take care of him and be a good omega for him, satisfy him, but your small acts and trying to be subtle about it get you nothing so you gave up with a heavy heart. He’s overly protective of you though, he will always go to the shops with you, you practically cannot leave the smelting plant without his knowledge or his presence, he does little things too, makes sure your washing is with the pile ready to be washed so it gets washed first, makes sure you have enough blankets and pillows, makes sure you’re never sick, god forbid you accidently hurt yourself he’s over you in a blink assessing the damage and making sure it heals quickly.

He freezes suddenly and lifts his head his hand moving from your throat and hip as he backs up a guilty look in his eyes. You feel your heart shatter and silently beg him not to go as he moves back to his side of the cave. You feel like crying, you fall back to the cave floor and lean against cold rock and bite back whatever tears are welling in your eyes.

You wake up with a small jolt and startle, frowning confused and dazed before it comes back. You sigh stretching your body hurting from sleeping against a cave wall. You sip some water from your water bottle and sigh frowning when you don’t see Logan.

“Logan?” You call getting up slowly and peeking out the cave.

“Logan?” You try again you walk out and around a bit and the worse comes to mind and you begin to panic. He wouldn’t have just left you, would he? That bastard. You’re grabbed suddenly, an alpha, his arms around your shoulders and waist keeping your arms pin as he chuckles against your ear. You almost gag and cringe at his scent and the feeling of him against you, it’s all kinds of wrong.

“Let me go!” You grind out struggling but he’s too strong.

“That old bastard finally left eh?” You want to kick and punch this alpha in the face and nuts for talking about your alpha.

“I’m way younger, I’ll be able to keep you satisfied” he purrs but it’s disgusting from him, you go into a freeze mode as his tongue swipes over your neck before he nibbles against that sacred spot. Your panic sets in at an all time high and you’re in fright mode, the alpha behind you chuckle as he kisses along your neck and holds you firmly. You’re trembling in the worst way, your heart rates through the roof when suddenly the man gasps in pain and goes limp before he’s throw off. You turn around, Logan’s got him pinned to the ground stabbing him over and over again with his metal claws a loud cry leaving the man’s lips before he stops, growls and turns to you. His claws sheath and he stands, he’s got a wild look in his eyes and you panic more suddenly thinking it’s your fault for all this, but his arms go around you, tugging you to his chest and he’s hushing you gently.

“You’re alright” he says voice hoarse but it jolts something in you and you’re holding onto the older alpha with all your strength.

“I couldn’t see you, you didn’t answer my calls- he came out of no where-“ you babble out quickly as he hushes you some more gently running his hand up and down your back.

“I heard you sweetheart, I was running back, I smelt a cache nearby I was gonna get us more food and water, I shouldn’t have left you” he clenches his jaw you feel it against your head.

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner” he mutters.

“Don’t leave me again” you whisper and he nods against you. You’re still shaking, tears have spilled from your eyes and you feel all kinds of wrong from that alphas touch.

“Jump” he says and you frown as you feel him bend slightly and hook his arm under your thighs. You jump with what you have and he holds you easily, but it makes you worried as he walks back to the cave. You keep your arms around his neck and he grunts as he sits down you in his lap. God this feels- like heaven. You bask in it, his strength, his closeness, his warmth, the musky scent of strong alpha. You bury your face in his shoulder and relax against him trying to calm your shaking and racing heart down. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly his other arm around your lower waist. He moves his head a bit and breathes in a growl on his lips as he leans down more his nose pressed against your neck where that alpha had kissed and licked.

“Motherfucker” he grinds out and you tense omega pheromones going crazy trying to calm him down. He sighs when you do his arms tightening a bit around you.

“I’m sorry” he mutters and you relax as he relaxes.

“He felt wrong” you explain and you feel him tense briefly.

“Smelt wrong too” you add.

“He didn’t feel safe or warm, he felt too hot, too crowding, he smelt worse, like dead socks or something” Logan lets out a small scoff at your explanation of smell.

“He wasn’t your alpha that’s why” he states and you feel yourself tense a bit. No he wasn’t your alpha is holding you right now, but neither of you say anything about it.

Just comment if you wanna be tagged :)

Taglist:

@xxyaoi-nationxx

@jumpingjackalope

[nnymphie]

Hiiiii obsessively scrolled your blog in one sitting and I’m obsessed w how you write Laios it’s so sweet (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

With that, how do you think he’d handle maybe some of the more animalistic traits his partner would have? Getting used to things like hibernation, “weird” (to tall men) mating rituals, different bodily reactions due to whiskers or different strength in senses. We all know he ♡’s monsters and animals of all kinds so he’s probably not TOO surprised by it, but now he has to deal with it as the partner to someone with these traits?! Woah!

AHH thank you so much🥺🫶 I’m seriously SOOO flattered!!! I’m glad you enjoy my interpretation of Laois! He’s honestly one of my favorite characters from any franchise, and i think one of by far the best written manga/anime protags ever. Like he’s just wonderful and i wanna chew on him and hold him so gently ugHHHHH

As far as you ask:

I think he’d honestly be a damn good partner to someone with animalistic qualities. This man probably has multiple journals dedicated to every little special quirk, habit, mannerism, etc, that you have- and he thinks they’re all wonderful. He is genuinely in awe of everything about you and how uniquely you live life. He would absolutely ask as many questions as you’d allow him, and conduct all the research he possibly could. Hell, I could see him researching the specific husbandry and behavioral aspects of whatever species your beast side comes from- and trying to work some of it into his routine. Dare i say he’d even be a bit jealous that you get the privilege of experiencing some of these instincts and traits???

If you hibernate? You best believe he is helping feed you plenty before its time and making sure you have a safe comfortable nesting place. If you have special mating rituals? He’s learning them all so he can be the best mate possible to you ( he’s honored to even have the title of mate)

He’d love to test your reflexes and sensitivity to different stimuli, but also learn what you don’t like and find ways to mitigate or all together alleviate your discomfort.

I’ve talked about it before, but I firmly believe that your animal traits and beastly nature makes him understand you better. He hasn’t ever really fit in, and regular human social situations are not his strong suit or something he favors really at all. He doesn’t seem to pick up on queues the others do, his interests and passions are often not understood and mocked/judged. Perhaps in a different way than you, but he has also been a misfit outcast most of his life, he empathizes with you on that, finds a sense of camaraderie in not belonging. And even better? The very things that make you different are precisely what he’s so passionate and knowledgeable about. He is fantastic with animals and beasts alike, hell, there’s a solid chance he already knows about some of your specific behaviors and needs before you even have to tell him. And what he doesn’t know? He is eager to learn from you at any and every opportunity. He would never make you feel like a burden for the things you cannot control, rather id imagine he’d encourage you to live as naturally and comfortably as you can.

Laois is so damn amazed by you, he loves every little weird thing, and wants to keep discovering more for as long as he’s possibly able to,,,

[essycogany]

The Roll Reversal Between Sonic And Amy

In Sonic Prime did Sonic and Amy’s rolls get swapped? Because MAN THE IMPLICATIONS IN THIS SHOW IS BOTH SUBTLE AND NOT SUBTLE AT THE SAME TIME.

The reason I say the two hedgehogs rolls are swapped is because one line in the entire show is the only indication of Amy’s crush on Sonic.

Sonic: “You like me….To some extent.” It’s never hinted at in the original Green Hill. Though a funny and random detail I liked is Amy apparently tricked Sonic into getting into the water (Probably to teach him how to swim) and I thought that would’ve been adorable to see.

Now onto Sonic’s part. Sonic possibly having a crush on Amy shouldn’t be a surprise. First of all the implications in actual canon Game/Modern Sonic is increasing more and more in my opinion. Secondly, this show’s version of Sonic is probably the most emotionally driven and affectionate. He’s not as secretive about how he feels either.

Sonic in episode 8 s2: “We’re all in this together. And I’d really think you’d grow to love them as much as I do.”

Onto the small details. We have short, but not hard to miss moments of Sonic just….staring at the different Roses. Sure, it can be viewed as platonic, but it’s the constant softening his gaze in a bunch of different scenes that didn’t have to be added, but was. It’s all up to interpretation.

Anyways, Sonic and original Amy’s first interaction is with the blue blur coming up to her excitedly and standing in a flirtatious manner. His tone of voice when he says “Got a little sidetracked,” could be interpreted as anything, but how he’s animated makes me pretty sure it’s intentionally flirtatious. That’s just me though.

Then we have the flirting teasing at Rusty Rose in the pirate dimension.

Rusty: “Not that anyone will remember you.”

Sonic: “Now you’re just being hurtful.”

Sonic not minding Black Rose hugging him and might even appreciates it.

And almost all the scenes between him and Thorn Rose was ship fuel for me. With Sonic calling her “Thorny,” as a nickname. He kept the location of the green shard a secret so Thorn could trust him. Sonic stopped himself from fighting Thorn as much as possible. (The Amy Flashback was adorable) Not to mention the last few scenes with Thorn holding onto Sonic was sweet as well.

Sonic even helped improved the sisters lives.

With Rusty finding her humanity and ability to live without her Flikie.

Thorn regained her broken friendship and trust with the Bose Cage Gang.

And Black Rose became the new leader of her Crew. (I say that knowing it was mostly Dreads redemption that helped, but still)

Sonic’s also the reason for all the Roses to gain a sisterhood. Which was one of the most precious part of the entire show. Season 3 has scenes of them running up to Sonic to make sure he’s alright, and helping Sonic twice by saving the last three pirates from No Place and getting him back home.

And here’s my favorite detail. I love how Sonic adores Amy’s way of thinking in Prime. When helping Thorn come to her senses, Sonic mentions how the original Amy would handle the situation. Expressing herself and discussing how she feels. The reason I bring it up is because Sonic finds value for Amy being able to do it without issue. Understanding he’s not the best at expressing himself.

Thorn: “I don’t know. She sounds pretty great.”

Sonic: “Yeah. You are.”

In fact. Sonic thinks so fondly of Amy that the show couldn’t end without having him come to her bashfully and calling her, “Sweet Amy.”

Also the posing with Sonic’s hand behind his back and feet up doesn’t help.

Last thing I’d like to point out is Sonic’s implied crush on Amy is very subtle and despite all of this can be interpreted as platonic which I’m fine with. But the thought of a roll reversal between two characters that’s never experienced it prior to now is awesome to speculate.

Stay Creative! 💜

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XXIII (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE (alluded to), forced pregnancy, mentions of chilbirth, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

There were tears in your eyes as your mom and Sarah gasped, tearful coos coming from the older woman as you were handed the crying infant. Despite how healthy he was, he looked so tiny. Unreal. Like a very lifelike doll, and you furiously blinked, trying not to cry. Sixteen hours of labor had produced a healthy baby boy that looked more like you than Rafe, and the thought made you tearfully smile.

“Oh, honey,” your mom said, leaning over to wipe some tears you hadn’t realized escaped.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, wiping your face, and Sarah stopped you.

“You just gave birth,” she told you. “You can do whatever you want, right now, and don’t need to apologize for it.”

You couldn’t stop looking at him, watching the way his face started to even out as his cries grew quieter. It was hard to believe that you’d made this, that this had come out of you, even though you’d quite literally just experienced the process. Your son’s eyes were barely open, like he’d been sleeping or something and wanted to go back to it, and the thought made you chuckle.

Even though he was part Rafe, you already loved him even before you officially met him, but now it felt…magnified. You stared at him, and you just wanted to protect him from anything bad, including his father. Not in a way that meant raising him not to be like Rafe, but in a way that kept him away from Rafe forever.

He was yours…and it wasn’t fair that he was Rafe’s too.

Why did Rafe have to get everything he wanted?

As if your mind conjured it up, your mom asked you about letting everyone else into the room. For the first time since he came out of you, you tore your eyes away from your son to meet your mom’s eyes. Your gaze didn’t match her enthusiastic one, and you couldn’t stop the way your brows furrowed. You glanced at Sarah, and her face started to fall too, sensing your train of thought.

You didn’t want Rafe to see him, to meet him. He didn’t deserve to hold this baby that he’d forced on you, and you didn’t think you could handle seeing that triumphant smile on his face as he fully drank in his victory. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at your mom.

“Just a few more minutes,” you mumbled.

You just wanted more time to have him to yourself, to not have to share him with the man who’d ruined your life. You didn’t want to have to hand him over to Rafe and fight the urge to snatch him back. You didn’t want see that same love in Rafe’s eyes that was no doubt in yours. You wanted to stay in this hospital room, this moment, forever with no interruption. For just a few more minutes, you wanted to pretend that he was all yours.

Eventually though, time had to move on, and you held your breath when the room became a bit more crowded. Pope was saying something you weren’t quite hearing, disbelief coloring his tone, and Rose was as animated as always, gushing over her step-grandson. Your dad and Ward were fairly quiet, but the awe and love in their eyes was plain as day.

The only person you were able to linger on though was Rafe.

It was hard to place the look on his face, and despite what you’d believed, not a hunt of smugness could be found. He was slow in approaching you, almost like he was unsure, and with a start, you realized that Rafe was unsure. You recalled that conversation you’d had where you both agreed you didn’t want this baby to turn out anything like him, and you could see that very same worry in his blue eyes.

Worry that he’d taint him, that everything wrong about Rafe would somehow seep through the skin and ruin your son before he even had a chance. You had that same worry too, and for just a second, your hold on your son tightened. Rafe was by you, now, and when his gaze met yours, your lips trembled. You really didn’t want to hand him over, and Rafe could see that clear as day, and you watched as his shoulders drooped.

“Please,” he murmured.

It was probably the first time he’d ever said that with a genuine heart, and you both stared at one another, the weight of your son in your arms. You were once again at that crossroads where you wanted Rafe to suffer but in the same breath, you wanted him to be better for the sake of your son. You were torn between wanting him to stay stagnant and internally miserable and wanting him to grow and mature and become a better man.

You looked at your son again, taking a deep breath and drinking him in before finally handing him to Rafe.

You felt as empty as your arms when he took him, and you watched your son squirm a bit at the change. You watched Rafe stare down at him, taking in the way his eyes sparkled, a smile spreading over his pink lips. The look on his face was reminiscent of the early days of your relationship when things had been good, and you’d been genuinely happy with Rafe, and he’d been genuinely happy with you.

Rafe was still smiling when he looked at you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to return it. His smile faltered a little at the sight, and you didn’t miss the irritated glint in his eye at your lack of effort to play house. He looked back to your son, his smile growing again, and you leaned back, exhaling through your nose just as the doctor returned.

You could hear your mom and Rose fussing about your rest, and you’d been pushing your fatigue to the back of your mind, but as soon as it was brought up, it was like you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Pope kissed your cheek before he left, and you sent him a weak smile. Rafe remained, showing no signs of leaving, and you bit your lip when he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering.

“You did so good, beautiful,” he murmured, fingers smoothing over your sweaty temple. “So good.”

Waking up in the middle of the night to see Rafe rocking your son back to sleep would’ve been a sight that melted your heart had things been different. Even still, it was hard to pretend like it didn’t affect you…because it did. You were always so anxious about sleeping through any of his cries and anything he needed, and more often than not, Rafe beat you to it.

Like now.

However, this was the first time you’d woken up to witness it for yourself. It was something that was always conveyed to you with words, Rafe telling you he’d taken care of him during the night while you slept soundly. This time you’d been roused along with him, and by the time you fully opened your eyes, Rafe already had the newborn in his arms.

You felt your face relax at the sight, blinking. You hated to admit that Rafe was a better father than you thought he’d be. For now, at least, and again, your hatred for the blond had you at war with yourself because why wouldn’t you want him to be a good dad? Your son didn’t deserve Rafe at his worst, and you should want better for the both of them.

After all, as much as Rafe’s actions were his own, his upbringing and his relationship with his own dad had a lot to do with how he turned out. More than anything, you didn’t want that for your own son. You didn’t want him to grow up terrorizing and taking advantage of girls, wreaking havoc on people’s lives all to get what he wanted. That train of thought made you sigh, and you pushed yourself to your feet.

Rafe must’ve heard the whisper of fabric, looking over his shoulder at you as you approached them.

“You should be sleeping,” he softly told you, careful not to wake him.

“You’re always getting up in the middle of the night with him,” you softly said, sounding almost…bitter. “I never do.”

“Well, you carried him for nine months and gave birth to him. You shouldn’t have to,” he argued.

That was a good thing, but his words still made you frown.

“This isn’t going to make up for anything, you know…”

You both saw and heard Rafe sigh, throwing you a cold look that had you swallowing.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he started, putting your son back in his crib. “I’d say you were jealous.”

“I’m not.”

You were.

Rafe turned to look at you, one hand on the crib and the other on his hip as he stared you down. You pulled your lip between your teeth, blinking and looking away. You hated that Rafe woke up during the nights to steal time with him. You hated that he fed him when you were too tired to or that he got to hold him and walk around while you napped during the day.

“I hate that he’s yours too,” you quietly admitted, and Rafe nodded, like he’d been waiting for you to say that. “You don’t deserve him…and I wish he was all mine.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away at first, brushing past you to sit down on the bed. You crossed your arms over your chest, turning to face him with tearful eyes as Rafe just…stared at you. He ran his eyes over you, something in his gaze that made you squirm and feel grateful you were still within the six-week ban.

“I like seeing you get all territorial over our son,” he softly chuckled. “It’s cute.”

You pressed your nails into your palms.

“…but he is our son…and that’s just something you’re going to have to get over.”

A tear escaped before you could stop it, and you hurriedly wiped your face.

“You’re right,” Rafe agreed. “I don’t deserve him.”

He leaned back on his elbows, grinning at you.

“He’s innocent and sweet and half you just as much as he is me, but…”

He took a deep breath, tilting his head at you.

“I worked hard to get him here. To put him in you, and to keep him there…so… Maybe from an effort standpoint, I do deserve to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

Rafe was so smug, it was a wonder you didn’t slap him, and the look on his face made your stomach turn. He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, approaching you. The only reason you allowed him to take your arm and pull you towards the bed with him was 100% because of your son who was sound asleep.

Rafe leaned in, his nose grazing your temple.

“He’s my son too,” he whispered, his other hand coming up to graze your waist. “…and you need to accept that, or you’re going to have a very long life ahead of you.”

He sank down into bed, reaching for you with a straight face. Sleeping next to Rafe at night was something you hated too, but for the sake of your son and to ensure he got the best care through the night too, it was necessary. The feel of him next to you at night was too reminiscent of how your relationship used to be, snuggling up to Rafe at night in his bedroom, just happy to steal away any moment you could. It was never anything more than him just sleeping beside you, content with that for now, but you knew it wouldn’t last.

After all, if being several months pregnant hadn’t stopped Rafe from fucking you, once the six weeks was up, nothing would.

You stared up at the ceiling as you laid beside him, thinking over what the rest of your life would be like. Rafe was right. This baby was his too, and you had to come to terms with that or else it would be a long, long life ahead of you. The thought brought tears to your eyes because Rafe didn’t deserve him. He hadn’t done a thing to deserve him, and a lifetime of sharing your son with Rafe made your stomach twist.

“Going for a walk?”

The familiar voice startled you, and your son squirmed in your arms as you turned around. Rafe leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as your eyes met his in the low lighting. It was late, but the moonlight provided some clarity, and you blinked at the sight of him. Your lips parted, words failing you because you knew how bad this looked.

You were dressed, and so was your son, and the small bag on your shoulder had some clothes for him, a few bottles, and pampers and anything else he’d immediately need. This hadn’t been planned, your body running on autopilot in the middle of the night with an overwhelming urge to take him and keep him far away from Rafe. You’d planned to call Pope as soon as you were out of the house, your brother in town for the weekend.

“I pretty much wake up minutes before he does, now…so used to it, I guess,” Rafe evenly said. “So, you have to imagine what I thought when I didn’t see him in his crib…”

You shrunk in on yourself, gaze finding the floor.

“How scared I was…and how angry I was when I turned to you, but…you…weren’t…there…”

“Rafe-.”

“What was the plan exactly?” he wondered, stepping closer. “It’s not like I wouldn’t know where you’d run to, not like I wouldn’t come and find you both and drag you back by your fucking hair.”

He sounded angrier with every word, and the tears you’d been fighting back finally spilled over.

“He’s not even two months,” Rafe murmured, scoffing. “Maybe I should just let you walk out and then drag your ass to court for child endangerment.”

Your heart sank, and you stepped towards him, but Rafe continued before you could say anything.

“It’s the middle of the night, and you’re trying to leave the house to go God knows where with him,” he spat.

“Rafe-.”

“Anything could happen,” he bit out, teeth clenched. “To you…to him…”

“I-.”

“…but maybe that’s what you want. Maybe you want something to happen to him…”

You looked at Rafe with wide eyes, chest tightening in disbelief at what he was saying. The blond let out a light chuckle, but it was mean. Venomous.

“Maybe you’re not in your right mind,” he slowly started.

You watched him frown, tilting his head as he appeared to be deep in thought.

“What do they call it?” he mused. “Postpartum depression…?”

“Rafe,” you quietly hissed, voice panicked.

“What else am I supposed to think? What else could I possibly tell the judge? It has to be the only explanation,” he continued, shaking his head. “The only explanation to why you’d take our newborn son and run off into the night to God knows where.”

“You’re being an asshole,” you whispered.

“No, I’m being his father,” he sternly told you, standing right before you, now.

You could see his face much better, and the anger in his voice didn’t come close to the look on his face. His blue eyes were cold, looking that much icier under the glow of the moon, and his jaw was clenched so tight it was a wonder it didn’t break. Rafe looked angry enough to kill, and you didn’t need to be a genius to know it was you he wanted to snuff out.

“I will drag you through the mud with no hesitation,” he whispered. “I will tell them whatever I have to just to make sure he stays with me.”

There was nothing light about his words and his tone, and you knew without a doubt that he was telling the truth.

“I will snatch him from you with no remorse, and you will never see him again. Not unless I will it,” Rafe quietly told you, so calm it was enough to scare you.

You took a step back, more tears spilling over, and your breath was shaky as you exhaled. The silence between you both was thick, very tense, and when Rafe moved closer, hands outstretched, you sniffed. You watched him take your son, shaking, and Rafe hummed at you, dragging his eyes over you as if he didn’t know whether to pity you or choke you.

“We’re going back to bed,” he finally whispered. “…you’re more than welcome to join us…or not…”

There were a lot of words he didn’t say, but his eyes told you everything, and you knew if you walked out of that door, Rafe wouldn’t rest until everything he said came true. You couldn’t stop crying, hating the sight of him in Rafe’s arms as he walked away. You wiped your face, wondering to yourself why of all people did you have to get tangled up with the son of Ward Cameron.

You didn’t know how long you stood by the door, crying and feeling sorry for yourself. You didn’t know how long you contemplated walking out of that door and taking your chance in court or going back upstairs to ensure you saw your son tomorrow.

When you finally made it back upstairs, you were still quietly crying, and you made your way to the crib, looking inside with tearful eyes. He was soundly asleep, oblivious and completely shielded from the toxicity that was his dad. You wiped your face again, visage almost crumbling as you turned away. You deposited the bag at the foot of the bed, slowly making your way to your side.

There was no doubt in your mind that Rafe was still awake, confirmed when you hesitantly laid down, and after some time, you heard and felt him turn towards you. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the heat of his gaze, and you were thankful that he didn’t say anything when you turned your back to him, squeezing your eyes shut.

You smiled back at the cherubic face in front of you, changing his diaper and making faces at him. The events of the previous night weighed heavy on your chest, but you were determined to keep it from affecting how you interacted with your son. Bunny had said something once about babies picking up on energy, and whether or not you believed it, your feelings about Rafe were separate from those about the baby in front of you.

Disposing of the dirty diaper, you returned to him, leaning in and pressing kisses to his stomach. You did that a few times, and when you straightened the final time, you took note of the figure standing in the doorway. You paused at the sight of him for only half a second before returning your attention to your son.

Too long Rafe stood there, neither of you saying anything as you pretended like you hadn’t even noticed him. You were too busy enjoying your son, making him smile and redressing him. Eventually, Rafe did move, stepping further into the room.

“You’re so good with him,” he mused, and you noted that he sounded proud.

You didn’t really know what to say to that, and you kind of hated how he was pretending last night had never happened. Like he hadn’t threatened to paint you under whatever narrative he needed to keep your son from you, to control you. You heard him move closer, and again, you said nothing when he sat beside you.

Your son squirmed and kicked, and bitterness filled you at the evidence of how much he liked Rafe just as much as you.

When Rafe reached out to touch your hair, you jerked away, and you heard him exhale. Aside from getting up completely, you couldn’t do much when he decided to rest his chin on your shoulder, almost entirely leaning on you as a hand came up to curl around your waist.

“He has your eyes…” he breathed, a smile in his voice. “…and your lips…but my nose.”

You took a deep breath, and Rafe buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Do you have any idea how much you scared me last night?”

You looked away as he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room, heart skipping a beat at the icy nature of his voice.

“Anything really could’ve happened if you walked out that door, and if anything had happened to him…” his hand tightened on your waist. “I would never forgive you.”

You hadn’t thought it through, that was true, and Rafe’s very valid point brought tears to your eyes. He was still so young, still considered a newborn almost anywhere, and it really wasn’t good to have him out of the house. Especially at night, not properly dressed, and beyond the front porch. Rafe was right…but you’d panicked. All you had been able to think about was keeping him far away from Rafe, and you hadn’t considered much beyond that…

“If you ever try that again…you’ll be sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“That I can promise you…”

You picked your son up, holding him to you as Rafe’s words settled, gaze tearful as you pressed kisses to his cheeks. Rafe’s fingers grazed your own cheek, and he pinched your chin, making you face him. His blue gaze held yours, and he brushed his thumb along your skin.

“The last thing I want is to take him from you, to separate our son from the mother I chose...” Rafe’s jaw ticked. “…but I will if I have to. I’ll do what’s necessary to keep you at my side, to keep you chained to me.”

You bit your tongue, looking away.

“I won’t hesitate to use him if it has you crawling back to me, if it has you ready to ask how high when I say jump.”

When Rafe pressed a brief peck to your lips, you jumped a bit, and the smile he gave you was cold.

“He makes you so happy…” he said, reaching out to play with your son’s hand, Rafe’s smile more genuine now. “Make that be enough.”

[nightcolorz]

Have been actually shocked by the takes of Louis and Armand’s relationship dynamic that I have been seeing in which people act like Armand’s subservience is manipulative and evil.

As someone who was also a victim of grooming in my youth (though obvs not like Armand level of traumatic events bc good lord that boy cannot catch a break) I always found Armand to be a really compelling character, and I loved how they were handling the psychological impact of his abuse on his relationships within the show and they all felt very relatable to a degree. I was like mind blown by the way they handled how Louis and Armand’s pasts related to each others and thought it was super clever and it made me go “holy shit” in a way that a tv show hasn’t made me go in a long time. Though I can see where some of the takes are coming from, it has been really disheartening as a victim of grooming to see people dismiss Armand’s behavior when he’s with Louis as purely a form of manipulation on Armand’s part or a fun silly sex thing 😭😭😭

YES ANON FR!!! also very disheartening and genuinely offensive to me how some ppl talk about Armand and his trauma (also am a victim of grooming lol). I’ve talked about this before, but the way ppl r saying with their full chests that Armand is being manipulative in his trauma responses is like actually fucked up, and it’s low key triggering to me 😭. Just bcus armand manipulates ppl doesn’t mean he is *always* manipulating ppl omfg 💀💀 some nuance pls I beg of u.

to me it seems very clear that Armand falls into subservience and behaves as the victim bcus the abuse he experienced was the closest he ever felt to feeling like he understood what he was doing and understood what he was needed for. For a lot of victims of grooming their abuse can cause them to feel safe in those types of abusive dynamics bcus it’s familiar to them, which def seems to be how it is for Armand. Armand feels constantly lost and confused and by being a slave again he returns to a time where he knew what he was, when he had someone there to tell him what he was. And it comes off very clearly to me that Louis sees this in Armand when Armand tells him about his trauma and (as he’s also in a vulnerable position) realizes that he can use Armand’s pattern of submitting to servitude to his advantage. Which!!! That is objectively fucked up im sorry 😭 and I’m tired of being in a fandom where ppl r acting like just bcus Louis is a likeable sympathetic character and Armand does mistreat Louis also, that means Louis isn’t capable of mistreating Armand. Bcus it sounds like when ppl make those excuses that they r saying sexual exploitation like that is ok 😭. Just bcus Armand agrees to and participates in it doesn’t mean Louis isn’t knowingly exploiting the trauma of a vulnerable person 😭 and it doesn’t make it ok. Like we can find it fun and sexy, but the “face down in the coffin” scene was still borderline non con sensual 😭 yknow what I’m saying? You can like Louis as ur fav and discuss how Armand is shitty to him without acting like it’s ok for Louis to pretend to be Armand’s abuser as he orders him around like an animal so he’ll do what he wants. This is an incredibly complex dynamic with two very fucked up characters who hurt and abuse each other out of fear, and some of u can’t handle that nuance 😭.

and I understand not being able to grasp the nuance of Armand’s character, it took me like a year to fully wrap my head around him. He’s got a lot going on and it’s hard to understand why he behaves the way he does, especially if you haven’t experienced sexual trauma or grooming. But just like, y’all have to remember that it can come off as pretty shitty and bad faith to interpret a character like this as always being evil all the time. Ur reducing someone very complex and ur making some borderline offensive (also borderline racist but that’s a different rant) implications

thank u sm for the ask anon ur so right and I relate so hard to ur annoyances ❤️❤️

[onyx-is-a-loser]

!! SPOILERS !! Arcane: Season 2, Episode 7 (LONG A- BRAINDUMP)

Found this in my drafts and it’s kinda too funny not to post (sorry if it makes no sense, I was very emotional)

LITERALLY the most emotionally violent thing I’ve ever experienced and I NEED to talk about it:

OKAY so like, Ekko wakes up in this dream world where everything is perfect and I’m like "aww cute, it’s like a Hallmark movie," and then 2 SECONDS later “WAIT NO, THIS ISN’T REAL, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME” because the moment he gets comfortable, the show’s like, “LOL nope, here’s reality, have fun with the trauma, buddy.”

THE CONTRAST. THE JUxtaposition of dream vs. nightmare?? I can’t breathe.

I’m screaming because Ekko’s dream world is all golden light and perfect and everyone is alive, and I’m sitting here like “YES, PLEASE LET HIM LIVE IN THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE HIS FAMILY DOESN’T DIE” and then reality is sharp and cold and cracked and I’m CAN YOU PLEASE NOT JUST SHOVE THIS MUCH PAIN INTO MY FACE???

The clock motif is an entire thesis on grief and time, why is this show so goddamn smart?? Ekko’s dream world is a pristine clock, but the real world is “lol no time doesn’t work that way, here’s a broken, rusted piece of trash” and I’m sitting here like, YES, tell me more about how time is a construct and I’m crying because none of us can go back and fix things. THANKS, ARCANE, FOR THE PAIN.

ALSO

Powder in the dream world?? She’s soft and innocent and I “holy SHIT this is the Powder we could have had, this is what she could have been if everything wasn’t so messed up,” and then I blink and she’s Jinx again, chaotic, explosive, neon nightmare fuel, and I’m just lying on the floor like "why do I do this to myself." I LOVE HER DONT GET ME WRONG BUT I ALSO WANT HER TO BE HAPPY

And don’t even get me started on Ekko and Powder dancing like it’s some kind of tragic, beautifully animated nightmare. I’m crying, I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, because this is the kind of thing that could have been real if the fate of their world didn’t DESTROY THEM. Who hurt you, Ekko? WHO HURT YOU BOTH??

The soundtrack in this episode is too much for me to handle. It starts off all soft and whimsical like “oh, this is nice, everything’s fine, I’m fine,” and then—BOOM—reality hits and I’m curled in a ball crying because it feels like every note is punching me in the gut. (This will definitely be a separate post)

There’s just so much GRIEF in this episode. Like, Ekko doesn’t want to leave the dream world because it’s everything he ever wanted, and honestly, I GET IT. Who wouldn’t want to live in a universe where your worst trauma never happens?? But then he HAS to leave because it’s not real, and reality is just there, waiting to crush you like a hextech bomb.

And I swear to god, the entire episode is a metaphor for “it’s not your fault, but it still hurts, and you can’t change the past, and that’s the worst part.” So yeah, I’m just sitting here trying to figure out how to recover from this emotional rollercoaster that is literally breaking my brain.

Arcane is a work of art, but it’s also a weapon of mass destruction. And I am DONE.

[whereispearlescentmoon]

A third part to my currently nameless Hermit glitching fic

Part 1 Part 2

Skizz starts his day with wings he doesn’t normally have. Well, that’s not entirely true. He’s always got small, vestigial wings that have little sensation in them. The kind that he easily tucks under his shirt and that are absolutely useless for flying. Normally they’re so small that he barely registers them, at least not any more than someone registers their back.

Today when he woke up at his pyramid, he instead had massive fluffy white wings, and when he struggled to get a good look at them, he found that not could he feel them, he could lift off the ground with them. He nearly flew into his own roof. He was just about getting used to them when the news came over his com that there was a server wide glitch that was making everyone’s hybrid traits act up. Any Hermits still in their right mind were to report to X’s map room to strategize.

To his somewhat embarrassment, Skizz had to go to the meeting without a shirt on. None of his clothes were adapted for wings, and he couldn’t fit these under something like he normally would. He felt a little less alone in his awkwardness when he got there and found Pearl thumping a long wolf tail on the ground, only to lose her balance as the tail disappeared and goat horns sprouted from her forehead. Speaking of horns, where was Impulse? The imp was conspicuously absent from the meeting.

A very shaky X spoke to the group, telling them that a patch had gone wrong and that mob and animal code was currently taking precedent over player code for some reason. His voice was etherial, barely audible if not for the amplification of his helmet, and small tendrils of void smoke seeped out of the seams of his armor. As he finished speaking, he collapsed, Skizz rushing to collect his armor pieces and set them safely down. Luckily, or unluckily, X was no longer in the suit. In his place was a vague shape of void, almost like an end gateway.

“Alright…” X spoke from somewhere in the shape. “I’m not going to be able to do any wrangling myself it seems. I’m going to try and search through code the best I can like this. In the meantime, please try and contain the affected players. I don’t want anyone getting hurt,”

Skizz’s first thought was to go find Impulse. He was barely more imp than Skizz was celestial, he couldn’t be that affected right? He shot off a message in chat, just to check.

*You whispered to ImpulseSV: hey dippledop, where are you?*

Not a second later, his reply came:

*ImpulseSV whispered to you: In the nether. Can’t leave. Started to freeze in the overworld.*

*You whispered to ImpulseSV: ill come keep you company buddy!*

This turned out to be a lie however. The second Skizz stepped through his nether portal, an excruciating pain burned through his body. And burn was quite literal. He could see his flesh beginning to blacken and char, right before he succumbed to it.

*Skizzleman burned to death*

Skizz shot up in his bed, groaning. Ugh, this sucks. Stupid celestial stuff.

*Hypnotzd: You good?*

*Skizzleman: yeah, but I think someone else is gonna have to go after impulse. i got all burnt up*

*Keralis: I’ll get on it after I wrangle Scar away from Doc.*

*Welsknight: focus on that, I’ll deal with Impulse.*

*ImpulseSV: Sorry*

*Skizzleman: not a problem dude. can I help somewhere else?*

*Keralis: Yeah actually. False and Grian are going to tear Magic Mountain up and an elytra can’t keep up. Think your beautiful new wings can handle it?*

*Skizzleman: on it boss*

Alright. Flying. He can handle that, sure. It’s not like his wings are brand new and he’s still learning to use them and is now going to have to chase down two life long experienced fliers.

When he gets there, the situation isn’t quite as dire as Keralis put it. Theres definitely some damage, especially around Grian’s base, but the real issue isn’t any of the builds. Instead, Skizz finds the ground littered with colorful parrot feathers, all dotted with blood. If that wasn’t enough to find them, the powerful screeching overhead gives it away.

The second he enters the air space, False’s eyes are on him. Their blue is distinctly predatory, sizing him up, before in a moment deciding he isn’t food, or at least not worth eating, and turning her terrible focus back onto Grian. For once, Skizz laments not being even more bird like, as he watches the two fight with talons that are typical of Grian, but certainly new for False. Her’s are clearly sharper and more powerful than Grian’s, the weapons of a hunting bird. How is her supposed to break that up?

Grian is losing, and badly, and his squawks are turning into something more akin to screams. His banded wings are fluffed up to the max and missing patches of feathers. His sweater is torn to shreds, barely hanging on. Skizz has to act fast, if he wants to prevent Grian from dying in this state.

He reaches into his inventory for something useful, and thanks the void that he actually has some raw meat on him from the day before when he was testing saturation levels.

“Hey Falsie! Look! Doesn’t this look yummy?” He taunts, pulling out the raw food and flying in circles around the pair. False’s attention is once again pulled to him, and more specifically to the bloody meat in his hand. Honestly, he’s terrified, but it’s the best idea he has. He tosses it to the ground, in the hopes she’ll follow it.

It works, as she launches herself at food, giving Grian enough time to run off and hide somewhere in his base. Skizz has to act fast, and miraculously manages to get the drop on her, trapping her in a cobblestone box without getting hurt. She scratches at the inside of the box, shrieking powerfully. Skizz winces before pulling away.

“Sorry False! I had to do it!”

With that done, he can tend to Grian’s wounds, and ends up bringing him to where some of the other passive hybrids are, a small enclosure that Keralis set up near Scar’s train within walking distance. Doc is somewhere nearby, trapped in a similar box to the one that Skizz had gotten False in. Grian seems content enough to hang out there, even though he could fly away. He feels bad that False had to be locked away, but feels a little less bad when a death message pops up in chat.

*Pearlescentmoon was slain by [minecraft_entity:fox]*

It’s a bugged message, foxes can’t normally kill players. Either Gem or Etho got Pearl good, evidently. He shudders to think of what False might have done if she saw him as prey or a threat.

*Pearlescentmoon: Good news. Respawn works on feral hybrids. Zed had death loop scars.*

Well that would explain just how much blood was spilt around Grian’s base.

*Skizzleman: you okay pearliepop?*

*Pearlescentmoon: I’m gonna take a nap. The shifting has started again.*

*Xisuma: Tpin hrd. ned updts* (typing hard.need updates)

*Welsknight: Following Impulse’s cords, he got pretty far out.*

*Mumbo: Working on getting Cleo contained. Can confirm, respawn works on hostiles too. She keeps burning up before she can get to me*

*Hypnotzd: Jevin is being slippery but it shouldn’t take too long*

*Bdoubleo100: might need some help later with cub from pearl, but right now I’m focused on getting tango*

*Pearlescentmoon: Need some warden taming advice?*

*Bdoubleo100: always.*

*Xisuma: grt. tryn fix it. hrd wn hds g thrgh cms* (great, trying to fix it. hard when hands go through coms)

With nothing more to do, Skizz slides down in the enclosure and starts to film Joel and Scar playing. This is gonna make excellent blackmail.

[yarameijer]

On Keshin and Hissatsu

OKAY SO BUCKLE UP Y’ALL CUZ I’M GONNA RANT ABOUT KESHIN AND HISSATSU, or at least my interpretation of it, SO LET’S GO. Also I apply anime logics so shhh some things will be questionable (but we’re literally talking about GIANT SPORT AVATARS AND MAGICAL SUPER SHOTS so what did you expect????)

(This does not take the games into account, by the way, so there might be inconsistencies.)

I guess the place to start is simple: what are Keshin?

According to the Inazuma wiki, officially Keshin are described as “the ability to show a user's spiritual energy”, literally translated as their “fighting spirit”. This, obviously, doesn't tell us much. From the Keshin development we see in the anime, mostly from Tenma, this ‘’spiritual energy’’ seems to be a thing that people already have, just unused and out of reach until they are adequately motivated to use it. Tenma shows signs of his Keshin aura in the very first episode, when he stops Tsurugi’s Death Sword, a moment where he was highly determined and completely focused on one task - requirements for ‘unlocking’ a Keshin. Shortly after Shindou unlocks his Keshin, again during a moment with very high stakes and his resolve is clear (‘’fighting spirit’’).

It’s safe to assume that before a Keshin is unlocked as a Keshin, it’s already present simply as spiritual energy that’s not noticeable in daily life. Through training and willpower, it can be mastered and revealed and take on the shape of a large avatar that is specific to its user, which is classified as a Keshin.

This idea is again further supported by comparing Tenma and Shindou’s situation - both without any prior Keshin training but responding to a very high stakes moment, and yet Shindou is the one who actually manifests a Keshin while Tenma merely shows signs. Why? Because Shindou is an experienced soccer player and Tenma, while having done his own training, is still a newbie. Tenma begins showing more signs of Keshin usage throughout the anime while also becoming a better soccer player and likely increasing his stamina.

Which is one of two parts that I imagine is necessary for Keshin usage. Willpower/determination and physical training. Using a Keshin - controlling this spiritual energy - will take its toll on the physical body. After all, it’s stated multiple times in the anime and the movie that you can only call forth a Keshin a limited amount in a short time and that SEEDs can increase this limit through training - furthermore, whenever Keshin users say they’re at their limit, it’s coupled with them being out of breath, looking tired, sometimes kneeling on the ground. Clearly, using a Keshin is demanding on the body. Therefore to use a Keshin, someone needs to be physically fit enough to handle the strain.

The second part, willpower, is likely why not every adequate soccer player has a Keshin. It takes tremendous resolve and especially Fifth Sector’s type of soccer - controlled, decided, flat - does not bring the type of situations where someone would find themselves in a position to reveal their Keshin. I imagine that after Fifth Sector has been demolished, Keshin usage increases. But not only does a Keshin take willpower, it also takes focus. That was Tenma’s problem in the anime; he wasn’t focused enough in situations where he otherwise showed signs of Keshin usage, which makes sense.

Remember when he first gains his Keshin? Endou puts him as keeper, to get him to focus. Tenma is a midfielder, a dribbling expert, and ‘the wind’ is literally used as a metaphor for him, all the time. Tenma’s fluid, constant movement, flowing around obstacles rather than hitting them head-on; he’s an incredibly dynamic player and the whole field is his stage, there’s no standing still for him, there’s no pure, single-minded focus when he’s constantly looking for new places to move towards. Putting him as keeper grounds him in a way nothing else does. He can’t move away because he’ll leave the goal vulnerable, and when faced with a frontal attack? He finally focuses.

So that’s how someone gains a Keshin. To be honest, I quite enjoyed the slow buildup we got for Demon God Pegasus - Tenma showing signs, not even realizing it himself in those moments, training for it, having specific training to handle the blockade - I would’ve liked to see more of that with other characters, rather than them getting their Keshin with no prior warning. Would’ve been very interesting and also given more insight to their character and playing style!

But now for the next question - what designs a Keshin? They’re all highly diverse, yet some people have the same ones. And ooh this is a part I like.

Who have diverse Keshin? The entire Raimon cast. Strong individual players of other teams.

Who share Keshin? Nameless SEEDs.

Yeahhh. Fifth Sector obviously has an interest in Keshin - they’re ridiculously powerful when you don’t have a Keshin yourself - but as mentioned before, their soccer leaves a lot to the imagination. It's not a great way to stimulate developing a Keshin. However, Fifth Sector has a specialized secluded training facility for SEEDs. Yes, I'm talking about God Eden. 

God Eden, where these types of scenes are apparently normal.

I quote. “Bring out your Keshin. If you don’t, you will lose your life!” What kind of training is this? 

Also, who did we see with “standard” Keshin? Oh, I remember! Zero and Dragon Link. Teams that are both about as indoctrinated as they can get.

Brainwashing, abusive training, who knows what else Fifth Sector does to make their perfect soldiers. Whereas everyone who's developed a Keshin naturally has their own individual Keshin, with bright colors and details that match their person, these SEEDs seem to have been stripped of their entire identity for the sake of gaining a Keshin - ones that, I headcanon, might even have their own specific training regimes with the purpose to gain that specific Keshin.

As for everyone else… their Keshin are, above all else, individual, and fit their personality. Tsurugi has a knight. Shindou has a music conductor, a puppet master, someone who ‘leads’ and instructs other people - and Shindou is a strategist before all else (with a musical background too). Taiyou, literal sunshine child, has the Greek sun god as his Keshin.

Anyway, I’m getting back into Keshin designs in a bit, because I first need to talk about something else.

Hissatsu.

What are hissatsu, and how are they related to Keshin? Officially, they are simply described as “special techniques”, nothing more. One thing we can,  however, gather is that they’re very similar, and both involve some sort of energy that somehow can be manipulated and visualized. I assume that at the very least, they’ve got the same source, and if Keshin are ‘’spiritual energy’’ then hissatsu are, to a certain degree, the same thing.

Remember how I mentioned everyone has spiritual energy, despite not having a Keshin? This ties into that.

Hissatsu, while having technically the same source as Keshin, are applied in different ways, ‘easier’ ways. Less control is needed. Rather than bringing out and visualizing all of your spiritual energy like with a Keshin, you just manipulate part of it; you visualize something and combine it with physical movements (to varying degrees), in which the physical movement is either a way to center yourself for said energy manipulation or actual part of the technique.

Like, in some cases of hissatsu you've got these movements in which people are just standing still and doing something seemingly unnecessary. The easiest I can come up with is Manabe in Galaxy with his ‘’Defense Equation’’.

See? He stands there and simply writes an equation in the air, he doesn’t do anything considered ‘useful’ in soccer; doesn’t tackle anyone, doesn’t try to get in their way or interfere physically.This is genuinely just a way for him to focus and center himself in order to manipulate and shape the energy however he wants to. Then, when the opponent is distracted, he just takes the ball from them.

However, a lot of other hissatsu actually incorporate the movement in how they function! For example, Soyokaze Step - this hissatsu focuses a lot more on Tenma's actual movement, and doesn't even have that many ''special effects''; in this case the energy manipulation is less obvious, rather in increasing his speed/agility and giving himself a boost of speed. The actual outcome, however, is fully dependent on his actual movement.

And then there's something that’s used by both types of hissatsu that I wanted to mention: misdirection. What Manabe does is both a way to center himself, and also part of the technique to confuse or distract his opponents - and some hissatsu specifically have the aim of distracting opponents without having any physical effect. Shindou’s Olympus Harmony is actually a pretty good example for this!

Does Shindou actually do anything physical? Nah, but getting a blast of light to the face is gonna throw you off for a couple seconds either way, right? This is misdirection in its simplest form, and there are several shots that work this way - Kidou's Illusion Ball, for example.

But more physical-based hissatsu do this too, all the time!

You've got shots like Mach Wind, where the energy doesn't seem to have any purpose beyond putting on a fancy light show (which I imagine is an aesthetic choice), but you've also got hissatsu, like the penguin shoots, in which there's an actual specific and recognizable form to it rather than just a blob of energy. The “energy manipulation” in this case both serves a function and adds to distracting the opponent. Other shots, like Tsurugi's usual shots, could also function as an intimidation technique.

So that's the mechanism behind hissatsu, with varying degrees of energy manipulation, physical movement and misdirection, ranging from almost fully energy manipulation-based techniques like Shindou's Olympus Harmony to Tenma's physically based Soyokaze Step.

Basically, someone thinks of a technique that uses energy manipulation, whether as a distraction or to enhance themselves or the ball, and then they sort of work it out in terms of energy manipulation and physical movements until it works, which would also explain the 'upgraded' or 'remastered' shots - they're technically the same shots, but with small differences that improve the way they work without actually being noticeable.

The difference with Keshin is that Keshin utilize all of a person’s spiritual energy; they manifest and visualize all of it, whereas hissatsu just extend a little bit of it (maybe even energy from the surroundings, depending on how you imagine the “spiritual energy” works). Furthermore, hissatsu are always action-based, whereas Keshin are not. Keshin can be visualized and not utilized in any way beyond that; but a hissatsu has a very specific method and order and while their end result may vary (Tenma saving the goat), they can't just... pull it up and push a 'pause' button, Tenma can't just stop in the midst of Soyokaze Step, or Gouenji with Fire Tornado, they have to complete the movement for it to have an effect. Whereas you can just pull up a Keshin and sort of have it just hover behind you ominously, and then you can decide what to do with it - Keshin hissatsu are the result of that, because in that case you first pull up your Keshin and then actively guide it into a hissatsu - which obviously makes it more powerful because you're putting a Keshin's energy (AKA all of your visualized spiritual energy) into it.

And this explains why Keshin can be trained. Someone who's new to their Keshin would likely visualize it and then use that energy all at once, like you’re bringing down a wooden pole with a wrecking ball, whereas someone who's had training can visualize all of their spiritual energy but only actually use a little bit of it if they so desire - and therefore maximize the productivity of it. AKA, that's why Shindou passed out after he used his Keshin for the first time. There was very little finesse in what he did there, he just used it all up at once.

If we then get back to specific Keshin designs, this is a direct result of hissatsu techniques.

To have a Keshin is to visualize all of your spiritual energy, so why does it take the shape of some fantasy game avatar? For soccer players, who have learnt energy manipulation in the form of hissatsu, it actually is the most likely way they'd express it. They manipulate Keshin energy the same way they'd manipulate hissatsu energy.

The standard Keshin form is also likely caused by the way that Fifth Sector developed and taught it. They were likely involved in the research on Keshin and the methods in which they are used. To be honest, Keshin actually look like they might have been inspired by Endou's hissatsu techniques. Big giant godlike creatures? Sound familiar? I imagine Fifth Sector would have studied hissatsu, and realized that hissatsu techniques that brought out a lot of a person's spiritual energy had one thing in common: giant avatars hovering behind them. And so they tried to enhance that even more, and thus Keshin were discovered.

Anyway, like I said, the way spiritual energy is manipulated for Keshin usage is based on the way you'd use hissatsu. No one learns a Keshin first - rather, they learn hissatsu, they design hissatsu, they figure out what works best for them, they basically develop this sort of ''style'' - Endou with his personas, Tenma and Kazemaru with wind, Fubuki with snow and ice. And that depends on a person’s creativity and imagination.

(And that’s without mentioning any specific talents they might have - strategy, or attack, or defending, or dribbling.)

When learning how to use a Keshin, the goal is to ‘bring out all of your spiritual energy’ with no clear image beyond a giant floating avatar. In this process the energy is sort of allowed free reign in 'designing' it and thus will ‘flow’ in a way that comes natural to them - the way they use it for hissatsu. Therefore, a Keshin will mimic whatever style someone has developed for themselves. I imagine the specific shape will then be a mix of how they’d use their hissatsu and the underlying perception of themselves, or perhaps the desire of what they want to be.

And that is why Taiyou’s Keshin is a sun god whereas Shindou’s is a music conductor and Tsurugi’s is a knight.

Well, that was my take on Keshin and hissatsu, I hope you enjoyed it! I hope to eventually upload more of these rants of mine on other topics as well, if people are interested.

[randomgods]

What are your thoughts on survivors campaign? :0 And how well do you think downpour preformed as a DLC for Rain World?

Ah!! Two questions I have a lot to say about!

I love The Survivors campaign to death. Their campaign IS Rain World. Before everything, before the Hunter/Monk update, before Downpour, The Survivor was it. That was Rain World—how it was intended to feel, play, be experienced. It is vital to play The Survivor's campaign before anything else. The Survivor is the lens that you see the world for the first time. All the questions, all the frustration, all the wonder. As The Survivor you learn what it is to be a slugcat. You learn how to move, how to explore, what you can eat, and, perhaps more importantly, what eats you. There is no experience quite like the vanilla campaign.

I think we may take for granted how special The Survivor's experience is because we get so caught up in all the cool abilities and lore of the other cats. But none of that would be as exciting or as impactful had we not learned and grown with The Survivor. Their limited abilities are how the game was meant to be experienced, you're not supposed to be special in Rain World. You are a small animal that rests near the bottom of a brutal food chain, exploring a world that has history and beings who are far greater than you will ever be. You are a fly on the wall witnessing the death rattle of an era that has long since abandoned you.

But on top of everything, the pure wonder of The Survivors campaign is astounding. You get to experience every creature, every region, every room for the first time. The beauty and mystery of the world is unmatched here. Sequences like unfortunate development, general systems bus, and the void sea are so unique and awe inspiring. It will be a very difficult task for anything to live up to experiencing those for the first time.

IN CONCLUSION! The Survivor’s campaign is incredible, and I think we all need to give it a little more love.

AS FOR the Downpour DLC. It certainly preformed well in terms of bringing people into the game lmao! The fandom is HUGE compared to how it used to be prior to the DLC. For better or for worse. I'm just happy it isn't so lonely around here anymore at least.

But I personally loved it! A whole lot!! Not everything, but basically everything. I think it does an amazing job expanding on the world, the lore, and the story. There were multiple times where I was so excited and emotional over how the DLC was handling everything. I think The Rivulet and The Saint’s campaign are really amazing overall. And I also adore all the new gameplay mechanics. Though, as stated previously, they do take away from the original purpose of the game. I’m very very happy with it ultimately. I could write essays about each campaign but I shall save that for another time!

Also hiiii sunfish it’s great to see you :) I’ve always loved your work! Thank you for asking these questions I really appreciate it

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have. 

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?” 

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance. 

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around. 

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him. 

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood. 

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down. 

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him. 

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale. 

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?”  Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?” 

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment. 

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep. 

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation. 

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by. 

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll. 

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual. 

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air. 

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth, 

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight. 

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent. 

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet. 

Gale was her poet. 

Tav was his bard. 

“Sweet Hells.”