#don't think anyone else was mentioned enough to warrant it

[deadmandairyland]

Had an idea for “movie posters” for my Fog Cutters crossover fic (which I just recently decided to start over from the beginning... eventually). But fuck if I’m able to draw anything close to what’s in my head. But I also don’t want to just... forget it? So I’m deciding to describe the posters I’m envisioning in my head instead. Apologies in advance if you haven’t read my first attempt at writing the fic (which is on AO3) and you end up super lost.

NOTE: All characters are Danganronpa characters unless I specify otherwise. Doing this so it’s easier to follow along, even though the other series are pretty well known. I may also point out Danganronpa characters if I feel I might need to.

Also should probably point out just in case, all of the characters mentioned in this post are portrayed as being between the ages of 20 and 40 in this fic. In case that’s context you need for one reason or another.

So there are three posters that have Kyoko, Shuichi, and Makoto in the middle, standing in like a triangle formation, where one is being focused on and facing the viewer while the other two are facing other directions. In each one they are in the same pose (in the direction of where they’re facing, of course): Kyoko has her arms... not crossed, but like she’s holding her arms, right? And she’s wearing something like her DR3 attire but with hair closer to her DR1 self. Shuichi looks similar to his pregame look, with baseball cap and suit and tie, and he has one hand in his pants pocket and the other is holding the bill of his cap. And Makoto, who is either wearing a suit similar to his DR2 ending self or DR3, or wearing a hoodie under his suit because I mean that’s basically his DR1 look anyway, but regardless of all of that has his DR1 hair because I think it just fits him better, has his hands in his suit pockets.

The posters would then have other characters in the background that relate in some way to the character focused on. Won’t go too far with the spoilers and won’t go into detail on the rest of these characters’ clothing but I wanted to share a few of these ideas.

Kyoko:

Yui Samidare would be somewhere above the trio, probably somewhat transparent or angelic looking to hammer her home as a Lost Lenore kind of figure. Licorne should also be in the poster somewhere, but not necessarily transparent/angelic because he’s, y’know, alive.

Naoto and Akechi (Persona) would also be in the poster somewhere, and Tsumugi (Danganronpa) is also there with them because I want to make Naoto and Tsumugi cousins in this story. (Mostly doing that because they both have blue hair and have the same family name, so I mean... it works?)

Fuyuhiko and Peko would probably be on this poster too, looking all tough and shit. And if they’re not here, they’d be on Shuichi’s poster.

Fuhito, Jin, and maybe Kizakura and Nanamura would probably appear too, for backstory reasons.

One thing I failed to mention before is that each of these posters would have someone on a motorcycle somewhere (which is part of the reason why I don’t think I could make this even if I had the drive to). Now this is probably the biggest spoiler that I’m willing to share here, but the biker in this poster is a Kamen Rider spoof that wears a Monokuma mask and calls themself “Kuma Rider,” and they’re getting some fucking air in the background, red scarf flowing in the wind. No, I will not budge on this one, no matter how stupid the idea probably is. I actually have plans for Kuma Rider.

If there are any other characters that would be on here, they’d probably spoil too much, so perhaps it’s for the best I’m not actually making these. And this could go for all three of the posters, really.

Shuichi:

Another reason why it’s probably a good thing that I’m not actually making these: unlike Kyoko and Makoto I don’t really have many ideas on who would be on Shuichi’s poster. I mean there are a few obvious choices, but beyond them everyone else wouldn’t necessarily be tied to Shuichi specifically.

The obvious choices are, of course, Kaede and Kokichi. Other members of DICE (or at least the characters who are presented as members of DICE in this fic) would probably appear as well.

Since Kaede is going to be portrayed as someone who works as a pianist at a Broadway-like theater, other people who work at that theater would probably be included on this poster. This includes a character that I really hope I can do justice when/if I get that far in the fic: Chaplin Sukegawa (Deadman Wonderland), who I’d portray as a famous stage director.

There are two people on the motorcycle in this one: The DeLites (Ace Attorney), who are just some of the characters that I’m including in this story just to fill out the ranks of DICE, but they’d probably be among the more prominent ones. Definitely the biggest spoiler in this part of my post, but nothing major. (And yeah, they would be the DeLites here, partially because I’m more familiar with the English translation’s names but also because I’m portraying the setting this takes place in as a Japan/US hybrid not unlike the translations of Ace Attorney, so I feel it’s fitting)

Again, if Fuyuhiko and Peko aren’t on Kyoko’s poster, they’d be here, probably.

Makoto:

Another reason why this is probably a bad idea: if we’re being really honest here, this is more Chihiro’s poster than Makoto’s, since Makoto (outside of being Kyoko’s Watson and having slightly-more-wholesome-than-usual relationship drama) is mainly here to connect Kyoko’s story to Chihiro’s. Pidge (VLD) and Futaba (Persona) would be here somewhere, as well as Miu and probably Kazuichi since he’s also kinda in the friend group somewhat. The biker on this poster would be Mondo, looking like he’s about to drive off into the sunset never to be seen again. Taka would probably also be here for reasons. ...So yeah, it’s largely Chihiro-centric, with a few exceptions.

So if you haven’t seen my first attempt at this fic, or you are just unfamiliar with my taste in Makoto ships, Chihiro and Aoi are given a great deal of importance in the poster, probably looking like a reprise of the All Star Apologies title card, but maybe less dramatic.

Don’t worry, Aoi would get some love too. Yuta and Sakura would probably be on this poster as well.

Honestly, if there’s any place to put Rinichiro Hagire (Deadman Wonderland), who I had already established as a villain in this fic, it would probably be this poster. And there are reasons for that that I won’t go into because... again, spoilers.

So yeah, I don’t know why I felt compelled to share this idea. I guess a part of me thinks it’s kinda neat, but way too ambitious for me to handle. I also don’t quite care enough to ask or pay anyone to make it either. And I probably spoiled too much of my fic idea already. At least the BIG big stuff hasn’t been spoiled. But eh... just thought I’d share. It’s fun to share this stuff. Thanks for your time. Someday I will give this fic another shot. Hopefully.

[5ummit]

New Mature Content Warning Overlay (And How to Get Rid of It)

More fun community label "features"! Unlike the new mandatory label for #NSFW, this one is a bigger deal to me because it affects my entire blog and it can't be avoided by just using a different tag.

Apparently on custom blog layouts, if you happen to post or reblog even a SINGLE post that's been flagged with the mature content community label, a full-page warning overlay will appear blurring out your entire blog that must be manually clicked through every single time the page is refreshed. At first I thought this was just a bug due to my older layout but I've come to realize it's not. It's a feature (as confirmed by this recent changes post) that affects all custom themes. The formatting will vary based on your own theme but here's what it looks like on my blog:

I don't know about you but I find this is stupid and annoying. If it could be dismissed once and never seen again that might be one thing, but that's not the case. The vast majority of my blog is not "mature" enough to warrant such an aggressive and invasive warning. I also think pop-ups are obnoxious in general and I'll be damned if tumblr's going to force me to have one on MY blog.

After some desperate googling for a known workaround and being unable to find even a single mention of it, I decided to take on the challenge myself. I'm not a theme coder, so apologies if there's a better way to do this, but luckily it only took me like 10 minutes to figure out a simple fix, which I'm now sharing with anyone else who may want it:

.community-label-cover__wrapper {display: none}

Just copypaste that somewhere in your CSS and goodbye pop-up!

If you're not sure how to access your theme code, check out this help article. You can also add the code via the Advanced Options menu, which is actually even better (if you can get it to work, it depends on how your theme was coded), because it will then automatically be reapplied to a lot of themes without having to remember to manually add it every time if you change your theme in the future.

Obviously this will only remove it from your own blog for anyone who may visit it. If you never want to see this warning again on other people's blogs you can also add this custom filter to your ad block:

tumblr.com##.community-label-cover__wrapper

Unfortunately I do not have an easy tutorial on hand for this one as the method will depend on your specific ad block app or extension.

Some additional notes:

After adding the theme code and saving the changes, give it a minute to update as it sometimes takes a little while for the page to refresh.

The warning overlay only seems to appear if a "mature" post is on the FIRST page of your blog, which is still annoying and makes the whole thing even more pointless and stupid because what if someone visits any other page of your blog, and oh no, happens to see "mature" content they weren't warned about?!

The warning also appears on direct links to "mature" posts.

This hack has NOTHING to do with entire blogs that have been flagged as NSFW. It only works for non-flagged blogs with custom themes that happen to have individual "mature" posts.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 14 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake does his best to be reassuring toward Jessica, because the truth doesn't change anything for him. His feelings are strong and getting stronger, but then he does something that could have some serious repercussions, whether it was warranted or not.

Warnings: Fluff, oral sex, angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, blood, punching, 18+

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica couldn't take much more of this. She was so tired of always being on edge and having to deal with Brian's bullshit. The only time she felt truly calm was when she was with Jake. Just like this. He had his arms wrapped around her, and she was laying on his chest. She felt like she could just be herself around him without worrying what he thought about her. Then he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

She did want to talk about it, but she was also afraid he would think less of her. But she just didn't see how she could continue on with Jake unless he knew. She was falling in love with him a little more every day, and there was no way she could ever accept those kinds of feelings in return without him knowing the facts. She carefully shrugged and whispered, "There's not a lot to say. Brian is trying to ruin my career."

Jake held her tighter and kissed along her hair. "Why, Baby? How is that possible?"

Jessica's body involuntarily tensed up in his arms before she took a few shaky breaths and eased her cheek away from his chest. She felt tears in her eyes again as she looked at Jake and whispered, "He and I were dating. And then we were sleeping together. For weeks. And I had no idea that he's married and has two kids."

"Oh," Jake gasped, his pretty green eyes wide as he looked at her, and the feelings of shame and embarrassment intermingled, making her feel sick to her stomach.

When Jake didn't say anything else, Jessica wiped at the tears behind her glasses and pulled herself free from his grasp. He was just staring at her. She always knew it would be hard to tell him what happened, but she expected him to say something. "I ended it when I found out," she managed as her throat grew tighter. "I understand if this changes things between us." Her voice sounded small and weak, and she hated it. 

She knew she was smart. She knew how to command a classroom. She used to have more confidence than anyone else, but now she was scooting away from her boyfriend in her pretty green dress while he looked at her and said nothing. She wanted to unzip her dress and slip into bed and get all of the rest of her tears out, but if Jake wasn't going to do anything except stare at her, then she didn't know what to do.

"What would it change?" he finally asked as she fought with the zipper as her hands shook. 

"I don't know," she mumbled, frustration rising inside her now. "But I'm sure you think I'm an idiot. Like I can't read the room or take care of myself."

"Jessica," he said, and his voice was sharp enough that she met his green eyes. "You're not an idiot. He took advantage of you."

"It's embarrassing," she whispered, ready to rip the zipper off her dress as Jake climbed out of bed and carefully slid it down for her. As her dress fell away, leaving her completely bare except for her tiny thong, Jake kept his eyes on hers. 

He ran his fingers through her hair and said, "Brian is the one who embarrassed himself, Baby. I'm just shocked anyone could treat you that badly when you're as sweet as you are. But you didn't do anything wrong, and I promise I still feel the same way about you right now as I did two hours ago and yesterday." 

She nodded and cried against his shirt, her glasses smashing into his chest before he carefully slipped them off her face. Jake was kissing her forehead as she sobbed. "Smart Girl, you've been holding this inside for too long." She nodded as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Then he scooped her up and pulled back the covers, climbing in bed with her in his arms while he still had on his undershirt and suit pants. 

"I told Advanced Calculus the other day, but she was the first person I ever said anything to. Chippy knows Brian did something to me, but he doesn't know what. That's why he's not allowed in the bar anymore."

He rubbed her back as she fought for each breath through her hiccups and tears. "I have a new appreciation for that grouchy, old man," Jake murmured, tightening his grip on her body as she settled against his chest once again. "And now I wish Bradshaw and his wife had let me level Conley tonight, because I'm really not okay with someone making my girlfriend feel bad about herself and continually belittling her." She looked up at him through her red rimmed eyes, and he kissed her forehead. "You don't deserve any of that."

-------------------------

Jake tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, but he was absolutely outraged inside. All of Jessica's hesitancies made sense now, including the way she thought he was already in a relationship the night they met. She was carrying this unfounded shame and hurt inside her while trying to protect herself from ever letting it happen again. But it wouldn't happen again; Jake would see to that.

The bottom line was, Brian Conley was a fucking asshole, and the next time Jake saw him, it was on. If that man ever so much as looked at Jessica the wrong way again, chances were good he'd end up in the hospital. Not that he was going to say that when she was currently gasping for air with her face buried against him. But he knew he'd take care of anything she needed, because he loved her.

"You're really strong," he whispered, and when she tried to shake her head no, he added, "Yes, you are. You go to work every single day and teach your classes and take care of your students, and you do it while Brian actively tries to make all of it harder for you. You're a badass."

"Oh, my god," she groaned, wiping her cheeks with her palms. "You're kind of right."

"I'm absolutely right," he replied. She gaped at him as he nodded, and soon she was nodding, too. And then Jessica ended up straddling his hips with her breasts pressed against his chest and her lips next to his ear. But it wasn't sexual which surprised him. He kept his arms loose around her and let her talk about whatever she wanted to talk about and pause when she needed to.

Brian's wife was named Sabrina, and their sons were nine and thirteen. He never wore a ring, and hardly anyone at the university knew he was married. Jessica found out about his family when she ran into the four of them out to eat one day.

"Based on the way Sabrina reacted to me when I walked up to Brian, she knew what was going on. I looked her in the eye and told her I was sorry and that I had no idea. So I'm convinced I'm not even the first woman he's done this with. And I know I'm not the last. He's sleeping with a TA from his department now."

"He's still married?" Jake asked softly.

"As far as I know. He had a good tactic for hiding it from everyone at work, too. He would tell me, 'Nobody can find out about us, Jessica. They would think I was playing favorites.' Then after I blew his cover to his wife, he started rumors about how I came onto him. He made himself look completely innocent while making me look like a slut."

Jake grunted. "He's a fucking scumbag. And what's the point of putting in the work and being in a relationship if you're just going to turn around and shit all over your efforts? I mean, obviously you're the kind of woman every guy wants, but you're mine now."

Jessica laughed softly as Jake ran his hands up and down along her back. "I was so scared to tell you," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet. "I didn't want you to think poorly of me."

Compared to every other woman he'd ever known, Jessica was the best. There was no contest in his mind. "None of this is your fault, Reedy. But what about the way he treats you now? What about getting tenure?"

She looked at him sadly. "If I fight it, I'll look bad. He's meticulously set it up that way. And that will reduce my chances of getting tenure even more. I'm honestly a little afraid I'm going to have to try to find a job at a different university."

Jake tried to think of other schools around the city. "Like Cal State? Or Point Loma?"

She shook her head sadly. "Do you know how hard it is to find an opening in a physics department when lazy old dudes still exist?"

Jake pulled her closer and kissed her cheek as he said, "Spell it out for me."

Jessica took a few seconds to snuggle in against him again, and he hoped she felt as comfortable and safe right now as he did. But her words made his heart sink. "I'm talking more like Penn State or Syracuse."

Pennsylvania or New York? Shit. That would never do. Not when he was already thinking about taking her home to Texas to meet his family. Not when he was falling for her more every day. "You should be able to stay in San Diego without being treated poorly."

"You're certainly helping with that."

Jake kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers with hers. "I just want you to be happy," he whispered. 

She smiled and said, "You're helping with that, too. Honestly, all I need right now is you, and a table at Chippy's, and for Brian to get hit by a truck."

"Baby, my new truck is all yours. Have at him." Jake was just happy that she was laughing as he let his fingers tangle in her hair. "You're a great teacher. And your fundraiser was incredible."

"Fratraiser," she replied with another soft laugh. 

"Fucking Bradshaw," Jake muttered. "Your fratraiser was incredible. You have a lot to be proud of. And I hope you can stay at your school, because I don't think I would do well in upstate New York. I turn into a bit of a whiner when I'm too cold."

Jessica looked up at him curiously. "Are you referring to my Syracuse comment?"

"Yes."

"So you would... come visit me? If I ended up at a different school?"

Jake's lips parted silently. He'd actually imagined moving there with her; the idea of shoveling snow made him want to cry, but he'd consider it for her. "Something like that," he answered softly. "Now... it's very late. Want me to read to you?"

He was reaching for one of the scientific journals on her nightstand with a questioning glance in her direction. "I would love that," she whispered. "How about the one about the one on electric propulsion?"

"Sure, Baby. I won't understand a single word of it, but sure."

"Yes, you will. You're smart."

Jake read quietly with Jessica snuggled against his side until she fell asleep. And then he read the remainder of the article to himself, because he actually did understand it. And it was fascinating. And he watched his girlfriend sleep as he considered registering for one of her lectures next semester, eventually dozing off as well.

It felt like he slept for just twenty minutes and simultaneously twelve hours when he woke up to Jessica's sweet voice in his ear. 

"Jake. Good morning."

He grunted softly as he felt her hand work open the front of the suit pants he'd fallen asleep wearing, and then her fingers were skimming along his cock. 

"Jessica." His eyes fluttered open just in time to watch her tits and head disappear underneath the covers, and then her lips were on his dick. "Oh, fuck."

He whipped the blankets off as she giggled in surprise, her pink tongue just an inch from his tip. "Is this okay?" she asked, licking him softly as she held him loosely with one hand. Her gorgeous ass was up in the air above her head, decorated to perfection with her green thong, and she was awaiting an answer from him. 

"Fuck yes," he gasped, reaching for her glasses. "Put these on first, Baby."

She took them and slid them on. "You want to make sure I can see everything I'm doing?" she asked before settling into place again. 

"No. I just like how you look in them," he whispered. 

She grinned and pulled his pants down a little bit more, kissing his length as she did so. This marked the first time Jake had felt her mouth on his cock, and he was way too excited for this. He loved getting blowjobs; always had, always would. But he couldn't remember a single girl who wore glasses for him.

"You need to tell me what you like," she whispered, wiggling her ass in the air as she cupped his balls. Holy shit, this woman had no idea how fucking hot she was. 

"I'm going to like anything you do," he promised, and then he was rewarded with her parted lips around the head of his cock. She sucked on him in a soft rhythm as her tongue swirled, and he groaned, "God damn. What did I even do to deserve this?"

Jessica popped him free and said, "You're a good boyfriend," before taking him deep with one long, smooth stroke until he bottomed out.

"Holy hell." He was scrambling now, one hand in her hair and one gripping at the sheets. "Baby, baby, baby," he whispered, watching as she bobbed her head. He had to suck in a deep breath through his nose and try to calm himself down. But when he exhaled, he just ended up moaning instead. "Oh my god."

Jessica's tits bounced and slapped each other and his thighs as she bobbed faster and faster before withdrawing him and grinning. The long strand of her saliva hanging from her lips was mesmerizing, and when it broke and landed on his hip he thrust up in her hand involuntarily. 

"You seem eager for more," she teased, shaking her ass again. 

"Jessica," he gasped when she started slowly jerking him off with her hands. "I'll do anything."

She leaned down and kissed his tip and then his abs and then his tip again. "Just ask nicely."

Jake watched her lick her lips, and he was desperate for that pink tongue again. He knew she was in charge right now, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Please, Baby? Please suck me off? I can't get enough."

She leaned down farther, her tongue settling on his base as he watched his cock rest against her glasses. He had to stifle a moan at the feel of her warm mouth and cool glasses at the same time, and then she licked his full length before taking him deep. His girlfriend was meticulous and unhurried, just like she was when she was lecturing. And now he made the mistake of thinking of her in front of a room full of eyes wearing a short skirt and tall heels as he reached to squeeze her tits.

He had no idea what he was saying. Just depraved things falling from his lips.

"Jessica, your mouth was made for me."

"Fuck, Baby. I need to come. I need to come."

"You're so good. So good!"

He couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but he was whimpering and begging her now as she slowly dragged her lips up to his tip before pushing them back down. Every graze against his balls and stroke of her fingernails in his trimmed hair had him gripping her tighter. Each swipe of her tongue had him cursing under his breath. He couldn't remember ever being this verbal before. But now she wasn't changing her pace at all, favoring her current plan to make him lose his mind. 

"Please," he gasped, panting so hard it was embarrassing.

"Tell me what you want," she demanded between long stripes of her tongue, the change of pace taking him closer to the edge.

He wanted it bad. So he decided to say it. "Let me cum on your glasses?"

She grinned and wrapped both of her hands around his length, and he was immediately in trouble. "Cum wherever you want."

"Oh, hell," he whined, tilting her head just right with his fingers tangled in her hair, and then when she licked her lips again, he was right there. 

Jessica gasped as his cum hit her glasses before another ribbon landed on her forehead. She squealed in delight as he coated her up, and she kept pumping her hand up and down his length. "Jesus," he grunted, reaching for her hand and slowing her motion as she licked the last beads of cum from his tip. "Jessica."

Jake hauled her up his body and kissed her lips, tasting himself and needing more. He ran his tongue across her cheek, cleaning his cum from her skin. Then he licked her glasses, and when he kissed her, she moaned into his mouth. He dragged his tongue through his mess again and again as he cupped her ass and brushed her hair out of her face. But she was a mess everywhere, and so was he. It didn't matter, because she was smiling at him over the top of her glasses. 

"That was hot," she whispered, and he tipped his head back and swallowed hard, still tasting his cum.

He hadn't been needy like that in recent memory. Maybe ever. "Baby, you're what's hot."

She pushed her fingers back through his hair, and for some reason, looking at his girlfriend's cum soaked face had him completely convinced she was the one. "Come wash me off," she whispered, and Jake followed her into the bathroom and the shower. 

He cleaned her glasses and her face under the stream of steamy water, pausing frequently to kiss her sweetly. He ended up with his back pressed to the wall as she told him, "You made me feel so good about myself last night. Just like you always do. Thank you."

"I was just telling you the truth, Baby."

As he ran his nose along hers, he thought about all the things he wanted to tell her and tried to put all of it in order in his mind. Then she added, "Now that alumni weekend is over, your birthday is coming up. We can focus on that instead."

He smiled. "Nothing fancy, okay? I just thought maybe we could trade Chippy's for the Hard Deck for one night? You could meet the rest of my friends."

"Do they have Sam Adams on tap?" she asked with a coy smile. 

Jake scoffed. "I wouldn't have suggested it if they didn't."

"Then yes. That sounds perfect for your birthday."

---------------------------

On Monday morning, Jessica still felt incredible. She'd managed to get Jake to stay over again, and he'd left her place at six in the morning wearing his wrinkled suit. Just the thought of it made her smile. He'd taken so much time reinforcing that he didn't think less of her because of Brian. He'd told her over and over that none of it was her fault. 

Even though she had a department meeting, she practically floated down the hallway to her office. Seeing Brian today would have no bearing on her mood or her happiness. But when she got closer to her door, she saw someone waiting for her. 

"Advanced Calculus," Jessica called out, rushing a bit more with her travel mug of coffee and her bag. She was delighted to see her friend and thank her again for everything she and Bradley did to help her out. "Hi." 

But the other woman held her hands up with a remorseful look on her face. "Listen, Jessica. I'm really sorry if what I did or said to Brian on Saturday night makes things worse around here for you. I should have kept myself in check, but I just fucking hate him."

Jessica gasped, and her face broke out in a smile as tears welled in her eyes. "No way. It was kind of perfect actually. Do you know how good it felt to have someone stand up for me for once?"

Next thing she knew, Jessica was wrapped up in her arms, and the tears didn't even fall. They just provided a pleasant blur as both women laughed. 

"Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you'd be upset with me. Bradley told me to text you about a million times, but I knew you were probably having an important weekend with Jake." Then she jerked Jessica out of her arms and eyed her closely. "Jake was good, right? You told him about Brian and he was a gentleman?" 

Something flashed in her eyes that Jessica thought might have been protectiveness. "Yes. I told him everything, and he was... perfect."

"I knew he had it in him," she muttered. "Listen, I can't eat with you today. I promised Dr. Rosenthal I'd meet him to talk shop about the summer term over lunch. But tomorrow?"

"Sure," Jessica told her as she took off toward the elevators with a wave. "See you tomorrow."

After that, she checked her emails and found one from Dean Walters about how successful her alumni weekend event was. She decided she'd stop by his office and try to set up a one-on-one meeting with his receptionist later this week. Jessica probably had former Kappa Pi alum Dr. Gregory Michaels to thank for this, because she was absolutely certain Brain wouldn't have said anything flattering to the dean.

Convinced that Brian at his worst would have no effect on her whatsoever today, she headed downstairs for the weekly meeting with her chin held high. Jessica held the door open for Dr. Leeland and Dr. Nguyen, and then she blended into the back row seamlessly. Of course Brian took the time to thank everyone involved with the weekend by name. Well, everyone other than Jessica. But she just smirked in response. She'd already seen the email from Dean Walters. Brian could just spout off his usual shit until he was blue in the face. She could take it.

Then her physics lecture went smoothly, and Luca turned in a perfect homework set. She almost wanted to hug him, because he actually seemed proud of himself. Even though she ate lunch alone, she had some leftovers that Jake made, and she didn't mind one bit. Especially when he texted her while she was taking her break.

I miss you. I'll be there tomorrow for your office hours. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.

She was certain she could. She couldn't wait to show him. 

-----------------------

When Jake arrived on campus in his uniform on Tuesday evening, he expected to see Bradshaw's wife or perhaps Luca on his skateboard. What he didn't expect to find was a nearly empty science building. He smiled as he pushed the elevator button and rode up to Jessica's floor. Maybe he'd get a chance to have her alone in her office again. 

The weekend had been amazing, especially if he could cut out the parts where Brian Conley made his girlfriend cry. But Jake couldn't even be too upset about that, because after the frat fundraiser, Jessica had opened up even more to him. He finally had a better understanding of the way her mind worked, and he wanted to spend weeks reassuring her that he still felt the same way about her. 

Shit. He was definitely in love. There was no getting around that now. He would tell her soon. He'd figure out the best way to say it so she'd know he meant it. 

Her office door was open a few inches, and Jake could tell she wasn't alone. He heard voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. One voice sounded distinctly male, so maybe it was Luca looking for extra help. Based on what Jessica told Jake about his grades, Luca could absolutely use the extra help. So Jake just propped himself against the wall; he had no problem waiting until she was free.

"What the fuck do you mean Dean Walters emailed you directly?"

Jake pushed away from the wall immediately. That wasn't Luca. That was Brian, and he had just raised his voice.

Then he heard Jessica as she quietly said, "He emailed me to tell me I did a great job! This was my fundraiser, and you did nothing but try to prevent me from being successful!" 

"You don't deserve success," Brian hissed, and Jake tried to take some calming breaths. "And you'll never have it here. That includes tenure."

"What happened between us has nothing to do with how well I can do my job!"

When Brian laughed, it made Jake's skin crawl. With his fists clenched, he slowly pushed the door open as Brian said, "You deserve every label I gave you after you tried to ruin my marriage: the idiotic, unreliable department slut. You should have just kept your head down and your cunt available for me. Then you'd have tenure."

Brian had Jessica shoved up against her bookcase full of journals, the ones that Jake loved so much. Her face was red, and he could tell she was on the verge of tears. But she was so fucking strong as she told Brian, "I will get tenure, and you'll look like an asshole to everyone."

Then Brian put his hand on her face, and Jake snapped. "Hey, Conley," he barked, shoving the door so hard that it bounced off the wall before slamming shut. Brian turned to look at him, but his hands remained on Jessica who looked shocked now. "Hands off!" When he didn't back away from Jessica, Jake walked around her desk and as gently as he could with shaking hands, pulled her away from Brian. "You're even dumber than you look, man."

Brian laughed at him. "Yet you're the one trying to defend this slut."

Jake sucker punched him directly in his nose before he could think things through. "Oh, shit," he gasped as blood spurted onto Brian's suit and Jessica's precious collection of journals. 

She gasped next to him. "Jake."

"Fuck!" Brian nearly shouted, reaching for his gushing nose with both hands. "Are you out of your mind?"

But Jake shook his head, because Brian's bullshit wasn't going to work on him. "If I see you touch her or any woman like that ever again, I'll break your entire face. And you better start saying your prayers that I don't go to the dean myself. You think it's smart to leave the door open during Dr. Reed's office hours while you physically and verbally assault her?"

Brian just looked at him as his nose bled and his face started to bruise. Then his gaze shifted to Jessica where she stood slightly behind Jake. "Fuck you, bitch." Then he was gone, sending her door slamming once again.

"Jake," Jessica whispered as he looked at the droplets of blood on the floor and the bookshelf. 

"Jess, I'm sorry," he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. Her eyes were wide as he added, "I'm so sorry. I think I just made things a lot worse."

-----------------------------

Okay, I love to see him get the punch in while they are in private, but now I'm nervous. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 15

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[it-was-summer]

Come In With The Rain- Part Two (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. I could tell everyone everything that has been going on for the past couple of weeks but I fear that no one cares. I genuinely found solace in writing this, and I really hope everyone likes it! I have not proofread this very throughly, but hey partially proofreading something is better than nothing at all guys. I thought about writing a SFW and NSFW version but I feel like if you don't want to read the smut in this... just scroll down a little more and it'll go away. With so much love and gratitude, Em.

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

Part one -> You are on Part Two!

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Light cursing, pining, guilt up the wazoo, Spencer Reid being pookie again, death mentioned (its literally a part of Swan Lake don't worry), ballet talk by someone who sucks at ballet (me), SMUT okay?!?!?!?, the words cunt and cock guys!!! (I'm 22 I have free will), unprotected sex (STIs are no joke, believe me), fingering, mention of oral sex, slight dirty talk, female anatomy, dark house mentioned, joke of a heart attack, and a secret final thing (not proofread well enough probably).

Plot: Coping with your break-up was no easy feat. Luckily, Spencer is there to help. Maybe that's why he can't stop thinking about you.

Word Count: 20,043

Day Two Hundred and Five

After week two of the breakup, you decided you couldn’t sit around and cry on Spencer’s couch anymore. You weren’t ready to go out every night or date again by any means; you were still working on some things in the dating area. Dating someone for two years and five months will do that to you.

But you were ready to get back to doing things you enjoyed: reading novels, watching movies, baking, cooking, knitting, and spending time with a man you were grateful to call one of your best friends.

Spencer Reid was a godsend. He wouldn’t accept any money as a thank-you for letting you crash on his couch for a month, so you moved to your next best angle– spoiling the man. If he went to the grocery store, you went with him. You’d take control of the cart and grab items needed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner– you became a hardworking FBI agent’s dream. You’d make breakfast for the two of you, occasionally making lunch with too many leftovers, forcing Spencer to take some before he left for work that day, and then topping it all off with dinners. 

He had tried to get you to stop multiple times. He felt terrible and guilty for having a guest in his kitchen more than he was. You wouldn’t hear it, and the times you did, he would find a book he had mentioned last week on his bed the next day. 

He felt like he was losing his mind over your kindness. You were overcompensating when there was no reason to overcompensate. He kept telling you how happy he was to have you in the apartment, that you were safe, but you would just say a sweet “I know” before you’d be on his couch looking up a recipe for some elaborate jello dessert. 

You sat across from him at his dining room table, humming softly as you ate. Seeing your slightly happy mood made Spencer feel better. He assumed another reason for your ‘attentive’ behavior recently was that it was a coping mechanism for you. Struggling with the loss of a two-year relationship, he knew you were struggling— struggling with quite a bit, actually: your failed relationship, your upcoming move, being cheated on, and, the cherry on top, immense guilt. 

You felt like a burden above all else. You had told Spencer as such after apologizing for nothing for what seemed to be the tenth time two weeks ago. He threatened to find whoever taught you the word and ensure they never saw the light of day again, and that got a smile out of you at the time.

Spencer was starting to wrestle with some guilt of his own. It wasn’t that you had done anything to warrant said guilt. You were the perfect guest—a saint. Even when faced with situations that would leave anyone nearly catatonic for weeks, you were spoiling him. And he was eating it up, literally and figuratively. 

A rational voice inside of his head knew that being around you was a bad idea at the current time. Josh had accused you of cheating on him with Spencer emotionally, that is. It was a terrible time, and it couldn’t be a worse time for him to realize how strong his feelings were for you. It is not necessarily love per se, but perhaps it is an intense infatuation. He kept trying to rationalize his feelings over and over and over again. He knew you were nowhere near ready for that kind of revelation. He had to intellectualize and compartmentalize his emotions into a tiny box in his brain to protect himself and you. That was the right thing to do. 

So, he relished in these little moments while you were still crashing at his apartment, happily eating across from him—all while knowing he could not have you. You’d always take a few bites and then ask him how his day was. The simple ask made a smile appear on his face nearly every time. 

He shrugged a little, a small smile on his lips as he twisted some noodles onto his fork. “It was okay, thankfully, it was slow. Paperwork is a nice break from traveling for cases. Not that I don’t like the cases, they can just get…” He trails off briefly, looking down at the chow mein on his fork. “Overwhelming.” 

When he looks up, his heart nearly melts at the sweet, empathetic look you’re giving him. With you, it was never pity. You always looked at him with soft, compassionate eyes and a look that told him you felt for him. He remembers mentioning his struggles with his mother briefly as the two of you watched a movie earlier that week, a character being paranoid schizophrenic. You briefly expressed sympathy for the character and how hard it must be to live with something like that. Spencer can’t remember what came over him when he said, “It’s hard on a family– hard to watch.” 

You stared at him for a second before you blinked a little and reached for his hand, resting your palm on the back of his hand. You said nothing after that, and Spencer was happy you didn’t pry. 

You were good at listening like that, something he adored about you. You never bombarded him with questions; sometimes, you’d offer a soft “Do you want to talk about it?” but nothing beyond that. 

You knew you could be nosy with Spencer’s job, but sometimes you could look into those hazel eyes and tell when he did or didn’t want to talk about something. It was a superpower you had picked up in the almost seven months of knowing him. 

You poked at a carrot with your chopsticks after Spencer answered your question regarding his day, “Paperwork day for the guy who reads twenty-thousands words per minute has got to go by fast,” 

“You would think so, but sometimes, when I sit down for so long, all my energy leaves me. Has to be all the sleep I’ve been losing lately due to someone’s soft snoring in the living room.” He chuckles softly, a playful look in his eyes as he bites down on his chow mein. 

You gasp and glare at him playfully, “You said it wasn’t that bad!” You’re shaking your head in seeming disbelief as he chews, taking a moment to tease him more. “I can’t believe you, Spencer Walter Reid, would lie to me like this. How am I supposed to trust you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes as he swallows, his mouth opening to reply when a knocking at his door causes the two of you to cease all sounds of laughter and look toward the door. You watch as Spencer walks to the door, looking through the peephole. He sends you a sympathetic look over his shoulder and opens the door. 

You’re standing up now, walking away from the small dining room table to peer over who is at the door. You feel your knees become weak at the sight of them together. It’s a blatant attempt to get back at you, and it isn’t exactly subtle as Estelle wraps her arms around Josh’s arm. You watch as his elbow presses into her exposed cleavage, and you feel like laughing wildly. 

Josh is slow to see you behind Spencer, but eventually, his eyes land on you. You want to look away, but his eyes on yours have you frozen. You lick your lips nervously as you wonder why he’s here. Two weeks, almost three, of not even attempting to see you. And now he’s at Spencer’s front door. He’s probably sick with satisfaction at the fact that you’re here– you can see it in the way he smiles at you. 

You used to love seeing him smile, but this one causes your stomach to turn. He’s saying something, but it all sounds like static. You shake your head a little before you hear your voice whisper, “Sorry, what?” 

“I have a box of your things.” He repeats, and you see the cardboard box now. You nod a little and walk toward the door. Your hands are shaking as you take the box away from him. You look at Estelle, who is trying to avoid your gaze, as you take the box. 

“Why didn’t you text me?” 

“I didn’t want to see it anymore,” He maneuvers Estelle’s hand into his as you take the box away from him. “That and we were on our way out tonight. What’s wrong with two lovebirds visiting two other lovebirds.” 

Your tongue feels like sandpaper as you try not to yell, cry, throw up, maybe all at once. Spencer is the one who speaks up for you, “We aren’t in a relationship,” 

“Oh, so you’re just screwing my leftovers?” 

Spencer is trying to keep calm, but his grip on the edge of his door is tightening, and he can hear the anger in his voice as he says, “Have some respect.” 

He feels Josh’s laughter at his comment coarse through his veins like a non-luminescent flame; venom rises on his tongue before he feels a soft hand touching his arm. Your eyes are wide and sorrowful as you silently shake your head at him. It’s enough to make him stand down but not enough to stop him from attempting to kill your ex-boyfriend with a glare. 

“Thank you, Josh. I hope the two of you have a lovely evening.” You say as you motion for Spencer to close the door, and you let out a shaky sigh as he does, the door closing with a light click. “Thought I packed everything,” you whisper as you walk back to the dining room table, setting the box on the floor next to you. As you sit back in your chair to eat, Spencer stands awkwardly next to you for a second, his eyes looking at the box before he tears them away and sits in his seat. 

It is quiet, so quiet and tense that Spencer can hear everything. His senses are attuned to any signs of distress from you, but none do. You look up from your Chinese food after a while and give him a little confused look. He’s sure he’s looking at you strangely, so he decides he can’t handle the silence anymore. “Why are you still nice to him?” 

You look back down at your food as you poke at pieces of broccoli and celery. You sigh gently as your shoulders slump, “What’s the point of being mean? He has Estelle. He thinks he’s won whatever our break-up was. I can’t fight that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Can’t argue with someone who doesn’t think they’re in the wrong, Spence.” 

Spencer draws his lips into a tight line and looks at his food, slowly twirling some soy-covered noodles on his fork. “I guess not, but it still isn’t fair to you.” 

“None of this is fair, but I can’t control it. I can only control myself. He didn’t listen the first time, and he won’t listen the second time. I’d be wasting my breath.” You huff out sharply as you take a bite of soy-covered broccoli. Spencer raises his gaze to meet yours and smiles apologetically, but he doesn’t have to say the words as he watches you chew. You’re already shaking your head with amusement in your eyes. 

After a few more minutes of silent eating, you glance at the box by your feet and playfully ask, “You want to see what we got?” 

Spencer wants to tell you that it’s your stuff. You probably already know what is inside, but he figures you already know that. You’re just trying to make the situation less tense. So, he nods, “Yeah,”

You clap your hands together quickly before leaning down to grab the box. You look up at him and count down slowly, “Three… Two… One!” Your fingers open the box as you laugh. 

Spencer doesn’t need to lean over the table to see what is inside the box as you slowly start pulling items from the box and holding them up proudly. A half-read book, bookmarks, pens, earrings, necklaces, and then your fingers stall. You slowly pull out a photo of Josh’s family with yours, the two of you in the middle. You frown a little as you show Spencer, and he wonders what he should say in an attempt to comfort you. 

But you’re gently turning the photo back to you and tracing the edges. Then you smile, a genuine smile. It’s the last thing Spencer expects from you as you whisper, “It was a great vacation, you know? I kept asking for those cocktails with the little umbrella, and Josh’s mom and I kept talking about–” You cut yourself off.

You look up at Spencer, “Well, it was great.” 

Spencer wanted to grab you by your shoulder and shake you out of it, and he didn’t understand how you could be so happy to remember your time with Josh when the relationship ended so badly. How could you give Josh another one of your smiles? 

“I know it seems dramatic,” you sigh as you set the picture back into the box. “But Monday, I was just at work and felt free… if that makes any sense?” 

Spencer shook his head slightly, indicating he did not understand what you were saying. You bit your lip a little as you tried to suppress a smile, “When I took a second to think about Josh and me. I realized that…he hadn’t been the person I fell in love with for a long time. He hasn’t been that person for a whole year. That’s the funny thing about love: you’re supposed to love a person as they change. I think I’m still holding onto Josh from a year ago. The Josh from right before I moved in.”

Spencer nodded along silently, trying his hardest to relate. As far as he could tell, Spencer had only been in love once. He never got to the part that you were talking about. He barely got to meet her before she died. When you were still dating Josh, you asked Spencer if there was someone, and he told you a little bit about his someone– his Maeve. His headaches, her intelligence, their romance, and how he lost her just when he was about to have her. 

He remembers how you teared up and how easy it felt to hug you. He wasn’t fond of hugging people when he was upset. He wanted to protect himself from showing too much to most people, but you weren’t most people. You were the first person he could dream about again, making him hope for the maybe. 

But that hope for something more with you didn’t matter much when you were right in front of him, telling him you were holding onto a version of Josh long gone. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest. Matters of the heart always make him stumble around a little, and he always feels like he says the wrong things. 

You shift in your seat before you say a sweet, “I’m going to okay, really okay.” And Spencer believes you. 

Day Two Hundred and Twenty-Five

Spencer helped you move into your new apartment at the beginning of the month. It was ten minutes from your old complex and, according to Spencer, ‘too far away for him to keep an eye on you.’ If you were being honest, you were happy to be alone for the first time since the break-up. 

Spencer was a great friend, the best friend, for letting you crash on his couch for an entire month. You got to see a more intimate version of him, too. You had told him that you’d felt like a burden initially, but by the end, you couldn’t end but feel ashamed of yourself. 

Spencer would come home and try to push you out of the kitchen as you made dinner. If he couldn’t, then he would insist on helping you. He would sit on the couch with you, and if you were interested in something he wasn’t a fan of, he would say, 'This could be the movie that changes my mind.’ He was so sweet, caring, and overwhelmingly supportive that you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. It made you feel sick to think that maybe Josh was right– maybe you did have feelings for Spencer. So, you gave it a few weeks when you moved into your new apartment. 

There was no way Josh was right. You tried to remember all the ways that Spencer Reid was off-limits. He was your best friend. He had seen you sob over Legally Blonde and then critiqued it until you laughed, face raw from tears. He had seen you cry over a burnt roast one stormy evening last week. Even if you did have feelings for Spencer, it was unlikely he reciprocated those feelings. You were too much of a mess. 

Being away from him helped you shove any feelings for him deep into the ridges of your mind and process everything. You didn’t have time to focus on Spencer or men in general. No, you need to focus on yourself for a while. 

You decided to avoid hanging out with Spencer until the ballet in two and a half weeks, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You could sort through your emotions to see if they were something real or an intense version of friendship—friendly affection and nothing more. 

With no Spencer, no one to come home to at night, and no one to embarrass yourself to, one thing was evident for the weeks ahead. It was going to be an incredibly dull two and a half weeks. 

Day Two Hundred and Forty-Five

You kept glancing at the clock at work. Friday night, tonight at six. The ballet wasn’t until eight, but Spencer and you had dinner plans. You canceled the reservation that was initially intended for Josh and you and changed it to a restaurant you actually enjoyed. And if you were being honest… you were excited to see Spencer, have a nice dinner, and see Swan Lake. 

It seemed like the perfect evening. After spending the past two and a half weeks mulling over your feelings and what they were toward Spencer. You decided you couldn’t do it. Spencer Reid was untouchable. He was your friend, and pridefully, you couldn’t let Josh’s accusations become true. It felt wrong, dirty. So you decided that no matter your feelings for Spencer, they would ultimately calm down and return to the good-natured platonic feelings they once were– if they were ever platonic, you didn’t know. You were still figuring that part out. 

The second you got home, you dove into your closet. Back in college, you used to joke that every location had a theme, and a part of you still believed that. You were careful when choosing your outfit. Black was a classic, and you had debated it against a different dress in a color that looked good against your skin. Ultimately, the elegant black ruched dress you had hanging up in your closet won. You had better shoes for it anyway. 

The way you were getting ready was a little frantic, accompanied by the fact that Spencer insisted on picking you up since you now lived closer to the restaurant. You were scared you didn’t have enough time. 

Primping and preening would have to be cut in half. Ultimately, you still had ten minutes to get ready before Spencer texted you to let you know he was on his way. Your hair was done in a stylish way that framed your face just right, your skin moisturized and glittering, and your makeup done to be clean and slightly romantic. 

You were pulling on a pair of low pumps when you heard his soft knocking at your door. You glanced at your bedroom door and let out a soft groan of frustration as you struggled with a strap on one of the shoes, “It’s open!” You trip a little as you rush across the room for your bag, so the words come out slightly stumbled. 

Nonetheless, Spencer hears it, and you can hear the front door opening. “You know, even if it is for my benefit, you shouldn’t do that.” You hear him call out from your living room, along with the sound of something rustling. 

You smile and shake your head as you try to pick between a pair of earrings, “But, it was for you. You can walk back out, and I’ll lock it again, just for you.” 

“Alright, I can drive home right now.” 

“And leave me all alone tonight? You wouldn’t dare.” You laugh out as you take one last look at yourself in the mirror and slowly smooth out your dress's fabric. A small voice in your head whispers, “Dates always make me nervous.” You feel your cheeks burn at the idea that this is a date–you remind yourself it isn’t. 

This is just two friends hanging out, platonically. You look at yourself in the mirror as you silently convince yourself that friends hang out all the time. You can hear Sabrina’s voice in your head; after you told her that you were going to the ballet with Spencer, she said, “‘Me and my hot friends always go on platonic dates that definitely won’t lead to anything, ever.’” 

You cringe inwardly at the memory, shaking off your anxieties as you open your bedroom door and step out. The first thing you notice is the bouquet of flowers in his hands—your favorite flowers mixed amongst baby’s breath and eucalyptus leaves. You gasp softly and give him a broad smile, “You got me flowers?” 

Spencer's eyes haven’t met yours yet as they trail down your body. He’s trying not to stare at you like a creep, honest. But it’s near impossible to pull his eyes away from how you look in that dress, his gaze meeting yours, hoping you didn’t catch him staring at you like a hungry dog. 

“Yeah. Yes, I did. I saw them at the store and thought you’d like them.” He’s a lousy liar. 

You smile wide as you take them out of his hands and go into the kitchen to find a vase for them. “Now, why did you just lie?” You call him out with a soft laugh. 

Spencer frowns a little, knowing he can’t give you the real reason. Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks and I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone who was only ten minutes away. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I feel like I can actually think clearly when you’re around. Because you make my mind slow to a steady beat that doesn’t scare me… Because… Because… “Flowers can have a long-term and immediate effect on a person’s mood. Most of the moods associated with flowers are joy, empathy, hope, pride, and love, to name a few. I just wanted to make you,” he pauses as his lips form a tight-lipped smile, “feel the associated emotions.” And it is partially truthful. 

You like that answer enough as you cut the stems shorter, fill the vase with water halfway, and carefully slip the bouquet into the vase. “Well, I do feel happy…” You trace one of the stems with a feather touch. “And, I do feel pretty,” you pause as you sing a little, slightly off-key, “and witty, and–” 

“Please, no. I just got that song out of my head!” Spencer says as his hands fly to his ear dramatically. He can recognize that laugh in a pitch-black room; his smile hurts his cheeks. 

As you rearrange the flowers, you glance at Spencer’s outfit and feel something akin to butterflies in your stomach (maybe just a little lower). His look isn’t far off from his work clothes. The same dark plum tie against his light grape button-up long sleeve. Sometimes, he wears a cardigan with it, but he’s sporting a grey blazer right now. Same slacks, different shoes. Same Spencer, neater hair. 

“Did you get a haircut? It looks…” As you slowly leave the rearranged flowers, you trail off and walk to him, staring up at his hair. “Tame." you finish with a smile. 

Spencer looks down into your eyes and shakes his head slowly, “No, haircut. Just had a stroke of luck.” But he can see your hand coming up to his hair, and he’s too slow to stop you as you ruffle his hair lightly and gasp. 

“Gel!” You squeal as he grabs your right hand by the wrist and pulls it away from his hair. You’re giggling too much to notice how intimate this could look to someone on the outside. “Good luck, my ass.” 

“Apologies for wanting to look good next to you. I’ll never try again.” 

“I like your hair as it is.” You say as he drops your wrist and takes a small step back. “And we always look good together, excuse you.” 

He wants to tell you that it sounds wrong when you say it like that, but he doesn’t want to interrupt that smile on your face, so he just wordlessly nods before checking his watch. 

Before he can get the words out, you quickly grab your bag and say, “Reservation is in twenty. We must make haste!” 

The restaurant wasn’t too far, but you had a thing with time, and you didn’t want to be late for the ballet at eight, so when the hostess said your table was already ready when you and Spencer arrived— a wave of relief washed over your anxious bones. 

It was a fine dinner, with delightful conversation– witty banter and laughs. When Spencer left for the bathroom, you watched him as you happily sipped on your water. You felt a soft tap on your shoulder that caused your head to turn, a pretty woman looking at you with stars in her eyes. 

“You and your boyfriend are so sweet,” 

You felt hot all over, “Oh,” you shake your head a little, “He’s n-” 

“You two bounce off each other so well; I’ve never heard anything like it! Honey,” she looks to her girlfriend across the table, “Have you ever heard two people so good– Don’t give me that look. She thinks I’m nosy, never mind her opinion,” A sharp laugh comes from her girlfriend, “I just hope you know that the two of you are adorable!” 

You smile politely and force yourself not to sink into your chair, “Thank you,” you squeak softly. She nods with a large grin as she turns back to her dinner, and you awkwardly do the same, poking gently at your food with your fork. 

Spencer can see how you’re slumped a little in your chair, breathing heavily, as you slowly shake your head. He can’t help but wonder what happened in the five minutes he was away from the table. He places a soft hand on your forearm as he sits down and whispers, “What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes meet his, and you let the caramel color of his eyes bring you back to reality. “Just a bad memory,” You flash him a fake smile, gently pulling your arm away from his grip. You look down at your meal, then at him, “What’s the time?” 

Spencer’s pulling back his sleeve, his eyes holding your gaze before glancing at the time. “7:18.” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water, “It’s only fifteen away,” Your voice sounds off, and Spencer can feel his brows furrowing at the sound. 

“Did I do someth–”

“No,” you say quickly. Your gaze looks uneased, but your touch on his hand is soft with concern. “No, Spence. I’m just in my head, thinking too many things at once. I’ll be okay.” 

Spencer tries to relax over your words, but he knows something is wrong—something you don’t want to discuss with him. He slowly nods and says gently, “Okay,” And lets it slide. 

For a second, there is a beat of palatable silence, and Spencer can feel his skin itch due to the lack of sound at the table. He didn’t mind comfortable silences in rooms with you, but this was hardly comfortable. So he did the best thing he knew how to do, “You know,” your eyes land on his, “Ballet originated during the Italian Renaissance, the fifteenth century actually. However, it wasn’t until the sixteenth century that it was brought to France by Catherine de Medici.” 

You mouthed a soft ‘oh,’ Spencer continued before you could say more. “She showed the first ‘meal fork’ in court too!” Spencer said with a nod, taking his fork in hand and making an excited face at you. 

You smile wide at that and laugh openly at him, “Are you trying to cheer me up by talking about a dead Queen of France right now?” 

“That depends, is it working?” 

You shrug a little, playful and dismissive, “I haven’t decided yet.” 

Spencer liked his lips, and he stared at you for a second, “Catherine De Medici was notoriously Catholic and played a center role in the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre, which was a ploy to wipe out Hugo-” 

“Are we ready for the check?” The waiter’s voice interrupted Spencer’s mini-rant. A slight frown appeared on your face as you looked at your almost-finished food and gave the waiter a slight nod.

When he walked away to grab the check, your hands reached for your purse, “Hey! Put the card down.” Spencer snipped at you as he smacked your card with his own, earning a chuckle from you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to pay, Spencer. It’s an expensive me-” 

“View it as a thank you for all the meals you ma-” 

“I’m the one who invited you out-” 

The waiter now stood at the edge of the table as he nervously set down the check, and your hand flew to it. Spencer’s hand is faster than yours as he grabs the check, slides his card in it without glancing at the cost, and hands it back to the waiter. When his gaze met yours again, you’re frowning at him—a playful kind of frown, but a frown. “What?” His voice cracks softly. 

“Curse you and your long, attractive fingers, Dr. Reid. I could have paid. I was happy too, you know?” 

“I know, I know, but I just couldn’t help but think about how kind you’ve been to me, and I– you think my fingers are attractive?” 

Your cheeks flush a little, suck in a breath, and shake your head. “I think you’re imagining things, Spencer. I said ‘hyperactive’.” 

He raises an eyebrow as you try to gaslight someone with an eidetic memory, but when he thought about teasing you further, all he could think about was your sad, distant face just moments ago. So, he decides that maybe he should keep his mouth shut– this time. “Hyperactive it is.” 

You know he’s being nice; he definitely heard you say his hands were attractive. But he’s a saint. He let you crash on his couch for a month and never expected any money out of it. He let you cry on his shoulder and monopolize his television—not to mention his free time. He was so compassionate and kind that he made it hard for you to deny the fluttering feeling in your chest as you look at him in the restaurant's dim light. “Thank you,” 

“Happy to do it,” His voice is soft as the waiter slowly returns with his card, but his eyes are glued to your face. The look in your eyes can only be described as appetency… no, tenderness, or maybe endearment. All he knows is that you’re looking around the restaurant with eyes shining with sweet and loving emotion, barely meeting his. 

The drive to the theatre wasn’t too long, and the two of you had managed to get a nice parking spot, considering the traffic. The seats were in the lower mezzanine section, a selection that was mostly for you when you originally booked it. You could still hear Josh’s voice as he questioned why you weren’t going for the closer, more intimate orchestra section. You liked seeing the dancers, yes, but you loved the stage work too. In your opinion, the view of all the dancers on stage, with the props complimenting their movements, made the show more enjoyable. 

You glance over nervously at Spencer as he sits down next to you. You shift in your seat a little as you whisper. “I’m sorry the seats aren’t closer. I like seeing the whole stage.” You motion to the stage with your hand. 

Spencer smiles and shakes his head before tilting his head a little lower to whisper back, “The seats are perfect.” Then he’s taking your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze, and you think you might explode. 

You feel a little nauseous, a twisting feeling slowly forming into a giddy excitement in your stomach. The theater's lights start to dim, but Spencer doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he maneuvers your hand to the armrest between the two of you and gently lays his palm upon the back of yours. 

You struggle for a second as you move your head to look at the stage. Your eyes are glued to the stage now, watching intently as the Prologue begins. 

The tension is almost forgotten about halfway through the pas de trois, but you can feel his breath softly against your ear before he even speaks, “Most ballet companies in America follow the 1895 revival. The choreographer’s, Marius Petipa, pas de trois remains nearly unchanged in most Swan Lake productions today.” 

You glance at him to see that his face is closer to yours than you’d like it to be, but you give him a soft sound of interest as your heart thumps in your chest. He seems grateful for the sound as he leans away from you, his eyes lingering on yours, and he reluctantly turns his gaze back to the stage. 

Slowly, you follow suit, replicating his movements, but not before you find your eyes dipping down to his hand on your still. You smile softly as you watch one ballerina get lifted off the ground for a second. 

During the first intermission between Acts, you told Spencer you wanted to get some fresh air. You felt hot all over during the scene of Odette’s reveal as Spencer went from placing his palm on top of yours to gently lacing his fingers through yours. When the first intermission started, you decided you needed to get outside and breathe. 

And it hit you. 

When you were with Josh for the last few months, you would feel an itch to get away, to run a floor down. When he missed the point of a joke, you’d make a mental note to repeat it to Spencer later. All the dates should have been with Josh: the foreign movies, the painting, poetry readings, this ballet. You felt a twisting in your gut as you realized that Josh was right. You had stopped wanting him a long time ago. You stopped seeking him out in a crowd. Instead, your eyes had started looking for a tall brunette with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Spencer was suddenly the person you thought about when you heard a lovely song, saw something interesting at the store, or had a bad day— not Josh. 

When did that happen? You felt like crying, breathing hard against the theater's outside wall. You felt thousands of questions racing through your mind, but one reverberated loudly: Does Spencer know?

You felt your mouth turn to cotton at the idea of Spencer Reid knowing you’re helplessly in love with him. Oh my god, you’re in love with Spencer Reid. 

When did you stop loving Josh? Did you stop loving him the second you ran up to Spencer in the apartment’s parking lot? Maybe it was when he saw that your shoelace was untied one rare late-night walk in the park together, and he stooped down to tie it for you? Or when he annotated Jane Austen’s Persuasion as a random ‘just because’ gift? When did your love for Josh stop and your love for Spencer begin? The answer didn’t matter much now because now you know. 

You’re in love with Spencer Reid, but he can’t know.

It was too risky a move. He was your friend above all else. Then, there was the matter of your pride and dignity. Josh was right, and you didn’t want him to be. You had unintentionally destroyed a two-year relationship; how could you let yourself be happy after that? How could you be happy after broken promises of marriage, growing old together? 

The lights flickered to signify the end of the intermission, and you slipped back into the theatre with a calm smile. Your cheeks were red when you caught sight of him again, and there he was, reading the program. As you got closer, it was like he could feel you in the air. His head lifted toward your direction, and his eyes met yours instantaneously. But how could you not love those eyes? Honey-filled irises that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. Wild, wavy, brown hair that curled around the edges of his face. You feel like crying again. 

He could tell. His expression shifted to concern as you took your seat next to him, “Everything alright?” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Forcing a smile, you nod and gently whisper, “Allergies,” as your weak excuse. 

Nonetheless, it worked for Spencer as he gave you a nod. At least he let you think it worked. His eyes drifted over to you occasionally as the next act started. Sometimes, his eyes would meet yours, and he would give you a sweet smile before staring intensely at the stage. 

He was sure he had done something wrong. He was sure it was how he held your hand during the previous act. He knew he shouldn't have pushed that boundary, but when you didn’t move your hand away from him the whole act, he felt ecstatic— shamelessly so.

Spencer tried to keep his hand busy when you left during intermission. He wanted to trace his thumb against your knuckles, feel the size of your palm against his, and know the lines of your palm forevermore. He was being selfish. So, the paper program was the best way for him to pass the time. 

But these feelings for you that he had just kept getting in the way. When you moved to your new apartment, he knew you were avoiding him. The why was the part Spencer couldn’t figure out. He wondered what he could have done wrong so often that he was sure he would grovel at your feet the next time he saw you. Then he saw you tonight, and he couldn’t understand why he ever let you leave his apartment in the first place. 

When he saw you step out of your bedroom, his heart sank, and he knew. He knew he couldn’t intellectualize these feelings away– couldn’t deny them any longer. His hands yearned to touch you like they yearned to turn the page of a good book. His eyes searched for you in every crowd. He thought of roaming through stores near your apartment, hoping he might run into you, though he talked himself out of it multiple times. You were the only thing on his mind these days. Last week, when the team was in Detroit, he saw someone who looked like you and almost grabbed their hand in the middle of the precinct. 

Spencer's eyes drifted to you again near the end of the second to last act. Two intermissions, almost three acts and you still seemed off. You still gave him a sweet smile and let him whisper little facts to you here and there, but you didn’t seem like yourself. It seemed like you were hiding something from him. 

During the last act, he was practically lost in thought as he watched the dramatic scenes of Swan Lake play out in front of him. He was sure his eyebrows were pinched together as his fingers rubbed circles on the armrest, eyes darting around the stage with the Swan Queen’s movements. 

That was until the final scene. Every ballet company was different, but this one decided they liked a tragic ending better. As Odette begins to throw herself into the lake, he feels your hands grab his. Spencer jumps at the feeling, his eyes darting over to you with a concerned expression, but you’re staring straight at the stage. 

Your hand held onto his tight as the lovers killed themselves, and you were tearing up. He couldn’t look away; you were so enraptured. Spencer felt guilty for not being as enthralled as you had been all night. He was so busy silently panicking over what was different with you that he forgot to be in the moment with you. He squeezes your hand gently as the music hits its crescendo. He could feel the music taking hold of him, grabbing him just as tight as you had moments prior. It wasn’t just Siegfried following Odette off a ledge. Spencer felt he would, too, if you asked him. Was this the caress of love?

He had to force himself to watch the stage as the lovers reunited in the afterlife, and then you’re letting go of his hand and clapping with a brilliant smile on your face. He claps, too, but he’s only looking at you– throwing silent praises to you. 

When the rows start to clear out, you feel better. The performance successfully gets your mind off your worries concerning Spencer, and as the two of you walk to his car, you’re linking your arm with him. “Can I share a fun fact?” 

You can feel the soft shake of Spencer’s diaphragm against your forearm as he chuckles, “When have I ever turned that down?” 

You shrug a little in response to his rhetorical question, “When Soviet leaders died in the eighties, the government would play recorded performances of Swan Lake on television broadcasts, unintentionally making the public associate the ballet with the deaths of their leaders and political instability.” You give him a silly little face of mock surprise at the end of it, and he’s laughing. 

Spencer leans closer to you under the parking lot street lamps, his car coming into view. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

You frown as you pull away slightly to look up at him, your feet slowing slightly, “You already knew that?” 

Spencer lets out a faux sigh of disappointment as he gives you a solemn nod of confirmation. You shake your head in disbelief as you let go of his arm and walk toward the passenger seat. Spencer follows you, intending to open your door for you, but you don’t seem to notice how close he is as you pull on the locked car door. “Move for me,” When Spencer says it, you feel your legs unintentionally becoming jelly at the tone of his voice: soft, deep, and cracking slightly. 

You step aside for him as he unlocks his car and opens the door for you. You give him an affectionate grin as you slide into the passenger seat and watch Spencer round the front of his car to the driver’s side. You had to give him credit where credit was due; Spencer Reid could be damn charming when he wanted to be. 

On the ride home, he continues with his persistent pursuit of unconscious charm, “Maybe we should go see Sleeping Beauty, or maybe Coppéila if you want to watch something comical?” 

You giggle softly at his suggestions as you give him a skeptical glance to the side, “I didn’t know you liked ballet so much,” 

Spencer’s cheeks feel hot, “I don’t,” he admits in a raw voice. 

You turn your head to stare at him with a gentle expression as Spencer’s hands tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning white. You observe him carefully as his bottom lip is nervously drawn into his mouth for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as he flashes you a meek smile. It feels like a sick joke, Spencer being in love with you. It was exhilarating, euphoric, excruciating, and unbearable all at once. You had already made the self-declaration that you would keep your feelings to yourself and decided that you couldn’t let yourself be happy with Spencer– not after what you had done to Josh. The guilt ate away at you as you stared at him, a lame ‘oh��� falling from your lips as you swallowed hard. 

“I just,” he began, “I mean–” he sighs out with frustration, “I just like going places with you.” He settles as he glances from the road to you, his grip on the wheel relaxing. You smile and nod in agreement. 

“Me too,” you whisper, and the conversation dies off for a second. 

Spencer rectifies the situation the only way he knows how "Coppélia was actually based on a dark fantasy about a man’s disastrous infatuation with a life-like doll called Der Sandmann, quite literally translated as The Sandman, by E.T.A Hoffman.” 

“Oh, so Pygmalion and Galatea.” 

“Yes! And Pinocchio, Frankenstein, Herbert West-Reanimator, My Fair Lady-” 

You hold up a hand, “Wait, My Fair Lady?” You question with delighted interest. 

“The play it was based on is called Pygmalion. Henry Higgins shapes Eliza Doolittle into a lady, and he falls in love with her.” 

The way Spencer says it sounds so direct, never demeaning or snobbish, you nod a little at the connection. “You ever listen to My Fair Lady?” 

Spencer opens his mouth to affirm that he has, but he falters. It seems like something his mother would have liked him to listen to with her, but they never have. “No,” his voice was quiet. 

You gasp and point over to him teasingly, “Uncultured,” 

“It’s one thing! I’m plenty cultured! The play Pygmalion covers-” 

“I know, but you haven’t heard of Julie Andrews!” 

“I have! Penelope made me watch all of The Sound of Music-” He’s cut off by the sound of you giggling softly in the passenger seat. “You’re messing with me.” 

“Just a little,” You snicker beside him, relaxing as you watch Spencer take the familiar turns toward your apartment. You stare at the passing streets as you let out a content sigh, eyes closing slowly. Silently reflecting on the night, pushing mini-panic attacks aside, it’s the first time you’ve felt so serene in a long time. “Thank you for tonight, Spence.” 

He beams at your thanks and mutters a sweet, “Thank you for allowing me to take you out,” 

You roll your head against the seat as he pulls into a spot, “As if I’d ever say no to you.” You whisper back to him, catching a love-struck look from him that has you sitting up straight, grabbing your bag, and opening your car door. 

You shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer gets out of his car and locks it. “Let me walk you up,” he insists gently. 

“I’m okay-” 

“Please,” His words are accompanied by his hazel eyes, both begging you so sweetly that you find yourself nodding wordlessly. 

This time, the silence sticks as Spencer walks by your side to your apartment complex. It’s a short walk from the parking lot to the second floor, and soon, the two of you stand outside apartment 240. You fidget with your keys slowly as you turn around to face him; you watch him awkwardly shuffle on his feet– seemingly unsure of what to do with himself, you were sure. 

“Well, this is me.” You feel stupid saying it, but you can’t stop yourself. You knew this wasn’t a date, so why does it feel like the end of one? 

Spencer licks his lips nervously and softly says, “Yeah, it is.” 

You give him a faint smile but can’t find the strength to step back from him and open your door. You should get inside. A voice in you is screaming Go inside! Don’t you dare! But you don’t seem to listen as you tilt your head to the side. “I had a great time,” 

Spencer grins and nods, his eyes looking at your door for a second before gazing back into yours. “Any notable moments?” 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. “Holding your hand through the first act was lovely,” Fuck you!

Spencer seems to perk up slightly, his heart beating faster as he takes a small step closer to you. “It was lovely?” He questions you carefully, noticing how your pupils dilate a little under his gaze. 

“I thought so. It was very” You swallow as you search for some smidgen of confidence “Charming. You’ve been charming all night, actually.” 

“I think you’re the only person in the world who thinks that,” He teases softly, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he takes another step closer. 

You shake your head, a giddy grin spreading on your face. “No, a lady at the restaurant thought we made a pretty charming couple.” 

“Ah,” He holds up two fingers, “So two people.” 

You give him a sweet chuckle and hold two fingers with him. “And your mom, maybe, " you say as you hold up three fingers. 

“I should make a list,” 

“Your favorite hobby.” You say in a joking whisper. His body was close enough to touch now, and you were frozen– stuck between wanting to get inside and wanting to touch him in any way he’d let you. Your eyes kept trekking down to his feet, watching as they took careful steps closer before looking up at his eyes again. And for the first time all night, you let them dip down to his lips. 

Spencer feels his breath catch in his throat, his body already hyper-aware of your presence. He’s silently debating over closing the gap between the two of you, and he fears that seeing that– a physical sign that you want him the way he wants you, confirms that he should. Only, there's the matter of how. He wants to be romantic and bold. He just wants to grab your waist and pull you in, but he can’t. 

It’s you that initiates something, “The longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours,” 

Spencer feels like laughing, and he does—a small chuckle escapes his lips as he finds the courage to reach for your waist. When his fingers wrap around it, he gently pulls you toward him, his chest bumping against yours for a second. “Let’s not compete with that,” He whispers to you gently as one of his hands cups the side of your face, his nose bumping against yours slightly as you smile wide. The witty comeback that attempts to leave your lips doesn’t stand a chance as Spencer’s lips capture yours. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up to get a better angle in the kiss. His lips are soft and smooth as they press against yours. He pulls away a little, but you reconnect your lips quickly. Spencer slowly presses into you, the hand on your waist pressing down in a way that sends electricity up your spine. 

Your hands reach for his tie, pulling him closer with a soft motion. The kiss deepens at that. A shaky breath can be heard from Spencer as he moves the hand that was cupping your cheek to the nape of your neck, his fingertips grazing your hair. 

You let out a soft hum as you pull at his bottom lip, pulling away momentarily just to kiss him again. Your breathing gets slightly heavier as you tentatively trace your tongue against his bottom lip. As Spencer slowly invites your tongue into his mouth, a door slams shut down the hall, and you pull away. 

Your eyes open as your hands leave Spencer’s tie and fly to your lips. You stutter gently as Spencer slowly pulls his hands away from you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he whispers, “Did I-”

You shake your head before he can finish, and you remember the keys still in your hand, holding them up, “No, I-” You stutter over your words gently as you turn to unlock the door, “I- I have to, I can’t,” you manage a shaky sigh, glancing over your shoulder at him, “Goodnight.” 

Spencer watches your eyes look away from his, slipping into your apartment before he can get a word in. He stares at the numbers on your door for a second, feeling a dreadful pit forming in his stomach. “Goodnight.” His voice is timid as he speaks to the closed door and turns, walking back to his car alone. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty

Spencer has been out of it all week. He isn’t sleeping much or reading as much, and now, he’s lagging with this geographical profile. He excelled in this area, and he needed to focus on it. He needed to stop worrying about why you haven’t returned his calls all week—well, for the past four days, thirty-seven minutes—Focus!

He sighed as he traced a street with his fingers, a marker in the other, and focused on the previous dump sights. He mutters quietly as he outlines a district on the map, leaning back slightly as he lets himself get lost in his work. This feels good—almost calming. 

JJ touches his arm, indicating that she is talking to him, and he hasn’t heard a single word. “I’m sorry,” He sighs as he looks at her.

JJ shakes her head a little, a silent way of letting him know that she doesn’t take offense. “Rossi and Morgan just found another victim.” Her fingers point to a location inside the outlined area on the map, and Spencer makes a note. If he can focus on this case, he feels they might have a profile before the UnSub’s next kill. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine 

It had been two weeks since Spencer last saw you. Since you last spoke to him, touched him, or kissed him. He felt like he was losing one of his best friends and someone who could be the love of his life all at once. It was devastating. He had occasionally been short with the team, always quick with his apology and briefly explaining that he was going through something personal.

He didn’t want to be this tall, awkward ball of misery. He hated this feeling. At the moment, fourteen days ago, you seemed to be happy to kiss him. It seemed like the fatal mistake that was killing his relationship with you. He had tried to keep his calls maxed out one a day, three a week. Instead, he called you seven times in two weeks. He was starting to feel desperate as he listened to your voicemail message for the seventh time. He sighed as he looked around the BAU break room. 

“Hey, uh, it’s me. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk… again.” He repeated parts of his last message as he groaned softly before whispering a gentle “I’m really sorry” into the phone. He hangs up in a hurry, seeing Derek rounding the corner. 

His phone clatters on the table as Derek gives Spencer an odd stare. It’s a stare that says, ‘To-talk-to-pretty-boy-to-not-talk-to-pretty-boy-that-is-the-question.’

Derek decides that he should talk to Pretty Boy after all. “Does the boy genius have any plans for the weekend?” He decides that casual conversation might be the best way to get Spencer to open up. 

Spencer shakes his head, dragging his gaze from Derek back to his phone on the table. Derek lets out a hum as he stares at Spencer’s phone. “Waiting on a call from someone?” 

“No, yes, I-” Spencer sighs as he slumps a little in the chair, “I don’t know.”

“Is that what’s been bugging you for the past two weeks? Expecting an important call?” Derek asks as he fills his coffee mug up. Spencer gives him a little annoyed look that slowly melts into one of uncertainty. “Reid,” Derek says his name with a grin, taking the seat across from Spencer. “JJ caught you mumbling something about some ballet two weeks ago in Seattle, and you got defensive when she asked why you were talking about the ballet. Then, when Hotch asked you what was happening in Tampa, you got defensive again.” 

He stares at Spencer with a kind smile, “If you need to get something off your chest, I’m happy to listen.” 

Spencer finds himself chewing on his bottom lip as he slowly nods, “I know. I’ve been avoiding talking about it with the team because I,” he pauses, looking at Derek. “I think I messed up.” It’s the best he can manage. He doesn’t feel like opening up when he knows he should, and he wants to be patient with his feelings. He wanted you to reach out on your own time, but he didn’t want to keep with this silent torture he kept experiencing day after day. 

Derek gave him a slightly concerned look, “Messed up how? Something with a case or worse?” Spencer stares at him for a second as he tries to read between the lines of Derek’s question. Once it comes to him, he quickly shakes his head ‘no,’ which makes Derek smile. “Is it..” He trails off for a second, his eyes trailing to Spencer’s phone on the table, and it clicks, “No…” 

Spencer feels his cheeks flush as he frowns at Derek’s Cheshire grin. He’s ready for some mandatory teasing when he hears JJ’s voice, “No, what?” She questions Derek with interest as she grabs a bottle of water. 

Spencer desperately shakes his head at Derek, but he’s already spilling what he thinks he knows, “I believe that Mr. Pretty Boy has found a Pretty Girl.” 

JJ releases an excited gasp and walks over to the table. “No way,” She mutters as she stares down at Spencer’s slightly red face, “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately? Trouble in paradise?” 

“It’s not like that,” Spencer retorts softly as he pulls at a loose thread on his button-up. 

“How’d you mess up?” Derek cuts to the chase as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Spencer looks between JJ and Derek as he struggles to find the right words. His problems surrounding romance are sparse and, previously, tragic. He’s not sure how to go about this. “I, Uhm, might have kissed her.” 

“Kissed who?” JJ presses. 

Spencer looks at Derek, “Do you remember that friend of mine? The one Penelope and you met-” 

“In the bar, yeah. I thought she had a boyfriend?” Derek’s brows furrow. 

Spencer scrunches up his nose a little at the mention of Josh and sighs, “They broke up, and she had plans to see Swan Lake with him two weeks ago as an early anniversary date. She was going to cancel, but I offered to go with her so she didn’t miss out on it.” He continued slowly, looking at both of their faces for some show of emotion. “And at the end of the night, we kissed.” 

Derek sighs, glancing at JJ, who seems to be just as confused as he is. “Kid, that’s a great thing. How is that a mess up?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer groans, “It all happened so fast, and she looked… perturbed. I think I messed up, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of her ever since, but..” His eyes look at his phone. 

“Maybe she wasn’t ready for it,” JJ offers with a sad smile. 

Derek nods, pointing a little at JJ, “Could be, but you should have seen her with him. All smiles and heart eyes for Reid.” 

Spencer frowns at Derek before looking at JJ pleadingly, “What do I do to fix it?” 

JJ winces a little, twisting her lips, “Spence, it's not something you can control.” 

“I know, I just can’t,” Spencer pauses for a second, looking away. “I thought she wanted to kiss me.” 

Derek laughs a little, earring a slight glare from JJ before he holds up his hands. “Okay, describe it for us.” 

Spencer snaps his head toward Derek. “What?” His voice sounds slightly higher than usual. “No.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Just the lead-up,” he explains further, moving his fingers in a circle through the air. 

“No,” Spencer insists again. 

JJ joins this time, “Maybe he’s onto something, come on.” 

Spencer hesitates as he considers it, ultimately deciding it’s worth a shot despite being humiliated. “I walked her up to her door,” JJ nods along, silently giving Spencer some points for being a gentleman in her books. “She said she had a great time, so I asked if any notable moments in the evening stood out to her.” 

Spencer didn’t want to say that he had held your hand through the first act of Swan Lake, but “She said that holding my hand through the first act was lovely.” Derek’s eyebrows raise at that, not expecting something like that from Spencer. 

“And she said I was charming. We briefly joked back and forth, and then it got quiet.” Spencer avoids eye contact, staring holes into the table beneath his fidgeting hands. 

After a beat of silence, JJ whispers, “And then?” 

“She said,” he smiles a little, his eyes still downcast. “That, well, the longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours long.” 

“Not what you said, what she said.” Derek jokes softly, Spencer’s eyes flicking up to him with a confused gaze. 

“That is what she said,” 

“Oh my god,” JJ covers her lips feebly to hide her smile. 

Spencer can feel the heat reaching the tips of his ears as Derek laughs. “She did!” Spencer whines. He rolls his eyes a little as the laughter continues. “I said that we shouldn’t compete with that, and we kissed. Happy?” 

JJ smiles openly now and nods, her hands moving as she talks. “I think that’s promising.” Spencer sends her a glare, thinking that she is joking at first, but after seeing the earnest look on JJ’s face, he calms down. “Maybe she’s just surprised,” JJ suggests with a convinced nod. 

“It doesn’t make sense, though. Why be so forward with wanting to kiss you just to ignore you after?” Derek's eyes narrow. 

JJ scoffs softly, “She’s scared of her own feelings, Derek.” 

Spencer repeats his question from earlier now, “So what can I do to fix it?” 

Derek and JJ are quiet for a second before JJ says, “We should talk to Penelope.” 

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled as two of his closest friends dragged him down the halls to Penelope’s office. Nor was he thrilled to repeat what he had said in the breakroom to JJ and Derek a second time. Now he’s stuck in an office chair with three of his closest friends throwing suggestions on what he should do on the clock when they should all be doing paperwork. 

“Send her a gift basket!” 

“I’m not trying to bribe her into being my girlfriend, Penelope.” 

Penelope coos softly, “You want her to be your girlfriend?” 

Spencer lets his head fall into his hands, leaving her question unanswered as JJ jumps onto the suggestion train. “Write her a love letter.” 

Derek lets out a breathy chuckle, “Just go to her apartment,” 

Penelope squeals in agreement, “Yes! A big declaration of love.” 

Spencer was sure that big declarations of love weren’t his thing, and he thought he fell into the range of quiet love. Whispers of adoration? Maybe. Annotated novels? Absolutely. Watching movies out of his comfort zone? Done. Acting out of his comfort zone? He could hardly imagine holding a boombox over his head and screaming your name. But he was running out of options. He had stuck in his comfort zone, and you were ignoring him. “How big of a declaration?” 

It was late. There was so much to do. You were pacing back and forth in your apartment with a book in hand, fingers thumbing at the pages occasionally. Soft music played from your laptop speakers as you ended the second week of ignoring one, Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You had listened to all of his voicemails, some multiple times, but had managed to resist the urge to call him back for two weeks. When your heart got the best of you, you did what you were doing now–listening to variations of dad rock, pop, indie, oldies, classical, anything to drown out the urge to call him back. 

The books were a new addition, as you had given up on making online private playlists last Sunday. 

After holding a conference call with Molly, Sabrina, Christina, and anyone else who would listen, you made a joint decision to keep your feelings to yourself. And by joint decision, you meant ignoring their advice. Sabrina brought up the point that if Josh could physically cheat on you and be happy, you could be happy, too. The rest of your friends agreed in one form or another with that, but you just… couldn’t. You were terrified. 

Josh had left his mark on you. He had cut deep gashes in your self-esteem. In the moments where you weren’t struggling with thinking you were too much, burdensome, or taxing to those you love, you were fretting over the idea that you were a terrible person. Sometimes, in moments of respite, you would reminisce on your time spent with Spencer. 

You wanted to know his opinion, and in another life, you would seek him out and ask for it—the phantom pains of past love gone wrong ghosted over your heart and cursed you. 

Maybe you could be happy with someone else who wasn’t Spencer. Is there anyone dead or alive as good as Spencer Reid? Your thumbs falter on the edge of the page as the thought crosses your mind, your eyes glancing over at the time. 

Setting your book face down on your coffee table, you glide across the room to the lights– you can read and ignore Spencer in bed. As you switch off the kitchen light, a soft knock on your door startles you. Tilting your head around the wall to stare at your front door skeptically, you wait for another knock. 

Two more knocks make you rush to your front door, leaning in to look into the peephole. Your breath catches your throat as you see Spencer Reid rocking back and forth on his heels on the other side. “Go away, Spencer!” You yell through the door, hand holding the locked doorknob cautiously. 

You watch as his face falls into a heartbreaking expression, “Let me just talk to you,” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“Please,” His eyes travel up to the peephole, his eyes somehow managing to make you breathless through the door. “I miss my best friend.” 

You don’t say anything to that, because you miss him too. You watch him silently. His maroon tie against that white button-up reminds you of how you grabbed him two weeks ago– hungry, desperate, starved. 

His eyes cast down to his hands for a second, his mouth opening and closing multiple times until he manages to get out, “Do you remember the first day we met? I helped you carry your groceries, and you asked me if I believed in fate.” His voice sounds shaky and muffled as your fingers play with the lock silently. 

“I told you I don’t, I still don’t.” He stammers softly, a hand combing through his curls roughly. You give up on watching him through the peephole, listening with your forehead pressed against the door. 

After a few seconds of fumbling with his words, he steadies himself. “What I’m trying to say is,” he stares at the door, scared to death you aren’t listening. He gingerly continues, “I don’t care if you need me to believe in fate, love at first sight, soulmates, or predetermined endings– if you need me to, I will.” His legs feel weak at the knees, “If Zeus split my soul in two, please be the other half. If there is a god, if someone created me for anyone, let it be you. If it was fate for me to meet you two-hundred and fifty-nine days ago, let it be fate. If it means I get to love you, I’ll believe in any theology, ideology, or philosophy you need me to.” 

He couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. “If you don’t want me, or if you don’t feel the same, I’ll never bring it up again. I’ll go back to being nothing more than your friend, no questions asked, and I’ll be happy to do it.” His chest rises and falls heavily as he finishes, staring holes at your door. He’s sure you’ll ignore him further, make him walk back to his car alone again, or worse, open the door and laugh at his confession. He feels all of his anxieties rising in his throat as he goes to say something else when he hears the rattle of the chain on your door. 

A few more clicks, and the door is swinging open. Spencer sucks in a breath as he catches the sight of you in your pajamas, staring at him a little tongue-tied. How were you supposed to follow that? You stare up at him in silent awe as deep, honeyed eyes meet yours for the first time in weeks. As you stare into his eyes, you realize he meant every word. 

Your eyes fall from his and take the rest of him in, looking from his head to his shoes and back up again. “How many times did you practice that on the way here?” 

“Three,” 

You crack a slow smile at that and nod slowly, not knowing what to say next. You do the only thing you can think of, act. Your left hand reaches up slowly, your feet moving in tandem as you hook your fingers in Spencer’s collar carefully. Your gaze locks on his as you slowly pull him closer to your height, pulling him inches from your face. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to believe in anything you, he didn’t need fate or soulmates, none of it mattered anymore, not with him right here in front of you. You focus on how his nose brushes awkwardly against yours for a second and how you can hear his breathing coming out quicker. 

You close your eyes before kissing him, pressing your lips to his softly, timidly. Despite his confession– his begging– you can’t help but feel like it’s all too good to be true. But then, he’s kissing you back. His lips move against yours with the same nervousness, his hands reaching up to cup your face. 

You smile into the kiss as you feel his large palms on your face, making Spencer pull away with a slightly concerned expression for a second, wondering if he’d done something to make you laugh at him. As he stares at your blissful smile, he quickly realizes that you aren’t laughing at him at all. You’re happy, effervescent even, shaking your head at him pulling away. 

He doesn’t make you wait long as he kisses you again, this time with a slight increase in force. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine as he hears the way you hum into the kiss, the sound making him feel desperate to hear more. 

The two of you stand in your doorway like that for a second, kisses getting deeper and feverish as you pull Spencer to walk with you into your apartment blind. You stumble for a second as you walk backward into your apartment, your lips still locked with his. He pulls away a little at that, tilting your head up with his hands on your cheeks as his thumbs gently rub a single circle against the soft skin. 

“Are you real?” He whispers, inches away from your face. 

You give him a breathless laugh and nod, hands moving to his wrist, your fingers gently tracing the veins on his wrists absentmindedly. Spencer’s foot searches for the edge of the door to kick it closed, but he slips a little and looks at you with soft, doe eyes of apology. 

Pulling away from him carefully, you shut your front door and lock it. You don’t know where to go from here. You hadn’t thought about what you’d do once you had him inside. Music is still playing on your phone, and you can hear a soft, raspy chuckle behind you as Spencer playfully asks. “Is this Brahms?” 

When did this even come on? You sigh as you walk over to your phone to turn the music off, “I missed you too, you know.” You admit into the silent room, your eyes avoiding his. 

“I know,” He replies, and you can hear his footsteps getting closer. Your gaze stays fixed on the floor, looking up in surprise at the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist tentatively. Turning your body to look up, you give him a nervous smile. Spencer’s nerves are shot all over the place as he swallows down his anxieties. “I don’t mind waiting. If you aren’t ready or need more time, I’ve waited for you so long, what’s-” 

“No,” Your voice comes out louder than intended before you clear your throat. “No, I don’t need more time. I’m tired of not forgiving myself. I deserve to be happy, too. I’ve already spent so much time denying myself that.” Your body relaxes in his hands, your chest squeezing pleasantly as you move to be chest to chest with him again. “No more wasting time.” 

Spencer studies your eyes as you speak, searching for some hint of uncertainty, but finds none. He licks his lips nervously, eyes dipping to your lips quickly, “Did you know that men initiate more than seventy percent of kisses?” 

Taking this as an obvious sign that Spencer wants to kiss you again, you move your hands to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t have the exact number?”

“Seventy-nine point seventeen percent.” His voice raises an octave at the feeling of your hands holding onto his shoulders, your body pressing against his gently. 

You nod, half-listening, as you look at his lips, one of your hands sliding up the front of his neck as you hold his chin. The feather-like touch of your thumb on his bottom lip makes him feel dizzy as you whisper, “That’s nice.” 

Spencer’s lips are parted slightly as he gives you a weak-sounding ‘uh-huh’ as he participates in a statistic, gently brushing your thumb away to kiss you again. 

The start of this kiss isn’t nearly as tentative or timid as the last one. His head tilts to the side as he presses his lips against yours, a little needy now as your hands move to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the feeling, how you so readily deepen the kiss, how intense this feels. 

Your movements sync with Spencer’s as you kiss each other with fervor. Your knees feel a little weak from a mix of anxiety, excitement, and arousal. The feeling makes your hands hold the back of Spencer’s neck tighter. Your body flush against his as the two of you kiss in the middle of your living room. 

An experimental movement from Spencer earns a sharp inhale from you as his tongue slowly brushes against your bottom lip. Your lips part into the kiss as he slides his tongue into the kiss with surprising skill. It doesn’t feel messy; instead, it’s incredibly controlled. You silently wonder how much practice Spencer has with French kissing and with who? 

The thought is secondary to a terrifyingly primal feeling of arousal that zips up and across your spine as you feel him start to suck your tongue lightly into his mouth. You press against him a little harder, causing the poor man to stumble and lose focus, his skilled lips stopping for a second—a slight pull away to check if you’re alright before he kisses you again. 

Now it's messy—an excellent messy. Not a slobbering mess that you want to pull away from, but a slightly erratic move against your lips that lets you know that he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him. 

Your feet stumble backward, the familiar route to your bedroom in the back of your mind as you try to pull Spencer with you. He follows but reluctantly pulls away, breathless, as he stops short of the doorway to your bedroom. His lips open and close nervously as he catches his breath. “It's not that I don’t, I want to, not that I’m expecting us, I just,” He closes his mouth, swallowing hard as he tries to make head or tails of the situation. “I don’t want you to think I’m only here for…” He trails off, his cheeks growing red as he flicks his hazel eyes over to your bedroom and then back to you. “Sex.” 

It’s terrible because you want to laugh. Spencer has been nervous around you before, but never like this. You’d seen him trip over his words countless times, but this time, watching him explain his intentions toward you, how sweet he looked as he explained himself. How did you go this long in your friendship with him without jumping his bones?

You press a reassuring hand to his arm, “I didn’t think you were.” You watch his shoulders relax a little, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, just at the moment, I th-” 

“No!” he almost yells, the tips of his ears turning a little pink now. “No, I want to.” He reiterates, “I, well, I, Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Staring up into his eyes, you realize what he’s asking: Is this just a rebound from Josh? Is this the hormones talking? Will this mean anything after tonight? There was unspoken communication, but you had mulled over those questions for the past two weeks. 

Their answers were what scared you the most. It frightened you how ready you were to leave all your memories of Josh in the gutter and start something with one of your best friends. The scary part was how easy it was to want, care for, and miss him. You gave him a slow nod, “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.” 

Spencer’s worried gaze softened as the edges of his lips quirked up into a slight smile, leaning closer, “Stuck with you? Forever?” He sucks in air through his teeth dramatically, his eyes flicking around your face cautiously. 

You roll your eyes at his playful tone, “M’tired of talking,” Your lips close the gap before he can say anything back. 

Spencer doesn’t protest as he kisses you back—soft, slow, sensual movements against your lips. Pulling away here and there just to kiss you again, his lips gently pulling your bottom lip whenever he pulls away. You graze your teeth against his bottom lip, careful not to bite him as you cup his face, his large hands holding onto your waist. 

His hands press down on your hips, firmly keeping you in place as he pushes against you slowly. His chest presses against yours, his hands start to pull your hips closer to his. A soft groan can be heard, and you can’t pinpoint who makes the sound as your mind becomes hazy from the way he kisses you. 

You almost don’t register that he’s led you towards your bed. The feeling of your bed hitting the back of your legs makes you register that you walked with him to your bed. You pull away, inching back onto your bed carefully as soft panting fills the dimly lit room, staring up at him from your bed. 

You watch as he kicks off his shoes before crawling onto the bed, looming above you as you slowly slide your body up the bed. He’s pressing a hand near your head as the other brushes a stray hair from your eyes, his lips leaving fleeting kisses across your face, slowly trailing down to your neck. 

His kisses start to get deeper once he passes the area of your jaw, gently sucking on the area just below your ear before letting the sensitive skin go and dragging his lips lower to repeat the act. 

Soft, pleasured sighs escape your lips as he kisses and lightly sucks on the sensitive skin that is your neck. One of your hands reaches for his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as he sucks on your collarbone. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight on the bed is trailing down your chest slowly, reaching the hem of your shirt as he tentatively slips the tips of his fingers under it carefully. “That okay?” he pulls away from your collarbone to look down at you. 

You let out a sweet ‘mhm’ before you smile up at him. Spencer smiles back as he leans in to kiss your lips again. Your lips part almost immediately so he can slip his skilled tongue into your mouth, and he does just that. 

His tongue carefully traces yours as his hand slowly starts to trail up your stomach, his touch making you shiver as his slightly cold hands inch toward your unsupported breasts, gasping softly against his lips at the feeling of his fingers slowly cupping your right breast. The movement of his tongue against yours slows for a second as his thumb traces around the taut bud of your nipple, gently rubbing and circling patterns until he earns a little whine from you, 

His lips pull away from yours, but he stays close, brushing against yours as he speaks. “Good?” 

You let out a breathless “Very.” before he repeats the pattern, his index finger joining now as he gently pinches the aroused bud. A shaky sigh escapes your lips, your lips trembling lightly against Spencer’s as he watches you, pulling his head back to get a better look. 

His eyes study your face—the way your nose sometimes scrunches up in pleasure, how dilated your pupils are when you look at him, and his favorite, how you gently pull your bottom into your mouth with your teeth in a vain attempt to hold in your quiet moans.

He watches as you give him an embarrassed expression. “You’re staring,” your voice is a sweet whisper, eliciting a shiver that crawls up his spine. 

He looks away with a mutter of an apology, giving you a quick smile. His fingers slip away from your chest to slide down to the hem of your shirt. He looks into your eyes as he fiddles with the fabrics. “Can I see you?” 

A quick nod from you gives him your answer as he quickly pulls your shirt over your head, his eyes quick to trail over your face down to your exposed chest. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as he slowly moves his head down to place gentle kisses on your collarbone. 

Kissing a trail down to the valley between your breasts, he slowly makes his way over to your left breast, his eyes looking up at you as he gently places his lips around the bud of your nipple. 

Your eyes watch him as he gently flicks his tongue against the sensitive peak before sucking on it lightly. Your mouth falls open as you watch him, breathing heavily as you feel his free hand reaching up to play with your other nipple. 

Quiet, breathy sounds are all Spencer can hear now– a gasp here, a shaky sigh there, and occasionally a closed-mouth moan. He likes watching the way your head falls back as he adds a little more pressure with his tongue, rubbing wet circles around your erect nipples. 

He feels like he’s moving too fast and taking too long simultaneously. He wants to hear you, he wants you to relax under his touch, and he wants to take his time with you. On the other hand, he’s dreamt about this moment more times than he can count. He wants to tell you that it’s even better than what he imagined, but the idea sounds stupid, given he’s only sucking on your nipples right now. He hasn’t even been inside you, and he doesn't want to risk sounding inexperienced right now. 

He decides that pleasing you further speaks louder than words as he slides his hand on your other breast down your chest slowly, creeping toward the waistband of your pajama pants. His fingers trace along the edge of your pants as his lips keep sucking. 

You squirm under him as you move your hands down to start pulling your bottoms off as fast as you can manage, accidentally forcing Spencer’s lips off your chest in the process. He watches you briefly, laughing softly as he helps you out of your pajama pants before tossing them to the side.  

Spencer’s eyes focus on your thighs, his fingers tracing slow paths from your outer right thigh to your inner thigh. He is trying to focus on the sound of your breathing, testing out areas with his fingers to see which one excited you the most based on the hitching of your breath when he touches it. 

“Higher,” Your voice makes him jump a little, a small smile forming on your face as he does so. He swallows and grins, moving his fingers higher now inches from the edge of your underwear. 

“Higher?” He questions playfully, his deep caramel eyes looking into yours as he watches you nod. His fingers glide over to your underwear, pressing against the center, his fingers touching your folds through the fabric. 

You sigh softly as his fingers rub up and down the fabric, pressing in harder with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer’s voice sounds strained, earning him a weak smile from you. 

“Just pretty?” You moan quietly as he slips his hand into your underwear suddenly, the feeling making you gasp. 

Spencer’s index and middle fingers do most of the exploring as he stares at you, “No, not just pretty. Gorgeous, beautiful, captivating, astounding.” His fingers find your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves teasingly slow. 

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now as you move your hips against his fingers to let him know it feels good. “Is,” you relax your shoulders carefully. “Is astounding a look I pull off well?” 

“Very well,” he answers honestly, even though he knows you’re joking. His fingers begin to rub slow, tight circles as he leans in to kiss you again. The kiss swallows up any moans you start to let out as Spencer’s fingers make electric arousal build up in your lower abdomen, your legs feeling weak as you spread them further. 

Spencer hums against your lips as he quickly deepens the kiss, his hips absentmindedly grinding against your thigh as his fingers move away from your clit to yank your underwear down. You help him, kicking them away with your eyes closed, your tongue dragging along Spencer’s. 

His middle finger teasingly drags your wetness down to your entrance, pressing against the area quickly before hesitating. He pulls away slightly from your lips, but you’re already answering his question before he can ask it. “Yes,” You whisper against his lips, moving your hips down against his finger. 

He lets out a breathy laugh as he slowly pushes his index finger into you, his own eyes almost rolling back into his head as he hears the shaky moan you let out. He’s quick to chase that high as his fingers curl inside of you, searching for that spot that will make you let out more sounds for him to enjoy. 

Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter closed, chasing the needy feeling inside of you that is too desperate to wait for him to find your g-spot on his own. Your hips grind down, guiding him slightly until his fingers curl against the slightly rough patch of nerves inside you. A sharp gasp, followed by a breathy chuckle, leaves your lips as you open your eyes to look at Spencer. “Right there,” 

He’s always been so good at following instructions, so he knows not to change much regarding his fingers, curling and dragging against that sweet spot inside of you slowly. His lips kiss your collarbone softly, kissing up to your ear. “Wanna hear you,”

How could you deny such a sweet voice? Especially when that sweet voice belongs to the man you’ve been pining over for weeks. It also helps when he has his fingers inside of you. Your lips parted as you let out a soft groan, followed by a shaky gasp of air.

Spencer’s finger picks up the pace gradually, going faster and rougher with every sound from your lips. A cry of pleasure? Faster. A loud moan? Rougher. You wondered what sound you needed to make for him to add a second finger. 

It wasn’t a sound so much as simply having to tell him, “Add another finger,” You breathe out between moans, and Spencer is quick to push his index finger into the waves of pleasure he’s causing throughout your body. 

It’s not long before your hips are raising slightly, loud whines and groans escaping your lips as he brings you closer to your release with every curl and drag of his fingers. You could feel Spencer’s breath hot against the shell of your ear now as your eyebrows furrowed tightly, focusing on every feeling he gave you. 

He’s relentless, listening to how your breathing hitches and moans increase with specific tempos, learning the kind of pressure you like simply based on sound. Has a man ever done that before? You weren’t sure; all you knew was that you were getting closer to an orgasm. You wanted to be hopeful and think it would be the first of many.

Short gasps were escaping your lips as your head tilted back into the mattress, “That’s it.” Spencer’s lips are on your exposed neck now, gently sucking, kissing sweetly against your pulse point as you inch closer to your climax. “Sound so good.” His voice is a little muffled, not to mention hard to hear over the sounds of your moans, but it’s making your hips stutter as they grind against his fingers. 

Then you’re crashing hard. Your body tenses, shaking under him, you cry out as your orgasm rips through you. Small whimpers and moans are spilling from your lips as your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping them until your knuckles turn white.

A groan leaves his lips as he watches you. It's a sight he wants to commit to memory. He wants to close his eyes and draw it if he can, memorize every shudder, every stutter of your hips, the way your eyes open to look at him afterward– pupils’ dilated and shimmering under a haze of lust. 

You whine a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, and Spencer wonders how he has so much self-control. He’s about to ask you how you’re feeling, to check in on you, but then you're grabbing his wrist.

You’re dragging his hand to your lips terribly slow, and Spencer feels his breathing stop for a second as he watches you drag his index and middle fingers into your mouth to suck yourself off them. His next breath comes out as a stuttering mess, watching as your tongue slides between his fingers, your eyes staring into his before fluttering closed. 

It’s his turn to whine when you’re done sucking his fingers clean. He was already painfully hard while he was fingering you, but now he feels like he might burst into flames if he cannot have you. “Please,” He whispers, his hips grinding against your outer thigh timidly. 

A part of you almost feels bad for him; he feels so hard against your outer thigh, and he still has all his clothes on. He has to be desperate– the thought makes your mouth water. 

Your hands are quick to help him out of his pants, undoing his button and zipper. As he pulls the pants down his legs, you’re sliding your hands under his shirt. You hum with soft desire as you feel the curves and dips of muscles on his surprisingly toned chest. He shivers at the feeling of your fingers dragging along his chest, inching closer to the waistband of his boxers. 

Your fingers stop before reaching his boxers, slipping out from under his shirt, and going for his tie. A tie already loose and halfway forgotten. You slip your fingers around the maroon tie, pulling it off quickly and with no complaint from Spencer as you do so. Your eyes trail up to meet his, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Spencer could feel your fingers thumbing at the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from your eyes. He’s so captivated by your eyes on his that he completely misses what you say. “What?” His voice comes out breathy as you undo the second button on his shirt. 

You let out a soft chuckle, looking away from his eyes to peak at his partially exposed chest. “I asked if it would be okay to leave some hickeys on your chest,” 

Spencer’s breathing hitches in his throat as he lets out a bashful “Yes.” He can hear another laugh leave your lips as his eyes trail down to your fingers working on the last button on his shirt, how they hook around the edge and pull the material away to expose his chest fully. He’s enraptured, caught in a trance as he watches you lean your head down to his chest, soft kisses sending electric shivers down his spine. 

You kiss down his sternum, trailing off to the left of his chest and sucking lightly. A breath is ripped away from him at the feeling, and he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to whine. He fights the urge as he sighs again, your lips slowly sucking and kissing down his chest, leaving some light and dark purple spots in your wake. 

It’s hard to pull his eyes away from your work. Each time you leave a mark on his lower chest, Spencer’s eyes linger on it before they follow you to your next location. He feels sensitive all over, his body humming–tingling–with desire. He wonders if you’d think he’s pathetic if he begs for something more. 

But you catch on before he embarrasses himself.

You sit up straight as your hands rest on his lower stomach, looking down at his crotch before looking up into his eyes curiously. “May I?” You ask with a half-hearted chuckle like it’s funny. 

He knows you aren’t laughing at him; you’re laughing because you already know his answer. A soft whine is pulled from his throat as he says, “Yes,” 

Your eyes leave his, trailing down his body slowly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down. Spencer’s eyebrows knit together at the feeling, the material dragging against his hard cock slowly. 

As he kicks his boxers away, he is pleasantly surprised when you straddle his lap. Your hips hover inches from his as you lean down towards him slowly, your hands pressing against his chest for stability. Your hair falls in your face as you whisper a slow, seductive, “Does this work for you?” 

Spencer can feel his heart stutter lightly against his chest as he nods like a madman, cheeks flushed as he stammers out a little, “Ab-absolutely, anything you want, we don’t– I mean– we can do anything you want, I won’t mind.” 

His nervous rambling is cut off with a hiss of pleasure as he feels you wrap your hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance carefully. The slow drag of his head against your folds has him letting out a stuttering sigh, his hands instinctively moving to your hips. His eyes shut tight as you sink down on him, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you slowly take every inch. He feels the urge to beg again. 

You’re watching him from his lap, a little smile gracing your face as you watch the way his mouth falls open as you adjust your knees slightly to fully sit down on his cock. A slight muffled whine can be heard from Spencer as his eyes slowly open to take in the sight of you bare and preparing to ride him– it makes him feel dizzy. 

It's your turn for your lips to part, a shaky sound of pleasure leaving your lips as you start to move your hips up slowly. He’s so hard inside of you that you’re sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you as you slowly move up and down. 

You can feel the way his slender fingers start to grip your hips tighter, gently digging into your skin at the tortuous pace you’re beginning to set. It’s building, that’s for sure. You’re panting lightly as soft moans fill the room. 

You let out a soft yelp, feeling Spencer’s hips chase yours when you slow down slightly, looking down at him with a surprised expression. He sends you an apologetic look and whispers, “I’m sorry, I just need– I’m sorry.” His voice sounds strained like you’re putting him through the worst torture imaginable. 

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head a little as you brace yourself on your knees a little more, “Greedy boy,” you tease him lightly as you press down harder on his chest with your palms, giving him a taste of the pace he so desperately craved. 

Spencer lets out a shaky laugh that dies away into a groan as your hips move at a slightly faster pace, his hands beginning to guide you down onto his cock. He’s trying to be respectful of the pace you’re setting every time– honest! This feels too much like a fantasy, like a wet dream he’s sure he’s had many times before, one that has every instinct in his bones telling him to go as hard and fast as possible. 

It's an incredibly tempting stupid instinct. He knows that the faster you ride him, the faster this moment is over, but it feels so good. The drag of his painfully hard cock against your walls– add to that the lewd sounds that keep escaping your lips whenever you give him an experimental roll of your hips. He’s panting when he feels you picking up the pace again, his fingers flexing against your hips. It’s still not enough. He’s not sure he’ll ever have enough of you. 

You’re breathing heavily as you flick your head to the side to get a better look at him. He’s starting to sweat a little as his eyes trail down your body. Whenever his eyes catch a slight of his cock disappearing inside of you, he licks his lips, dragging his bottom lip into his lip for a second as his eyes move back up to your face. 

You give him a quick, breathless smile as you whisper a saccharine, “You like that?” You begin, dragging your hips forward slightly on your way down his length. “ You like watching your cock disappear inside me?” 

Spencer’s eyes widen for a second as he gives you a quick nod, “Yes-” He lets out a whine, his hips chasing yours again as you slow down quickly, teasingly dragging your hips against his, driving him crazy. 

As you experimentally roll your hips, you can feel his head brushing against your g-spot, and you’re quick to ignore his pleasure to chase your own. You aim for the feeling again, your hands leaving his chest as you move them back to his knees, causing you to lean back slightly. 

The sight is intimate and extremely erotic as Spencer watches the way you grind your hips against his cock, gasping out harshly whenever it hits the rough patch of nerves inside of you. He elevates his hips slightly for you, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, completely starstruck. 

You give him another flash of a smile as you move faster down on him, friction wise it doesn’t feel as good as when you were riding him, but just seeing the way you’re getting yourself off on his cock has him feeling like he’s about to burst. 

He wants you to cum around his cock more than so desperately that he gives up on caring about embarrassing himself, stammering out dirty talk as fast as he can, “You look so good, so fucking good.” He gasps out, watching as your eyes close. 

The sound of his voice helps you chase that high as wanton moans accompany your movements, leaving him feeling encouraged. “Wish I could record you like this. I need to remember how you look right now. Would you let me?” He stammers out between his shaky moans. 

Your head is nodding before you can genuinely process what he’s saying. Your fingers digging into his skin lightly, “Feels so good, Spencer.” 

He’s sure that’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard as he lets out a shaky, “Ye-Yeah? Do you want me to rub your clit? You want me to make you cum right now?” 

He’s asking for direction, but it doubles as dirty talk for you as your eyes open and meet his. You’re sure you’re saying the words ‘yes’ repeatedly, but you don’t actually hear the sound coming from your lips. The only thing you can focus on now is the way one of Spencer’s hands is sliding from your hip to your clit. His thumb dragging fast, tight circles on your clit. 

Spencer watches as your eyebrows crinkle together and gasps of air leave your lips. He feels your walls flutter around him. He’s careful to raise his hips to push deeper into you as you reach your second orgasm of the night with his cock deep inside you. 

Your walls squeeze around him so tight that he feels weak in the knees as you let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure, your body shaking on top of him. He’s happy to keep moving his thumb against your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm to your heart's content. 

Eventually, the shaking on your thighs calms, and you’re hissing out with overstimulation, whispering gently, “Wait, wait, wait.” You relax briefly, your hips still stuck against Spencer’s as he stops moving his thumb. Your eyes meet his, and your heart squeezes at the look he’s giving you. Something that was a mix of complete adoration and desire. 

His eyes flicker over your face nervously as he licks his lips slowly, his eyes still occasionally dipping down to your hips flush against his. You tilt your head slightly as you watch him, a small smile on your face as you lean forward, your chest pressing against his gently as you give him a soft kiss. 

It’s a short kiss, but Spencer still ends up following your lips by the end of it. “Should we switch positions?” Your voice is curiously sweet, and Spencer immediately nods at the idea. 

You lift your hips off of him and slide off his lap slowly, your legs only feeling a slight sting from riding him. You lay on the bed and watch as Spencer moves to hover over you. His eyes stare directly at your dripping cunt, and he looks like he’s lost in thought, something that earns a soft laugh from you as you shake your head at him a little. “Something on your mind?” 

It was a good-natured tease, but he answers honestly nonetheless, “Can’t decide if I want to eat you out or go back to fucking you.”  His eyes leave the dripping wet area between your legs to look into your eyes. 

It almost sounds strange coming from his mouth, you could probably count on your fingers the number of times he’s cursed in front of you. Nor did you expect something so… erotic. Then again, he did say some rather dirty things just moments prior. It didn’t phase you then because you had other things on your mind, i.e., cumming on his cock. 

You gave him a playful smile, his eyebrows raising slightly with interest, “Spencer Reid, are you… sexy?” 

He chuckles as he moves his body closer, slotting his body between your spread legs, “You tell me.” 

You laugh a little at that, and your eyes take him in—how he looks with his hands on your knees, gently pushing them to get you to spread them wider. With a wide grin, you whisper, “You are.” 

One of his hands is pressing into the bed to the left of you as he hovers over you, his other moving to your face to brush a stray hair out of your face gently. You can tell he’s trying not to feel embarrassed at the compliment as you gently move a hand up to his hair– fingers raking through his curls. “I vote you go back to fucking me.” 

Your words cause a slight shiver to roll down his spine as he lets out a soft “Mhm,” his hand leaving your face to guide his cock back inside of you slowly. He lets out a soft sigh as he presses into you, his gaze scanning your face for any sign of pain. 

He sees none as he watches your head tilt back onto the bed slightly, eyes closing for a second. The pace he starts is timid and gentle. He knows a slow build to a fast pace is better, wiser, and he’ll last longer. But it’s getting hard to remember with the way you feel around him, how deliciously you squeeze around him whenever he thrusts into you a little deeper than the time before. 

“Move your hips faster,” You mutter softly as your hips grind on his cock slowly, the slow pace making you feel embarrassingly impatient. 

He doesn’t mind, of course. He’s all too happy to start moving his hips faster. Soft moans fall from his lips as he picks up the pace, his hands moving from bracing himself up on the bed to the area behind your knees, gently lifting your legs up and apart, leaving them slightly bent in his hands. 

It happens so fast that you stare at him in awe for a split second as he readjusts himself to drive his hips into you again, and with the way he has you now, you can feel him thrusting deeper inside. You whine loudly at the feeling and nod quickly, a wordless attempt to let him know how good it feels. 

He shows you a half smile as he takes that as a sign to go deeper, grunts falling in time with his pace– seemingly becoming slightly ruthless. Your mouth fell open at the feeling of his cock reaching deeper inside you, quivers of pleasure racing through your body, your legs, everywhere. You’re sure you’re being too loud now, your cunt starting to squelch with every drag of his hips. 

Spencer feels like he’s in heaven, listening to your body respond to his, feeling your legs tremble under his touch, and watching how your eyebrows knit together when he picks up the pace slightly. He’s sure there is nobody, dead or alive, that makes him feel the way you’re making him feel right now. 

It’s exhilarating, intoxicating, and it’s making his orgasm get closer. Panting heavily, he moves your legs to wrap around his waist as he braces himself on the bed again, and he starts to roll his hips into you quickly. He lets out a breathless laugh when you yell a little, “Oh!” Pride fills his senses, knowing how good he can make you feel. 

“I’m getting close,” He rasps out with another sharp, fast roll of his hips. 

You nod quickly as you mouth a silent ‘yes’ to his warning. You’re not sure you can speak in coherent sentences with the way his cock keeps brushing against that spot inside you that has you gushing around him effortlessly. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” he stubbles out sweetly between his moans. 

You shake your head at that, “No!” You cry out, eyes locking on his as you moan out, “Inside.” 

He looks at you for a second, his hips slowing to a frustrating stop, “Are you sure, because missionary-” He heaves out a soft sigh, looking at the way you’re lust-filled eyes stare up at him, “Are you sure?” 

A gentle smile appears on your face, and Spencer feels like he’s staring at an angel. The feeling grows as you move your hands to pull his face to yours, brushing a light kiss on his lips with the soft, reassuring answer he needs to hear, “I’m sure,” 

Spencer grins against your lips, kissing you deeper as he starts to thrust his hips into you again. Your eyes roll back slightly at the rough feeling of his lips on yours and his hips snapping into you over and over again. 

Muffled moans came from both of you as you gently slipped your tongue into the kiss, eliciting a growl from the man thrusting into you. He pulls away to press his forehead against yours. Physical intimacy for Spencer always fell second to emotional. Now, feeling how your hands hold his shoulders and hearing you whisper strings of soft praise to him, he realizes that combined, they turn into the most ethereal experience he’s ever felt. 

Guttural-sounding moans are escaping his throat as he chases his climax like a madman, “You feel so good, so good.” Is all he can manage to gasp out between moans as your nails dig into his shoulders. 

You mewl under him as he gasps out a short, “I’m- god, fuck, I’m cu-” his erratic hips stutters against yours, thrusting as deep as he can into you as he reaches his climax. His breathing stutters as he lazily drags his hips in and out with his orgasm, doing his best to make it last longer for the both of you. With a final sharp thrust, he empties into you. 

Sometime after, he’s slowly pulling out and disappearing into your bathroom to get something to clean you up. You laugh as he insists on cleaning you up himself, his hands gentle as he drags the towel against your cum soaked folds. 

Once you fall asleep, Spencer finds him playing with the ends of your hair, watching how your chest rises with each deep breath. He smiles into the dark as he leans into your ear, not caring if you hear it in your sleep, “I’m going to marry you the first chance I get.” 

Day One Thousand Thirty-Three

“Spencer,” Your voice carries across the BAU bullpen, an unmistakable smile of amusement on your face as you approach his desk. “Spencer Reid,” 

After two years of being with him, he’s not sure he’s ever gotten sick of that smile. Dazzling, patient, sweet, and almost always constant when you’re around him– a permanent fixture on your face now that you live with him.  

“You are late, Doctor Reid. Hop to it!” You tap against his desk playfully. You’re already dressed for dinner tonight at Rossi’s– or that’s what you think it is anyway– and you look stunning. Even under the harsh lights of the bullpen, you look glowing, so gorgeous that Spencer feels like spoiling the surprise right now. 

“It’s barely past five. We’re fine.” 

“He’s gone already,” You move your hand dramatically towards Rossi’s empty office… most of the bullpen is empty now that you think about it. Why was your boyfriend the only one staying fifteen minutes after five? To be fair, he was waiting for you, and you were the one running late, so you feel a little guilty as you watch Spencer pack up his things. 

He looked especially good this morning, wearing one of his light brown suit combos that always had you messing up his tie before he left for work that day. You hum softly as you and Spencer walk side-by-side toward the elevators. “Do you know why Rossi said to dress up a little this time? Last time, everyone seemed pretty casual.” 

Spencer offers you a little tight-lip smile with a slight shake of his head, “No, he does have a flare for the dramatic sometimes.” He’s praying to whatever deity listening that you don’t catch on to the lie. 

You scoffed out a soft laugh, looking at him with a raised brow, “And you don’t?” 

“I’d like to think I’m more grounded in facts and reason than dramatics,” He defends himself with a laugh, hitting the button for the first floor. “Living with you has made me more dramatic. If anything, I’m mirroring you when I,” he does air quotations with his finger as he finishes, “Am being dramatic.”  

“You are so lucky you’re a federal agent,” 

“I am pretty hard to kill.” He says with a serious-looking nod, but the smile growing on his face as you walk through the parking lot to your car is telling. 

Your smile falls slightly as you nudge his shoulder softly. “Don’t remind me,” you tease him in a melancholy tone. More than two years ago, if someone had asked you if you’d be sad if Josh died tragically, you would have simply said yes. Now, with Spencer, if someone asked you that same question, you know you would start crying on the spot at the idea of the man next to you dying. 

It’s funny how people can affect other people. Through all his challenges, Spencer Reid was incredibly patient, kind, and devoted to his loved ones—including you. He was the air you breathed, and you were his. Every look he gave you, every smile he showed, and every touch confirmed it– you were going to grow old with him, one way or another. 

Spencer headed into Rossi’s villa first, and you grabbed some wine and the charcuterie board, something that the host himself requested. You were happy to help, considering he was cooking for everyone, but the lack of direction with the wine threw you slightly. Rossi loved food, loved hosting these team meals, and was… to put it bluntly, a control freak. 

You picked up a label you vaguely remembered him talking about once as you headed in after Spencer. The house looks… dark? You open the door, peeking your head in slightly. “Spencer?” A dark front room greets you. Your eyes quickly adjust as you close the front door behind you. 

You hear something moving from the kitchen, the hairs on your neck standing up as you tip-toe towards it. “Rossi?” you call out in a whisper. It definitely smells like food—chicken piccata. 

More darkness, you blink and mouth a silent “What the fuck?” Then, you catch a glimpse of some light from outside. You quietly set the board and wine on the granite countertop and head for the back door. 

From what you can see, the lanterns are on in the backyard, but more twinkling lights have been added along some trees. If you weren’t so terrified, you’re sure you would find it beautiful. But considering the team’s line of work, you were always afraid of something like this– well, whatever this was anyway. All you knew was that you no longer trusted dark houses at night. 

You made sure not to turn your back to the outside, carefully looking around and closing the door behind you. Now you knew they were out here. You could hear shushing. 

Then there he was, a big smile on his face, and everything clicked. Oh.

Oh.

“Spencer Reid, this better not be what I think it is.” 

He’s standing in the center of the backyard on a patch of patio tile, candles and flowers leading up to him. He laughs a little as you approach him. He can see tears forming in your eyes, and he hasn’t even started with the proposal. “I’m afraid it is,” he mutters as his hand slips into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, red velvet box. 

He bends down on one knee, staring up at you as you smile through tears, “I’ve had the pleasure of being with you for seven hundred and seventy-four days, but if someone asked me how many days I’ve been in love with you, I would have to tell them that I have been in love with you for one thousand thirty-three days.” His fingers are shaking as he opens the ring box, his eyes scanning your face carefully to see your reaction to the ring. 

Garcia and you often scrolled through Pinterest board together, an app that Spencer didn’t quite understand. Which explains why he asked Garcia to go with him to get the ring, because she didn’t want him to quote ‘mess it up, Aidan from Sex and the City style’ —whatever that meant. 

He was so calm when he bought it, but on the way home, he recalls looking over at Penelope in the car and asking, ‘What if she doesn’t like this one?’ in a terrified tone. 

Seeing your face now– the way your eyes light up as you wipe away falling tears and how you’re laughing through them, he knows he’s made the right choice. “I want to love you for twenty thousand more.  I want to love you through every wrinkle, every laugh, every bad day, indefinitely. I want to love you when our hair turns grey. I want you to be the rest of my life, and, at the end of it, I know I’ll see you flash before my eyes.” 

He’s watching the way you hike up your dress to your shins and get on both knees, cupping his face gently as you sniffle through happy tears. His eyes soften slightly as he becomes level with you, moving to sit on his knees. “My question is, will you let me? Will you marry me?” 

You let out a scoff, nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, in a thousand different languages, yes!” You laugh out sweetly as you kiss him. He smiles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle tightly. 

The two of you only pull away when the sound of confetti starts popping on either side of you. You laugh as you watch Penelope step out from her hiding place with half the team following behind her. Moving your head to the other side, you can see Rossi clapping softly with the other half. 

You try to dry your eyes again as small strands of confetti reach your head, Spencer’s arms slipping away from you to carefully slip the ring on your left hand. He then looks over at Penelope, “You didn’t say anything about confetti poppers.” He says in a playfully stern voice, standing up slowly before extending a hand to you. 

She simply shrugs and squeals, “She said yes!” 

Then they’re all on you like a pack of wolves, hugging, kissing cheeks, laughing as you gather your composure. After a few moments of congratulations, all you can think to say is, “I almost had a heart attack.”  

The night begins and ends with laughter. On the drive home with Spencer, you can’t help but think that there are twenty thousand more nights to come and how none of them will ever measure up to this one. It’s one of those nights that linger in the air after everyone’s already said goodbye, and it’s perfect.

[chaifootsteps]

that post about triangulation gave me the chills

because that's what the show has become basically since s2 started. any time a third party is brought in to judge they always come down in Stolas' favor

Loona talks to Via in Seeing Stars? she should cut her dad some slack for a repeat pattern of behavior

Blitzo has a heart to heart with Fizz in Oops about how Stolas looks down on him? Fizz immediately takes up for Stolas and even pulls the total BS 'if you judge royalty you're as bad as them' liberal line of thinking on Striker

Blitzo reads Stolas for filth? he gets an invite to Verosika's party where she nonstop empathizes with him despite Stolas talking trash about her and everyone there behind her back

and the thing is ever single time it happens the deck is blatantly stacked so Stolas can come out looking better. it's either stuff being left out or everyone involved being OOC.

Loona has no reason to think anything of Stolas outside of 'man my adoptive father is forced to sleep with so we can pay rent', yet she gives Via this speech full of platitudes about why Stolas is trying is enough (and then doesn't cut Blitzo any slack, so it's not like she's saying this because she's learnt anything about her own relationship with her father - it's just here to benefit Stolas)

When talking to Fizz Blitzo rightly notes it's a fetish to Stolas - but the writers also make him bring up a bunch of phone calls that happened totally offscreen to make Stolas look better. there's plenty of things he could tell Fizz but he's never allowed to just so the writers can make him look cynical for doubting Stolas

Verosika is the straightest example of triangulation. she's biased against Blitzo to the point she'll believe when anyone says anything about him, but the writers never allow her to find out Stolas was never 'dating' Blitzo but coercing him into sex instead. her projecting all her baggage onto Stolas is barely even mentioned in the episode as being a problem when she inserts herself into the scenario - the viewers are supposed to side with her 'it starts with saying good for him' line despite how little sense that makes. it contradicts the episode's whole thesis that it's OK for her to be mad at Blitzo for awhile - but Blitzo can't be mad Stolas went and made out with someone else right in front of him the night after he told Blitzo he supposedly cared very deeply for him

that's why this isn't just garbage but infruriating. the whole universe is distorted to favor Stolas and everyone's characterization suffers as a result because they all have to take a bunch of stupid pills in every scenario instead of talking plainly about all the shit Stolas has pulled. Loona and Fizz especially should show some care for Blitzo over Stolas, but they don't. and Blitzo is never allowed to tell anyone else just how badly Stolas screwed him over so they can keep gaslighting him that he's the problem

it's probably also why more of the audience is turning on Stolas. most people can't relate to having a hitman called on them or any of the cartoonish things Stella does

but most people sure can relate to having had an argument with an ex partner or friend and feeling like they want to scream because said partner/friend manipulates everyone around them into taking their side or pressuring them to 'own up' and 'apologize', likely in just the same ways that Stolas does

what the show is putting Blitzo through is just dehumanizing and depressing. his feelings don't matter, how he's been treated doesn't matter. because we're just supposed to accept that he's dirt not worth scraping of Stolas' bird claws, whereas Stolas is pure and good and has only made transgressions so minor they don't even warrant mentioning. and the only way the show will treat him as worthy of anything is if he gives Stolas unconditional love while getting nothing in return

You know what? I have nothing to add to this. You took every last word right out of my mouth.

[dairy-farmer]

Ok so those Omegaverse Beta!Tim asks: amazing, sensational, beautiful! However! Consider: what is Betas have a significantly weaker sense of smell, especially related to pheromones, as compared to Alphas and Omegas? A big part of scenting and pheromones and stuff, at least with As and Os, is about declaring someone 'yours', either in the aggressive/protective way of an Alpha or the loving/affectionate way of an Omega. But also, parents scent their children and friends will scent each other, so carrying someone else's scent isn't inherently a big deal... Unless certain other pheromones or emotions are layered with the personal scent.

[Tim (Beta) Bruce & Damian(Alpha), Dick & Jason (I'm undecided on whether both, neither, or only one of them is an Omega)] Tim, as a Beta, can identify personal scents - This is Jason's favorite couch, Damian was here recently, this is Cass's shirt, ect - but can't really tell people emotional state or health or anything based solely on scent: he, like most of the population, relies on body language an expressions for most of that stuff. He can't smell an approaching heat or rut, can't tell if someone is upset just by scent... And also can't tell if someone's placed a scent claim on him. Tim thinks the rest of the bats are just scenting him like they would any of their friends with the rest of the family, but to other Alphas and Omegas it's a clear declaration of 'Mine, Don't touch!'.

His close friends Bart and Kon can't tell either - one is another beta and the other is half alien and didn't get a secondary gender or any of the stuff associated with- and he's not really close enough with anyone else for them to bring it up: since that kind of scenting and posturing is usually reserved among the As and Os who can smell it, no one really thinks to mention it for the same reason that people don't usually go around pointing out that other people are wearing hats: it's just a thing and whether someone is or isn't generally doesn't warrant comment. And the Bat boys don't bring it up either because Tim is unaware of any of their interest. Maybe they are worried about public perception (probably not), or they're worried about scaring Tim off (he still has family issues thanks to his parents), or maybe even they are all trying to subtly get Tim to make the first move because they're worried about seriously hurting each other if they get into some kind of territorial fight over him.

But then! A party, a gala, a big business gathering, whatever. Some Alpha (maybe a known acquaintance, maybe someone new) is interested in Tim and releasing pheromones and scent to warn off others. Tim is clueless, just like he is when the Bats do it. The rest of the Bats, spread around the room, seething in fury: Dick's smile is so stiff while watching Tim and his 'friend' that even the air had socialites he's talking with notice, Damian accidentally broke a glass in his hand and if he had heat vision the other Alpha would be a smoldering pile of ashes, Jason is off to the side hiding -like he always does at these annoying galas and things- with his fist clenched so tight he's drawing blood, and Bruce is fighting so so hard to keep the rage and possessiveness from leaking into his scent And Tim. Doesn't. Notice.

And then the Alpha puts a possessive hand on Tim's waist and leans down to try and kiss his neck.

Later, no one will be able to say for sure who moved first or what, if any, words were said. All that anyone will be able to say for certain is that someone broke the random Alpha's nose and threw him into the hors d'oeuvres table, and Tim was quickly surrounded by his family before just as quickly being spirited out of the party.

Whatever happened and whatever reason they had for not officially claiming/mating Tim, the Bats have all come to the unanimous decision to fuck it and just all fuck Tim: it's just better all around if they make it official instead of letting Tim think he was available to others and the specifics can be worked out later. For now though, Tim is being held in Bruce's lap with his arms secured behind his back with his own dress shirt, while Jason and Damian are taking turns attacking his mouth and neck with bites and kisses, and Dick does things with his mouth that should probably be illegal (trans or cis Tim, both are good🤤).

Maybe there is a bit of aggression and snapping going on while they try to figure out the order in which they get to fuck Tim (oldest to youngest? youngest to oldest? Smallest cock to the biggest, so he gets when open slower??). If one of the boys is an Omega, they take the chance while the Alphas are arguing to give their sweet, confused, and painfully aroused Timmy some nice, penetrative, relief. If both Dick and Jason are Omegas, Dick sits up at Tim's head and gently holds his -now freed from his shirt- hands down, while Jason carefully works his way into Tim, who is so confused and apprehensive -he has no idea what brought this behavior on- but also so keyed up). Tim's brow is cutely pinched while he whines and wiggles a bit at the sensation of being filled by one of his brothers (maybe he's fucked before, maybe it's been a while, maybe he never got around to it. But there's something so different about it being one of his fellow Bats.) Dick leave down to kiss away that pinch between his eyebrows, while Jason fucks him firmly but with tender care and mutters a string of praise occasionally interspersed with absolute filth.

I don't really have any more specifics in mind for who goes next or what, aside from Dick gently coaxing Tim to return the favor and suck his cock, and maybe Bruce and Damian eventually dp-ing Tim (how's it feel to have both of the blood Waynes filling you so full -too full!- alternating thrusts and running their hands possessively over every inch of you?) Maybe if Tim is lucky, after a few days of marathon sex and recovery, someone might explain to him what the fuck brought all this on?

-❤️🦇

😍😍😍😍😍!!!!!!!!!!!

tim being so unaware of how his family has been scenting him so possessively for years and he was one of the ONLY people who didn't know because he couldn't smell it!!!😍😍😍😍 then the moment anyone makes a move on him all hell breaks loose and so they decide to make it VERY clear to tim who he is to them, much to his great confusion <33

[lavender-romancer]

Winter

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader CW: suicide mentions, conflict

You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you'd felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.

You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.

"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.

"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.

"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.

"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."

"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.

"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.

"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.

"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.

Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.

When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.

"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.

"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.

"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.

"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.

"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.

"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.

"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.

For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.

"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.

"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.

"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.

Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.

[gurggggleburgle]

For the svsss musical that lives in my head rent free as I panic about car repairs because I've been bounced between people for months trying to get my car repaired and my work is being mean and I need a car to live in come November or whatever:

I hadn't thought anything about Liu Qingge as far as the music because I admittedly don't think about him too often and I've been thinking about character stage logistics and how it's how at the end of the day I am trying to make a play that could physically happen and svsss already has a large cast to consolidate which means a lot of actors... so my solution.

Liu Qingge and Liu Mingyan both share an actor. It can even be played off as a joke that because Liu Qingge is only a offhand mentioned character in the original PIDW they hadn't casted anyone. So this works. Make a joke on when a productions has 1 man playing every other side character. It's a good way to introduce on stage the concept that this isn't someone who should be there. That said I'm consistently wracking my head on if he should get a song or just be ensemble with some lines because it's a whole does Liu Qingge in particular have anything that's big enough to warrant. Maybe a fight duel song with Binghe but I more just keep thinking high instrumental dance fights than anything.

Now I do think given there's a potential for Liu Mingyan to get a song that's more a group number about what her role was supposed to be that she shares with the other girls. But I think it be funny to use the cognitive dissonance of this girl appearing basically twice in the play and then have Shen Qingqiu talking her up in front of everyone else. Act like you're building to something but she just isn't in the rest of the play. That's the joke.

[aspd-culture]

I guess this is a vent?

I don't like doing these things on my blog because what if I ruin my perfect little persona that I've built up for so long, lol.

Anyway.. no matter what I do, when I talk to my partner (they are heavily prosocial. Like.. heightened emotions and empathy, very charismatic and sensitive, SUPER aware of his enotions and everyone elses, too.) about symptoms and sometimes even just the way I see people in general the way that they react.. it worries me that he's scared of me.

I guess I can see why? I mean, I can't have my mother constantly telling me how bad of a person I am and how she's worried I'm going to do something horrible because of the way I act and not associate that with the way every other person see me. (Hurray for being conditioned to think every person is going to think I'm a bad person)

I know that my partner loves me, I know that he knows that I have ASPD and doesn't hold it against me, but I can't help being so livid at myself for scaring him.. for making him worry. They're such a sweet person that it's exhausting sometimes, but honestly, that helps me feel like he wouldn't lie to me. Sometimes I just wish he would. I wish he would tell me that he's not scared and that they don't worry about the things that they think I could do. I want him to treat me like any other partner, but deep down, I know I would hate it if he really did that. I know if he changed for me, for my confortability, I would feel like a bastard. Like I changed him because he wasn't good enough for me.

I don't think, in any way, it's unfair for you to expect that your partner - given that you've not done anything to them to cause this fear - treats you like a normal partner and doesn't act afraid of you. If this is based on knowing you have ASPD, not only aren't you in the wrong (which it doesn't sound like you are), but that partner is being ableist. It feels bad bc it's demonization and is a blatant show of ableism, which you shouldn't have to endure with someone as close to you as a partner is.

Without overstepping the bounds of me only knowing this post's worth of information about you, I think you may want to consider if that fear of you is actually your fault in any way, or if what you mentioned about your mother is coloring your view to make you okay with someone being ableist towards you.

So in my opinion this is a really important conversation for you two to have, and in that conversation if you realize that you were correct and he is actually scared of you, maybe try and explain the ways that is hurtful to you.

I know what it's like to simultaneously have spent hours and hours teaching myself not to respond with anger even when the anger is valid *and* still have people saying they're scared of you when you've done nothing to warrant it, and it's shitty. I eventually made a boundary that, if my partner is afraid of me and can't identify any reason why but just *is*, that that means we're incompatible bc I refuse to be treated like a monster for doing nothing wrong. It pushes me enough that it makes me *want* to do scary sh*t bc why work so hard not to when they're going to act this way anyways? That's just me but it's worth considering anyways.

I hope however you have gone about this has been doing okay, I know this ask is old and I'm responding to all of these old ones as if I just got them so that anyone with similar questions can still get advice on it.

Plain text below the cut:

I don't think, in any way, it's unfair for you to expect that your partner - given that you've not done anything to them to cause this fear - treats you like a normal partner and doesn't act afraid of you. If this is based on knowing you have ASPD, not only aren't you in the wrong (which it doesn't sound like you are), but that partner is being ableist. It feels bad bc it's demonization and is a blatant show of ableism, which you shouldn't have to endure with someone as close to you as a partner is.

Without overstepping the bounds of me only knowing this post's worth of information about you, I think you may want to consider if that fear of you is actually your fault in any way, or if what you mentioned about your mother is coloring your view to make you okay with someone being ableist towards you.

So in my opinion this is a really important conversation for you two to have, and in that conversation if you realize that you were correct and he is actually scared of you, maybe try and explain the ways that is hurtful to you.

I know what it's like to simultaneously have spent hours and hours teaching myself not to respond with anger even when the anger is valid *and* still have people saying they're scared of you when you've done nothing to warrant it, and it's shitty. I eventually made a boundary that, if my partner is afraid of me and can't identify any reason why but just *is*, that that means we're incompatible bc I refuse to be treated like a monster for doing nothing wrong. It pushes me enough that it makes me *want* to do scary sh*t bc why work so hard not to when they're going to act this way anyways? That's just me but it's worth considering anyways.

I hope however you have gone about this has been doing okay, I know this ask is old and I'm responding to all of these old ones as if I just got them so that anyone with similar questions can still get advice on it.

[longbobmckenzie]

THTH Season 2 Thoughts

Okay, it's been a while since I put together a thoughts post on THTH2, but I think one is warranted.

Anyone who likes LITG and hasn't played this yet needs to get on it. There's only 4 episodes left, so a 1-month Netflix subscription will be enough to play the whole thing, if you were waiting till it was almost done to play.

But... you might want to wait a bit longer till it's out in full, because you'll probably want to replay it - multiple times. The branching this season is SO much better than last season, like I literally just replayed a bunch of times trying to get onto a specific route. I'm thoroughly impressed. I had low expectations going in and was just hoping it wouldn't be as linear as Season 1, but Season 2 has blown me away.

There are only 4 OG LIs (compared to 7 last season), and I know a lot of people were annoyed at that, especially because the friend options are hotter (oh Santiago, what could have been), but it makes sense as there's more non-MC related storyline. And there are 4 bombshells, and at least 3 of them are LIs as well (not sure about the 4th yet because they come in next week but I have a feeling they will be).

As for the LIs, they're all great. Even if you don't like their looks, the personalities are so much more developed than S1 or the last few seasons of LITG. You get unique dialogue with every LI in just about every scene you get with them, you get to go on dates, you get to have intimate scenes (that are also unique from what I've been able to tell!!). You can even choose various interests for your MC and if they match up with a character, you get extra dialogue. The game is so replayable!

It also remembers your choices, so if you flirt with someone and then go for someone else, you'll get reactions from them. And your consequences can have actions! They may forgive you, but they may not.

I mentioned the branching, but once again, it's amazing. You're not forced into love triangles, but you can be messy af and date 3 people at once (just be careful, they might find out 🤭😏). The loyal routes are sooo good, there's a little drama on them that doesn't entirely make sense but the whole time, your LI is all for you. But if you're not loyal, those scenes can change! People will call you out for treating people wrong, or they might come asking you to give them another chance. You can break rules or keep them, and people will trust you accordingly. You can make a relationship official. There's probably an 'I love you' coming at some point, I'd think.

Oh, and there's no twin sister Amelia 🤭

Basically, it's got a lot of the things we've been asking for from Love Island, it's just a different reality show.

Oh, and there are no gem options or in-app purchases, just your monthly Netflix subscription. And when you replay, you can choose any episode to go back to, and there's a skip feature to skip to the next dialogue option or scene.

So if you can afford one month of Netflix, I definitely recommend giving it a try.

[putschki1969]

Hello Puts!

I don't think I have seen you share your thoughts about Keiko's latest single. I personally really enjoy this release and I am curious how you feel about it?

Ugh, yeah, you got me there🫣I've been uncharacteristically quiet about Keiko's 「夕闇のうた」. Quite frankly, I've just not had enough positive things to say to warrant a proper review😭. As most of you probably know, I do not get any pleasure from lingering on stuff I don't particularly like, I simply move on and prefer to focus on things I actually enjoy. But hey, since you asked, I might as well write up a few things that have been going through my mind.

Disclaimer: Needless to say, this is all just my personal opinion. I am by no means an expert on music or singing, I am just a fan who is very invested in my girls but due to having a very specific taste, not everything works for me but of course that doesn't mean that it won't work for anyone else.

Let's start with the single's A-Side 「夕闇のうた/Yūyami no Uta」. It's not like I hate the song or anything, objectively it's a decent track, I just can't really get into it. There are some songs and melodies that immediately resonate with me, others grow on me over time and then there are some I need to hear performed live to properly appreciate them. In this case, none of these options apply unfortunately. We got our very first snippet way back at the end of November and to be honest, that didn't do much for me which already kinda tempered my excitement. Ever since then the song has had time to marinate but I haven't been able to warm up to it. Even the live performance at last year's Kaji Fes didn't have a noteworthy effect on me. My last hope was hearing the full studio version but my reaction was once again rather lukewarm. The visuals of the PV helped a bit to get me into a good mood for the song but ultimately, I was pretty much underwhelmed. And the worst thing is, I struggle to pinpoint what exactly is bothering me about the song. One thing I am definitely not a fan of is the overly rushed and repetitive drum-beat in the verses, for some reason I feel like it clashes a bit with Keiko's singing and cheapens the overall vibe of the song but that could just be my personal impression. I prefer a good build-up to a chorus and I don't think we are getting it here. Speaking of the chorus, the structure of the chorus doesn't work for me or maybe it's the melody (lack thereof?) that doesn't appeal to me? Not sure exactly but it's not giving me what I would have liked. The first part starting with "inori" is pretty generic and then we get a sort of crescendo for "utau/fureru" which feels oddly out of place, especially when it transitions right into the scat singing. Maybe there is too much different stuff going on or it's all happening too fast but it doesn't have the impact on me which it probably should have. I am usually a big fan of Keiko's scat singing, I mean, her yay- yay-yay part in YK's "vanity" or Kalafina's "Door" regularly gives me an eargasm so why the hell does it leave me so unimpressed in "Yūyami no Uta"???!!! I guess it's more of a combination of the melodic arrangement and the accompanying scatting which makes songs like "vanity" or "Door" so much more epic for me....? As for the bridge, it's okay I suppose. In her interviews, Keiko has mentioned multiple times how her progress as a vocalist has made it possible to tackle all these high parts and that just a few years ago, Yuki Kajiura would have assigned Yuriko Kaida or one of her other chorus singers to sing those sections. Keiko's higher registers are a hit and miss for me, sometimes they work, other times not so much. Here she sounds perfectly fine and I fully understand why YK would feel confident to let Keiko handle this on her own. But again, the whole part is just meh and by now I am convinced that it is because the song doesn't have a sufficiently nice melody to provide a good base for Keiko's singing.

I want to continue with 「夕闇のうた Special Edit ver.」 because I honestly feel like we have been robbed of something really good here. Whoever decided to bypass this in favour of the normal version should really start questioning their life choices. I am not saying that this version is perfect (we don't even get all that much to form an opinion on it) but from what I hear, it is superior in many ways and would have worked better as an ending (edit: apparently, it has actually been used as ED on the 3rd ep). That gorgeous strings intro alone takes the song to a whole new level, making it so much more melodic. And the somewhat obtrusive drums feel way more toned down here since they are introduced at a later point of the song to create more of a proper build-up towards the chorus. The chorus itself is pretty much the same from what I can tell but I wonder what the bridge and the remainder of the verses would have sounded like in this style. The ending verse of the song also works a lot better for this special edit, wish they had included all of it starting from "itoshii" and then concluded it with another strings section.

Now all that's left to talk about is the single's B-Side, 「燈命/Tōmei」. This song is a big no-go for me so I'll keep it short. The composition, arrangement and lyrics were all done by Saku who has previously worked with Keiko on "Ray" (Lantana), "Sakura wo Goran" (dew) and "YOUR" (CUTLERY). He was only in charge of the arrangement for"Sakura wo Goran" but out of those three songs, "Tōmei" feels closest to this one in terms of vibe and overall blandness. I've come to enjoy "YOUR" quite a bit (even if I am not so happy with some of Keiko's higher notes) and "Ray" is decent too but my entire body outright rejects songs like "Sakura wo Goran" and "Tōmei". Sorry🙈I don't even know what else to say. I listened to it and immediately was like, nope, next one please.

Phew, this turned out longer than expected. I feel shabby for going on and on about all the stuff I didn't like but oh well, what's done is done. Moving on...

[zimithrus]

Tiger & Bunny Week Day 5 🐯🐰 - Fan Theories/Predictions

⚠ (Mentions of theoretical death!) ⚠

So, I've lightly touched over this in another post some time back, but Maybe I can go a little more in depth with this fan theory I've had, which is: What if Kotetsu accidentally killed his father as a child when his NEXT powers awakened?

I might be grasping at air here, but think about it: we don't ever see Kotetsu's father in the show, nor is he ever mentioned. All we know of his family is his mother, late wife, daughter, brother, sister-in-law, 2 nieces and a nephew. I know it's simply because the writers didn't write one but still, universe-wise, why wouldn't Kotetsu's father be around? 🤔

Well, my reasoning for this theory is when I was watching the show in both English and Japanese I noticed some peculiar phrasing in S1 Ep2. Specifically Kotetsu's flashback of the bank robbery he had been a victim in. In English, with direct closed captioning, he says the following:

Which yeah, a general 'stay away from me' cautionary phrase. 'Hey I could hurt you, might want to keep your distance'.

but, if you change the language to Japanese and select the English captioning that's translated rather than word-for-word dialogue,

We come up with this:

I'm not supposed to touch anyone.

This implies less of general distance and more of a direct order. The difference between 'keep away' and 'I'm not allowed'. Our first phrasing makes it seem that Kotetsu is saying this on his own to keep others away from him, to keep them from getting hurt. But the second phrase, he says it in a way that implies it's been told to him. Why else would he phrase it like so?

And if he was told by someone to not touch anyone while glowing like that, something bad must have happened. Bad enough to warrant his choice of words here.

As we've seen with Kaede when her NEXT powers awakened, (s1 Ep18) she trashed the house on accident as she couldn't control them, which Kotetsu says this in response:

To which his mother agrees:

Tying that in with the fact that we do not see or hear anything of his father at all in the show coupled with the delivery of Kotetsu's flashback dialogue, Kotetsu must have hurt him by accident, bad enough to kill. All of that together could explain the flashback's choice of words.

Going back to Ep2 here for a sec, when Kotetsu sympathizes with Tony about how his friends turned on him after his NEXT powers awakened, we're treated to some differing dialogue again. In English, Kotetsu mentions his friends turned on him and called him a freak; he hated them for that and his powers most of all.

And in Japanese, we get something a little more, detailed:

He cried every day.

Which we could chalk up to kids being ruthless to a NEXT kid, bullying and teasing as they tend to do sometimes. But how he cried every day? I wonder if there was something else below the surface to trigger a much more emotional response.

Which circles it all back to my theory; Kotetsu accidentally killed his father when his powers first awakened as he could not control them.

Perhaps he was angry, or just a little upset. Maybe an action performed in sorrow or anger went too far and caused the death of his father. Realizing how dangerous his powers were, it probably scarred him, made him emotional and distant all at once. And perhaps from that his mother made a rule for him, that rule being 'You cannot touch anyone when you glow like that'. Which brings it all back to the beginning, Kotetsu telling Mr. Legend that he's not supposed to touch anyone when he's glowing like that.

Until he's told his powers can be used to save people instead, anyway, changing his trepidation into hope. 💚

[papercutsunset]

same as it ever was

Wrote this for @flashfictionfridayofficial. This came out so vague but it always does. Anyway, 791 words. Not many content warnings I know how to tag for, but there's some mentions of them fighting each other in the past and how that went (they're superheroes and Opal's not the best, it happens). Also they make out a little.

When the door to the house is closed and Opal’s coat is on the hook, Beth crouches down to pull the eggs from the fridge and eases herself back up— gently. She doesn't want to pass out. “What do you want, Opal?”

“Same thing happened at the docks. I need your help.” 

“You don't need my help. You need the help of someone—” 

“Good with shadows. Good with fighting. I saw you throwing yourself around earlier.” She speaks up over the eggshells cracking. “I know how well we still work together. I think we can make it happen.” 

“And what?” Beth goes for the butter and a knife. “Get into a fight of our own while whatever this shiny freak is gets away?” 

“You're good with plans. I'm good with following them.” 

“Stop complimenting me.” She grabs a measuring up for the sugar. “I know how you see me.”

Before Beth can measure out the second half-cup of three, Opal places a hand on hers. Forced stop: “I see you as capable.”

And there, pressed against the counter, with the black rubber spatula in hand, she lets it happen. 

It's so… unexpected. Pleasant. Jarring. Unwelcome. Sweet. Warranted. Wanted. It feels like picking up where they left off; and Beth wonders, for a moment, how she could have ever let herself leave. But she remembers everything, doesn't she? Her foot against Opal’s teeth in retaliation to Opal’s fist against her eye; teenage attempts at killing the monster under Beth's skin and trying to convince her that it won't leave. Of course things ended. They had to. Of course it feels right to kiss her again. With all those jagged edges left unsanded, how could they not? 

Greedily, with all the wanting she can muster, Beth pulls Opal down by the collar of her shirt, pushing herself deeper into the counter. Almost in response. Opal pushes Beth against the tile more— up higher, atop it, forcing the bowl of un-formed batter aside. It grates against the grout the same way Beth's jeans, like flour and paint are one and the same. As she parts her legs to pull Opal in (closer, closer, because where they are right now isn’t enough, even if their lips haven't left each other's for a full minute and a half, because she needs to flesh-meld either metaphorically or literally because that would fix her), there's a loud pop. 

Opal freezes, confused and concerned all at once. She glances at the stove and, finding nothing, back at Beth— at her arm. 

But Beth already knows: she was the source. And her hand is already on Opal’s chin, guiding her bsck, muttering, “It's nothing, it's fine, keep going.” 

“What was that? Was that something coming out of you?” 

“What?” It's enough of a reality check to snap her out of it for a moment. “No, it was my hip. It just popped.” 

“It popped that loudly?”

“Yeah, they do that. My joints are bad “ She pauses. “Didn't you know that?”

Something crosses Opal’s face: I don't believe you. 

There it is again. The past isn't the past. Opal is the same warrior of light. Beth is the same shapeshifting monster. Technically, neither of them stopped being those things. They just stopped talking to each other for a while. Metal-bound fists stopped finding helmeted faces fighting on the same side for good and right— friendly fire, justified by some holy, disgusted cause. Isn't it here now? Isn't it coming up again? 

“Are you lying to me?”

“Why would I lie to you?” Beth groans. “Why would I lie to anyone? I'm not living with my fucking grandpa for shits and giggles, Opal.” 

She pauses for a long moment. “I don't know. Rent.” 

“My bo-dy is a cess-pool—” 

“Of black tendrils?” 

“Yeah, sure, and weird teeth, and curses, and whatever else, but I'm also just…” She's brought the mood down; she gestures with her hand vaguely, looking toward the bowl next to her. “I don't feel great.”

“You're twenty-one. You shouldn't be creaking like an old man.” 

“And you shouldn't be preaching like Papa’s ex-girlfriend,” she snaps. 

That's the end of it. For all she's worth, and all the brewing concern in her eyes and forward lean, that's the thing that sends Opal Harvey toward the door. Bat out of hell, golden warrior out of the same— good luck pretending your storming isn't running. Beth can see right through her. 

“For your information,” she calls after her, perched on the counter, “I wasn't even talking about my bones anymore. I'm fine with my bones. They don't hurt most of the time and I told you that didn't hurt.” 

The door slams. That definitely does. After all this time, she thinks it shouldn't. 

[mama-qwerty]

I seem to remember you mentioning in a post somewhere that you were planning on having Callie adopt Shadow as well. Is that still happening or am I completely making it up and you never said that?

Good memory!

So yeeeaaaah, here's the thing about that.

When I first created Callie, her backstory was a lot different. I changed it about a week before I wrote the most current chapter of Fall of the Status Quo.

Originally, Callie was Maria.

I've got something on here explaining my headcanon for their story, and bits of writing of Maria meeting Shadow and interacting with him and everything, and I have a story in mind that goes through everything she and Shadow went through on the Ark. Whether I actually get it written is in the air.

She eventually gets fed up with how they're treating the boy and tries to get him out of there. Things go to shit, she's shot, and Shadow's hauled away. A few soldiers loyal to Gerald get her out of there, patched up, and she changes her name to avoid being found by General Towers, the dude in charge of the Ark. She's told the whole site was scrubbed, meaning everything involved in it was destroyed--Shadow included.

She lost her boy, and was so hurt by everything she never wanted to get close to anyone else.

Why'd I change it?

Because it would have weakened Shadow's motivation. Finding out that the one person he loved most and thought was dead is alive--whew, good thing he didn't have to go through any personal struggles or layers of grief!--would have taken everything that is Shadow and tossed it aside.

And I finally realized that Callie being Maria was actually kinda dumb.

So I nixed it. I think Cal's backstory works better for her, and it makes her a person in her own right and not just someone that people should care about because she was Actually Someone Important all along!

Will I bring Shadow in? That's up in the air. I need to know how to handle him, and right now I don't. Maybe when the 3rd movie comes out I'll have ideas for him, but right now, I don't have his personality fleshed out well enough to warrant bringing him in. And I have a hard enough time with my current multi-chapter fics, I'd need to have a whole new one to bring in Shads, which I don't have the energy for right now.

If he does show up, I figure he and Cal can bond over losing someone they should have protected, and failed to do so. The one person they each loved and would have given their lives for is gone, all while protecting them.

[hood-ex]

Sooo let's talk about Dick's various appearances for Dec. 20th. These are only my opinions, of course.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest #10

Pros:

Dick helped Bruce collect evidence at the crime scene.

Dick referred to Clark as "Big Blue."

Even with Bruce and Clark on the scene, Dick was still the one giving orders to the Titans.

He simply referred to Joker as "the clown."

Tried to stop David from killing Joker which is in character for him (though ironic for obvious reasons).

Cons: None

Overall, he knew what he was doing and I like that he was giving the Titans direction.

Batman: Urban Legends #22 "The Director"

Pros:

Dick was familiar with one of the perps and picked up on the fact that the perp's exit route seemed predetermined as a way to purposely get caught.

He apparently had tried to help the perp turn his life around in the past and he tried to help the perp again this time around by telling the perp to call the number Dick had given him previously.

Dick noticed a pattern with some of the criminal activity he's been taking care of recently. The activity felt off to him. Planned. Scripted. Same thing this time around.

Babs was in this issue and, surprisingly, her involvement/interaction with Dick didn't annoy the shit out of me like it tends to do in the current Nightwing run. I guess that's testament to how nauseating You Know Who writes the two of them together.

Dick looked like he was break dancing on the roulette table, which looked a little ridiculous, and I'm not exactly sure what he was actually doing, but I thought the visual of it was funny.

He tried to be intimidating to get information out of the perps. I give the intention 10/10 but only 4/10 for the execution. Dick's been far more creative with intimidation tactics in the past.

Love how Dick could tell that one of the perps, Marcel, was terrified of the repercussions of telling Dick any information, and because of this, Dick offered to help Marcel.

After Marcel was shot, Dick applied pressure to the wound. Love it when he shows medical competency.

GUILT COMPLEX MY BELOVED. MUAHAHA. Fucking finally! Marcel died, and out of a desire to not see anyone else like Marcel get hurt, Dick got his ass in gear and went after the main antagonist of his own accord. He picked up on the only lead he had, picked the lock on the door, and stepped into a room of trouble.

Cons:

Tbh, I'm probably just sensitive because Dick's competency has taken a hit for... I don't even know how long at this point, but it was a bit irksome for Seer to call Dick's plan "D-grade" and for her to refer to him as "Not-So-Bright-Wing." She was meant to be antagonizing though, and Dick did just come through the window all, "It's over, Director!" sooo idk. Maybe the"D-grade" remark was warranted this go around. Although, obviously, that's not the standard for Dick's planning ability.

In relation to the intimidation scenes, I felt like the art needed to show more intensity during those moments. I wanted Dick to feel more threatening.

Overall, this depiction of Dick didn't raise my blood pressure so that's a win in my book.

Batman: Urban Legends #22 "The Murder Club"

Pros:

After Thomas berated Bruce for ruining the Wayne legacy by becoming Batman, Dick once again stepped into the role of emotional support, which is a role he's filled for Bruce multiple times in the past. I love that he acknowledged how Bruce must be feeling after hearing what Thomas said, but that he tried to appeal to Bruce's logical side by telling him that Martha and Thomas haven't been around long enough to understand Bruce's crusade and the positive effects of it.

Dick helped Bruce break down a substance as well as helped him configure an antidote for it. It was nice to see Dick and Bruce working seamlessly together.

Bruce thought about how much he missed working side by side with Dick, and he also mentioned how Dick had always been the one to keep him grounded. I think there's truth to that last bit (especially in situations such as the one mentioned above where Dick acted as Bruce's emotional support), but I also think there are other people in Bruce's life who help center him as well. Bruce's family, in general, keeps him sane.

When Damian let John Starr fall off the building, Dick commented that Bruce wouldn't be happy about Damian's decision to do that, to which Damian got defensive and said he wasn't going to let John die. Dick responded by saying, "I know that. But he's still not gonna like it." Love how this shows that Dick trusts Damian.

Cons:

This isn't something I'm genuinely miffed about, but I just thought it was weird how neither Dick or Bruce noticed that Damian had hauled John away to get information out of him despite the fact that John had been standing right behind them.

Overall, I thought Dick seemed competent and I liked how he navigated the devastating blow Bruce took from Thomas.

Nightwing #99

Pros:

Babs. Wasn't. Here. Did you hear that?? BABS WASN'T HERE! For the first time in TT's run!! She wasn't here! She wasn't even in Dick's ear! Halle-freaking-lujah. So much of my ire was abated by her absence.

In Batman: Year Three, Alfred mentioned that every year he would go to the Parole Board and protest whenever Tony Zucco became eligible for parole. I like that no one was there to protest against Zucco's parole this year since Alfred is dead and, thus, Zucco ended up getting parole. Not that TT made that connection to BYT in the issue or gave that exact reasoning for why Zucco got out of jail (I came up with the reasoning myself), but I'm choosing to believe that's what happened anyway.

Using the boat for the action scene was nice.

Despite wanting Zucco dead, Dick saved Zucco from what probably would've been certain death. His morals trumped his desire for revenge.

Dick and Melinda finally had a moment that felt more personal.

Cons:

In Batman: Year Three, Dick was aware that Zucco was going to walk free from jail, and you know what he thought about it? He thought that even though Zucco was going to be free, Dick's parents were still going to be dead, and that getting mad or crazy about Zucco's release wasn't going to bring his parents back. In fact, BRUCE was the one who was struggling to control himself from strangling Zucco. So it's odd to me that TT would have Dick go berserk over Zucco's release when Dick has already put all that history behind him (we're ignoring the N52 Zucco situation which TT clearly didn't take inspiration from).

Overall, I'm not the biggest fan of the liberties TT has taken with Dick's history, and this issue in general was average.

Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths #7

Pros:

Dick called Slade out for his shitty parenting.

I like the nod to the history between Dick and Slade by having Robin!Dick go up against younger!Slade.

I thought it was hilarious that Bruce snapped Dick's initiation candle.

Bruce said Dick was his light and is basically a light for everyone else.

Cons:

Not necessarily a con but I can't help but notice how often writers are making Bruce use the word "son" lately. Like in this issue he called Dick "son" twice. He also praised Dick, and while that's generally good, Dick had no reaction to it. In the past, it was usually always a big deal to him whenever Bruce praised him.

Overall, this issue took a big sip of appreciation juice for Dick. I gotta admit, the praise for Dick would feel so much better if this event had occurred in the Post-Crisis era. It's kind of hard to look at Dick in the current era and to be like, yeah, that guy should lead everyone into the future.

Anyways. That's it for Dick's appearances other than Titans United: Bloodpact #4. I'm not reading that title so I don't have any thoughts on it.

[i-hope-this-is-a-phase]

Hi gang!

I received a bunch of anons that weren't exactly positive, but I do want to address them before closing further public conversation on the Gogtroversy.

They will be put under the cut because they are DICEY my dears. Will have the same tags though and with proper responses :)9

(Also apologies for the caps people seem to be missing my point so I'm trying to emphasize the important bits to help with comprehension).

Hello nonnie!

I was, in fact, very confused when you wrote "Yes does not mean consent" because, out of context, I was asking myself "Then what is consent?" Thank you for clarifying.

Now, onto your points:

As I have stated multiple times, I do not blame Caiti for what happened; that also does not mean I blame George for misreading her signals. I wish this had not happened to her, and I hope George NEVER does something like this again, but I also realize that this was MOST LIKELY based on PAST EVIDENCE an honest mistake.

Furthermore, as I also have stated, alcohol is a gray area I simply have no right to explore since I personally do not drink. If you want to argue about the morality of that PARTICULAR situation, please do so with someone else. That is why in my statement I excluded my opinion on the matter because I simply cannot give one. But for the miscommunication and incident I do have enough experience to discuss those.

Moreover, Caiit herself admitted she was already drunk before she was at the party. She chose to drink, which, YES, is illegal, but it was her choice to do so. All other party members were MOST LIKELY under the assumption she could drink since she already was.

Finally, please, PLEASE, stop calling this sexual assault. He touched her under her shirt above her waist. This was, at best, molestation, and even the evidence for that is slim. He touched her in a flirtatious manner, which made her uncomfortable. Since you mentioned legality, no court would view this as sexual assault or molestation.

That said, he SHOULD have asked for her EXPLICIT consent, and I do not support that. I ALSO think he can grow from this and become a better person without losing his friends and livelihood.

If anyone believes that a single mistake should dictate your entire life course, then I am sorry to say that you will have a reality check as you grow up and make those mistakes yourself.

Hi nonnie!

So, uh, the last bit of your ask seems kinda irrelavent to the discussion as I have never spoken about those here? So I won't be addressing that.

Also, I stated my reasons why she should have kept this private:

She will most likely not receive a proper apology if she used her situation against him.

In my opinion, this situation did not warrant public attention because, at best, it was molestation, and, from outside perspectives who saw this evidence without knowing anything about the fandom, most likely flirtatious advances gone wrong.

Her story is now no longer being used to support her but instead is being used to attack the Dream Team.

Caiti's story is now being scrutinize for "if it's real" "if it is really assault" "was it malicious" isntead of validating her emotions and feelings. At the end of the day, those questions don't matter: what matters is she felt uncomfortable, and although George most likely did not, he needs to apologize.

To your statement "George does not care about consent," I honestly don't know the answer to that. I am not George. I won't know his every thought or if this was malicious.

What I DO know is that if we treat this as unforgivable, we set a dangerous precedent for people who want to change. So, for that reason, I am choosing to BELIEVE he did not mean it maliciously, and until FURTHER EVIDENCE COMES FORWARD, I will see this as a single mistake and not a pattern of abuse (which was the case in Wilbur's situaton).

Also, again, this isn't sexual assault, please check yor facts as I am. Moreover, please re-read my statement because almost everything I said was in that initial statement.

Hi nonnie!

Saved this for last because it was very polite, and I appreciate it :)

I think we will disagree on this point, and that's okay. In your opinion, content creators should handle serious allegations publicly, which you consider these as such. In my opinion, I believe smaller issues should be handled privately without accusations since I don't view this as a serious allegation (although I still know Caiti is uncomfortable and deserves better).

In this current moment, based on what I know, what I have learned, and what I can interpret, I stated my opinion on the matter. I stand by the words I say here because they are, again, based on the knowledge I have. If, one day, I come to realize I was ignorant, like you said, I will change my position.

Thank you, nonnie :)