#is this what she had in mind? almost definitely not

[alsofoundinpeas]

In the Blink of a Lens

Summary: When Spencer Reid finally succumbs to technology and gets a smartphone, he takes a tentative step into the digital world by sending his best friend (and colleague) Y/N a picture. What starts as an innocent attempt to embrace modern tech leaves Y/N flustered as the seemingly innocent gesture forces her to confront feelings she’s been ignoring for years. Neither of them is prepared for the powerful impact of a single, innocent photo as the lines between friendship and something more start to blur.

(AKA Spencer sends the above selfie and reader gets horny because his hand is quite literally swallowing the phone HAHAHA)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Hand kink/fixation. Overstimulation. Oral (both m and f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected sex/P in V sex (do as I say not as I do and STAY PROTECTED IRL!!). Dirty talk/praise kink. Softdom!Spencer and bratty!sub!reader. Some religious phrasing (because who are fanfic writers really without it?) Pull-out method used (again, do as I say not as I do!!) Very brief mention of a sex toy (doesn't get used). Fluffy smut. Two idiots in love/best friends to lovers trope. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader

A/N: This is my humble contribution to the Spencer Reid hand kink supremacy (no but seriously how are his hands THAT attractive??). This is kinda sorta an AU I guess because I wrote this with season four Reid in mind but I'm not sure (and Google will not give me a clear answer) if that type of iPhone was around then so let's just pretend it was for the sake of the fic pls. :') Also the "Sincerely, Spencer Reid" was a direct nod to B99's very own Raymond Holt because I could definitely see him and Spence handling tech the same way LMAO. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

Am I doing this selfie thing right? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

The screen felt almost blinding in the dim lighting of Y/N's bedroom as she stared slack-jawed at the image open on her phone.

Spencer finally upgraded to a smartphone a week ago after an unfortunate crash to the ground (stupid raised sidewalk) shattered the old flip phone that had long ago earned him the nickname "Grandpa" from his pain-in-the-ass-loving best friend. Y/N had never seen a man so devastated over losing what was essentially a brick that made calls, so to cheer him up, she helped him pick out a new phone and set it up.

She was beginning to regret that decision as she gawked at the selfie Spencer had sent.

It was sweet—an innocent photo of him sitting in his car, just after finishing the paperwork he’d insisted on handling alone, despite her offers to help. He'd banished her to her apartment, as stubborn as ever. The shot was taken in his rearview mirror, a faint grin tugging at his lips, his maple-toned eyes obscured by the phone. There was nothing about the image that should have made her pulse quicken. But when the realization hit her, a rush of warmth flooded her face.

It was his hand.

His hand seemed almost too big for the phone, dwarfing it as he snapped the picture. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how large his hands were—everyone did—but she’d never given it much thought. Until now. Watching the way his fingers effortlessly swallowed the device, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was something about the sheer size of his hand, the way it seemed to overpower the phone, that made her suddenly hyper-aware of every detail.

His fingers were long, elegant, and well-cared-for; fingers that seemed capable of touching parts of her she'd never been able to reach on her own—

No. No, no, no. There was absolutely no way she was having these thoughts about Spencer Reid. Spencer, her endearingly awkward best friend of four years. Her rock. Her partner in the field. The man she’d always thought of as just that—nothing more. Well...

Y/N did have a crush on him once, in the earliest stages of their friendship. But it was just a small, silly, unreciprocated crush that she locked away in the deepest parts of her subconscious so that she could at least still be his friend. She accepted that it would never happen and moved on. Or she thought she had...

A muffled curse leaves Y/N's lips as she realizes she never responded, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she struggles to think of a response. Since when has she ever struggled to talk to Spencer? Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her tonight? Was she ovulating?

Y/N: Next time, show off those pretty brown eyes of yours and you've got it down pat :)

Okay... That sounded way flirtier than she intended... But that's how they usually joked with each other, right? She was just overthinking everything because she was exhausted from their most recent case. That's it.

Y/N: Also... why have you not put your phone case on yet?? You're practically begging for another sidewalk incident to happen, Grandpa.

That's better. That feels normal.

She sets her phone down on her nightstand, picking up her abandoned book to continue reading. Y/N's heart rate is almost back to normal when her phone's ringtone blaring startles her, the book falling to her lap with a muted thud. An annoyed groan rumbles in her throat as she reaches over to grab the device, internally praying it wasn't Hotch calling with another case. They had JUST gotten back from Ohio not even six hours ago and she just wanted to rest—

To her surprise, it was Spencer calling.

"It's awfully late for you to be calling, Grandpa," Y/N drawled as she answered the call, her lips curling up into a grin as she heard Spencer scoff on the other line. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I am in bed," Spencer grumbled in response, and she could hear some shuffling as he got comfortable. "And I put the case on right after I sent the selfie, thank you very much. Speaking of, did you know that the origin of selfies was actually believed to be..."

Spencer launched into a thorough explanation of not only the origins of selfies but also a detailed account of why self-portraits came about. Y/N hung onto every word, just as she always did when he spoke. Most people found his rambling to be annoying, but not her. She thought it was fascinating how much information he kept tucked away in that brain of his and was more than willing to listen and ask questions about anything he blurted out.

The conversation stretches on for another hour, neither of them wanting to be the one to end it. It’s not until the fifth yawn escapes Spencer that Y/N finally chuckles into the phone before reluctantly saying goodnight. Spencer’s voice is warm as he wishes her sweet dreams, and the call ends with the soft beep of disconnecting. And, for the first time in a long while, sweet dreams she did have…

"Does that feel good? Hm, pretty girl?" Spencer murmured into her ear as she writhed between his spread legs, her bare back pressed flush to his clothed chest.

The night had started with celebratory drinks after finally closing one of their more grueling cases, the team getting some much-needed relaxation and bonding in. Spencer was Y/N's designated driver as per usual since he didn't drink, instead choosing to nurse a soda as he eyed Y/N down from across the booth.

He was directly across from her, snugly between Derek and Hotch. But he wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been fixated on her from the moment she'd come back from the bar with Emily and Penelope, tracing the contours of her flushed face as she tipped her head back and took another shot.

Y/N had no intentions of getting completely drunk, instead choosing to remain just tipsy enough to enjoy the warmth that flowed through her body from the alcohol and maintain a steady buzz. That way she could be aware of her surroundings while also enjoying herself and the company of her team.

The bar was dim, the pounding of her heartbeat matching the beat of the music bumping overhead as her gaze fell on Spencer. Her brows furrowed at the unabashedly hungry look in his eyes, her tongue poking out to wet her lips subconsciously. She had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he'd be looking at her like that... right?

But he had been. And that same look is exactly what led them to where they were now, with Spencer propped up against her headboard holding her at his mercy while his fingers pumped tirelessly into her drenched pussy. She was sure the sight of them was downright filthy, an erotic contrast of her completely bare body pressed against his fully clothed one.

Y/N was in shambles, her legs trembling as her nails dug uselessly into his thighs while soft whimpers and moans flowed freely from her kiss-swollen lips. Her mind was reeling, a dizzying mixture of the remaining alcohol in her system, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach, and the knowledge that it was Spencer causing said pleasure.

She was so, so close... just a few more strokes of his fingers and...

A sharp gasp sounded through the bedroom as Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as she shakily sat up to turn off her alarm. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her vision as she fell back into her pillows. The dull aching between her thighs served as a sore reminder of what she was so close to achieving in her dream...

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of the dream hit her like a tidal wave. Guilt, confusion, and sheer horror crashed over her, and she groaned, her hands dragging down her face in frustrated disbelief. She’d just had a dream—a wet dream—about Spencer Fucking Reid.

What had gotten into her?

Before she could dive too deep into why her crush on Spencer had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance after being dormant for so long, her phone dinged with a message from the genius himself. It felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound, taunting her for the forbidden thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake about her best friend.

Spence <3: Are you going to get coffee? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

Y/N snorted out a laugh at how he signed his text, shaking her head as she responded.

Y/N: ... Spence, you don't have to sign your name on each text. I have your number saved. And yes, I am :)

A minute passes before his response comes through.

Spence <3: Oh. Well then, can you also bring me coffee please?

Y/N: Of course I can <3

Her earlier guilt lingers in the pit of her stomach as she sets the phone down, rolling out of bed with a sigh to begin getting ready for work. How was she going to face him after having a dream like that? Maybe it was a fluke; a one-off occurrence manifested from her lack of sexual endeavors so her brain had no choice but to use Spencer as a fill-in for her fantasies.

Opting to pretend it never happened so she could face her best friend later, Y/N finished getting ready and left for the café, determined to get there on time for work.

The elevator dinged as Y/N strolled into the bullpen, her and Spencer's usual orders in hand and a soft smile on her face. Thankfully, today was a paperwork day—a task most of the team dreaded, but one Y/N welcomed. It gave her a chance to recover from the constant motion sickness from the jet and the relentless flirtations of the officers when they worked cases out of state.

"Mm, my very own coffee fairy!" Spencer grinned, setting down the stack of papers he’d been poring over. His eyes sparkled as she made her way across the room, finally meeting his gaze from across the desk as she stopped in front of him. "Have I ever told you you're the best?"

"Yes, you have," Y/N teased with a playful grin, holding out his coffee. "But I don’t mind hearing it more often."

Her dream, it seemed, hadn’t been a fluke, a realization that hits her as Spencer grabs his coffee. Her eyes involuntarily track the way his fingers curl around the Styrofoam cup, and a shiver runs up her spine when they inadvertently brush against hers. Her cheeks flush as she quickly pulls her gaze away, meeting his curious eyes instead.

"You feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little flushed," Spencer murmured, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed her over the rim of his cup.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her throat as she swallowed and nodded. The sight had sent her mind reeling, the memory of those same fingers buried deep inside of her in her dream the night before surfacing against her will.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine I just-"

Before Y/N could finish stammering out her lame excuse, Morgan sauntered into the bullpen with Garcia, the pair immediately honing in on her and Spencer as they made their way over.

"Oh, c'mon Y/N! Seriously? Pretty boy here gets a coffee but the rest of us don't?" Morgan taunted, chuckling as Y/N reached out to playfully swat at his arm with an eye roll.

"Well obviously! He's her work husband," Penelope chimed in matter-of-factly, giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows. "It would mean a divorce was brewing if she didn't."

The team had started the joke years ago, teasing her and Spencer for being the youngest members and for how quickly they’d clicked. To everyone else, it was obvious their friendship ran deeper than either of the two realized. The problem was that neither one of them could see it. Some profilers they were.

No matter how many times the joke was made, Spencer’s face still turned bright red every single time.

"Har dee har har," Spencer scoffed, his eyes shifting to the cup still gripped in his hand.

The banter was cut short as Hotch stepped out of his office, everyone mumbling their goodbyes and scurrying back to their desks to get their work done. Y/N welcomed the distraction with open arms, diving into her work to try to get her mind off of her conflicted feelings towards her best friend.

All day long, Y/N fought the growing urge to watch Spencer’s hands, but it was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were drawn to the way his fingers traced the edge of a case file as he analyzed it, or how they drummed a steady rhythm on his desk, each tap somehow amplifying the tension she was trying to suppress.

Her breaking point came when the team was wrapping up for the day. Spencer, eager to show off, insisted on demonstrating a new cardistry trick he’d learned. The rest of the team gathered around, and Y/N felt herself drawn in, unable to look away. Her eyes locked on his fingers as he deftly manipulated the cards, the muscles in his hands flexing with each smooth, controlled movement. She barely registered her open mouth or the way her pulse quickened—every part of her attention was on him.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Emily nudged her, a raised eyebrow full of amusement as the rest of the team cheered and complimented Spencer on his newly acquired skill. Rather than meet Emily’s knowing look, Y/N quickly murmured her praise for Spencer, then hastily made her exit, claiming she needed to hit a store before it closed.

If she thought that day was bad, the next few weeks were hell.

The BAU had two back-to-back cases, leaving them no time to rest as they flew straight from Tennessee to Arizona. The dry heat seemed to make Spencer restless—constantly running his fingers through his hair, fidgeting with his watch, or rolling up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Y/N felt her sanity slipping away, her thoughts unraveling as she stumbled over her words or completely lost track of what she was saying—because she couldn’t stop staring at those goddamned hands.

Spencer wasn’t blind to the shift in her behavior. He’d noticed how she started to occupy herself with something whenever he entered the room, or how she became increasingly uneasy around him—spinning the rings on her fingers, tugging at the necklace he'd given her for her last birthday, or even finding reasons to leave the room entirely the moment he stepped in.

Y/N's usual teasing had begun to feel hollow, and the familiar touches she used to give him—guiding him gently by the hand, rubbing his shoulder when frustration set in, or planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek before leaving—had completely disappeared.

He felt gutted, unable to think of a single reason for Y/N's sudden distance. The uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his stomach with worry. What if she was tired of him? Or worse… what if she had finally seen through his feelings for her and was repulsed by them?

When the team wrapped up in Arizona and boarded the jet home, Spencer made up his mind.

After Y/N chose to sit next to Emily instead of her usual spot beside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. The not knowing was eating at him, and more than anything… he missed her. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, the one who understood him better than he understood himself. The one who brought him solace during the toughest cases and reminded him why he kept going. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to fix whatever had gone wrong.

As soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, Y/N quickly muttered her goodbyes and made a beeline for the parking garage. Finally, she was free. Free to go home, shut herself off, and stop behaving like a complete mess around Spencer. She hated how distant she’d been, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of her obsessive thoughts about him and the feelings she’d tried to bury for so long had completely overridden her rational thoughts, leaving her acting out of control.

Fingers closed around her upper arm just inches from her car, and a sharp yelp escaped her lips. She spun around, startled, to find an equally surprised Spencer standing there. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him following her.

"Jesus, Grandpa! Make an announcement before you sneak up on people!" Y/N complained loudly, turning away from him to unlock her car and toss her go bag into the backseat.

Spencer couldn't help but feel some relief at the nickname, a surge of hope coursing through him. Grandpa. She hadn't called him that in almost two weeks. He cleared his throat, holding onto his courage as he finally addressed her recent behavior.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure we were okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… not like yourself lately. Not that I’m calling you weird or anything—"

Y/N's heart broke at the nervous rambling spewing from his lips as he stood before her, tucked into himself and fidgeting with his hands as he tried to speak. God, she was such an asshole.

"Spence," Y/N murmured, gently interrupting him before letting out a soft sigh. "I promise, we're fine. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant. It’s just… I’ve been so stressed with the cases, and compartmentalizing has been harder than usual. I guess I didn’t want to drag you into it. I’m really sorry."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She really had been stressed and struggling with compartmentalizing... just not because of their job.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, his tense expression softening into one of understanding. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to carry that burden alone. I’d much rather you let me in than struggle with it on your own."

Scratch that. She wasn't just an asshole. She was the biggest asshole in the world for making him feel the way he had.

"I know that. I really do," Y/N murmured, her fingers nervously playing with her lip. "It's just… I get way too independent sometimes." She sighed, then brightened. "How about this? Tomorrow’s our first Saturday off in over a month… Why don’t you come over and we can do a movie marathon? We could use some good 'work spouse' bonding, don’t you think?"

Spencer’s smile stretched across his face, his voice a little more eager than usual and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I'd, uh... I'd love that. Let's do it."

Y/N returned his grin, her heart fluttering from how excited he looked. Relief flooded through her veins as he agreed to her plans, not realizing how much she had truly missed him the past few weeks since she'd been so focused on trying not to gawk at him every five minutes.

"Perfect. It’s a date,” Y/N teased, her smile widening. “Now, get in. I’m not letting you take the train back this late."

"What? Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Spencer crooned into her ear, tightening his hold around her wrists as he kept them pinned above her head.

Another frustrated whine left her lips as she tugged uselessly against his hold, but they both knew she didn't actually want to slip free. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around both of her wrists, his other tracing maddeningly up and down her side.

"Or did you want Officer Davidson's hands on you instead?" His tone was taunting, a hint of jealousy tainting his words as he tightened his grip.

The moment they stepped into their shared hotel room after leaving the precinct, Spencer was all over her. She’d noticed the heated glares he shot her way while she stood across the room, wearing a bored expression as Officer Davidson repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) tried to flirt with her.

They hadn't announced their new relationship status to the team yet per Spencer's insistence, but it was obvious from the intensity in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to shout it to the world now. The way he glared at Davidson made it clear he was ready to stake his claim, watching the officer eye her like prey.

Now they were here, with Spencer hellbent on making sure she understood that she was his.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Spencer pleadingly as she tilted her hips up in search of his. "No, never. Only want you, Spence."

A dark chuckle escaped him as he smirked down at her, his hand, which had been trailing along her side, now cupping her chin. His fingers gently squeezed her cheeks, coaxing her lips into a pout.

"Only me? Is that right, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, loosening his grip to press on her bottom lip with his thumb before sliding the digit into her mouth. "Because it sure looked like you were enjoying his attention."

The flushed head of his cock teased her entrance, pressing between her folds as his hips slowly rocked back and forth, prolonging her teasing instead of giving her what she wanted. She groaned around his thumb, sucking the digit further into her mouth and holding his gaze in an effort to tempt him into finally fucking her instead of just grinding against her.

A soft hiss fell from his lips as his gaze darkened. He shifted his weight above her, keeping her wrists clasped in his hand and shoving them into the mattress as he began to rut against her harder. Her sharp gasp sounded through the air as he angled his hips up, the tip of his cock dipping into her deliciously before he halted his movements, keeping only a few inches inside of her.

Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering her protests around his thumb as her jaw slackened, muffled pleas spilling from her lips as she began to beg uselessly for him to just fuck her already.

Spencer pressed down on her tongue with his thumb, a grunt escaping him before he yanked his thumb out of her mouth, using the hand to pin her down instead.

"Be still—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh light of morning pouring through her curtains, and she let out a disgruntled groan as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand. After weeks of peaceful, dreamless sleep, of course she would dream about Spencer the night before their hangout. Wait—

Y/N sat up abruptly, unlocking her phone to check the time, only to notice a message waiting for her on the lock screen.

Spence <3: I’ll be there in an hour with a surprise.

Sent twenty-three minutes ago.

Fuck. She'd completely forgotten to set an alarm to get ready for their movie marathon, despite being the one who had suggested it in the first place. Whatever brain cells that photo had scrambled in her brain needed to get a grip so she could function on a level above Neanderthal.

Y/N: Surprise? You spoil me, old man. I'll see you then :)

Y/N exhaled wearily, rolling out of bed and dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She shuffled over to her dresser, picking out an outfit consisting of black yoga pants and an old band tee before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe it would clear her head—or at least get rid of the incessant aching between her thighs. It worked on men, right?

One miserable shower and a change of clothes later, Y/N finally managed to clear some of the fog clouding her mind. She darted around her apartment, tidying up in a flurry before Spencer arrived. Moving between the kitchen and the living room, she gathered everything for their movie marathon: a pile of 90's slasher films spread out on the coffee table, her biggest throw blanket draped across the sectional, and a bag of popcorn popping away in the microwave.

Spencer's signature knock rang through the apartment at the same time the microwave started beeping, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Coming!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen, opening the microwave door so it wouldn't repeat the shrill noise before making her way to the front door.

She swings it open with an excited grin, her gaze immediately dropping to the bag in Spencer's hand. She beckons for Spencer to come in, trying to sneak a peek at what was in the slightly crinkled paper bag.

"Geez, don't look too excited to see me," Spencer chuckled, following Y/N into her kitchen.

She waved dismissively, laughing softly as she grabbed the bag of popcorn and a bowl to pour it into. Spencer sat the bag on the counter, finally revealing its contents as he pulled out a tub of ice cream and some sour gummy worms.

"A man after my own heart!" Y/N gasped with an exaggerated swoon, cackling as Spencer swatted at her playfully.

"You said you were stressed, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth just like me, so I figured it’d be perfect for our movie marathon," Spencer said with a shrug, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

That kind of thoughtful behavior was just another reason her emotions had been in turmoil for the past few weeks. The selfie had opened a door to a spiral of introspection, one that made her revisit every moment they’d shared. She had always known their friendship straddled the line between platonic and something more, but she’d convinced herself it was simply because they were so comfortable with one another. It wasn’t until now that she began to wonder if those boundaries had been blurred intentionally — if, deep down, they both had wanted more all along.

The movie marathon kicked off after a bit of grumbling from Spencer, who finally gave in to watching the cheesy slasher films he’d insisted were beneath him. A few awkward moments of shifting on the couch later, they settled into a comfortable spot—Y/N tucked into his side, both of them with snacks in their laps and the throw blanket wrapped around them, ready to dive into the horror-filled lineup.

As they settled into the movie, Spencer’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment too long. He noticed the drip of vanilla ice cream at the corner of her mouth, the sight causing an unwelcome tightness in his pants. Before he could stop himself, he reached over. His thumb gently swiped the sugary trail now pooling along her lower lip, a soft swipe that left his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Here, you've got a little..."

The words died in his throat as her lips wrapped around his thumb, both of their eyes widening as their gaze met.

In that moment, everything fell into place for Spencer. It wasn’t stress that had been driving her distant behavior—he realized with a sudden jolt—it was something else entirely. The way she'd been pulling away, the tension between them… it wasn’t just exhaustion or anxiety. No, it was something far more complicated. It was desire.

Y/N jerked backward, nearly sending all of their precariously placed snacks to the floor as her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh, my God I- I'm so sorry Spence," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I have no idea why I did that-"

"Y/N."

Spencer cut her off with a hushed murmur of her name, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stopped her nervous rambling.

"It's okay. I-I liked it," Spencer reassured her softly.

Y/N stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"I liked it."

Spencer repeated himself surely, but the tremble in his voice gave away the fact that his brave front was exactly that: a front.

"I—" He hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping him. His hands fumbled with the snacks for a moment, setting them carefully on the coffee table as if buying time. He finally turned to face her fully, the weight of his words settling in. "Y/N… I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. I never said anything because I was scared… scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And after everything these past few weeks, with you pulling away, I thought maybe you’d figured it out and hated me for it. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually feel the same way I do..."

Y/N’s mouth parted in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Spencer loved her. He always had. And she had spent all this time convincing herself her feelings were one-sided, certain he couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

Spencer's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Please, tell me I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same." His words hung in the air, and he held his breath, waiting, afraid that his confession might have been the thing to push her away for good.

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke through the fog in her mind, and without thinking, she nodded quickly, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Yes! Yes, Spence, I feel the same way," she breathed, her voice shaky as she looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of relief and disbelief. "I always have… I just… I convinced myself it was impossible. I never thought you could feel the same."

A soft laugh escaped him, his grin widening as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "How could I not, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me. You’re the reason I started believing in soulmates… because I know I’ll never find anyone more perfectly made for me than you. You’re it. Always have been."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes welling up involuntarily. No one had ever spoken to her with such reverence, and in that moment, she realized she held him in the same regard. But where Spencer's words were so effortlessly beautiful, hers often fell short. So, instead of trying to find the right ones, she chose to show him just how deeply he mattered to her.

Within seconds, her lips were on his, her hands gently cradling his face as she pulled him closer. Spencer surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, mirroring her movements and pulling her in.

It started as a slow, hesitant kiss that rapidly devolved into something more desperate as the weight of years of silent longing melted away between them. What Y/N couldn't articulate into words she poured into touch, threading her trembling fingers into his soft hair and tugging, urging him to hover over her as she laid back against the couch. Her lips moved against his fiercely, trying to convey the silent message that she was just as in love with him as he was with her.

The movie had long since faded into the background, its faint dialogue and sporadic screams now an odd soundtrack blending with the muffled whimpers and soft pants that filled the space between them as their hands began to roam. Spencer's hips were nestled between hers, unmoving and stiff as he tried not to mindlessly hump against her like an animal in heat.

Y/N noticed Spencer's rigidness, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" She breathed out, propping up on her elbows and brushing their noses together. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want, I-I'm sorry—"

"No!" Spencer borderline shouted in his haste to ease the insecurity he saw creeping into her eyes, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. "No, no that's not it at all. I just, um... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how far you wanted this to go."

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed, a small frown giving way to a playful smirk. She idly twisted the loose curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, her gaze locking with his.

"I want you, Spence. All of you. If that's what you want, too."

Spencer's nod was immediate, his forehead almost knocking into hers, causing her to laugh at his eagerness. "God, yes. I want that, so much. I want you so much."

Y/N grinned as she tilted her head to brush their lips together, landing a chaste kiss on his mouth before she tugged him down, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. "Yeah? You wanna fuck me, Spence?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell into the crook of her neck. If he were younger, he probably would have just cum in his pants from her words alone. But he was a man now. A barely composed man who was dizzy from the intoxicating scent of her perfume crowding his nose and the most painful erection he's had since puberty straining against his slacks.

"Such a crude mouth you have," Spencer murmured in feigned disappointment, shaking his head before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her neck. "Maybe I should fill it up until you learn some manners, hm?"

He traced the fingers of his right hand up her side as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his left hand pressed into the cushions to keep him from laying all his body weight onto her. He'd caught her lingering glances at his hands throughout the last few weeks. He just hadn't been sure why she'd been staring at them so hard... but now? Now, he knew exactly why she'd been so fixated on them, and he planned to use that to his advantage.

The whimper that slipped from Y/N's lips as Spencer slid two fingers into her gaping mouth confirmed his suspicions, the shit-eating grin on his face growing wide as he pressed the digits down against her tongue. She began to suck at his fingers eagerly, the feeling of her tongue laving over them making his body tremble in anticipation.

His hips began to rock against hers, slowly grinding against her aching core as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck. Once he was satisfied with his teasing, he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a slick 'pop', replacing them with his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

Y/N’s mind whirled, both surprised and intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor, captivated by how effortlessly he stepped into control. It wasn’t what she’d anticipated at all. She’d seen glimpses of this side of him—brief moments in the field or during interrogations—but never like this. The man before her was assured and confident, a stark contrast to his usual, endearing awkwardness.

Their kiss grew hungry as Spencer continued where they had left off before, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt and bunching the fabric as they trailed up. He broke the kiss long enough to help her out of the shirt, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the TV before capturing her lips once more. He was a man ravenous, consumed by the sweetness of her lips, and even the seconds it took to remove her t-shirt felt like an unbearable eternity without them.

Her hands were just as busy as his, dragging down his clothed chest before finding the button of his slacks in the cramped space between them. Her fingers fumbled with the button blindly, and her movements faltered when his teeth gently tugged at her lower lip.

"Off," Y/N whined indignantly against his mouth, tugging frustratedly at the button. "Take them off."

Spencer obliged, helpless to her commands as he sat back on his heels, easily undoing the pesky button that was keeping her from what she wanted. She went to sit up to help with his zipper, but in her rush to get his pants off, she didn't realize just how close his knee was to the edge of the cushion.

The motion knocked his knee outwards, a surprised yelp leaving his lips as he instinctively reached out for her to steady himself, but it was too late.

A startled squeal slipped from Y/N as they both tumbled to the floor, landing with a muted thud on the plush carpet. Spencer’s hands shot to her waist, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her, now sprawled on top of him, her laughter filling the air at their unexpected fall. He joined her, chuckling loudly.

They were a perfect chaos—rumpled clothes, kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, and eyes full of love. But neither of them minded, because they finally had what they’d both been yearning for all this time: each other.

The fall did little to curb their desire for each other. Y/N ducked her head, pressing her lips to Spencer's with renewed vigor as her hands slipped underneath his sweater. She giggled as he squirmed underneath her touch.

"You're such a wiggle worm!" Y/N huffed, pulling back just enough to let the words slip free into the air between them as she lifted the sweater up and over his head.

Spencer scoffed, his own hands slipping beneath the waistband of her yoga pants and shoving them down her legs. "I can't help that your hands feel like ice!"

A quiet hiss left her lips at the feeling of his equally cold hands brushing against the skin of her thighs. She wriggled on top of him, kicking off the remaining fabric that had wrapped around her feet.

"So do yours, but you don't see me acting like a baby about it!"

"Oh, I'll show you a baby—"

Y/N cackled as Spencer rolled them over, hovering above her once more with a cheeky grin and soft chuckles. He bombarded her with kisses all over her face and collarbones, ignoring her hands swatting at him playfully as he continued his attack. Soon his pants joined the growing pile of clothes near the entertainment center, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room as the final scenes of the forgotten movie played out. His hands made swift work of removing her bra, leaving her lying underneath him in only her lacy underwear.

Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes, the weight of what was about to change—what had already changed—settling over them. But fear didn’t touch them. There was no reason for it. This was always meant to be; written in the stars, woven into their destiny long before they existed.

Spencer closed the gap between them, kissing Y/N tenderly as he lowered himself just enough for their bare chests to press together and their hips to align perfectly. A sigh escaped her at the feeling of his hardened cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of his boxers and her soaked panties doing little to conceal what lay beneath.

Neither of them had ever pictured their first time unfolding on the living room floor, but in a way, it made the moment even more unforgettable. It was a testament to how desperately they wanted each other—so much that they’d choose the roughness of the carpet and rug burns over the luxury of her bed to avoid the few minutes apart it would take to get to her room.

"You're sure you want this?"

Spencer broke the kiss, his eyes tracing hers for any trace of hesitation or doubt. Y/N's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb stroked the skin of his cheekbone as she nodded.

"More than anything."

The look in her eyes told him that she was being completely honest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His shaky hands found the edges of the lace adorning her hips, inching his body down as he tugged the soaked-through fabric down her legs.

Y/N's face scrunched in confusion as Spencer moved lower, her brows furrowing as he pressed a kiss to her knee. "What are you-"

Her words cut off with a sharp moan as Spencer latched his mouth to her clit, her head tipping back against the floor as her hands buried themselves into his disheveled strands. Her back arched as her legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he began to devour her. He shifted, grabbing ahold of her thighs and placing them over his shoulders as his tongue alternated between teasing kitten licks and long, drawn-out laps up and down her pussy.

Y/N struggled to open her eyes, peering down at him as pleasure began to flood her veins. The sight of his hands—those beautiful goddamned hands that had inadvertently caused this to happen— gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises had her mouth hanging open, small whimpers and moans flowing freely into the open space.

"You taste exquisite, sweetheart. So, so good," Spencer mumbled against her slick skin before sucking her clit into his mouth gently.

Y/N cried out, writhing underneath him as the pleasure in her lower stomach began to build rapidly. A loud groan wrenched itself from her throat as Spencer grabbed her hips, pinning them to the ground as he continued to ravage her in a way that rendered her useless.

"You can take it, pretty girl," Spencer cooed, placing a kiss on her clit before one of his hands left her hip to trace her folds. "Cum for me so I can fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else again."

Who the fuck taught him how to talk like that?

Y/N couldn’t speak to tell him that she’d never want anyone else anyways; that he was etched into her very soul, and every part of her would forever long for his touch and his touch alone. She cried out as his middle finger prodded at her entrance before slipping inside, her orgasm so close she could almost taste it.

Spencer moaned against her from how little resistance her walls had against the intrusion, immediately adding his ring finger to the mix. He thrusted them into her hard, curling the lithe digits in search of that rough patch of skin that would give him what he wanted. It took all of three strokes before he found it, his mouth forming a smirk as she gripped his hair and yanked, grinding her hips up into his mouth as she thrashed beneath him.

"Spence! Fuck, I-I'm cumming—"

Y/N barely uttered the words before her climax seized her, her toes curling as her vision whitened and the world shattered around her. She could vaguely register Spencer's sweet voice coaxing her through it, his forehead now pressed to hers as his fingers continued to gently thrust into her through the aftershocks. Only when she was trembling and weakly shoving at his wrist did he finally stop his movements, his lips meeting hers in a series of soft kisses as her chest heaved beneath him.

"Yeah?" He murmured with a smug grin, pulling back to smooth her hair away from her damp face with his clean hand as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

Spencer Reid had just caused her to cum harder than she ever had in her life. Spencer—the same Spencer that was too shy to look her in the eyes for a solid month after first meeting her— just made her cum so hard she almost blacked out. She understood why he was a man of magic now... and it had nothing to do with the novelty tricks he was always showing off.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered in response, still reeling from her orgasm.

If that was the type of climax she could reach simply from his tongue and fingers, she was convinced that she'd never actually experienced one with anyone else.

"Do you want to stop there? Or do you want to keep going?"

Spencer's voice was soft as he stared at the gorgeous woman beneath him. He found it ironic that he was already kneeling between her thighs because that had now become his place of worship. His redemption came in the form of her essence, dripping from his fingers as they rested against her hip. He'd never need anything else as long as he had her.

"Keep going. I want to keep going," Y/N pleaded softly, her hands reaching for his boxers. "Just—c'mere. Wanna taste you before you fuck me brainless. Please?"

A pitiful whine left Spencer’s lips as he felt his composure crack slightly. He wasn’t prepared for her to practically beg to suck his cock. He found himself nodding mindlessly, his hands going to help her strip him of his boxers before he remembered the mess still clinging to his fingers.

“Clean these for me first, sweet girl. Then you can.”

Spencer brought his fingers up to her lips, watching in amazement as she obeyed without a fuss. She even went as far as moaning while she licked his fingers clean of her, holding his gaze while she did. Y/N knew what she did to him. She knew he was just as affected by her as she was him. And she reveled in it.

Once he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them from her mouth before ridding himself of the last shred of fabric between them. The second that Spencer was bare before her, she pounced. Her hands pushed at his chest, urging him to lie back as she crawled on top of him.

“You’re so pretty, Spence,” Y/N breathed dazedly, pecking his lips before trailing her kisses down his chest. “God… look at you.”

Spencer flushed bright red while she continued to murmur her praises as she gripped the base of him, his cock twitching in her hand.

He had never been particularly confident—growing up as a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school had stripped him of any sense of self-worth before it had a chance to take root. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t have the muscles or the easy charm with women. He could count the number of sexual encounters he’d had on one hand. His dates rarely progressed beyond the first, driven away by his nervous rambling and the unpredictable demands of his job.

The only way Spencer even knew how to make Y/N feel so good was because he had studied every piece of material he could find on the intricacies of female anatomy and sexual pleasure on the off chance one of his dates would blossom into something more than an uncomfortable hook-up and dash situation. It also helped that he’d pined after her since he’d known her, that longing translating into a dire need to make her feel the best she ever had because that’s what she deserved. She deserved to feel pleasure in its purest form, to feel cherished and worshipped because that’s how precious she was to him.

And in this moment, as she gazed at him with the kind of reverence that made it seem as though he was the center of her universe, Spencer believed that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel that way too.

His fingers grasped helplessly at the carpet beneath him as her beautiful lips wrapped around the flushed head of his arousal, a muffled curse falling into the air as she swirled her tongue around him. Y/N smirked around her mouthful, her eyes glinting with amusement as she inhaled through her nose and pushed lower, taking him into the back of her throat. The gag that she emitted from the motion had his hips jerking up, a flurry of apologies spewing from his mouth.

Instead of responding verbally, she simply grabbed his hands and guided them to her hair, encouraging him to take hold and move her as he pleased. Once he threaded his hands through her hair, she continued. Her own hands planted firmly on his thighs as she began to bob her head around what she could fit, a soft hum vibrating around his length as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spencer was speechless— absolutely floored as he stared slack-jawed at the woman moaning around his cock like she was the one receiving pleasure from it. He gave an experimental tug of her hair, his head falling back with a thunk as she moaned louder and moved faster. It was as though she were unraveling his very soul with her tongue, hurtling him towards an orgasm he didn’t want to have just yet.

“Y-Y/N wait I— ngh!” Spencer groaned, his grip on her hair tightening unintentionally as he tried to pull her off of him. “I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me cum down your throat, pretty girl. P-please—“

Y/N whined in protest but finally eased herself off of his cock, a trail of spit bridging her lower lip to the head of him as she stared up at him with watery eyes and swollen lips.

Spencer felt delirious as he took in the sight. It was something he’d dreamed about (albeit guiltily) for years, and having the real thing in front of him was infinitely better than anything his subconscious had conjured up during those restless nights. She was a vision; a work of art that deserved to have a museum dedicated to her and her alone.

“Oh, don’t pout. Unless you don’t want to be fucked anymore?” Spencer chuckled breathlessly, arching a brow as she moved to straddle him. His hands found their way to her waist, a shudder running down his spine as she settled over him.

“If you won’t fuck me… I have a pretty nice dildo in my bedside drawer that should do the trick,” Y/N hummed coyly, dragging her heat across the length of him with a soft sigh.

Spencer’s eyes darkened at that, his grip on her hips tightening to put a halt to her subtle movements.

“Yeah? You think it’d make you feel better than I could?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the aching between her legs starting to override her logical thinking. She knew the answer he was looking for; the answer that would give her exactly what she wanted. But she decided to be a smartass instead.

“Maybe,” She answered with a shrug, nibbling at her lower lip as she tried to fight against his hold to get the friction she craved.

“Go get it then.”

Spencer leaned forward, his nose brushing hers as she sat in his lap, a challenge in his gaze. He knew she wouldn’t��she was getting restless, just like him. But if this was the game she wanted to play, he was determined to win.

Panic spread across Y/N’s face at the cold, indifferent look in his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her frown betraying the sinking realization of the hole she’d dug for herself. They were both ridiculously competitive, so why she’d started this—rather than just admitting how badly she wanted him buried inside her—was beyond her.

“I was kidding,” Y/N huffed, tilting forward in an attempt to capture his lips.

Spencer leaned back, keeping his lips just out of reach. He shook his head, smirking softly. “Nope. Either go get it, or say you’re sorry.”

Y/N hesitated, frowning as she weighed her options. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But pride was a hell of a thing. She knew he wouldn’t back down. Normally, she wouldn’t either. But his cock was pressed so deliciously against her clit that she decided it would be more than worth it to lose just this once.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, barely audible.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Spencer’s taunting made her groan in frustration before she sighed and tried again.

“I said I’m sorry—“

He shifted them so that his back was against the couch, her knees on both sides of his hips digging into the carpet hard enough that he was certain it would sting once they started. He’d make sure to take care of her afterward, though. He gazed up at her with adoration, thoroughly enjoying how needy she'd become. Her breath hitched as he adjusted his hips, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“One more time, hm?” Spencer coaxed, his hands now rubbing up and down her sides but still holding her tight enough that she couldn't rock against him. If he was honest, his resolve had crumbled as quickly as hers, but he couldn’t help from teasing her for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N cried out, her forehead pressing against his as she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Spencer finally pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, his lips brushing against hers as he crooned. “Good girl, baby. Thank you.”

Hearing the praise fall so easily from his mouth had Y/N canting her hips down eagerly, willing to do whatever he wanted just so she could hear his sweet words over and over again. Her determination didn’t waver, her hips pushing down insistently. Spencer’s hold on her waist faltered, and for a brief moment, gravity claimed its victory.

A startled gasp slipped from her lips as the tip of his cock pushed into her, followed by a guttural moan that had Spencer's ears ringing as he cursed loudly. She had been so used to his hold that she wasn't prepared to support herself, his hands having barely caught her from dropping completely. He immediately yanked her up, the cool air against his skin a shock after having felt her warmth for the first time.

“God—fuck!" Spencer groaned as his head tipped back against the couch cushions, straining against every instinct begging him to just drive into her and utilizing every muscle in his body to keep her suspended as she wriggled impatiently.

"Baby... how are you— how are you wanting to do this?” Spencer whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I’m pretty sure I have a condom in my wallet, but I… um. I’m clean...”

Their hearts pounded in their chests as his words lingered in the air, the only sounds in the room being the repeated menu options from the forgotten movie and the ragged rhythm of their breaths.

Y/N meweled, reaching down to realign him with her entrance. “I’m clean and on birth control… Can we...? Like this? Please—“

“Yes.”

Y/N chuckled at his blunt response, though she was just as desperate to feel him after having the faintest taste of what he felt inside her. Her lips found his for a chaste kiss before she finally began to lower herself onto his cock, this time without his resistance.

Her laughter died in her throat, morphing into a choked whimper from the stretch of him. Even with how aroused she was, trying to make him fit was a struggle. Spencer was easily the biggest out of anyone she’d ever been with— a feat she hadn't quite realized until she was pausing halfway down his cock with a stuttered moan, slowly circling her hips in an attempt to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer was convinced he'd somehow died and ascended to paradise as he gazed up at the angelic woman hovering above him, enthralled by watching her fight to take the full length of him into her depths. His hands massaged up and down her trembling thighs, hoping to help her relax enough to take the rest of him without it hurting. Hums of encouragement rumbled from his chest as he stared unblinking at her, the warm amber of his eyes almost consumed completely by his blown pupils. His thumb found her clit and rubbed small circles into it as her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"That's it, sweet girl," He cooed, continuing his gentle ministrations as she whined from deep in her throat. "Just like that. You're taking me so well. My gorgeous girl."

There was a pleasant burn as Y/N gingerly lifted her hips, leaving only the head of him inside of her. The way her hardened nipples brushed against his bare chest had her shivering lightly, the touch sending small sparks of pleasure jolting through her. Soft whines spilled from her lips as Spencer moved his hands around to grip her ass, gently massaging the flesh as she raised up on her knees.

With a committed roll of her hips and a quiet grunt, Y/N finally took the rest of his length, their bodies now flush together as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. The whorish moan Spencer released into her ear as he bottomed out had her clenching around him, a dire need to cause more of those sinful noises prompting her hips to begin moving. The raw stinging against her knees as she began to ride him in earnest only spurred her on, her nails digging into his shoulders as her head lolled back.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, resting her forehead against his as she panted out his name again and again, chanting it as though it were a mantra.

Spencer shushed her, understanding exactly what she couldn't manage to vocalize. He nodded against her as their bodies moved in tandem. "I know, baby. I know. You feel divine. My sweet angel." He continued to murmur out his praises as his head rested back on the edge of the couch cushion, small fingerprint-shaped bruises marking her skin as he clung to her.

Her hips began to falter as exhaustion started to settle into her bones from the vigorous pace she'd set, her second orgasm brewing in the pit of her stomach as though it were a wicked thunderstorm in waiting, ready to roll in and wreak havoc on her entire body at any minute. The slick sounds of their bodies connecting over and over paired with the symphony of heady moans and whimpers spilling between them—it was all driving her closer and closer to ecstasy.

Spencer noticed the fumble in her movements, his brows pinched together as he fought to keep his own climax at bay so he could enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in her walls for a while longer. But he couldn't let his pretty girl do all of the work, could he? That would be cruel.

He planted his feet into the ground, beginning to pound into her from below. A satisfied smirk adorned his face as Y/N cried out, her head falling into the crook of his neck once more as she began to babble incoherently against his skin. The pace he set was wild and unrestrained, the angle allowing him to drive into her g-spot repeatedly.

"Take it, take it, take it—" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth before he latched his mouth onto her right nipple, sucking at the bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, hanging on tightly as Spencer ravaged her. Her mouth hung open as moan after moan wrenched itself from her core and embedded into his damp skin. The pleasure searing through her veins was consuming her, burning her from the inside out. She was so close—

The catalyst for her orgasm came in the form of Spencer's hands slipping down her ass and underneath her thighs so that the tips of his fingers were brushing against where they were connected with each thrust. All it took was that one simple touch for the tension in her body to snap, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her screams while her walls pulsed around him violently. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed his name loudly, not caring if any of her neighbors heard them at this point. She wanted the world to know exactly who was making her feel this good.

Spencer toppled them over onto the ground as she came around him, pinning her to the carpet and rutting into her fervently. Something akin to a sob fell from his lips before he abruptly pulled out, jerking his cock in quick strokes before he was spurting his cum across her stomach and tits with a cry of her name.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, pulling her into his side before he slung an arm over his face. Their chests heaved as they came down from their highs, both of them completely spent after such depraved lovemaking. His free hand stroked up and down her slick skin as she rested her head on his chest, calming the tremors wracking her body as they caught their breath.

Once Spencer regained feeling in his legs, he scooped Y/N from the floor and into his arms, hauling her off toward her bathroom as giggles bubbled from her lips at his surprising show of strength. Y/N watched with pure fondness as he started the shower, her heart swelling as he glanced back at her with a tired grin. When the water was warm enough, he held her hand as he helped her step in, following behind her with a hand wrapped around her waist to hold her steady.

After a shower spent lost in love-struck gazes, soapy caresses, and slow, tender kisses against the tiles, they ended up wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. It was only midday, but it was Saturday—so why not indulge in a nap? They had more than earned it after their (failed) movie marathon.

"Y'know," Y/N started, her voice low as fatigue began to cloud her mind. "You really do have massive hands." She took his hand, which had been resting loosely between them, lifting it to align with hers for comparison. His hand was nearly twice the size of hers, and the sight made her smile with amusement.

Spencer snorted, his nose scrunching as he laughed quietly at her observation.

"Well, yeah... I am 6'1", sweetheart. It would be abnormal if I didn't have massive hands," He stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you love them. Really love them," He added with a sleepy smirk.

Y/N's face burned as she rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault you have hands that were crafted by Michelangelo himself," She murmured defensively.

Spencer pulled her closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

"You know I'm just teasing you. Did you know that—"

As Spencer began to prattle on about the variations and degrees of hand kinks and fetishes, Y/N's mind drifted back to the picture that had unknowingly set everything in motion. She couldn’t help but thank that raised crack in the sidewalk for pushing her old-fashioned boyfriend (that still felt so surreal to say) to embrace modern technology—because without it, she might have spent even more time blind to the fact that she was utterly, hopelessly in love with the man lying before her.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Spencer felt a deep sense of gratitude for finally being able to love the beautiful woman in his arms the way he’d always dreamed of.

Continued A/N's: I felt evil for my first (published) fic being so angsty so I decided to write this as a formal apology LMAO. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Please tell me what you think and let me know if you'd like to see a sequel for this as well! :) K <3

[gravegoer]

Sevika is on the council now, GO.

Council member Sevika

thank you for this ask ive been WAITING for this !!! i love council member sevika (the only council member with a lip piercing)

masterlist (comment to be on my taglist)

You fought in that war with Sevika. You had her back, and she had yours.

At the end of that day, you went home together, injured, and exhausted.

The war had ended, but at the cost of so many losses. Peace was finally in sight.

Until enforcers knocked at your door. Sevika snapped at them, telling them to "Fuck off." But they had to be here for a good reason, right? Right.

Sevika was an important figure to Zaun. People believed in her. She is loyal to all Zaunites. that's a trait not many people have. So, of course, the council wanted her. The enforcers were there to deliver that important message

She growled at them, telling them to leave. You knew she needed time to think, even though in the back of your mind, you already knew what her decision was.

You waited an hour or so for her in bed, hearing her grunts of frustration and her pacing around the living room.

It pained you to not go comfort her but you knew this was a decision she needed to make on her own.

Sevika entered the room with a determined expression. She kneeled at your bedside and put a larger hand on yours.

"I know this is going to be a change, and you might be upset but—"

"Im so proud of you, Sevika." Your eyes glimmered with hope.

Her brows furrow at your words, and you reach up to rub the crease from her expression. "You've made it so far. You're going to do so well." She is the voice of Zaun and speaks for you all.

You know there couldn't be a better person for that position. With Sevikas loyalty, she would never make a move to put the undercity in jeopardy.

Her eyes soften at your encouragement. It's all so new to her. She knew it was going to be a hard start, but not as hard knowing you had her back. You would always be there with open arms at the end of the day.

At that thought, you hold her warm face between your hands, and she closes her eyes at your touch. She's exhausted but still relents. That's one of the things you admired about her.

That night, you held her head to your chest, comfortingly. She deserved no less. Your fingers raked through her hair gently. Her heavy arm was draped over your waist softly, and your sweet voice lulled her to sleep. There was a long day ahead of her.

In the morning, she was more affectionate than usual, kissing your forehead before she got dressed. (And then again after). Laying her head on your shoulder as you finished up your breakfast. Hugging you from behind tightly while you brushed your teeth.

She was nervous, and this was the first time you saw her this way. Albeit not the last. But it was weird seeing Sevika, who was oh-so-big-and-strong get worked up over this.

People eyed you both on your walk there. She didn't make eyecontact with anybody and stared straight ahead with a firm look. Unlike her, you waved and smiled at some curious people, holding onto Sevikas arm.

When you got to the most important building in Piltover, she insisted that you walk her into the council meeting room. At first, you refused, but at her defeated and almost scattered look, you relented.

Even though you knew it would be hard to see with the topsiders, you knew it was for the best. The council members eyed you as you stood in the doorway with Sevika. You gave her an encouraging look, and she put a hand on your shoulder, lovingly, before stepping past you.

Taking a step back, the doors shut, and you waited for her on the other side.

Sevika was a part of the worlds new beginnings. Even though she held an important role amongst the people, she could argue that your role was more important.

You kept her sane through it all.

i absofreakinglutey love council member sevika in all her 5 second screentime glory !! and i will definitely be writing for her so look out for that in the future..

[greniza]

One of the consistent elements of Human Domestication Guide is that the setting's core kinks are, in-universe, institutionalized and enforced to a greater or lesser degree depending on the story. To many people, those kinks are strange or off-putting, and the premise of being forced into such a situation is (understandably) horrifying. My first introduction to the universe was the original story, which can be (and was, by me) read as a character's life and mind being wrested from her control and sculpted by a malignant and alien entity with total technological and social power, transforming the previously defiant main character into a puppet whose new master could play with or discard as she saw fit. This is not to say the story is problematic -- fiction is fiction -- but it left a lasting impression of the canon that I'm sure others share. Such is the bitter taste present in-universe.

There are people that, upon hearing someone say "I like this" about anything, will turn around and say, "Wow, you like this? You want everyone to have this? I don't want this, and therefore you are a bad person for wanting to force me to have this." These people fail to appreciate that someone could conceive of having different preferences from them. The "but" is that, as mentioned before, the bitter institutionalization of the human domestication guide universe loads the statement "I want to live there" with subtext of allowing the HDG universe's subjugation upon the unfortunate listener so long as the speaker gets to live there too.

The speaker's belief is that the subjugation of the HDG universe would be an abhorrent experience. I would agree with previous' post that it is about control, and that evaluating control and self-determination as moral goods isn't necessarily correct. I propose that while seeking control or it's simulacrums may be irrational, it is a survival instinct. If I had the ability to wave my hand, say "abracadabra," and cause anything material I imagined to come to pass, I might not be happier, but I would definitely never go hungry, and things that I noticed hurting me would evaporate. With more money, more time, more this, more that, one is necessarily able to do more. In previous's example, they trade their choice of food for automatic, free, and instant preparation; this is an increase of agency for previous and a loss of agency for another. So, previous would opt in, and someone else wouldn't.

This survival instinct extends to hypothetical considerations of the HDG universe. "What if," a skeptic might ask, "I was assigned an affini who's just sadistic and likes it when I suffer? In-universe, I'm powerless. I have no recourse! That would be awful!" and that skeptic would be correct! They would have no recourse. Such is necessarily the framing of the setting. The problem, reassures canon, is the premise of the hypothetical. There are no evil affini. All are very long-term thinkers with the happiness of the organisms they care for as the top priority. There are no need for checks, balances, or anything that could impede them, as they are as pure as angels while working in groups. This is almost paradoxical; the affini are characterized as big, weird-looking plantpeople, but still people. People, as you or I know, tend to suck and be awful, to take things for themselves at the cost of others. They’re so like us in some ways that they must be like us in every way. Furthermore, the individual characterization of affini often comes to friction with this overarching premise, as individual affini are clever and good, but still undeniably people and still undeniably flawed.

Truthfully, subscribing to the paradox of affini being both comprehensible and benevolent requires effort and a willingness to suspend disbelief for the sake of fiction. If the affini are truly people with flaws and shortcomings, as compelling narratives often require them to be, then they cannot be perfect in the way that canon demands they be. But, in order for canon to not be a narrative idealizing giving "good-intentioned" authoritarians unchecked power, the benevolence of affini must be the case. To quote, of all things, the Federalist papers, "If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary."

HDG critics do not have investment in the setting sufficient to justify upholding suspension of disbelief in the face of narratives they view as unsettling, while fans of the setting are able to justify this suspension due to their enjoyment of the works therein.

Is HDG problematic? Again, it's a work of fiction with a subjective interpretation. The setting explores a reversal of the survival instinct to seize control, with payouts to protagonists for doing so. Equally, the setting explores a universe where throwing oneself prostrate at the feet of an imperialist conqueror yields great rewards. It serves as a vehicle for critique of the modern system where your choice is to either submit or suffer; a system which advertises itself as at least having a choice. Ultimately, though, the core of Human Domestication Guide is the kink. It's fiction, not reality. Judging engagement with a fictional work, especially one centered around kink, is silly.

A critique I've seen of HDG is "you'd have no control over your life" and idk, I feel like I have so little control over my life now.

the main difference is here it's due to capitalism, ableism, and transphobia and I have to largely take care of myself. Whereas in HDG, I would be fed, clothed, my disabilities accommodated for, my transition would be done in a week And I'd have a large hot plant person caring for me the entire time.

If I'd have no control over my life, at least HDG is safe and sexy

[fairytaleendingss]

Room For One More?

Chapter 1

Summary: After a sudden eviction from your home, your friend Mary puts you in contact with her high school friends, James, Sirius and Remus who just so happen to be in need of a roommate. However, living with a group of boys you’ve never met before proves to be more complicated than you expected; especially when they’re all so attractive.

CW: None I don’t think.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

——

To say that life had been crazy lately would be putting it lightly. You had only just moved to the city six months ago, in pursuit of a career you were still yet to achieve, got landed with an office job that you were only barely qualified for, and the eviction notice on the door of your shitty downtown apartment was just the icing on the cake.

For a good few days it seemed like your world was caving in around you as you tried to collect yourself and figure out the next steps. In a city like London, real estate was scarce, not to mention expensive, and you were still working to pay off your student loans.

It was only two days before you were set to be kicked out when your new friend, Mary stepped in and saved the day.

You met Mary at your new office job and she’d been somewhat of a saving grace from the beginning.

She had been a splash of colour in a sea of black suits and beige blouses. She’d been quick to introduce herself, inviting you to join her for lunch on your first day, during which she caught you up on all the ins and outs of office politics. The two of you had become fast friends, something you were extremely grateful for.

And you found yourself even more grateful for her, as her car pulled into the driveway of the apartment building you were about to call your new home.

“How do you know these guys again?” You asked, glancing up at the red brick structure through the passenger window.

“We all went to high school together,” She explained. “I know them really well, trust me they’re great guys.”

You believed her. She’d never given you a reason not to. But still, moving into a household with three strange men that you’ve never met, is bound to be daunting nonetheless.

“And you’re 100% sure they’re okay with me moving in? I mean, they don’t even know me!”

She only giggled. “Don’t be silly! They’re completely on board. They’ve been looking for a new roommate since their other friend Peter moved out a month ago to get a place with his girlfriend, Sybil. They were just about to put up an ad on Craigslist, for heavens sake. Trust me, you’re doing them a favour. If I love you, they’ll love you too.”

You nodded at her but your heart still hummed unsurely in your chest. You took a deep breath. It was now or never.

After a treacherous journey up the narrow staircase with boxes in hand, you arrived at the door to the apartment. Mary was behind you, lugging a suitcase full of your clothes. You wished, for a moment that her friends at least lived in a building that had an elevator. You erased that thought from your mind a moment later, when you remembered that these people were doing you a massive favour. Besides, you were hardly in a position to complain.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. When it swung open you had to make a conscious effort to pick your jaw up off the floor.

Standing in front of you was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. He was fair and lean with long strands of dark hair fanning his face. He was chiseled in a way that made him look delicate, almost doll-like but he also had tattoos lining his arms and chest, which you could see poking out from beneath his white t-shirt. He was leaning against the doorframe, effortlessly cool, looking down at you with a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“Hey there gorgeous. You must be the new roommate. I’m Sirius.”

You peered up at him in shock, not quite sure how to respond to this man who had the face of a Greek God. And did he just call you gorgeous? You weren’t sure what you were expecting but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Um, hi,” you stumbled awkwardly. Your hands felt clammy even just looking at this guy, how the hell are you supposed to live with him? “I’m y/n.”

His grin only widened “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Ugh, stop flirting with her Sirius! And move out of the way, this stuff we’re carrying is heavy you know.”

You’d almost forgotten Mary was there until she’s stepping forward, shoving past Sirius who was blocking the doorway, and entering the apartment.

“Sorry hun, just trying to make conversation,” Sirius teased, stepping aside gently to let you in.

The place was bigger than you expected. Not huge but definitely comfortable, and better decorated. The picture you’d created in your imagination could only be described as a “bro cave” with bean bags on the floor and minimal furnishings. However, you were pleasantly surprised to see that the place is rather nice and homey, with comfortable leather furniture and a few framed artworks on the walls.

“Well, welcome home,” Sirius said, following you into the living room. “I can’t take any credit for the interior design, unfortunately. That was all Remus. Speaking of, I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you.”

Sirius padded off down the hall, making his way to one of the rooms and banging heavily on the door.

“Remus! The new roommate is here! Don’t be rude and come and meet her!”

The boy that emerged was equally as attractive as Sirius. He was taller than the first boy, with a mop of sandy hair and dark, piercing eyes. He wasn’t as effortlessly cool as Sirius, he was more lanky and hunched in posture, but he had a sort of nerdy charm about him that was very endearing. He was dressed in a thick woollen jumper and his hair was mattered. He blinked up at Sirius, like he hadn’t quite caught up with the situation yet.

“What’s going on?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes. “Our new roommate is here! Come and say hello!”

He peered out of the doorway. Looking in either direction before his eyes landed on you. Not quite sure what to do with yourself, you sent him an awkward wave.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” he replied in return, with a tight lipped smile. Then he turned back to Sirius.

“Could you go away now please? I was having a nap.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

There door was abruptly slammed in his face.

You stood in the living room, holding a box to your chest awkwardly, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable about the interaction. Sirius could apparently tell, and was quick to jump to your aid.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said dismissively. “He’s just in a mood. He’s a med student and all the studying is driving him wild at the moment. He’ll come good after he gets a bit of sleep. Now, how about I show you to your room?”

He directed you down the hallway to a door at the end. Inside, you could already see Mary hanging up your clothes in the wardrobe.

“So this is you,” Sirius muttered, gesturing to the space like a magician revealing his assistant had not, in fact, been sawed in half. Then he sent you another flirtatious smile, something you were quickly learning was a signature of his.

“I’ll leave you girls to it but just shout if there’s anything you need. Although, if you want someone to help carry boxes, I’d recommend waiting until James gets home later on. He’s the athletic one of the three of us. And let me tell you those stairs are a killer.”

You chuckled, a genuine smile overtaking your face for the first time in this whole experience.

“Thanks Sirius. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he drawled, giving you a wink.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Okay Sirius. Thank you but you can go now. We have a lot of unpacking to do here.”

Once Sirius had departed, you and Mary got to work on unpacking your things. Luckily for you, Peter had left behind a bed frame and a few pieces of furniture in his move, a saving grace considering most of your stuff had come with the previous apartment. You still had a mattress strapped to the roof of Mary’s car that needed bringing in, but like Sirius had said, Mary insisted that you wait for the mysterious James to return from work to help you carry any of the heavier items inside (With the way the others talked about him, you could only imagine he must be a superhero). Instead you busied yourself with unpacking your random assortment of trinkets collected over the years.

“So how are you feeling about the place?” Mary pried, unpacking a few shoe boxes into the bottom of the closet.

“It seems alright,” you admitted. “To be honest, I was a little nervous going into this but Sirius seems nice. I think he and I will get along.”

Mary smiled. “Oh good! I knew you’d like it. And just wait until you get to know the other boys better too. You’ll fit right in! I’m sure of it.”

You have her an anxious smile. “I really hope you’re right.”

—

It was a few hours later, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

“Honey! I’m home!” A playful voice boomed down the doorway.

You slowly emerged from your room to greet your final roommate. The guy was visibly buff and wearing a mud-covered jersey. He had matted tuft of thick dark curls and round glasses that balanced on the edge of his nose.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he kicked his shoes off.

“Hi. I’m y/n. I’m your new roommate.”

He looked up curiously before his expression morphed into a dazzlingly charming smile. He began to approach you and you held out a hand for him to shake. He bypassed the gesture all together, instead choosing to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug.

You were caught a little off-guard at first but tentatively hugged him back, heat rising in your cheeks as you felt the muscles of his biceps flex against you.

Pull yourself together!! You thought.

As he pulled away, he looked down at you, a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes. He smiled widely, reminding you somewhat of a playful puppy.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” He exclaimed. “Mary’s told me so much about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your own face as you looked up at him. You really liked James, you decided.

“How have you been settling in so far?” He continued.

“Pretty well, I suppose. I’ve done most of my unpacking now.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Well if you need help with anything, let me know. I’d be happy to assist.”

You grimaced. “Actually there is one thing you might be able to help me with?”

He raised a brow expectantly.

“How do you feel about mattress transportation?”

—

Manoeuvring a queen sized mattress up three floors of narrow stairs proved to be a challenging task. But somehow, between the two of you, you managed it.

By the time James actually wrestled the mattress on your bed-frame, you were just about ready to collapse on top of it.

Mary, unfortunately, had found the whole display hilarious, especially the moment where you’d lost your grip and send the mattress sliding down the stairs back to the first floor. So instead of offering to help, she’d taken the opportunity to film the entire ordeal on her phone. You expected it would be gracing social media by the end of the evening.

“Well, I’d say that’s a job well done!” James exclaimed as he finally dropped the material onto the bed-frame.

You chuckled. “Yeah! I mean it only took an hour and a half.”

James smiled and checked the watch on his wrist.

“It’s getting late and I really should shower. But how about we order pizza afterwards. We could have dinner and get to know each other a little better.”

“I’d like that.”

“Great! Mary, darling, you’re invited too of course.”

The girl looked between the two of you, smiling playfully. Then she shot you a look.

“Thanks for the offer Jamie but I actually have some stuff I need to get done back at home. You guys enjoy though.”

She sent you a wink as she went and your eyes widened.

“I’m going to go wash off, but there’s a take out menu on the fridge,” James said. “Pick out whatever you want. My shout.”

—

A short while later you found yourself sat on the loveseat, a plate of pizza in your lap while Sirius and James sat side by side on the couch, bickering about the most recent episode of the Bachelor. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched on.

They argued in a way that was firm but affectionate. You could tell that they were particularly close and had clearly known each other a long time.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Sirius exclaimed, waving his piece of pizza in the air for emphasis. “Jennifer was such a bitch! She totally deserved to be sent home.”

James gasped in mock offence. “No way! He should’ve kept her. They had a special connection.”

“Are you kidding?” Sirius blurted. “All she did was talk about herself. She barely even gave him the time of day.”

“I disagree! She was playing hard to get. Girls only do that when they like someone!” James stated matter-of-factly. You couldn’t contain your snort at the comment.

Sirius turned to you then, a smirk adorning his gorgeous face. “Well, lucky for us, we now have a girl here to settle agreements such as these. What do you think, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately at the nickname. “If I’m being honest, I have to agree with Sirius. Jennifer was kind of a bitch.”

Sirius cheered and James held a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Well you’re both wrong,” James joked. “We must have been watching two different shows.”

Sirius scoffed. “Nah, mate. You just have a terrible radar when it comes to girls. I mean, you’ve been chasing the same girl since you were fifteen and she’s still shown you no interest.”

Your eyebrows raised at that one. “Wait what? I feel like I’ve missed a chapter here.“

“She’s just a friend.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a friend you’ve been in love with since third form.”

James sighed.

“There’s this girl, Lily, in our friend group,” he began to explain, looking rather bashful. “And I’ve kind of been into her for a while but she always turns me down.”

You grimaced, clicking your tongue in sympathy. “That sucks. But hey, If she’s managed to keep your interest for all these years then she must really be special. I’d love to meet her sometime.”

James smiled gently. “I’m sure you will soon. She and Mary are quite close.”

Sirius face lit up suddenly at that. “Actually guys, that reminds me. The band is playing a gig on Saturday and everyone’s coming. You should join us y/n!”

“Hold on, since when are you in a band?” You queried. “I thought you were a bartender.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’m a bit of both! Bartender by night and lead singer of ‘Snakes and Lions’ by… well also by night I guess.”

“Basically, he plays in a band on the weekends,” James clarified.

“Yeah, and soon, we’ll be world famous!”

“Well I’d love to come and see you play,” you uttered.

“Great, it’s a date then.”

“What’s a date?”

You all looked up to see that Remus had finally emerged from his room. He looked tired and a little disheveled. Although you supposed that was the only way you’d had a chance to see him so far.

“Rem, mate! Come join us! We got Italian sausage just for you!”

Sirius gestured to one of the pizza boxes on the table and Remus nodded, grabbing a plate to fill.

“We were just telling y/n about Sirius’ gig this weekend.”

Remus looked up at you for a moment, his tired eyes unreadable. Then he straightened himself up and came to stand before you awkwardly.

“You’re um… you’re in my seat.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

You shot up from the spot, feeling rather mortified by the interaction.

“It’s okay, you can come sit here!” James stated, sliding further towards the armrest of the sofa and patting the spot in between himself and Sirius.

You sat down tentatively, but Sirius threw an arm around your shoulder which helped a bit in easing the nerves.

You found yourself glancing over at Remus. He seemed quiet as he munched on his pizza. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of frustration towards him. He’d been nothing but rude to you since you arrived and you had no clue why.

“So tell us, y/n. What brought you to London?”

Your thoughts were cut short by Sirius’ question.

“Well, I just finished my degree not too long ago and I decided I needed a change, I suppose. London has a lot of good opportunities.”

“What did you study?” James asked, leaning his head in his hand as he looked down at you.

“Literature actually. I want to be a writer.”

Sirius brows shot up. “Really? That’s great. You should talk about that with Remus. He loves books.”

“Hmm?” The boy looked up then, as if having been lost in his own world, before brought back by the sound of his name.

“Y/n studied literature at university.”

He glanced over at you, only looking mildly interested. “Oh, that’s good.”

Then he turned his wrist glancing down at the watch that he wore. “It’s getting late. If you all don’t mind, I think I will finish dinner in my room. I have a lot of work to do.”

You frowned at that. Had you done something to upset him? Why was he so eager to get away from you?

“Alright mate. We’ll see you in the morning,” James muttered, oblivious to the issue.

Remus nodded at him before getting up slowly and sauntering back into his room.

James continued munching on his pizza happily but Sirius clearly noticed the way you tensed at the boy’s exit. He leaned in closely, speaking in a low tone so only you could hear.

“Sorry about him. He really isn’t like this usually. I’ll have a talk with him.”

You sighed. “No no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

You really didn’t want to be a point of contention between these boys.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble-“

“No it’s fine,” you shook your head. “Actually, I’m feeling a little tired as well. I might turn in for the evening.”

James looked over at you with gentle eyes. “Okay. Sleep well.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, jumping up from the couch. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Once you got to your room, you lay back heavily against the door, sighing. You considered the events of the day. There had been few hiccups but you decided then and there that you’d do whatever you could to move past them.

You got along well with James and Sirius seemed friendly. It was just Remus who was yet to warm up to you.

As you got ready for bed, your mind ran over the interactions that you’d had so far and wondered what might be the root of his frustrations.

Maybe things will be different tomorrow, you thought, as you settled in for the night.

[gtgbabie0]

-Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: {Sevika has some trouble with her mechanical arm, you offer her help}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

softSevika,softSevika,softSevika! Enjoy my lovelies <3 💕

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The pale light of the moon was drowned out by the neon signs that flicker soft colours of pink and blue which bleed through your small apartment, it was the only source of light guiding Sevika through the room before she finds the light switch, clumsily flicking it on.

It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly, what was meant to be a simple drop off and pick up turned into a violent mess— fucking useless, she thought bitterly. It’d be the last time she would work with some newbies who couldn’t tell their left from their right.

Her frustrations were bubbling over, that much was clear when she slams the front door shut, immediately wincing at the loud noise and once again she silently curses, this time at herself.

It was well past midnight and you were definitely knocked out like a light, it was endearing how quickly you fell asleep, one moment the pair of you would be talking then the very next you were snoring your head off. The thought of you curled up in your shared bed with your face smushed against the soft pillows makes her smile— the type that softens her hardened features.

It almost made her forget about the dull ache that seized her muscles, almost. She needed a drink.

So with a bottle of whiskey and her toolbox, you had so kindly brought for her spread out on the coffee table she sat down on the couch trying to fix the mess that had become of her mechanical arm— which was so much more harder to do by herself, without you there to unscrew the screws she couldn’t reach or to hand her the right tools… or to caress her cheek with those soft hands of yours, fuck, she had missed you more then she’d like to admit.

Sevika had been at it for hours, fumbling with one stubborn screw that had been lodged stuck. It refused to come loose for love nor money and it was driving her up the damn wall that she throws the stupid screwdriver across the room, watching it bounce across the wooden floorboards with a loud clang and a thud.

She stares down at it with a small scowl, scoffing before reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Sev?— what’re you doing?” Your soft voice, heavy with sleep ripples through the silence, breaking down the spell of anger that seemed ever present.

“Nothing, go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” She mumbles the reply, ducking her head down to look at the floor beneath her, it was almost ridiculous how fast the guilt hit her. She’d woken you up at god knows what time with her banging around.

You shake your head at her dismissal, padding your way over to her with a small frown— your hands tightening the silk robe you had wrapped around your body. Without a word she moves her legs so you can perch yourself on the edge of the coffee table, sitting in front of her.

“You won’t be able to fix it if you’re drunk.” You tell her, a small smirk ghosting over your lips as you watch her put the bottle of whiskey down on the table with a small huff.

“It’s not the alcohol—” Sevika replies gruffly, her heart skipping a few beats at the feeling of your hand against her knee as you rummage through her toolbox. “It needs a specific part.” Gods, you made her feel like a lovesick fool sometimes but damn if she didn’t absolutely adore the feeling.

With a soft hum, you let your fingertips graze along the metal fixings of her prosthetic arm, the joints were all broken and a couple of cogs were missing— it’d be easier to fix if it was detached and by the look on Sevika’s face she knew this… but it was a pain to do.

“I could-” you go to offer her an alternative, eyes skimming across the mechanical arm as your tired mind runs a mile a minute.

“Just help me take it off,” She concedes with a weary sigh, nodding over to the screwdriver which you’re quick to pick up.

She didn’t like having it off, to feel so vulnerable and defenceless. In a strange way, it scared her. Sure she could probably knock a guy or two out with one hand but it was still daunting to feel so stripped in such a way.

You stand up from the coffee table, situating yourself in between her legs as you begin to gently unscrew the bolts, handing them over to her one after another as she puts them safely into a bag. Then with a soft hiss of air, the arm comes loose, the weight falling from Sevika’s shoulder and down on the sofa beside her.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow… get that specific piece.” You promise her with a tender smile, looking down at her from where you stand with her rough hand resting over the curve of your hips from between the opening of your silken robe— caressing up to your waist slowly.

“Mmhm.” She hums in agreement, leaning forwards to bury her face into your soft tummy with a heavy sigh that borders on a groan as you skim your fingertips along her cheek and through her hair ever so slowly that it has her nuzzling into you like a damn cat.

Gods, you knew just how to dismantle her… you were a dangerous woman— her kryptonite.

“C’mere.” She mutters, pulling you down onto her lap without a single second thought. Her strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against her as you melt into her body— her fingers brushing along your hip.

“Come to bed Sev— you look like you’re about to pass out.” You whisper, turning your head to get a good look at her with those soft eyes of yours… so tired and sweet.

“I will just let me hold you like this for a minute.” She replies back, bumping her forehead against your own— pressing a kiss to your cheek then burying her face into the crook of your shoulder, a muffled ‘I love you’ spoken into your skin.

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[frogchiro]

Been thinking about Chris in the college AU…

I think he’s a fuckboy, but at his core he has trad sensibilities (because he’s an asshole). So he fucks around with girls at college, but his ultimate goal is to find a nice girl to marry who can stay in his house and raise his kids so she never has to use that pretty little college degree.

Maybe he’s a sophomore now, so he’s still looking to chase tail, not quite ready to find his wife, so he’s not looking very hard.

But then Leon keeps talking about you. And poor Leon… he has no idea that him talking about his crush on you and all of the things he likes about you is like dropping bleeding prey in a shark tank. If Leon had kept his crush a secret, you might never have been noticed by any of them! But now it seems like every guy in his frat wants a piece of you!

And Chris sees you occasionally around campus, in class, almost never at any parties. You’re a good student, well dressed (mostly modest!), with great hips and a great rack (childbearing!!). And one day he sees you sitting with Ashley for coffee, and you take a napkin to wipe some whipped cream from her mouth for her, and Chris has to run back to the house to take a cold shower because he can so easily imagine you doing the same thing to his babies when you have them. What?

You’re almost never at the frat parties, cause you’re a good girl. And when you are, he never sees you go off with any guys, never lets them feel you up, you never get sloppy and drunk like that other sluts that come to these things. You just delicately sip from your cup, smiling and laughing with your little group of friends. You wear such nice jewelry— his ring on your finger would fit so perfectly with your look. What?

And the way you brush off Krauser and Leon when they’re being sleazy and quite frankly, desperate. He might’ve fallen for you at the exact same moment as Krauser. And Chris has such a superiority complex about his attraction to you. Leon just has a stupid little boy crush, Krauser wants to dick you down stupid, and to be honest… he’s not entirely certain what Luis is angling for, but he knows it’s probably not anything virtuous. But Chris wants to make an honest woman outta you 💖 so in his mind, he’s the only one pursuing you for the “right” reasons.

And if you’re friends with Clair, he’s totally taking advantage of that. Fishing for information about you, asking if you maybe have somewhere to go during holiday break…

-🐱

Yeah tbh that sums Chris really well up ;; Also I apologize for not answering sooner I just had a lot going on with uni work and it really hindered my writing attempts </3

And yes, Chris is definitely that type of guy that will fuck any girl that is willing but they are the sluts!! They are the hoes who don't respect themselves and are only after the dick!!1 And he is the nice guy who will fuck them and throw them out afterwards bc he 'doesn't do feelings' or shit like that.

Chris is here only for a good time and ofc experience! Like you said, despite being an asshole and a obnoxious party and fuckboy, he has weirdly traditional values at heart; white picked fence, a sweet stay at home wife with a baby on her hip for who he will gladly provide for as the loving and caring husband and will need all the sexual experience to make his wifey feel good...But he still has time! He is in college for 'all the experiences' more than the education itself and he's not the sharpest tool in the shed with how reckless he is but that's fine!

...Until it isn't

It was all fine and dandy until Leon started to bring you up, some girl he met in class and was gushing over you. Okay, weird enough since Leon wasn't really the gushing type but fair enough, nothing to worry over. But then it started to escalate and Chris started to wonder what is going on with his friend. Leon stopped going on those casual dates, stopped hooking up, never even glanced at another girl and his whining about you got even worse.

The final straw for Chris was when he caught Leon jacking off and filming himself while whining something about 'please respond I send you a cumshot video, now you have to send me a pussy pic, please even a tit pic please-' and Chris knew he had to get to know this girl that made Leon so pussy whipped without even seeing it as far as he knows!

And yeah Chris probably saw you for the first time during that one party where you and your little friend rejected Krauser's advances and Chris almost snorted his drink out and spat on the girl he was flirting with; suits that blonde asshole right, and you're...You're honestly incredible in Chris's eyes. So assertive and composed...Your clothes on the more revealing side, your tits almost spilling out of that dress, fuck...But still nowhere slutty like other girls!

Chris definitely has a weird superiority complex; despite the fact that he's arguably the worst hypocrite out of the group he still believes that his love for you is the only 'real' one; Leon is a dumb horny rich boy with a middle school crush, Krauser will sleaze over pretty girls all the time and Luis is a certified ladies man, he refers to himself in that way for fucks sake! And then there is Chris who wants to wife you up! Isn't he charming?? Just please ignore those girls who complain about the hookups he had with them, they are probably just bitter that he threw them out <3

[meelusinee]

AN OPERA HOUSE ☆ T.N X READER

in which you’re Theo's girlfriend and went to visit him on tour.

pairing: singer!theodore nott x singer!reader

tags: band!au, mostly fluff

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none, just fluff! (and mattheo getting water bottles thrown his way)

author’s note: my first post! for starters, i made a small playlist for this fic if you’d like to check it out. theodore, who i imagine as a cigarettes after sex singer. secondly, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

AN OPERA HOUSE | T.N x SINGER!READER

God, he hated interviews.

The lights that were blaring in Theodore’s face, along with the sound of people walking around both in front and behind the set, were really starting to piss him off. Theo didn’t know how Enzo and Mattheo did it, both of them smiling bright as if they were having a nice fuck or smoking a rather heavy cigarette.

Theodore really could use a cigarette right now. Either that, or you.

Thoughts of nicotine and you had been running rampant in his mind ever since he had to leave you for his national tour, the tour that celebrated the release of the band’s newest album Cigarettes After Sex. A debut of sorts, Theodore wasn’t really sure what to call it. If he were to name it anything, he’d want to name it his love letter to you. But Mattheo had said he couldn’t do that, so he stuck with the band name.

“Today is a rather special day for you, isn’t it?”

Theodore’s mind zoned back in as Blaise gently nudged his leg, his posture straightening up as the interviewer finally started asking questions. Perhaps they needed time to make the lights even brighter, Theo thought, his hand moving to cover the frown growing on his face. 

“Very special indeed,” Mattheo said, his signature smirk that got a lot of people involved with the band plastered on his face. “We just released an album, did you hear?”

“Yes, I did!” the interviewer said, smiling brightly as she adjusted the notes in her hand. “I was hoping we could ask you some questions about it, the musical process and making it mostly.”

Theo hummed non-committedly as the rest of them nodded their heads. Questions about music production didn’t sound too bad compared to a media interrogation.

“Do you mind if we did an introduction?” the lady asked, her fingers patting the cards.

“Course not love,” Blaise said, waving his hand casually as he sat up straighter. Theodore rolled his eyes, looking down at the ground. Blaise was always the biggest player out of the four of them. And that said a lot, seeing as though Mattheo Riddle was in the band as well. 

Theodore watched as the cameras focused in on each of them, the interviewer putting her cards down momentarily to introduce them to the show. “Today is a very special day for all of us, I can imagine.” she said, smiling as she made some sort of dramatic hand gesture towards them. “Today, I’m here with the members of Cigarettes after Sex. We’re going to ask questions about their newest album.”

“I’m so excited.” Lorenzo squeaked, straightening up as he and Mattheo made funny faces to the camera.

“I wanted to start with the first question I had, which was how working on the album went.” she started almost instantly, sitting up a bit straighter. Theo rather appreciated that about her. “I mean, there’s four people in your band, and a lot of timing and other issues that you’d have to work on together. Does that stuff come easier to you than to others, do you think?”

“I think we work pretty well together, right?” Lorenzo asked, leaning forward to look at the other three before smirking in Theo’s direction. “Other than Mr. Grumpy over there, he gets pissy a lot.”

“Oh definitely.” Mattheo said, smirking as he ruffled Theo’s hair. “But it’s okay, because he writes us songs and mothers us whenever we drink. We love him very dearly.”

“It’s not my fault you decide to get concerningly drunk almost every time we hit a bar.” Theo grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter as he prepared to answer the question seriously. “We work as a team a lot of the time, especially when it comes to music. The only non-negotiable is the lyrics, which I write by myself. Other than that though, it’s free reign.”

“So things like instruments and rhythm are all decided by everyone in the band collectively?” the interviewer asked.

“Pretty much,” Blaise explained. “Usually Mattheo and Enzo make a starting beat for songs, and Theo and I usually build guitar chords off of that. Theo here has most of the control with singing though, rhythm and stuff.”

“That’s really cool.” the interviewer nodded. “I wish my family had that amount of coordination during the holidays.”

The four of them chuckled at varying degrees, with Mattheo winking at the interviewer after. “Maybe if we came over we could give you some pointers.”

“That sounds really lovely, actually.” she said, the comment obviously getting to her. Her cheeks became visibly more flushed, fingers tapping faster against her notes. “I wanted to ask you guys a little bit about the lyrics though, if you don’t mind.”

And here we go.

“That’s all Theo’s field.” Lorenzo said, all three of their fingers dramatically pointing at the top of Theo’s head. He really felt like walking out for a smoke, and maybe burning them all with the ashes out of spite for their existence. But he wasn’t going to let them know that.

“Now, I’m sure you can guess where this is headed,” she chuckled softly, flipping one of her flashcards over. “I was wondering what the inspiration for your songs was. Do you have a muse or anything of the sort?”

Theodore sighed, feeling the moment almost pause in time as he tried to think of an answer. He very much did have a muse, you were waiting at home in his bed. Even still, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that public. Especially since the both of you were rather quiet creatures.

He supposed it couldn’t hurt too much though.

“I do,” he whispered, clearing his throat after he spoke. He didn't realize how choked he would sound speaking. “Yeah, she’s really pretty.”

“Theo’s got a girlfriend!” Mattheo teased, poking Theo’s cheek teasingly. “He’s got a girlfriend who he loves very much. That woman has stolen his heart from me!”

“For shame of her, the audacity even.” Blaise chuckled amusedly, both Mattheo and Enzo playing a heartbroken bit. Theo smirked softly as Mattheo dramatically rested his head on Lorenzo’s shoulder, fake sobs escaping his mouth as they mourned over the loss of a non-existent relationship. 

“You’ll be fine.” Theo said, gently patting Mattheo’s back.

“I’ll never recover from this.” he sniffled, sitting up a bit straighter. “Mark my words.”

It was a midsummer night, the sweltering heat doing nothing to deter the line of fangirls waiting at the entrance gates. The muggy and dense air seemed to surround everyone with a humid blanket, every bit of contact made as they tried to get through the doors like a match on gasoline. The concerts you went to weren’t usually this crowded and suffocating. 

Then again, you usually never went to such well known-bands.

Luckily for you, you had been able to sneak a VIP seat ticket for the higher tip-tops of the opera house, a fitting venue for the band that was playing tonight. Cigarettes After Sex was flashing on the monitor they had set up near the back of the stage, the camera zoomed in to focus on the currently empty microphone stand. 

Voices filled the area as everyone began to take their seats, some people pushing and shoving as they made their way around with water and sneaked in alcohol. Some of them had on merch for the band, some of them didn’t. Most of them wore darker clothes though, lots of black with leather jackets and heavy boots.

Your eyes zoned in on the screen as the lights began to dim, the voices all hushing as four men walked out onto the stage. Lorenzo Berkshire was the drummer, one of the most well-known band drummers that you could name off the top of your head. Mattheo Riddle was already stationed by the keyboards, his unruly curls already a little damp from the humidity inside the room. Blaise Zabini walked out with his bass guitar in hand, a role you knew he took on just so he could look hot while strumming the strings. Then came out Theodore Nott. 

Your boyfriend.

You could tell that the heat was affecting him the least out of all of the band members, his waterline covered in the tiniest bit of eyeliner. You smiled softly as you recalled the memory of putting eyeliner on him when you two first started dating, the giggling fit the both of you had broken out into as the other three begged you to do their eyeliner as well. 

He looked beautiful in the lighting too, his outfit framing his figure in an almost holy light. You were almost tempted to start writing a song about it right then and there. But now wasn’t your time, now was the time of the band.

You supposed the band thought the same thing as well, Blaise’s fingers beginning the strum the opening of their most popular song. Theo made his way up to the microphone stand, smiling softly at the crowd as he began to sing. His voice was just as angelic as his face, echoing through the opera house like the ghost of a long forgotten lover. He had completely captivated the room, the silence barely just quieter than the sound of his voice. 

“Your lips, my lips,” you smiled softly as he sang the lyrics, leaning your head on your hand. “Apocalypse.”

You remember the time when he wrote that song. Your tongue was barely darted out as you tried to focus on not messing up the edges of a painting you had been working on, the brush trembling with your hands focused. It was a galaxy, the blues and purples blending together in a  jaw-dropping beauty of a display. Mattheo had come into the room as you finished, a low whistle escaping his mouth as he glanced over at it.

“Looks like an apocalypse.”

Apparently, those words had rung through Theo’s mind for the week after that. He eventually sat you down on the bed, pulling out his guitar as he began to sing the lyrics to you. They needed a bit of polishing with the rhythm, his fingers plucking the wrong strings at times as he sang. But it was one of the most beautiful pieces you had heard regardless, tears welling in your eyes as you moved to hug him. That hug also ran through Theo’s mind for yet another week, in which he had apparently produced an entire studio album based on you. 

You smiled softly as the end of the song came about, the final string echoing through the silent theatre. Theo had gone to grab a bottle of water by the speaker, his eyes locking onto yours.

You winked playfully, smiling at the blush that covered his features. You also just remembered that he had not expected you at the tour. 

“You need to come get your lover boy,” were the words that rang through your phone speaker as you tried to press it against your ear.

“What?” you asked again, pen in your hand as you spoke.

“I said,” Mattheo’s voice rang through the speaker. “You need to come get your lover boy. He is really depressed right now, like, really. He’s missing you terribly and is currently refusing to work because of it.”

You heard him and Blaise beginning to argue in the background, the both of them knowing that Theo would eventually get up. But Mattheo seemed to think that you being there would solve every single one of his problems.

“I don’t know if I can go, Mattheo,” you mumbled, placing your notebook down. “I doubt I could get a spontaneous ticket.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I already sent a driver to pick you up, he’ll be there in about 10 minutes. I’m just calling to let you know.”

“You what?” you said, looking at the phone incredulously. “Mattheo, I don’t have any time to pack! What would I wear?”

“You say that as if Theo won’t buy you a whole wardrobe based on you liking a single piece of jewelry!” Mattheo said back, groaning as Blaise called for him. “I gotta go, make sure you get in that car and come over. He’s really, really missing you.”

“Mattheo, I swear to Merlin.” you began, but didn’t have any time to finish as you heard the beeping at the end of the line. 

(divider)

“Is that amore mio?” Theo asked Blaise incredulously, looking over at the other three before catching Mattheo’s smirk. “Oh, you bastard.”

“You were missing her!” he said, running away from the keyboard so Theo could throw water at him. “It's not my fault you got depressed!”

“She is meant to be resting, testa di cazzo!” Theo said, sighing as he put the bottle down. No doubt that would be clipped in magazine headers across the country. Theo looked over at you, a soft smile coming on his face when you came into vision. You still had that smile on your face, if not brighter now that you were giggling. He smiled back, picking up his microphone again.

“For our next song,” he spoke into the microphone, placing it back on the stand. “I think it’d be rather nice to sing something about the building we’re in as well. Something about the opera house.” he said, smirking softly as the crowd of fans began cheering. The lights dimmed again as the music began playing, his eyes closing as he let it run through his soul.

“Built an opera house for you in the deepest jungle,” he began, the music coursing through his veins. The words flowed out of him like a waterfall, his voice sweet as candy as he began walking back and forth at the front of the stage. Though every time the chorus hit he found himself in the middle, eyes focused on yours as he sang the lyrics. 

“I was meant to love you, and always keep you in my life. I was meant to love you, I knew I loved you at first sight.”

The lights cut off completely as the equipment turned off, a smile growing on Theo’s face as the end of the concert came. 

“Theo!” you squeaked as you saw him, waddling up to him like a happy penguin as you embraced him in a hug. You hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, the longest either of you had ever spent apart. “I never want to abandon you ever again.”

“If anyone was doing the abandoning, it was me.” he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead lovingly. “I missed you so much principessa,” 

“I missed you too,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest. “Teddy.”

“Are you calling me a teddy bear?” he chuckled softly, pulling away from the hug to cup your face lovingly. His eyes were filled with devotion you only thought possible in dreams and fairytales, that was until you eventually met him at least. 

“Yes I am.” you smiled softly.

“You are ridiculous.” he chuckled softly, pressing his lips against yours as he caressed your cheeks lovingly. “Merlin, I love you.”

“I love you too.” she whispered lovingly. 

The two of you stood comfortably in the silence, wrapped in a hug neither wanted to leave. That was until Mattheo popped in.

“Told you that you missed her!”

His face had rather quickly met two empty water bottles. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much for reading! i got kind of lazy during the end of this, i'm not going to lie to you (it's three am), but! if you want more of these two lovely beauties i might maybe make a part two! (i originally drafted this with reader as a singer in mind, so if you'd like to be singing some adrianne lenker songs to theo just let me know)

please like and comment and all that jazz, i practically live off of validation at this point.

[yagirlwrites]

Make Me Proud | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe x domme!Reader

Synopsys: Rafe and Reader finally get to release their pent up tension from the Halloween party. He wants to earn his prize so they explore a new way of pleasure together.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), anal play (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Hii!!! I know it took me a while but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy this smutty goodnes and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think! I'm excited for them exploring more ways to give/receive pleasure!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading🥰

Make Me Proud

The harsh rays of sun pricked at his eyelids forcing him to awaken against his will, letting out a pained groan. Blinking his eyes open he slowly begun to gather his bearings and the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the bed next to him.

There was a low pang in his chest at her absence. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head, no doubt attributed to the hangover bound to ruin his day. He made such a huge mistake downing all those shots last night. As the memories started flooding back he became aware of just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. In front of her, to make shit ten times worse. Just as he was beginning to wonder if his behavior caused her to leave, the door slowly opened and he watched her tiptoe inside, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Once her eyes landed on his sprawled out figure she realized he was finally awake. Had she been up for several hours, bored out of her mind but not wanting to wake him? Maybe. Did she sneak into the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee when she finally got sick of laying motionless next to him? Perhaps.

"Morning, sunshine." She smirked at his response, an unamused grunt. He was definitely feeling the aftermath of those drinks. She felt kinda bad for him but it was his own fault he was in this state.

"What time is it?" His morning voice always got her tummy fluttering and today was no different. The ways in which this man drove her insane were unfathomable to her.

"Nine. I thought you'd sleep longer. The house is still dead." She made her way back to bed, giving him a generous view of her bare thighs as she shuffled in next to him. He barely noticed the coffee cup right in front of his face, too distracted by how soft and sexy her legs looked and how she still smelled so damn good even after a long night.

"Rafe..." her voice sounded half amused half exasperated, causing him to finally snap his attention back to her face and see the amused expression she bore. He blushed at being caught so blatantly ogling her, but he didn't try to play it off. There was no need to anyway, she knew just how attracted he was to her.

He took the cup with a small thank you, forcing himself into a somewhat upright position and downing half of it in one go. She scoffed out a laugh and rolled over to the bedside table to grab him a bottle of water she put there last night. Once she turned back she caught him staring at her ass, which had peeked out from under his shirt she was wearing. Raising her eyebrow at catching him, again, in under 2 minutes, he paid her back with a sheepish smile.

Those damn dimples always got to her. She was a sucker like that. He didn't need to know how quickly she got weak for him though, so she bit back her smile and decided to keep on a face of neutrality, knowing it drove him crazy when he couldn't tell what mood she was in.

"Are you hungry?" She casually posed the question while scrolling on her phone and he wished she'd just look at him instead. Pathetic. But hey, he was accepting it. She drove him insane every single day and he liked it.

"A little... The burger helped, though. Thanks." He gave her a cute smile almost causing her to break her act, but she perservered. He was just too fun to mess with, she couldn't help herself.

"You're welcome." She went back to her phone and he pouted. The throbbing in his head was making him more impatient than usual so he snapped and forced her into a bear hug, almost knocking the wind out of her.

"Rafe!" He laughed into her skin, enjoying the sound of her carefree giggle more than he thought possible.

"Get off!" Her words had no real bite to them, so he just pulled away slightly, just to look at her face.

"Thank you for taking care of me. And I'm sorry for getting drunk." He kissed her sweetly, almost making her lose her head completely. These moments of gentle affection always had both of their heads spiraling.

"You're lucky you're cute.." she sighed out a labourious breath and he laughed at the dramatics.

"I'm very lucky." He was looking at her with the most lovesick expression, she couldn't handle it. She had to break the moment before it broke her.

"Indeed. And quite desperate, based on all the begging you were doing last night." She was kinda mean for bringing that up. He was confused for all of 5 seconds before he realized what begging she was referring to. Once he did, his skin turned bright pink and the temperature of his body rose.

He had begged her to let him go down on her like a little bitch. Dear God, the embarrassment was about to eat him up, the blush not letting up for a moment.

She cracked a smile then, breaking the stoic act and he felt an immediate relief at that. He remembered what she'd told him - that he didn't need to be embarrassed about his desires. So he swallowed down his pride and awkwardness and decided to end this little game of hers. Instead of becoming sheepish he got serious.

"You still haven't told me how I can earn it." His words shook her. She was enjoying teasing him and then he flipped the switch. She could see the smirk begging to be let out at the corner of his lips, his eyes hungry and not hiding his arousal at all. She had a feeling that if she took the covers off he'd be packing a hard-on again. He was playing with fire.

"You really want to earn it?" Her eyes shifted and her domme voice returned. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hoping to finally get something out of her.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and she could feel her composure slipping away.

"Just wanna make you feel good." His voice dropped an octave and she could feel the dampness in her panties, the temperature in the room heating up.

"I feel good when I make you feel good, baby." Teasing, teasing, teasing. He knew she was playing him again. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry at the way she was looking at him.

"I want to taste you so bad." There it was. The honest response. She didn't want him pretending he was only interested in it for her benefit and now he was finally being truthful.

"Yeah?" She got on top of him, lips inches apart. His breath becoming her own as she stared deep into his eyes, testing his limits.

"Yes....please..." she kissed him then. A kiss so heated it could probably warm up an entire room. Little whines left his throat as she bit down on his lip, feeling his erection pressing into her ass. He was so gone.

"Please." It was a whisper, she barely heard it but she had. And boy did it have her losing her damn mind. The desperation he exhibited for her drove her wild. She had to pull away in order for both of them to catch their breaths again. God, was he testing her.

"I love the way you beg, baby." She whispered into his ear, leaving soft, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to groan... it was such a delicious torture.

"Fuck..." his whines got louder when she bit into that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, eyes rolling back. She was everything.

She had a whole scene in her mind then, clear as day. Trying to think of all the logistics was proving difficult when she was so damn turned on, causing her to pull away. He whined at the loss of contact, nearly shedding a tear. She'd built him up so high he didn't think he could survive her rejection now.

She took the water bottle and took a huge gulp, his lust filled eyes tracing her features, trying to figure out how to stop her from pulling away from him further. He thought he'd definitely cry if she did, too turned on to function. She tried getting up off of him, causing him to whine and wrap his hands around her, refusing to let her go. She nearly laughed seeing the desperation on his face, the sheer need to keep her there.

"Baby. Let go." He reluctantly loosened his grip, looking at her with big, sad eyes nearly breaking her heart.

"It's okay, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek and then shocked him by squirting water on his face. He gasped, looking at her in bewilderment. She couldn't help but laugh then.

"What..?" The confusion on his face made her laugh harder. She needed to cool them both down and this was the first thing she could think of. She can't have this conversation if she isn't thinking clearly.

"I'm sorry, I just needed you to snap out of it. Sorry, baby." She wiped the remaining water off his face. She kissed him again and pushed herself further away from him, so she can think.

"What the hell?" He was mumbling, still half in shock making her feel a bit guilty.

"Look if you're serious then we need to talk. I can't think when we're..." she drifted off then, causing him to realize what happened. She was having trouble controlling herself just as he was, so she did a silly thing to help herself think. He felt endeared, realizing that the moment had affected her just as strongly as it did him.

"Okay. Talk." He was nodding, sitting up, facing her, trying to ignore the painful boner she left him with.

"You want to be a good boy?" How was he supposed to stay calm when she says shit like that to him? Damn.

"Yes." He struggled to stay still, not to draw nearer, to feel her skin against him again. It was so hard.

"Remember when you said you were open to anal play?" Her words shook him to his core. She could see the shock in his eyes before he had a chance to mask it.

"Ye-yeah. I remember..." he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.

"Are you still? Or did you just say that cause you thought it's what I wanted to hear?" He was shaking his head before she even finished the question.

"No. I- I meant it. I want to try." She smiled at him then, a soft look on her face the polar opposite of how she looked just minutes ago.

"Yeah?" He nodded, urging her to believe him. He had no idea what she was planning but he wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even if he was nervous.

"I want to be your good boy." His words nearly had her eyes roll back but she managed to control herself. He was so fucking hot when he gave himself to her completely.

"Okay. Well, we need to prepare, we can't do it now-"

"Why not?" The whine was louder and brattier than he intended causing her to cock a brow at him.

"Well for one I don't have lube here, and-"

"I do!" This took her by surprise. But he interrupted her twice now and that was not acceptable.

"Okay, that's good. But if you interrupt me one more time we're not having any sex at all in the forseeable future." Her voice was authoritative, making him feel embarrassed at how childish he was acting.

"I'm sorry." He looked it too, so she accepted it with a nod.

"Okay. Well, we still can't do it here. I'd like us to shower first and have privacy." She was listing things, looking so cute while she rationalized their sex life. It would have been comical if it weren't driving him insane.

He knew she didn't want to shower in his house, having offered her the option before and being met with a horrified look and a respectful decline. She claimed she liked his friends but she didn't trust their hygiene in the slightest, causing him to laugh and agree with her. He loved her shower though. He got to use her pretty smelling shampoo and he always felt extra clean and sated after showering at her apartment.

"Then lets go to your place." It was a no brainer to him. She thought of all the possible issues but given that her plans for his first time trying anal play were small, she figured it would be fine without all the usual prep. They'd build up to that eventually.

"Okay." He lit up like a christmas tree.

"Really?" She chuckled at his newfound enthusiasm.

"Yes, really. But if you change your mind at any point you need to tell me, okay?" He was nodding along quickly but she didn't forget the initial apprehension on his face and she'd be damned if she let him do something he isn't into to try and please her. Not on her watch.

They got dressed and packed up their stuff pretty quickly, the excitement in the air palpable. Some people finally started to wake up just as they were leaving the house, catching a few "screw you's" for running off before the clean up from last night began. They didn't care, too wrapped up in each other and the anticipation of what's to come to be bothered.

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

They picked up some sandwiches on the way back to her apartment, at her insistence. He was way too excited for what she had planned to think about food, but his stomach thanked her all the same when his hunger was sated.

They didn't waste any time taking their clothes off and getting in the shower. It was such a wonderful moment between them, soft and loving, he way they washed each other from all the sweat and grime from the night before. She handled him more delicately than anyone ever had in his life, and he always felt so damn safe and taken care of when she touched him like that. As the shower drew to an end, they shared some lingering, warm kisses, igniting the fire from earlier all over again in a slow burning flame.

Anticipation was killing him, driving him wild with every second that passed of them drying off and getting ready in her room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but it was nothing compared to how excited he felt. The trust he had in her was so complete, he knew he was always safe with her to explore these kinks without danger or judgement. He knew she'd never force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do, and that opened up the door for him to get braver and more comfortable with trying new things.

They were on her bed, still naked from the shower, not feeling any need to prolong the inevitable. She kissed him slow and deep, tongues meeting in a teasing dance, driving them both wild. The little sounds he let out were going straight to her core. She was so excited about this, she had a feeling he'd love the sensation of having his ass played with and it made her proud that he was trusting her in this sensitive moment.

"Tell me the colors again." She ordered, kissing his neck, winding him up further. She always insisted he reminds himself of the colors, so there was no chance of a miscommunication in the heat of the moment.

"Green, yellow, red. I know the drill." He quickly listed the colors, exasperated and so turned on he could barely breathe.

"Don't get sassy." She warned, still kissing his skin, over his collar bones and shoulders. She loved to kiss the freckles on his body, finding them so damn beautiful.

He was struggling to breathe, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, while she worked him over, touching and kissing everywhere. His skin was flushed, muscles taut with restraint. It felt so good, her touch, he wondered how he didn't melt right into a puddle every time her skin was on his.

She kept exploring him with her fingerips and lips, nibbling on a nipple, lightly scratching down his abs, amping him up, every nerve ending so sensitive. His cock was hard as a rock and she couldn't help but smirk at his twitching, trying so hard to be good and not do anything she didn't tell him to.

She completely ignored his erection, instead focusing on massaging his balls causing moans to leave his lips. She loved the sounds he made, could get high on them.

"That feel good, huh?" She teased, kissing his thighs while she slowly moved one hand lower, barely touching his sensitive hole. He gasped as soon as her fingers brushed him there, finally grasping just how close she was to opening him up in a whole new way.

She laid kisses on his skin as her fingers slowly massaged around his hole, causing him to groan at the teasing tempo. He needed more, she was driving him nuts.

She could tell he was getting antsy, face flushed and little, desperate whines leaving his swollen lips. She reached for the bottle of lube she'd prepared, cracking it open and squeezing a generous amount on her fingers. Rubbing her fingers to warm them up, she looked at him, holding his breath in preparation.

"What's your color, baby?" She spread his legs wide open for better access, leaving him completely exposed in front of her.

"Green." The answer was immediate, a deep longing in his voice. He kept his eyes on her, eager to see every movement she made.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay? Nothing crazy. I promise." He was nodding, impatient yet grateful for the reassurance.

"Okay. Just please do something." She smiled at his little whine and decided to put him out of his mysery.

Her fingers finally made contact with the sensitive skin around his hole, massaging slowly, warming him up, making sure to put a decent amount of lube on his entrance. The massage felt so good he couldn't imagine how it could get better.

She kissed his tummy as she slowly eased the tip of her finger into his tight hole, causing a desperate gasp to leave him. She kept a watchful eye on his face, paying attention to every expression, every breath, twitch and sound that left him. She kissed his skin as she kept massaging and lightly slipping her finger into him deeper, going slowly not to overwhelm him. She was so damn turned on at how good he was being, proud of how brave he was to let her have him like this and eager to make him see stars.

Once she'd slowly eased a finger about half way, she checked in.

"How does it feel, baby?" She rubbed his thighs in a soothing motion which calmed his mind.

"Weird. But kinda good?" It was his first time ever having anything in his ass and the sensation was strange but at the same time he wanted more. He needed to know how good it could feel, because he knew she wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make him feel great.

"You're doing so good for me, sweet boy." He whined at the praise, blushing profusely at the intimate situation.

"Still green?" He nodded quickly making her chuckle and continue her ministrations.

"Fuck..." he moaned as her finger went deeper, touching that sensitive spot inside him, causing his mind to go completely blank as she kept going. She started moving in and out slowly, grazing that magic spot with each thrust. The way he was responding was so fucking beautiful. He was letting out sounds she hadn't heard before, the brand new pleasure making him delirious.

"You're so tight around my finger, baby." The dirty talk had him whining in desperation, wanting more, wanting her to take him however she liked. This was so different to anything he'd experienced before and he really fucking liked it.

"Taking me so good." She kept talking him thought it as she gained speed, lightly curling her finger each time she grazed that spot, having him curling his toes in pleasure, gasps and moans leaving him without his knowledge. He was so wrapped up in how nice it felt he couldn't think of anything else but her finger, her touch, her voice overwhelming his senses.

"More." He whined out the most deperate little moan she'd ever heard in her life, her panties getting soaked seeing him like this.

"More?" She questioned, picking up the pace as his moans got louder, his head nodding, words escaping him.

She wasn't expecting to do more than one finger for the first time but the way he was reacting, taking it so well, so eager, begging for more? Yeah, she was losing her fucking mind. It was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"Think you can take another finger, baby boy?" His response an immediate, moaned out "yes, please". She could see his eyes getting teary and she didn't waste another moment before squirting more lube on him and easing another finger into his tight hole.

He was a mess of moans, grunts, whines, pleas and tears as she stretched him out, giving him a new level of pleasure as both fingers pumped into him. It was heaven. He couldn't believe he'd waited this long to do this. Though he couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else. She was it for him, he knew it. She blew his mind every fucking time they had sex, she introduced him to highs he never even imagined.

Fuck, it felt so good to have her on top of him, fucking him with her fingers, claiming him as hers. He was getting closer and closer, cock twitching on his stomach, leaking precum, red and throbbing without even being touched. It was insane.

"You look so beatiful, baby. Taking me so well. I'm so proud of you." His tears flowed freely at her words, overwhelmed at the pleasure and praise she was giving him. It was fucking perfect.

"I'm cl- so close." She could barely make out his words from the choked moan they escaped in.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" He was trashing under her now, losing all semblance of control as she worked him to his peak.

"Please..." his whines making her pussy throb with arousal, she picked up the pace, eager to see him fall apart for her.

"Be a good boy and cum for me." As she said those words she finally gripped his cock, squeezing him as he fell off the edge and into the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.

She got high off his desperate noises, the way he twitched as he orgasmed, clenching around her fingers, cock pulsing in her hand as his cum painted his stomach. It was so fucking beautiful, she couldn't look away even if she tried.

"Look at you. So pretty." She kissed his skin as the last of his aftershocks wore off. Her words were driving him insane, after everything that just happened, being flustered at a compliment seemed surreal but there he was.

It was the most intense experience of his life. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had her to guide him through it. He felt so sensitive and thoroughly wiped out, but in the best way possible.

"How you feeling, baby?" She posed the question as she gently cleaned up the mess he made all over his stomach using a tissue. He looked flushed and sated and she couldn't be more ecstatic about what just occured.

"Good." He let out a chuckle, meeting her gaze, melting at the way she was looking at him. So fondly, he couldn't cope.

"You did so good, angel. I'm so proud of you." Her words had him shook, the praise and approval making his insides feel like mush. If his skin wasn't already red from the intense scene he'd just been through, the blush would have been fierce.

"Thank you..." his soft whisper made the butterflies reappear in her tummy. He looked so fucking beautiful she couldn't handle it.

She made her way up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin, warming him up with each one. She kissed his face next, the salty remnant of the tears he'd shed from pleasure being washed away with soft pecks. It was so tender and sweet he almost cried all over again.

When her lips met his, he felt as though his heart just might burst at how full and happy he was. He had never felt this happy in his whole fucking life. How did he get so lucky?

"Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He giggled at her words, making the smile on her face seem permanent. So fucking cute she couldn't handle it, leading her to smother his face in kisses, causing those giggles to come out again. She was in trouble.

"Alright, baby. Gonna go clean up, be right back." She laid a final peck on his lips before making her way to the bathroom. He felt cold as soon as her touch left him and he wondered how the hell he could miss someone who's only a room away.

She took her time washing her hands, making sure they were clean enough to touch him again. She wanted to run her fingers over his face and it killed her that she had to refrain. She knew he was feeling exhausted but she had one more thing in mind before they could relax. She was excited and hoped he had enough energy to handle it.

When she made her way back to the room she found him sleepily looking at her. He had a cute little smile on and her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back on top of him, warming him up all over again, making him release a relieved sigh. He wondered how healthy it was for him to need to be with her all the time, but he didn't have it in him to care too much. Her touch, her comfort, her care was addicting and he wouldn't want to change it for the world.

She kissed him softly, drawing out a satisfied moan from him as their tongues met. She cupped his face as she kissed him, taking his breath away once again. He slowly reached up to hold her closer, feeling relief he wasn't used to, once they were skin to skin.

"You were such a good boy for me." She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaving him to struggle with responding at how good it felt and how much he loved when she called him that.

"You up for more, baby?" The kisses travelled over his neck and his heart started racing once he processed her words.

"More? I don't know if I can..." he was all whiny and shy, not wanting to disappoint her but not feeling ready for another intense experience. He thought he was done.

"No?" She kissed under his ear making his eyes roll to the back of his head. She was driving him insane.

"You don't want your reward?" He gasped as she lightly bit into his shoulder, feeling like he'd float away any second. But then he realized what she'd said.

"What? You- Wh-" he was trying to force her to look at him, pulling her face gently up to meet her eyes as he stumbled over his words.

"Reward?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, confusion on his face obvious. She simply sat up and cocked a brow, waiting for him to figure it out. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with him but once it did he thought he'd lost it.

"You- Are you serious?" He was practically begging her to say yes with the way he was looking at her. Like if she said no, his heart would shatter.

"Mhm. If you think you can handle it." She shrugged and had to hold back a laugh when he started furiously nodding his head.

"Yes! I can. Please. Green. Yes, please. Please please please..." he was blushing at his desperation but couldn't hold it back. The though of finally getting to taste her was making every nerve in his body buzz in excitement. He was on the precipice of heaven and he couldn't handle rejection now.

"You sure? You weren't too excited earlier..." his stomach dropped at her words.

"No! I mean, yes! I am so sure, please. I just thought you meant more... of what happened earlier." He was blushing profusely as he tried to get her to understand he was serious about being able to handle eating her out.

The way he was acting all shy and sheepish and desperate was really tugging at her heartstrings.

"You mean when you came around my fingers?" His blush got fiercer as he shyly nodded. He hated how much she loved to tease him when he's so wound up. But the smile on her face in that moment almost made up for it.

"I don't know, it seemed like you were enjoying it..." She kept teasing him, running her fingers over his stomach causing him to squirm with the light tickles. She was playing with him and he knew it.

"You know I was. I just can't do more of that right now... But I can make you feel good. Please?" He was trying to hard not to let his frustration seep through in his words. He needed to stay on her good side if he wanted a chance to finally taste her tonight. But the eagerness which he felt was making him extra antsy, itching for a chance to have her in this new way.

"Since you asked so nicely and you took my fingers so well..." The blush on his face had no chance of leaving when she kept talking like that.

"I'm gonna ride your face. You okay with that, baby?" He was practically shaking with excitement, nodding his head an eager yes.

"Yes, please..." his whine had her tummy stirring again and the wetness from earlier returned.

Rafe thought he would pass out as he watched her straddling his chest, being so close to her heat he could almost smell it. He couldn't wait anymore, all his fantasies were coming alive in that moment. He thought he'd never craved anything more than to have her on his tongue. He knew once he tasted her he'd be addicted and he didn't care. He was so fucking close.

"If you want to stop or talk or anything, tap my thigh. Okay?" He was struggling to find words when he could see how pretty her pussy was up close and she was playing with his hair just right. A harsh tug broke his daze as he looked up at her and finally answered.

"Yes. Please sit on my face." She almost laughed at his eagerness but refrained, taking in the adorable little pout he had on his face.

"Okay, baby." She positioned herself above him and he felt like he'd explode in the few seconds it took for her to lower herself on his face. And then she was and it was paradise. He couldn't imagine anything in existence could ever be better than this moment.

Her scent, her taste, it was so fucking addicting right off the bat. He wasted no time exploring her with his mouth, savouring the new position he was lucky to end up in. His hands made home on her ass, feeling the plump skin, massaging it as his tongue licked at her warmth. He wasn't even aware of the noises he was making as he ate her, too consumed in her pussy and bringing her pleasure to hear the moans and groans leaving him. However, she could not only hear him, but feel the vibrations on her skin, making the pleasure of his whines that much stronger. It felt amazing. He was so good with his mouth, she had no doubt he would be but it was a whole other thing actually experiencing it firsthand.

She started to slowly grind on him and his moans only got louder, his movements more eager. He fucking loved this, loved having her ride his face. He could cum just from this, he'd swear. His cock was already fully hard again but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the woman on top of him, chasing her pleasure, using him - while he devoured his favorite meal of all time. He'd never enjoy the taste of anything more than her. He was a goner.

Her grinds got more intense, pressing her clit on his nose just right, causing his brain to go haywire at the way she was using him. His cock was twitching on his stomach at how hot this was. Moans finally left her lips and it was the most glorious of sounds. He squeezed her ass, wishing he could stay like this for an eternity.

He slipped his tongue inside her cunt and nearly wept when he felt her walls clench around the muscle. It was dirty and heavenly all at once. She reached back to tease his nipples, urging him on. He slurped and sucked on her clit, making sure to cherish every little moan and breath and clench she let out. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. He wished he could see the look on her face when she came.

She was close, surprising herself at how quickly he managed to get her there. She buried her hand into his hair, riding his face just a little harder, chasing her high. She had never been this vocal in bed. He always brought out new experiences for her as well.

"I'm close, baby." He groaned into her pussy, hands urging her to go faster, to reach her orgasm. It only took a few more grinds of her hips for her to let go.

Then it was her juices, her taste and smell and sounds overwhelming all his senses. He lapped up every drop greedily, not wanting this moment to end. Her thighs closed around his head for a second but it was enough to have him almost reaching the end himself. He wouldn't do that though. Not again. Not without permission. This was about her. And God, was she incredible.

As the last of her shakes left her, she quickly pulled off of him, lowering herself down on his chest, eagerly checking on him. Her hands met his cheeks, his skin wet from her release and a big cheeky smile on his face when she met his eyes. He was so fucking high off of her coming in his mouth. The sexiest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Thank you." Those were the first words that left him after he brought her to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. She wanted to curse at how pretty he looked all fucked out. The cheeky grin and the sparkling eyes driving her insane.

She hadn't let many people eat her out before, always focusing more on their pleasure, finding the act a bit too intimate for her liking. But damn if it didn't feel right with him. She could feel herself getting all soft and mushy inside, hoping he can't tell just how fucking smitten she was with him. She kissed him to hide her burning cheeks from his view, distracting them both, tasting herself on his tongue, swallowing up his moans, making them hers.

"If you're gonna reward me like that every time, I'm happy to do anal stuff any day now." She laughed at his words, running her fingers over his face gently, taking in the lovely moment of peace and contentment.

"You're telling me if I didn't let you eat me out, you wouldn't want me to fuck your ass?" He blushed at her words, letting her know just how much they affected him.

"No. I'd want it anyway." He was being honest and vulnerable, just like they talked about and it was doing funny things to her head.

"Thought so." She pretended to be serious for a moment but then let her guard down when she kissed all over his face again. His laugh made butterflies soar in her tummy. Fuck, if she didn't love that sound.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it." She knew he had been apprehensive about trying anal play and she was honoured he trusted her enough to explore it with her for the first time.

"It was the best orgasm of my life." She chuckled and he looked at her so fondly she couldn't handle it.

"Nothing compared to how amazing it was having you ride my face, though." His cheeky smirk was back but she could hear the truth in his voice. He really did love eating her out. And she figured she'd let him to it more often since it was just so much fucking fun.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that?" He nuzzled into her skin, enjoying the playful banter they always ended up back in.

"Mhm. You like me, though." He kissed her shoulder, holding her that much closer, their naked bodies tangled together in the most wonderful mess of limbs.

"Sadly, I do. A frat guy, no less." He snorted a cute laugh and she couldn't help but laugh too.

"Luckiest frat guy in the world." His voice was so soft and he looked at her so fondly her breath caught in her throat.

He unhinged her. Every time she thought she finally stood on solid ground he went and said something sweet like that, honest like that, and shook her world to the ground again. The feelings that were bubbling inside her were way too serious and way to soon for her to entertain. So she did what she always did and shut him up with another kiss.

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Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @torturedtypewritersdept @kinkyrafe @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @malfoytargaryen @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @starkeysbebe @miahxelizabeth

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Mickey and Skye - Trapped!

This one could have possibly taken 9 months to write, thanks to stops/starts, holidays getting the way, writers block and all sorts, but we got there in the end. Special thanks once again to @allkindsofpreg for the help in writing this. Enjoy!

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Mickey and Skye were flustered, there’s no two ways about it. How they got into this predicament is a bit of a tale in itself. First we should delve into a bit of their history.

The two of them met at an apprenticeship intake for a local IT company. It was definitely an entry level data job but it helped give them a bit of spending money whilst they lived with their parents. At the age of 20 and 21 they suffered an unfortunate ‘oops’ moment as the condom broke and Skye found herself sporting her sizeable bump several months later. Their parents helped and in truth life was looking good for the young couple. They even got married, Skye wearing a dress which clung to her gravid belly, leaving no one in the congregation guessing about the nature of their marriage. However, they were young, in love, and things were working out.

As is the natural sequence of things Skye began to feel contractions around 10pm the night previous. After labouring at home for several hours, around 2am they were told to come to the hospital as the labour became more established. After getting admitted and assed, around 3am, the pair were completely exhausted but wanted to try and walk around the hospital corridors to move things on. Skye was 4cm dilated and was potentially looking at a long, drawn out labour.

Blindly they walked down empty corridors stopping for the occasional contraction until they reached a door. Pushing it open they were met with darkness. Thinking it was a quiet corridor and the motion sensors would turn on the lights as they walked down they trudged on, tiredness dulling their senses.

That was until they stepped inside, and the lights flickered on to show they were in a store cupboard. Mickey turned to find the handle was missing from the door. He pushed it - nothing. They were trapped.

As Skye was mid-contraction, the realization came upon Mickey first. He tried not to panic, because he was sure there would be a way out. Surely no reputable hospital would contain an inescapable room that two exhausted, unsuspecting parents-to-be could just wander haphazardly into.

He inspected the door more closely, the spike of adrenaline finally allowing his bleary eyes to focus, and he saw a metal plate over where the handle would be and a doorstop by his feet. Only then did he vaguely recall a paper sign taped to the other side of the door. He hadn’t read it, but he now guessed it said something like “Caution: do not close, door locks automatically.”

Still, this was a busy hospital; it couldn’t be that long before someone would need something from this supply closet, right?

When Skye’s contraction ended and her breathing normalized, she found her husband wide-eyed and stricken and any tiredness that had been clouding her mind vanished. “What? What is it?”

“Okay, don’t panic.” He held out his hands in an almost pleading gesture. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

His placating tone only made her fear ratchet up another notch. “What does that mean? What do you mean everything’s going to be okay?”

“Well,” he explained, wrapping an arm around her waist and letting her lean into him, “we seem to have found ourselves in a somewhat unconventional labour suite.”

Skye looked around, first confused, then slightly amused. “Oh. You’re right—no bed? no doctors? no epidural?? Yes, this is certainly no place to be having a baby.”

Mickey grimaced—she was right, but at the moment they had no other choice. “That’s the thing, yeah? The door is…” he trailed off, nodded toward the door, but she either couldn’t or wouldn’t put the pieces together. “It’s kind of one-way, love.” Still no hint of recognition. “And that way… is not out.” He shrugged and did his best to adopt a more light-hearted tone. “We’re stuck.”

Skye’s eyes danced frantically around the small room—the low ceiling, the dirty floor, the packed shelves lining the walls, and finally the door. The very solid-looking, heavy and more importantly, locked door.

Her breathing quickened, heart rate spiking, as the reality of their situation finally began to sink in. “Oh shit,” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mickey said again, as much to himself as to her.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she continued muttering, her eyes turning up to the dimly lit ceiling in an attempt to stave off the tears that threatened to spill over. Her midsection tightened suddenly, quick and fierce, and she gasped, her litany of curses cut off as she attempted to hum through the pain.

Mickey immediately moved from emotional support position to physical support position. He guided Skye’s arms around his neck and wrapped his strong hands around her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze of counter pressure.

“Mick,” she whined into his chest, and he squeezed harder as her fingers dug into his shoulders. They swayed together as the contraction built, but paused at its peak, clinging to each other tightly. He swept the hair back over her neck and away from her face and whispered in her ear until her body finally slumped against him. “That one felt stronger,” she said, “And longer.”

Neither wanted to admit what that might mean, and since neither of them had a watch so they couldn’t be 100% sure. But after three more merciless contractions in relatively quick succession, it certainly seemed like the stress of the situation had finally kicked her labour into high gear.

“Ok let’s keep calm” came the reasoning voice of Mickey as he tried to assess the situation.

“Calm! Calm! I can’t even turn around in here without either my ass or belly touching one of the sides. This is no place for a pregn… gah!” Skye’s rant was cut short by her hand grasping the underside of her belly as she groaned through another contraction. It was certainly not 5 minutes between them that’s for sure.

Mickey resumed his supporting position, using one arm to cuddle his wife whilst the other brushed at her hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He felt tears stream down her cheek.

He looked at the floor. In the dusty grime on there he at least saw footprints. He explained it to Skye and both were buoyed that at least they were somewhere that someone visits. Perhaps they need to wait until morning… even then 7am, that’s at least 3 hours away, maybe more. If the day staff don’t arrive until 9am that’s even longer. Skye might not last that long.

As Skye came down from her flustered bout of crying, and he was confident that she could stand unaided he banged on the door and asked her to be quiet. He concentrated in the silence listening out for any reply beyond the edge of the door. He tried again and shouted a yell at the same time ‘thump… thump…thump’ went the rhythmical banging. Once again they listened out to be greeted only with silence.  They even held their breath.

Until Skye yelped. “My waters!”

Mikey looked down at the water running down Skye’s leg.  “At least there’s a mop,” he joked, which only made Skye glare first at the dirty water bucket and then back at her husband. “Sorry, bad timing?”

Skye’s face settled into something more like anxious resignation as her eyes welled back up again. “What if they don’t find us before the baby comes? I don’t- how am I supposed to have a baby in here?”

Mickey pulled her in close again and stroked gentle fingertips up and down her back. “No need to worry about that just yet. We’ll take things as they come, yeah?”

She nodded—what other choice did they have?

“How’re you feeling? How’s the little one?”

Skye took a deep breath, forced down the spiralling worst case scenarios playing in her mind, and actually focused on how she felt in her body at this moment. “Mm, baby’s low,” she said, noting how her stance had unconsciously widened after her waters had gone. “More pressure. Definitely moving down.”

If she thought the pressure was intense just standing there, she had no words for its severity once the next contraction started. It would have brought her to her knees if Mickey hadn’t already been holding her.

“Skye?” he asked with concern when she moaned and dropped into as much of a squatting position as the cramped space would allow.

The stinging weight filling her from within was unfamiliar and sudden and her hand found its way between her legs. She half expected to feel a bulge there, but of course there was nothing yet—it was irrational to think that a single contraction would progress things along so quickly, but fear and pain weren’t exactly known for producing rational thoughts.

Weathering the contraction in this position made her quads and glutes ache and by the time it was over she was sweaty and overheated.

“I’ve got to get this gown off,” she muttered, tugging at the thin fabric as she clambered to an upright position.

“What was that?” Mickey asked, unsure what she wanted or how to help her.

“I’m fucking roasting in here.” Skye clawed at the gown but it clung to her damp skin and she couldn’t unfurl her arms or twist well enough with her giant belly in the way. “I can’t get this fucking thing off!” she cried out in frustration, one elbow stuck in the arm hole.

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright, you’re just—“ Mickey stilled her frantic flailing limbs and pinched the open flap of her hospital gown. “Just a bit twisted up here.” He peeled the fabric over her shoulder and down her arm, which freed it to assist in freeing the other. He caught it before it hit the filthy floor—they may need it later—and placed it on top of what looked like a relatively clean surface.

Skye spent a few moments bending and rotating and testing her newfound freedom of movement. Once her breathing levelled out and she appeared to relax a bit, Mickey didn’t exactly mind the sight of his wife’s full, curvy figure bouncing and shimmying in front of him.

“Better?” he asked as she finally stilled, fully upright with hands pressed into her lower back. He loved looking at her like this, and he mentally scolded himself for starting to get hard at a moment like this.

It was as if Skye just remembered her husband was here, but once her eyes found his she recognized the look in them and she looked down at her naked body. Well, as much of it as she could see. It could very well have been a closet just like this in which their child was conceived, and the irony had her giggling.

Mickey looked somewhat perplexed at the change of tone, but didn’t object when she pressed into him, guided his hands to her bare breasts and kissed him. His body responded automatically, teasing her nipples as his tongue danced with hers.

“Fuck!” Skye gasped and he began to pull away, but she shook her head, kept his hands anchored to her body. “Do it again.”

His fingers barely brushed her, but her whole body clenched with the onslaught of another contraction. “Already?”

“Mmhmm.” Skye closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his hands on her body—so familiar, so comforting—and suddenly knew, no matter what, they could get through this. Together.

Skye’s response to the contractions had changed since she shed her gown.  She no longer seemed to be focused on riding through them, but rather seemed to be actively working with them.   Her hands were clamped around Mickey, pressing her body – at least the parts that were sticking out as a result of the pregnancy – tight against him.  She breathed deep breaths in moments of relief between the pains, and made a lot of noise during the pain.  The noises weren’t painful noises – shouts and screeches – more “ooh’s” and “ahh’s.”

It had the effect of causing her chest to heave up and down.   Naked flesh pressed against Mikey’s clothing resulted in more friction, and in turn, her nipples were rock hard and being rubbed – not painfully though – quite the opposite.   Mikey’s ears picked up a change in tone… almost erotic.   He heard that noise a lot when they were in bed.   It was almost a whimper.   He risked a kiss to Skye’s forehead and she returned in kind, her head tilting up to allow her lips to meet his and they grabbed into an embrace.

Tongue met tongue as their natural instinct took over, though it was broken quickly by the onset of another contraction.   This one took Skye a little by surprise and she wasn’t ready for it, her hands grasping Mickey’s hair and pulling tight as her voice let out the closest thing a yell of pain so far.

“You ok?” Mikey asked, concern in his voice as he felt Skye’s legs shuffle apart.   She didn’t answer.  “Babe?” he asked again.   Still Skye pulled on his hair.  It was getting painful now, but he knew he wasn’t exactly in any place to complain.   He gritted his teeth and just rode it through with this wife.

Skye finally gasped, and much to Mikey’s relief, loosened her grip on his hair.

“What was that?” he asked, still a note of concern in his voice.

Skye blew out her breath, and took a moment to compose herself.  “Just the joy of contractions I think.   No two seem to be the same.   Just hope I don’t have many more like that.   That wasn’t fun.”

“Yeah,” came Mikey’s reply.  “I didn’t like that, it hurt!”

The absurdity of the moment caused Skye to burst into laughter.   “That hurt?  Don’t be a baby.  You should see what’s happening between my legs.”

Mikey took a gulp before continuing.  “Lets not focus on the between the legs too quickly.   I mean we need to get out of here first.   Then I’ll gladly stare down the barrel of the gun and watch our baby come out, and I’ll not even complain when you squeeze my hand tight as you’re doing it.”

“Oh you charmer…” winced Skye, the next contraction building.   This was starting to get exhausting, all she wanted to do was sit down and take her weight off her legs.   There as nowhere to sit though unless she sank down onto the floor… and maybe then she might never get up.   No… need to stay focused on getting out.  Cross my legs, lean on Mikey.   She had an inner monologue going through her head as she felt her midsection tighten, hold and release once more.   Whilst it wasn’t exactly comfortable, she had gotten used to the pains happening again and again and found ways to cope.   She just had to hope that they were released before it came to the main pushing phase.   She really didn’t want to be caught on some CCTV pushing her baby out in a corridor, and she knew it was quite a walk back to the birthing suite based on how far they walked to get into the situation they were in right now.

They swayed, hummed, kissed and breathed through several more pains, but it was becoming harder to focus on anything but the steadily increasing contractions. The worst of the pain ebbed and flowed, but the pressure seemed constant now and she ached from her back all the way down to her ankles. She wasn’t able to catch her breath after one contraction before another one would begin and the discomfort became sharper—less a broad, dull ache and more concentrated, stabbing deep down through her core.

Skye wanted to ask Mickey to check her dilation, but firstly, she wasn’t sure either of them could contort themselves into a position that would make that possible at the moment, and secondly,  she suspected it wouldn’t be all that accurate anyway. She just had to trust her instincts, and right now her instincts were telling her that things were about to get really intense.

“Mm, I need to—“ Skye shifted restlessly, wriggling her hips and pausing in several different positions before frowning. “I don’t know... something.” She bent over, leaning heavily into the shelf ledge as gravity shifted the pull on her gravid belly and a fraction of the tension in her lower back eased.

The next contraction was on her before she’d anticipated and her grip tightened. Natural reflexes took hold and she started to lower into a squat when Mickey’s panicked voice breached the fog of pain.

“Skye!” Mickey threw his body over his wife’s hunched form and several items from the higher shelves bounced off his back and onto the floor. With more force than intended, he ripped her hands away from the unstable shelving unit.

Skye didn’t resist, but cried out and collapsed onto her knees, which spread wide of their own accord. “Sorry, baby. Sorry,” she muttered as the objects rained down around her and she heard Mickey’s little “ow’s” and “oomph’s”. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t—“ She couldn’t finish the thought. Her breathing was shallow and quick, Mickey’s heat overwhelmed her already flushed skin and she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. “Sorry,” she finally said again, closing her eyes and willing the nausea to abate.

Mickey shushed her and gave her a little squeeze, which caused her to flinch. He pulled away and examined his wife more closely — curled in on herself tightly, both arms encircling her belly, and whiter than a wedding dress. He was sure if he could see her face it would be wearing a grimace.

How could he help her?

He tried pounding on the door again to no avail, and the added sensory input only made Skye wince even more. Looking around the room, he noticed that the mop bucket was actually two nested buckets, which meant the bottom one was empty and Skye could finally have somewhere to sit.

“I need you to stand for me, love,” Mickey pleaded, which earned him a pained groan. “I know, but only for a minute.” She started to get up, but then he realized that if she did then he wouldn’t be able to get past her to reach the bucket. Instead, he grabbed her hand and sort of ushered her between his legs as he stepped over her, which was awkward and hurt his shoulder, but he was glad he did when she nearly toppled over once he was on the other side of her. “Alright, up one more time for me. You can do it.”

Skye was shaky and a bit dazed and dizzy, but she allowed Mickey to help her to her feet and then leaned heavily against the door. Mickey bent down into the newly occupied space below her, but another contraction was building and she groaned loudly. “Mick, hurry.”

Mickey extricated the empty bucket and hastily flipped it over, but it was far from clean. He grabbed Skye’s discarded gown and draped it over the top, piling as much fabric as he could at the top. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable chair in the world, but it was better than nothing.

Skye’s legs were already splayed, so it didn’t take much effort to slide the makeshift stool between them. Wordlessly, and more like she could no longer hold herself up than that she’d realized what he’d done, she grabbed Mickey’s forearms and began sliding down the door.

“That’s it, there you go.” Mickey breathed a sigh of relief at the same time Skye’s laboured huffs picked up again. “Just relax and focus on the baby.”

Skye would have laughed at the idea of relaxing, but she had no air to spare—it was all going toward a meditative hum that was the only thing keeping her from screaming.

Things were moving quickly now. The contractions were long and brutal, right on top of each other and she blindly grabbed for Mickey’s hand. His grip was both strong and comforting and once again she reminded herself that she could do this as long as he was there by her side.

Her body was in transition—she could feel it, the descending, the opening, the hint of an urge beginning to build—and the hardest part was yet to come. If they were going to be found before the baby came… it would have to be pretty damn soon.

Mickey settled down into a squat between Skye’s legs as she hummed and groaned through one contraction after another. He held and squeezed her hand, rubbed her thigh and leaned forward kissing the belly. After about 20 minutes of what seemed like non stop pain he started feeling cramp himself in his legs and moved to a kneeling position, his jeans legs getting messy from the muck and liquid spilled on the floor. He looked around and tried to find something - anything that could mop up the mess. Best he could find was piles of toilet rolls.

“Better than nothing” he grumbled as he got up and pulled them off the shelf. He started unspooling the paper from the roll, dropping it in the floor and trying to mop things up with his foot. It looked comical. Not only was the paper disintegrating as it hit the wet floor, but the sticky mess was caked on his shoes within minutes.

He looks up to see Skye giggling.

“I know you’re trying to help but just give up will you?”

Mickey, flustered responded “I can’t have the floor this messy what if you do have the baby in here and you need to lay her down on the floor ?”

Skye still looked to have humour in her features, though she did seem to pant a little out of breath as she spoke.

“Firstly… I’m not having her here. Secondly… you see these?” She grabbed her breasts and jiggled them.

“Yeah, how could I not…” commented Mickey - his wife’s pregnancy enhanced bosom a constant source of pleasure for him since they got over the shock of the pregnancy.

“Well these will be where the baby will be, cradled in my arms even if it’s here, there or anywhere else in this building.”

Mickey sighed and reluctantly returned to his position on the floor supporting Skye. “Ok you’re right I’m just trying to find something to do.”

Skye had gone a little white as he said the last sentence. She announced “you might need to catch the baby… I think I need to push!”

Two equally powerful instincts warred within Skye—the desperate desire to give birth with the help of professionals in a big clean bed versus the absolute feral need to give in to her body’s need to push. As the next contraction built she clung to the former, panting and squirming and squeezing the hell out of Mickey’s hand. Anything that wasn’t bearing down with the impossible pressure.

She was able to weather another three or four contractions this way before the pain of holding back far surpassed the fear of giving in.

“Babe, I can’t- I have to—“ Skye whimpered, trailing off as the reality began to sink in.

It was Mickey’s turn to squeeze Skye’s hand, and she looked down into his determined gaze. “I know. I know, and it’s alright.” She nodded, but her face was pinched and tense and looked like she was trying not to cry. He put his free hand on the curve of her stomach and felt it clench and harden beneath his touch. “You want to try pushing?”

Skye hesitated, but then nodded again, breathing picking up as her midsection coiled and squeezed. There had started a small respite between contractions now, and it gave her precious time to renew her strength—both physical and mental. She released her hold on Mickey and closed her eyes to block out the less than ideal environment and instead focused inward.

The bucket seat was hard and awkward and caused an ache in her sacrum. She adjusted her position, scooting her ass forward and opening her knees as wide as they could go while leaning back and pressing into the unyielding door. Her palms and fingers dug into her thighs and everything tensed as she gave her first real push.

“Hhhah, hah, ah, fuck,” she huffed, kneading the muscles in her thigh before grabbing them and holding her breath and pushing again. She strained harder this time, tilting her hips up and shaking with the effort she was putting into it, but it was still like trying to roll a boulder up a hill.

When it was over she collapsed against the door and gasped in deep gulps of air, the sheen of sweat causing her heaving belly to glisten.

“Okay?” Mickey asked, coaxing her hands to release their death grip on her own legs. Her response was a disgruntled whine. “You’re doing great,” he assured her.

She “hmph”-ed again and opened her eyes to look at him. “It doesn’t feel like anything’s happening.”

Mickey chuckled. “It was one contraction. You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Skye pouted and rubbed both hands over her impressive swell. “It all just hurts. Everywhere. I can’t tell where she is. I don’t- I don’t know how to do this.”

“Is that all?” She glared at him, but he just smirked in response. “I think I can help with that.”

Mickey pulled her forward on the makeshift stool even more, then his hands moved up her thighs to between her legs. She was wet with birthing fluids and his fingers easily slipped between her folds. Her muscles instinctively clamped around him, then relaxed enough for him to push deeper, then clenched again with the start of another contraction.

“Relax,” he instructed, teasing her just enough to release the tension there but not enough to pull her focus. “Can you feel me?” He wiggled his fingers and her mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Push. There. Push for me, love.”

The effort was still there, painted into her features and posture, but more concentrated now. He could see the muscles in her abdomen press in, push down; he could feel the soft flesh press gently but insistently against his fingertips.

“She’s not far,” Mickey announced, voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You’ll have her out in no time.”

Skye redoubled her efforts. She could feel Mickey’s hand on her, in her, with her. She wasn’t just pushing her baby out from her body, she was pushing it into his hands.

She stopped keeping track of how many contractions came and went—didn’t want to lose that tenuous connection that was holding the three of them together—but then something shifted. It stopped feeling like there was no progress being made and started feeling like it was being made far too quickly. Like every push was testing the limits of her flesh. The pressure just kept building, and building, with nowhere for it to go.

Skye was pressed back hard against the door, but no amount of length in her spine would alleviate the fullness in her hips. She wailed as that immense force narrowed and sharpened, concentrated at a single unyielding point.

Mickey’s heart rate spiked as the last push came with a distinctive bowing out of her skin, evicting his fingers completely. He was about to tell her has such when they were both jostled harshly as a crack of light appeared in the doorway and a frantic voice on the other side was calling their names.

They had finally been found… but Skye wasn’t going anywhere.

Skye was jostled forward as the door opened. It only opened a crack before her body stopped it moving but the voices behind were recognisable as the two midwives the couple had met on their arrival.

“Hello! Hello are you ok?” One of the concerned voices shouted beyond the door.

“We’re alive, if that’s what you mean” shouted Mickey in response. “Skye’s pushing, I can feel the head right there. She can’t move. We need help. “

“What do you mean she can’t move, is she injured?” Asked the midwife.

Skye was the next to answer “no, there’s a bowling ball between my legs, I can’t get up!” She was clearly stressed and yelling. “I need to push it out, I don’t know what to do!”

Skye closed her eyes and gripped onto Mickeys hands, a clear sign her contraction had started again. The midwives listened carefully as Skye yelled out a few moments later, all her effort into a push.

“Is she dilated?” Asked the midwife.

“How do I tell?” Asked Mickey in response.

“If you can get your fingers sanitised you should put them in your wife’s vagina, you might be able to feel around the head and take a guess at how wide her cervix is open?” A hand poked through the gap in the door “ if it’s open up as wide as needed your fingers should be this wide” the disembodied hand showed a gap between thumb and forefinger.

“Listen!” Yelled Mickey to make his voice heard over Skye’s own pained moans “the head is fucking right there, it’s bulging out. I can’t even fit my fingers in right now.”

“Ok” came the voice from the other side of the door “sounds like she’s doing what she needs to be doing. I really need you to help her to her feet and get her out of the way so we can get in.”

“Nooooo!” Wailed Skye. “Don’t ask me to stand. Don’t think my legs will hold my weight. Need to push, need to push!”   She closed her eyes and let out a grunting sound.

Skye’s body stiffened as the urge built up inside her once again. She threw her head back, the tendons cording in her neck as her face reddened. Some wet, strangled sound escaped her throat as she took in a few ragged breaths and then redoubled her efforts. She pushed this way for several contractions and the effort nearly made her sick, coughing and sputtering as she came down from the last one.

“Remember to breathe, Skye,” came the unhelpful reminder from the other side of the door.

“Don’t force anything; the babe will come. Relax if you can,” the second midwife added.

“Relax?” Sky growled, incredulous. How the hell was she supposed to do that? She looked down at Mickey and his eyes were pleading—she was giving it everything she had and still wasn’t crowning and he was worried about her. “Help me. Please.”

“Anything.” Their space was limited, but Mickey managed to lean forward, one hand still cupped around Skye’s sex, and kiss up her thigh, her belly, her breasts. “You’re so beautiful like this. So strong.” She was about to protest but he bit down lightly on her neck and she gasped, releasing the vice like grip she’d had on her legs and instead curling around the muscles of his shoulders. “Working so hard to bring our baby into the world.” Just as his lips reached her jaw she tensed and began to arch away from him, but he anchored her in place and whispered in her ear, “Stay with me, love. Right here with me.” She nodded against his temple and he smiled. “Good girl. Gentle pushes for me now.”

It seemed counterintuitive to Skye, that putting in less effort would yield greater results, but the subtle burning release she felt between her legs as she hummed and grunted her way through the next few contractions hinted that it was working.

“How are things progressing in there?” the midwives asked.

Mickey pulled back and Skye whimpered, grabbed onto his wrist. “I’m just going to take a look,” he promised, sitting back on his heels. When he finally saw what was happening between his wife’s legs, tears began welling in his eyes. “I- I can see the head,” he called to the crack in the door. Then, to Skye, “The head is right there, baby, even when you’re not pushing. You are the most amazing woman who’s ever lived.”

Sky giggled at that. “Pretty sure there are at least a dozen other women right down the hall doing this exact same thing right now.”

Mickey shook his head. “Nope. None of them are as amazing as you.”

“None of them doing it in a broom closet, though, I can assure you of that!” one of the midwives added, only slightly exasperated.

“As if that’s something to brag about,” Skye muttered.

Mickey was going to say something back about it at least being a damn good story, but then Skye’s eyes screwed shut and her chest heaved with laboured breaths. Her body pushed of its own accord and she wailed as her opening widened another fraction of an inch.

The midwives’ chatter picked up at the change in her tone. “Yep, sounds like the beginning of a crown to me!”

Skye let out a groan which echoed around the confined space of the cupboard. Mickey got himself back in close, his hands kneading Skye’s shoulders and his lips exploring her face.

“Just like that…” he said, keeping his voice low and calm.

Skye continued her effort, grunting, sighing, moaning and holding her breath almost in a cycle as she felt her body do the work it needed to do.

The burning sensation between her legs grew and grew, as the head of their babe continued its unrelenting journey, but at the end of each panting contraction, there was noticeable movement between Skye’s legs.

She had stopped any sort of conversation at this point, only managing enough energy to keep going, and when the contraction subsided, she used the opportunity to pant and catch her breath.

Mickey on the other hand was chattering on incessantly.

“I can see the head, you’re doing great. She’s almost got the head out. What do I do to catch it. The heads coming. Baby I’m so proud of you. Keep going, do what you’re doing. “

“Shutup shutup shutup!” The exclamation from Skye was unexpected and Mickey was taken aback for a second.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“It burns… it really burns. Mickey help me…” Skye looked pleading

“Anything baby… what I can I do”

“Rub my clit…”

The announcement may as well have been shouted out using a loud speaker the fact that Mickey and the 2 midwives both went silent.

Mickey froze, shook his head, certain he’d heard incorrectly. “You- I—what?”

“Mickey, please. Please, baby,” she whined, the words just as breathless and desperate as they were in the bedroom, but now for entirely different reasons.

When his mind finally caught up with her words, a slight blush coloured his cheeks. “What, here? Now? Can I do that?” Then, because he was sure the women on the other side of the door had heard her request as well, “Am I allowed to do that?”

“Never argue with a pregnant person,” one replied.

The other hummed in agreement. “Do what you need to do, sweetie. Whatever makes the pain a little easier to take.”

Babe!” Skye gasped—a warning, an appeal. She whimpered and panted and shifted her hips, but there was no relief to be found there. “Please,” she said again, and this finally spurred Mickey into action.

He adjusted the hand that was supporting the emerging head, his thumb immediately going to work on her sensitive bud. The motion was habit, done without thinking in his usual strong vigorous rhythm, and she flinched away from him with a cry. He snatched his hand away and examined her with frantic eyes. “Oh my god, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? The baby? I thought—”

Skye shook her head, reaching blindly for his hand. When it found her grasp, she guided it back between her legs. “Slow. Please. Gentle. Slow,” she managed punctuated guidance between panted breaths.

Tentatively this time, almost fearful, Mickey brushed his thumb featherlight across her clit and she shivered, exhaling a little more forcefully. Encouraged by her response, he pressed deeper into her folds, tracing the lines and edges in lazy circles.

“Mhmm, just like that,” Skye moaned, wincing as the pleasure mixed with the pain. The burn was intense now, stealing her breath just as quickly as Mickey’s ministrations allowed her to catch it. “Is the head, is it—hah, ah—is it almost—fuck—out?” Mickey’s pause was answer enough and Skye threw her head back against the door in frustration. “Fuck.”

“You’re stretching really good, babe.” Skye huffed. “No, really. So much is out already. There’s just… you’ve still got a little ways to go yet.”

Skye growled as another contraction wound its way around her midsection. “Just don’t stop.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mickey said, a smile in his voice, shaking out his hand and flexing his fingers before returning them to their post.

This time, just to give her own hands something to do, Skye drew them up the curve of her belly and moulded them around her full breasts, kneading the tender flesh and rolling her nipples under her thumbs, between her fingers. The action seemed to intensify the contraction and she curled forward instinctually, her upper body wrapping around her tight stomach and one arm dropping to hook under a knee and pull her leg up and back as she released a primal strangled cry.

Mickey had to abandon his duties between Skye’s legs in favour of making sure she didn’t fall over. He put a steadying hand on her waist as her roar intensified, the pain now in full force without the distraction of his intimate touch.

“That’s it, baby. Keep going, let it out.”

“Burning. It’s burning,” Skye panted in desperation, wrapping her free arm under his and digging her fingers into his back. She nestled her head into his neck and grunted, getting in a few more small pushes before slumping into him as the contraction waned. “Hurts.”

“I know.” Mickey kissed the top of her head and she released her hold on her leg. His hand drifted back down her inner thigh and he gasped excitedly. “Holy shit, the head’s almost out!”

“Really?” Mickey nodded. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Mickey’s lips found hers and he guided her hand to where his had just been. Her whole palm filled with something soft, wet, warm, and she stroked her thumb along the gentle curve. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, voice thick with emotion. “We can’t wait to meet you. I can’t believe you’re almost here.”

“Just another push or two ought to do it. You were so close on that last one.”

“Mm, you better be right about that.” Skye let out a few short quick breaths before pulling her leg back once more, leaning forward into another big push.

“Ehm, about those instruction on how to catch…?” Mickey called out to the hallway as Skye’s screams began anew.

“Just hold the head as it pops out, DON’T pull it” came the supportive voice from beyond the other side of the door - though the end of the statement was punctuated by the warning which he readily took in.

Mickey leaned back to get as good a look as he could under Skye’s belly and he let out an involuntary gasp. Where before her hole was red and swollen it was now white, stretched to the extreme, and the boulder shape of their baby - an object easily as wide as his hand - rested there almost at the tipping point.

Skye didn’t notice Mickey as she whimpered, the sensations taking all of her focus until she suddenly flinched completely in her seat and let out a yelp then suddenly, just like that, the head seemed to surge forward and it was suddenly… out.

The bottom half of the head slipped forward as Mickey darted his hand down instinctively only to get it covered by amniotic fluid but he held onto… something. It took a moment to realise that nestled in his palm were the features of their baby. He could feel the nose, the mouth. He was dumbstruck.

“Mickey!” shrieked Skye

“Baby!” shrieked Mickey

“What happened” came the voice from the other side of the door.

“The… the heads out.” stammered Mickey. He took in the scene. Skye was panting big heaving breaths, taking what time she could to rest, their baby’s head was nestled in his hands and he was squatted down like a baseball catcher. The puddle of water that just came out of Skye was spreading wider on the floor beneath him… and he realised his thighs ached like crazy.

“OK stay exactly as you are. Keep supporting the head. Check the neck, make sure there isn’t a cord wrapped around it” came the voice of guidance

“How?”

“Stick your finger in there and run it around the baby’s neck.”

Mickey tentatively extended a finger and probed it into his wife. She didn’t flinch or react, oblivious to this tiny additional movement, but compared to before… it was nothing.

“No, it’s not there.” Mickey sounded relieved that’s for certain.

“Ok so the head will want to rotate, then when baby is turned to the side it’s time for the shoulders.”

Skye grunted, shifted in her seat as Mickey felt the head rotate. He took a chance to adjust his position, knees going to the soggy ground as the baby’s head turned.

Looks like things were happening again.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the baby shift partially inside and partially outside her. The consuming burn had eased with the passing of the head but the pressure remained just as insistent. Once again it felt as if the baby would simply fall out of her—if only it would be that easy.

“That’s it, baby, keep pushing, just a few more pushes,” Mickey encouraged as Skye grunted and bore down with the next contraction.

“Mmm, no, not again,” Skye pleaded with no one in particular as her tender opening bulged and stretched with the press of the shoulders behind it. “I can’t do it again,” she whined, breaths become erratic, panicked, pained, “I’m not ready!”

Well, she was ready for this all to be over, to have her baby in her arms and an actual bed to lie in, but the pain was still so fresh and raw, her tissues fragile and strained.

“S’okay, Skye. Take a break, take a breath. Baby’ll still be waiting for you whenever you’re ready,” came a voice through the crack in the door.

Mickey was thankful for their guidance then, as he’d had no idea what to say to Skye in that moment. As she puffed out quick breaths of air, he squinted in the dim light, peering under her belly. Now that the baby had rotated, it was actually facing toward him. Waxy and wet and scrunched, Mickey had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over a chubby cheek. The baby’s mouth opened and closed, already responding to his touch. “Go easy on mommy, okay? She loves you very much, but you’ve got daddy’s big head and she’s a little sore at the moment.”

Skye smiled at that, eyes still closed in a rare moment of rest, and reached down to stroke the top of the baby’s head. “You listen to your father now,” she warned, breathing picking back up again.

“Ready?” Mickey asked. Skye paused a moment, then nodded. “Whenever you’re ready—let’s have a baby.”

Skye nodded again, this time to herself, gathering her wits about her. Her groan was guttural, deep, primal, an animal driven by instinct. Her whole body seemed to bow inward, concentrating all its forces into her core. One shoulder would peek out, only to slip back in as soon as Skye sucked in a quick breath. She’d shift her hips and then the other would make an appearance, but then the stretch would become unbearable and cause her to cry out, weakening her efforts just enough for it to disappear back between her folds. She pressed her palms into her thighs, digging into her flesh and forcing her knees outward as far apart as they would go.

When another contraction came and went like this, Skye heaved a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t,” she panted, “think I,” another breath, “can get the shoulders out like this.”

Mickey, their child’s head still cradled in his hands, bit his lips and directed his question toward the door, a tinge of worry creeping into his tone. “How do we do this? What- what can we do?”

“Just keep calm. The best thing to do is open up her pelvis. Either a nice deep squat, or we push her legs back to get the same thing.” The voice was reassuring, realising that Mickey was starting to panic.

“I’ll get down I’ll get down” voiced Skye as she lifted her butt up ready to push the bucket she had been resting on out of the way. She actually shuffled a step forward and overbalanced Mickey who tumbled to the floor, though he kept his hand fixed to the head of their child.

The commotion caught the attention of the team on the other side of the door who tried to make sense of the clattering and banging going on inside the closet.

Skye hunkered down and grunted, her deep squat resulted in Mickeys hand, holding the baby’s head, being pressed into the ground, in the muck and birth fluids that were pooling there.

A strong grunt, a whine and another grunt. Suddenly she yelled “help, it’s not moving”

From the other side of the door came the question “Mickey do you still have the head?”

“Yes…” came the response.

“Ok… let go, and pull Skye up.”

“You sure?”

“Trust us…”

Mickey wriggled his hand out from under Skye leaving the head exposed, grabbed her hands and heaved backwards so Skye was back on her feet.

“She’s up”

“Ok stand back, we’re coming in.”

There was a blur of activity. Finally the door opened wide, and Mickey and Skye were met with the sight of 2 midwives, someone wearing a pair of overalls presumably from the maintenance team and a cold blast of air as the air conditioned corridor opened wide.

One of the midwives rushed in and grabbed Skye by the arms as they led her backwards, wide legged and frog-walking out of the closet.

One kept close attention to the baby as Skye was turned around and lowered to the floor. Everything looked good as she was laid on her back, icy cold flooring sending shivers all over her body as her legs were pushed back and her hips were opened wide.

“Skye, give me the biggest push you can, right now!” the midwives commanded.

As the cold seeped into Skye’s bare flushed skin, she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was completely naked in the very non-private hallway, with her legs spread open as wide as they were capable of going.

The medical staff, at least, had the decency to mind their own business even as the passersby gaped and gawked. She wasn’t embarrassed, exactly, but it made her self conscious about her actions, her noises, her progress, and she couldn’t quite give herself over fully to the next contraction.

Skye whimpered, close to tears and feeling like a failure that she still wasn’t able to get her baby out. She grabbed for Mickey’s hand and he knelt on the far side of her, hunching himself over her body and blocking at least her upper half from view from all but the most curious onlookers.

“Too big,” she whined, looking into his eyes for comfort or encouragement or sympathy, she didn’t know.

“I know, baby, but you’re so close. Your body was made for this, just a few more pushes, you’ll get out baby out, I know you will,” he murmured in the space between contractions. Then, when Skye released a sharp breath and her belly visibly tensed, “Come on now, as hard as you can.”

Skye nodded at the same time the midwives forced her knees comically far back and down, lifting her butt off the floor so that her vagina was practically sticking straight up toward the ceiling. When she crunched up, folding over her belly, her head was almost between her knees and all the air was forced from her lungs.

She held the push as long as she could, the baby’s head pressing up and away from her hips, attempting to free itself from her tight hole. She fell back to the floor, gasped in a breath, and curled back up, the baby’s head bobbing up and down in time with her efforts.

Mickey was so focused on his wife’s face that he didn’t see when the midwife stuck half her hand around the emerging shoulder in Skye’s opening, but he saw the change in her expression, heard as her cries escalated into strangled, wild howls.

“What are you doing!” Mickey asked frantically, bordering on yelling.

“Just helping the other shoulder along; don’t want it getting bruised or stuck,” the midwife explained.

Mickey wanted to protest, but Skye was nodding, eyes still screwed shut with pain. Something must have given way because Skye gasped, surged forward into an almost unexpected push as the baby was finally shifted into a proper position. She screamed one last time as the shoulders emerged, stretching her even wider than the head, and then the rest of the baby slid out easily, along with an impressive spray of amniotic fluid, and immediately placed on Skye’s bare chest.

The scream brought a few people running and Skye ended up being the unfortunate recipient of yet more public scrutiny… but at that point she couldn’t care. She’d done it. The sound of her and Mickeys baby crying loud wails was music to her ears and nothing could take that fact away.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and the same was true of Mickey, the events of the day had reached a point where he was just so glad it was over.

He sensed a figure appear behind him then heard a cough. Turning he looked at the maintenance man in his overalls behind him, holding forward Skye’s gown she had discarded earlier.

He thanked him and grabbed it, looking to the midwives for guidance.

“I’ve called for a wheelchair for Skye, I want to get her back to maternity before she has to deliver the afterbirth.” Mickey nodded at what the midwife had said. He moved around to the back of Skye and pulled the gown over her, as one of the midwives took the baby temporarily and held it - finally getting a good chance too look at the gender and realising the couple had a girl - as Skye did the best she could on the floor to pull the gown over her thighs and get handed back the baby again.

“Besides… I think Skye may need a few stitches… that last few moments were quite… forceful I think it’s fair to say.”

As the chair arrived and between Mickey and one of the midwives they managed to get Skye to her feet the group left at a hurried pace back to the room assigned to them.

For Tom the janitor, he just looked at the mess in the cupboard and sighed. Best get to tidying that little patch of chaos up… and changing that door handle.

[xotyla]

consume - lhs (teaser - release date november 28)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader word count: tbd genre: smut, heavy angst, fluff tags: if you'd like to be tagged you can msg or comment below warnings: plot twists, deranged reader, manipulation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), pet names (baby, my love, etc), lots of cursing, choking, gag, overstimulation (m receiving), scared heeseung, down bad heeseung, knife play, switch reader, switch heeseung, violence, and more. synopsis: a girl who's out of her mind and heeseung who's in love and down bad for her but needs help. tyla's notes: i dont wanna spoil much but it's going to be very interesting and definitely quite dark.

When he met Iseul or Rylee, he thought she was incredible. He became increasingly addicted to her, desiring nothing more than to be near and under her. He didn't mind if his friends complained about his spending all of his time with her because she was truly all he needed until he realized what she was hiding behind her stunning smile and twinkling-innocent eyes.

"That girl was all over you, Heeseung, and you did nothing." They've been back and forth on this for about ten minutes. Iseul, like Heeseung, refuses to back down under any circumstances. I told her I had a girlfriend, I swear. She continued to come onto me, and as I tried to push her away, you came. You didn't need to hit her; I had everything under control!" He attempted to justify.

"Yeah, you had it under control? So, under control, you would have ended up in a room with the bitch if I hadn't intervened, and now you're concerned about her? I cannot believe you." Iseul scoffed and shook her head, unable to believe that her own boyfriend was supporting a passed-around chick.

"Really, Iseul? We can't even have a peaceful party because of your jealousy issues." This isn't the first time they've clashed about girls, and he's certain it won't be the last, but it's getting out of control. Everywhere they go, Iseul makes such a bother if a woman even gives him a glance, causing an issue like tonight. "You're just so insecure!" he proclaimed at her. A big mistake.

"Insecure..?" She murmured quietly to herself. The girl burst out laughing, which confused the male. "What's so funny, Iseul?" Her laughter subsided, and she gave him a smile. "Do you think I'm insecure, Heeseung? No, baby. I love you so much that I would do anything for you. You're mine. You only belong to me, and it will always be that way. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Heeseung stared at her, his brow furrowed. He had never seen this. He had never seen this side of her before. That smile was dark, and her eyes were nearly vacant, but she looked up at him in admiration.

Iseul must have found the silence too long. I asked you a question. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Heeseung stumbled back somewhat as she approached him, nodding almost frantically. "I understand, seul."

"Good. I'm glad you do, baby." She took a step closer to the boy, who appeared afraid to move an inch, and laid her hands on his shoulders before pulling herself up on her tippy toes and kissing his cheek. "Get some rest, my love," she urged before disappearing down the hall of their shared condo.

[eerna]

i was one of the people who saw the early leaks post and i remember trying not to read too much of it but i had a moment of being like wow this cant be real but also it definitely could be. i remember reading about the damn caitvi sex scene and i thought to myself thats so ass why would they do it in a prison and then i realized the writers probably thought it was some meaningful parallel or something about vi being able to transform being imprisoned with something good

then the act dropped and i saw the damn parallels with cait finding her in the cell and i was like ok yeah. they basically had that as an idea. amanda overton was talking about it in a watch party and said they love their parallels and it was meant to symbolize vi addressing her trauma and im like. i see what they were going for and i get it I GUESS narratively but i really feel like this is such monkeys paw shit like we got this scene at what cost. and like the scene ITSELF was very good and sweet and lovely but like could it not have happened ANYWHERE ELSE?

i feel like the biggest problem with arcane s2 was that the creators rlly wanted to push the bar with animation storytelling. amanda talked about this too and like i feel like it kind of highlights the problem. where bc this show is so amazing graphically the animators wanna highlight that with as much action as possible instead of focusing on smaller scenes and more intimate quiet moments. i watched arcane s1 all at once after it came out and there were def parts that felt a little rushed in certain acts but it was nothing like s2. it just feels like they had all these story beats they wanted to hit but didnt give it the time it deserved and it sucks bc they said they always meant it to be 2 seasons so like why does it feel like this. they wrote them back to back around the same time what happened between s1 and s2. i just feel like the caitvi sex scene is a microcosm of the larger problem. they had these emotional beats and story moments that in isolation are really powerful but its almost like we didnt get a proper A to B transition. its like we skipped several steps for sooo many story beats.

such complex characters with real ass lives causing real ass problems. cait's privilege being an issue, how gratifying that could be to have explored. viktor's experience being explored more in depth. just so much more about zaun. like all of it was there in tiny slivers but it was never given the depth to GROW or properly BREATHE bc five million action scenes and plot points had to be squeezed in.

ultimately i love arcane overall. i think it has broken boundaries and done some amazing things. but its blemishes are really... painful at the same time. and knowing how the writers did such a good job in s1 makes me just like. cmon guys. you had it. YOU HAD IT

anyways sorry for blowing up your ask with so much rambling i just... idk. what are your thoughts on this stuff do you agree with my assessment or do you think the culprit is something else

No prob, welcome to the symposium~ Yeah, I totally get what the writers were going for with Vi. Which is why I am so shocked they thought it was a good idea. Like, okay, she is addressing her trauma in the sex scene... But why should her trauma get addressed by being locked in a jail cell by her sister, who just spent days being wrongfully imprisoned in there by the girl she's about to have sex with, and who then told her she was gonna off herself. If anything, the thing I was feeling was pain because it happened again, a Zaunite was thrown in jail by the Enforcers after she helped and saved them without any rights, and she was reminded she was less than them and her life is worth nothing... Mmmmm, the perfect memory to overwrite prison abuse!

I too felt s1 had some strange pacing choices, Vi and Jayce teamup comes to mind first, and that was, surprise surprise, a fight scene. But those were pretty minor, and still left time for other scenes to develop properly. It only becomes a real problem when it happens scene after scene, character after character, until no one is acting in character and you constantly feel like you have skipped a scene or two. I too remmeber them saying they wrote the seasons back to back, but. Dare I say it. I think s2 was so majorly rewritten by the time it went to recording that only the bare bones remained. In fact, that might be why we feel this way - maybe they DID have a frame they wanted to follow, but the rewrites warped and twisted the characters so intensely they ended up making no sense in the context of that frame. That's right, I'm talking about the way they decided to more closely follow and collaborate with LoL in s2. Jayce's final speech to Viktor only makes sense for game Viktor, and goes completely against s1 Viktor. Vi deciding police brutality doesn't really matter all that much makes sense for game Vi, and foes completely against s1 Vi. Jinx giving up on ever being loved or accepted by others makes sense for game Jinx, and goes completely against s1 Jinx.

So yeah my thesis is: Arcane knows it looks good, and sometimes it prevents it from being well written. It also decided to throw in its lot with LoL in s2, and no amount of good intentions from the writers could have saved it from crashing and burning.

[myokk]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @okeydokeylackey !!!! I LOVED YOUR SNIPPET & everyone should DEFINITELY check out your art/writing (I know I always love seeing it on my dash🥹🫶)

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

***DISCLAIMER THESE ARE ALL TYPED UP STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND UNEDITED BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH***

Oneshot:

A beetle slowly makes its way across Sebastian Sallow’s desk.

The classroom is silent - save for the scratching of quills furiously calculating the Arithmatic probability of who will be the next Minister and the quiet murmur of his professor as she helps Hobhouse (how did he even get into the N.E.W.T. level?) - and Sebastian is going absolutely mad.

He counts how many seconds it takes for the beetle to reach his abandoned quill (fifteen). But, when it takes its seventh step after making it over the quill (an auspicious sign), Sebastian slams his hand down on top of it.

The loud noise echoes through the silent classroom and Sebastian hears her snickering coming from behind him as the whole class turns to see what has happened. His ears turn red, he wishes he could jinx her somehow, and yet he is terribly curious to see what she has sent him this time. Sebastian hopes that everyone has gone back to their equations and stops staring at him, because now that it’s in his hands, his fingers are itching to open it. His hands eagerly - shamefully eager, if you ask him - unravel the note he’s crumpled up in his hands - almost a shame that he destroyed the beetle, it was one of her better creations - and Sebastian soon curses his haste.

His ears would be an even deeper shade of red were his blood not currently draining to a different part of his body. Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he continues reading the note, his eyes flying across the tiny note once, twice, three times before he crumples it up and adds it to the graveyard of the other notes she has been sending him all day. The words fuck my soaking cunt flash up at him and he adjusts his schoolbag so that if anyone walks past and looks into it, they won’t suspect a thing.

You see, this has been going on all day. Sebastian knew that when his seventh year started, it was going to the culmination of their academic rivalry, but he never expected this. That witch has made taunting him her personal vendetta, and it’s working.

Sebastian can’t get her out of his mind.

FIC - CHAPTER 25: (honestly I might delete this scene or save it for later)

She wanted him to hate her.

Hatred wasn’t what she saw in his eyes now, though.

Almost as if she were watching herself from afar, not in control of her body, Eloise came to a stop in front of Sebastian and looked down at him. The green light was highlighting his face and he looked ethereal, otherworldly. She watched her hand reach out and touch his cheek - hesitant, unsure - and when he didn’t jerk his head away as she expected - as she deserved - she moved to sit down next to him in the tiny space. Her knees bumped into his just like their noses bumped against each other as she moved her face towards his. Still, he didn’t move away.

She felt his warm breath fan across her lips. Maybe they stayed like that, lips not-quite-touching, for an eternity; maybe it was only a second. Eloise was only aware of Sebastian’s intoxicating presence, of the way his breath hitched when she finally bridged the gap between them, of the way her heart surrendered itself to him. This kiss was nothing like what they had shared before. It was hesitant, soft, sweet. His hands came up to her face, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss.

Eloise didn’t know what had gotten into her - she was supposed to be avoiding Sebastian, hating him, and yet she couldn’t pull herself out of his embrace. She was melting into his touch, his thumbs brushing themselves down her cheeks, her neck, fingers going through her hair, over and over as if to reassure himself of her presence, his lips moving languidly against hers. Eloise sighed into his mouth, almost-smiling but not-quite: she was nervous, as complicit as he was in this kiss, maybe even more, considering she had been the one to reach out first. But then -

Sebastian pulled away from her, puzzled, his hands moving back to cup Eloise’s face. He was saying something, rough thumbs gently brushing away the thick tears rolling down her cheeks. When had she started crying?

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @holdmymallowsweet @writing-intheundercroft @morelikeravenbore @sav-less @gothic-lottie @kay9leo @celestial--sapphic @libellule-ao3 @anomalyaly AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO IT IM SERIOUS !!!!!!!!! I CAN NEVER THINK OF WHO TO TAG & I WOULD LOVE TO SEE LITTLE EXCERPTS OF YOUR WRITING🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

[earthlyangelbby]

I think my roommate cares more about me than my boyfriend ever did.

Sfw for now. The next one will not be. MDNI 18+

Cw: mentions of a break up, roommate!Eddie, College!Eddie, Eddie comforts you, Usage of weed and alcohol.

1.9k words

The landline phone on the kitchen counter rang, its sharp tone pulling you from your thoughts as you struggled to focus on the mountain of homework in front of you. The red numbers on the clock read 8:45 p.m., and you had a sinking feeling it was your mom. You and Brian had been trying to make the long-distance thing work for a while now, but recently, the calls from him had been fewer, and his letters, the ones that used to come weekly, were starting come in more like monthly. Something had been off for a while, but hearing this was like a punch to the gut.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice betraying the exhaustion that had been slowly building up for days.

"Honey," your mom's voice came through the receiver, calm but laced with concern. "I just saw Brian in town with another girl. They were kissing. Holding hands. Everything. He wasn’t even trying to hide it."

Your stomach dropped. The rest of her words blurred as your mind scrambled to process what she had just said. Sure, you’d noticed the late-night calls growing sparse, the missed visits, and the feeling that he was becoming more and more distant. But this? This was something else entirely.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, though you already knew the answer, deep down.

"I wish I wasn’t, honey," she said softly. "But I had to tell you."

Your fingers tightened around the phone, your chest tightening not from heartbreak, but from the realization that someone you had trusted so much had been hiding something from you. It wasn’t even about losing him anymore. It was the disrespect.

"Okay," you said quietly, your voice almost too small to hear.

You didn’t even notice Eddie walking into the room until his hand brushed your shoulder lightly, a soft, comforting gesture. You had left your door open. The world felt strangely muted, your mind still reeling from the conversation. He noticed your face was flushed and eyes teary.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he slid onto the bed beside you.

This wasn't out of the ordinary. You and Eddie had a roomie rule: If the door is open you're welcome in. This just helped you not isolate yourselves. Sometimes you want to sit in bed. It also didn't help that he heard your voice crack when your mom told you.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you handed him the phone, still gripping it like it was the only thing holding you together. Eddie took it without question, speaking briefly to your mom, assuring her that you were fine and didn’t need any more details. When he hung up, he turned back to you, his usual teasing grin replaced with something softer, more protective.

"Don't be broken over him. You're not, are you?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shook your head, swallowing down the hurt. "Not him. Just… who the fuck cheats instead of breaking up? It’s like he couldn’t even give me that much respect."

Eddie paused for a moment, studying you. Then, that familiar grin spread across his face, though it was softer now, almost tender. "You know what I think? This is your wake-up call. The trash took itself out, sweetheart."

A small laugh bubbled up despite yourself. "God, you’re terrible."

"And yet you’re smiling," he quipped, his grin only widening. "You’re better off, Darling. And you know it."

---

The next few days felt like a blur. You buried yourself in your homework, but your mind constantly drifted back to Brian and what had happened. You weren’t relieved, and you definitely weren’t just sad. There was a deeper, more complex feeling that lingered in the aftermath of what Brian had done. Being cheated on wasn’t just about losing him. It was about the crushing realization that someone you trusted had shattered the very foundation of the memories you'd built together. The things you thought were special now felt tainted, like they never really meant what you believed they did.

You spent the next few days sulking. The betrayal was more than just an ending. It was a reminder that you weren’t worth enough for him to just tell you the truth, to have the decency to break up with you before he started something new. You felt the weight of that. The sense that he’d never even given you the chance to move on gracefully, to let go before he had already moved on himself.

It made you feel… ugly. Not in the literal sense, but in a way that went deeper. It was the kind of ugly that went beyond physical appearance, rooted in the emotional messiness that crept in when someone you cared about treated you like you didn’t matter. The time and energy you’d spent on him...on waiting for those calls, for that attention, it felt like a waste. You could have been doing so many other things, meeting new people, finding someone who would appreciate you for who you were. Flirting back with your roommate. Instead, you spent it waiting for a boy who didn’t even have the decency to respect you enough to say goodbye.

The thought that all those months, hell, maybe even years that had been wasted on someone who didn’t see your value made the hurt ache even more. There were guys in college, guys who could have been better, who were probably waiting for a girl like you. But you were here, tangled in a past relationship that wasn’t even worthy of you.

The quiet frustration and disappointment gnawed at you. And no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, the feelings wouldn’t let go. Brian had taken more than just your trust. He’d taken a part of you. Something that felt like it might never come back.

Eddie, however, didn’t give you space to sulk for long. He checked in, just enough to let you know that he was there without pushing you too hard. When he noticed the melancholy hanging around you, he showed up at your door, a pizza box in one hand, a six-pack of something sweet in the other, and your favorite movie The Princess Bride, determined to break through your self-imposed isolation.

You didn’t feel like laughing, and you didn’t want to feel better, but somewhere deep down, you also didn’t want to keep spiraling. Eddie’s presence felt like a small thread that might pull you back to something lighter, something that wasn’t so tangled in disappointment.

He never pressed you to talk about it. He just let you be, and in his quiet way, he managed to give you the comfort you needed. A movie, a shared pizza, and him just being there. It didn’t fix anything, but it was enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely alone in all of this.

Minutes later, you found yourself curled up on your bed with Eddie, a slice of pizza in hand and a bottle of something too sweet but just right for the moment. The comfort of his presence started to chip away at the sadness, the heaviness you’d been carrying around. Slowly, you began to relax, and the sounds of laughter, both from the movie and from Eddie’s constant, hilarious commentary, filled the room.

Halfway through the movie, Eddie leaned in close, that mischievous spark back in his eyes. "You know what this needs?" He pulled a crumpled baggie and rolling paper from his pocket, holding them up like a prize.

“Seriously?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. "I’m just saying, Buttercup and Westley’s love is even more epic with a little help. But only if you’re in."

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not? Worst-case scenario, I get hungry again."

“That’s my girl," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly rolled the joint.

The first puff made you cough, and Eddie laughed so hard he nearly dropped the joint. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable. Rookie mistake."

As the high settled in, the tension in your chest loosened. The movie was now ten times funnier. Who thought it could be possible? Every line had you both in stitches, and Eddie’s constant commentary didn’t help.

"Fezzik’s totally the real hero here, no doubt," he said, grinning. "The guy’s got heart, muscle, and a sense of humor. You can’t beat that."

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, snorting as you passed the joint back to him.

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, winking. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”

By the time the credits rolled, you were sprawled against him, pizza crumbs on the blanket, your cheeks aching from laughing so hard. You glanced up at him, and for the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you not from the weed, but from the way Eddie looked at you. Like he had all the time in the world, like he was just happy to be here, making you smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said softly, your voice sincere. "For this. For you."

His grin softened, and for a moment, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart. You know that." He rested his head back against the pillow, and the world outside seemed just a little less heavy. In this moment, with Eddie by your side, it felt like maybe everything could be okay.

Everything would be okay. You're not going to sulk anymore. In fact, you may act on some feelings you've been holding down. Maybe it was the sweet drink or the weed, but you felt brave, very brave. Eddie wouldn't have done all this if he didn't at least like you a little. You'd pushed these feelings down to remain faithful to Brian. But you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about Eddie before. He has a naturally flirty side to him.

My girl. Sweetheart. Darling.

These were things he'd call you in passing. You had hung out with Eddie around people before and he reserved those only for you.

He went out of his way multiple times to hang out with you on those nights you waited by the phone that wouldn't ring. The first couple of weekends this happened he'd go on about his own plans. But he came home too many times for comfort to you teary eyed holding the phone in your hand still waiting on it to ring.

"Oh sweetheart how many weekends are you gonna spend by a phone that won't ring? Come with me to the Hideout."

"Nope you're not doing this again. Mandatory roomie movie night."

"Heard that it's nation ice cream cone day. I'm buying and driving. Get up lets go."

These were just a few of the many excuses he made up to get you away from the phone on the weekends. You were free for the first time to act how you wanted. No reprocusions.

"Hey Eddie?" your voice soft and inquisitive.

Eddie's eyes flicked onto yours. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"You're not um.. busy tomorrow and you don't need to go to bed soon or anything, right?"

"No, I'm not cleared out my weekend just for you. Had to get you out of this funk. Besides its still early. Only about 7 o'clock" he was checking his wrist for the time.

You nibbled at your knuckles mindlessly. You were nervous but quickly asked your question, "Do you wanna play a game?"

Eddies eyebrows raised and his smile softened "Uh yeah, absolutely. What game?"

Your nerves buzzing "Uh, I don't know just truth or dare."

To be continued..........

[jhilsara]

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights pt. 3

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: Another year goes by and your friendship with Spencer is better than ever… too bad its a rough year. A birthday surprise, another Halloween adventure together (but make it a musical), Sister fights, and you finally find out what Spencer's day job is.

Word Count: 11.5k

Warnings: Canon typical BAU themes, sick family members, bank robbery, Season 7 finale

Previous|Next

The one where Spencer turns 30  

Spencer hasn’t left his apartment much lately. Besides going out for calls at the BAU and working on finding Ian Doyle, he doesn’t have much energy for anything else. Except for the new doctor he was seeing for his migraines. She was actually helpful in comparison to the others he had seen.   

It’s only been four months since Emily Prentiss died and Spencer doesn’t feel any lighter. He just seems to be spending more time debating on whether he’d feel better if he started using again. At least he’d be numb. Feeling numb sounded better than being miserably sad at the loss of one of his closest friends. He knows in the back of his mind, if he did start using dilaudid again he wouldn’t be able to truly put his all into the Ian Doyle investigation. That’s what keeps him content to stay sober.   

Spencer hasn’t visited the bookstore, not nearly as much as he used to. It’s enough to cause worry so you’ve started to call him at least once a week. He’s sure that you probably wanted to call every day. You worry and fret over him, and he knows it’s just a part of who you are, but he doesn’t feel deserving of the attention.   

Especially when you take it upon yourself to visit occasionally.   

He always opens the door for you, he can’t help it, he doesn’t want to worry you. Even though when he looks at your face, he sees the clear concern behind your eyes.   

He always knows when it’s you because your warmth and brightness almost roll off in waves that gently brush and seep under the doorway. You’re a force of nature. One where you shed some color into his incredibly bleak world.   

The only other friend who checks on him in the same kind of way would be Penelope. Which, she’s grieving in a very different way. It’s also hard for any of them to talk about Emily together without it being tainted by their Doyle investigation. He knows this isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but he’ll be damned if he stops looking for the man that took away part of his family.    

There’s an ease and tenderness that comes with you. You've never pushed him to tell you what’s wrong. You'll ask, always testing the waters, shaking his raft, but you never push. You don’t force him down into the depths of his own consuming thoughts. The ones where he thinks he’s drowning and can’t recover from. The ones where all of his intrusive thoughts prick at his brain like tiny needles, trying to prove nonexistent points.   

It wasn’t that you weren’t curious, because you definitely are. Sometimes when he closed off the conversation, he could see the hurt in your eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, because Spencer would trust you with anything, you’re his best friend outside of the BAU. He even spent last New Years with you and your dad, Big Joe. Well, mostly you had made dinner, they watched Big Joe’s favorite movie, which Spencer happily listened to him give all his endless movie knowledge. After you put your dad to bed, they went out to a bar for a few midnight drinks.    

Spencer just preferred to keep the FBI parts of his life out of his personal life. It’s been refreshing to not be a federal agent when he’s with you. If he had to explain everything about Ian Doyle and Emily’s death... he was slightly afraid you wouldn’t want him in your life anymore.    

Or worse, he’d endanger you like Hotch had with Haley...   

So, Spencer does what he truly does best, holds his feelings close to his chest with his secrets. If your smile faltered when he couldn’t tell you what was happening, he’d bite his tongue. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not you. Even if his secrets kept you at arm's length.   

-   

It’s a random day in the middle of August when Spencer finally walks back into the bookstore. It surprised you so much you ram yourself into the edge of the checkout counter. You curse under your breath but shoot him a hesitant smile.    

“Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.” you softly said as you placed the books down to give him your full attention. Almost approaching him like he is a wounded animal. 

Spencer nods, “world keeps spinning, life goes on.” he said with a small shrug and a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.   

He couldn’t tell you that his dead friend faked her death and was alive all along. Just in Paris... while two of his friends lied to his face. That absolutely isn’t a can of worms he’s willing to unload onto you. Not today, maybe not ever. He still had some anger to process that he doesn’t want to direct towards you. Spencer takes a deep breath and starts walking toward the cafe.    

You followed after him and smiled brightly. “Well, I’m glad to see you anyway.” you touch his shoulder lightly. “I’ve been worried about you.” you said warmly as you move behind the counter to make him a coffee.    

“I didn’t want to worry you,” He starts to rebuttal, but you cut him off.    

“I was going to worry regardless; I don’t know how to turn it off unfortunately.” you tried to joke lightly.    

Spencer just furrows his brows, “Do you worry about everything?” he asked. It comes across harsher than he means it to, but it rolls off your back.    

“No, just about people. I’m worried about Birdie, like all the time, not to mention dad. I’m also constantly thinking about my coworkers, Josie... My friends in Georgia...” you pause and bites your lip.    

“That probably sounds like I don’t do anything else besides worry.”    

“It sounds like anxiety.” he deadpanned.    

You shrugged and offered him his coffee. “Probably.”    

“Oh! Spencer, since you’re here!” you quickly change the subject whirling around to the computer, “Do me a favor and sign up for our new rewards program. I need a test guinea pig to make sure it actually tracks the points.”    

Spencer nods and waits. You swiftly tap information into the computer screen.    

“It’s only a few questions,” you murmured, “Full name...Spencer Reid. Date of birth-” you froze looking up at Spencer.   

“I don’t know your birthday.” you said it like it was a genuine surprise and frown. “We’ve known each other for almost three years, how do I not know your birthday?”   

Spencer gave a soft chortle of amusement, “I’ve never been in town for my birthday. I’m weirdly always out for work. Besides-” he shrugged. “I don’t know yours either.”    

You dramatically groan. “I cannot believe I didn’t know this! Birthdays are so important!”    

Spencer tilts his head curiously, “I didn’t know you liked birthdays that much?”   

“Don’t you? It’s the one day to truly celebrate a person. I mean you don’t need a day to do that, but doesn’t everyone want to feel special just one day? I mean you make your way around life another year and you should earn just a little treat for it! Living sucks sometimes.” you said matter of factly.    

You're so passionate as you talk, Spencer almost forgets it’s even about birthdays.     

Spencer paused before his brain autofill's information like a search engine, “Did you know that the birthday celebration actually started in ancient Egypt with Pharoh's? It wasn’t for common folk at all. They acted as a coronation for a Pharoh. Greeks and Romans adopted them for their worship of the gods but really, individual birthdays weren’t well known. For a long time in history.” Spencer info dumps what he knew and smiled triumphantly.    

You nod, listening, you always listened to Spencer when he had the wealth of knowledge to just disperse whenever. It was charming.   

“Sooooooo, what I’m hearing is, we should celebrate everyone like they are their own gods?” you tease him.   

Spencer rolls his eyes, “Not what I meant.”    

You hummed in amusement, “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” You smiled, like you had a secret. “What’s your birthday Spencer?”    

“October 12th 1981.” He tells you with a sigh.    

You plug it into the computer, and you realize quickly that Spencer’s about to turn 30. You looked up at him, “That’s only a few months away. Makes sense it’s October.”    

Spencer fakes a dramatic gasp as he looks at you in shock, “What’s that supposed to mean?”    

You give him a deadpan look as you finish typing in the rest of his information. “It means- that for someone who loves Halloween it doesn’t surprise me you were born in October.”    

“What’s your e-mail?” you asked him.    

“I only have my work one and I’m not using that for your rewards program.” He said in fake exasperation, “By your logic,” he picked back up their conversation, “that means you also were born in October.”    

You make a fake buzzer noise, “Nope!” you pop the P. “Try again.”   

Spencer raises a brow, “There is a 1 in 365 chance for me to guess right. That’s not even one percent.”    

“Do you care if I just put in my e-mail? We’re just testing it, I’m doing it anyway.” you tap away at the computer, “Also- ever heard of a zodiac sign? Thats at least like 1 in 12 chances. Better odds.” you gave him a pointed look.   

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously making me guess zodiac signs?”    

You wiggled your brows, “What? The genius doesn’t believe in the fate of the stars.” you smirked to yourself as you typed away at the computer.   

“Do you actively want me to stereotype you?” He asked with a teasing smile of his own.   

“Tik tok, it’s either guess the sign or the date.” you joke.    

“You’re stubborn enough, let’s say Taurus.” he replied with a snark.    

You rolled your eyes and made a tsk sound, “Nice try, but WRONG. I’m a Cancer. A summertime baby even though I hate hate hate summer.” you groan thinking about the heat.    

“Then your logic definitely doesn’t make sense.” He laughed in exasperation.   

You shrugged, “never said I was right.”    

Spencer glared playfully, “No but it was implied.”   

You just brush him off. Finishing up the rewards program. “I think it works. It should track your drink purchases, and every tenth drink is free!” you said excitedly.    

“You never charge me for my drinks.” He reminded you with a look of mild confusion.   

“Shhhh, don’t let the other customers know I have favorites! They’ll get their feelings hurt!”    

-   

You’ve been scheming since you found out Spencer’s birthday. 30 was a milestone and you weren’t about to let him go by without even an itsy bitsy teenie weenie celebration. You weren’t going to throw a surprise party or anything. After the fiasco that was a friend's surprise party when they were 21 you vowed to never again. The last thing you had expected was for everyone to find out that your friend's roommate was cheating. Screaming surprise to a pair of twentysomethings trying to eat each other’s faces and their actual boyfriend being in the room was rough.    

You learned no more surprises the hard way.   

The only surprise you had was you were determined to have Josie bake one of her delicious cakes for him. You begged Josie, just a small chocolate cake with a gorgeous violet frosting. Nothing too insane, Josie just was the best baker you knew. Her cakes were to die for, but most of her pastries were.    

Josie agreed, but only if you agreed to take the deposits to the bank for the Holiday season. You lived closer and Josie hated dealing with the general population outside of what she had already seen during the holidays.     

You've been hiding Spencer’s cake in the back freezer for a day, hoping he wouldn’t be out of town for his birthday. You had called him earlier in the week and asked him to swing by on Wednesday if he could. You had told him you really needed a taste tester for your new Halloween treat. Sugar was Spencer’s weakness.    

You're pacing back and forth, trying to not be on edge, but you’re riddled with so much excitement it’s hard. You've been decorating the new display case filled with Halloween themed books. You are hanging up a garland in the window display when you see Spencer walking down the street.    

You quickly finished hanging up your ghost garland and quickly ran to the back freezer to get his cake out to let it defrost a bit. You throw candles and a lighter on the counter in the back room and you try to make sure everything is set and ready to go.    

The bell rings all the way through to the back and you compose yourself before stepping out again. You stick your head out the back door that divides the cafe from the back kitchen and waves to Spencer.    

“Back here!” you shout.   

The bookstore only had a few patrons tonight, none of which were happily there to hang out or study. They were perusing the isles, and you had already given them a few recommendations of books. You know an insomniac when you see one, and these people were the kind that needed something besides the empty fridge to look at for their late-night brain. It was later than normal, around two in the morning, when Spencer came walking in.    

“I almost thought you weren’t coming by tonight.” you tease leaning against the counter.    

“It was a late work trip.” He said with a tired smile.    

“Well, I have a treat for you. Taste testing if you will.” you said, turning to the back room.    

“I need you to close your eyes though. I’m really proud of it.”    

Spencer rolls his eyes at your antics but does as you’ve asked.    

“No peaking!” you shouted, and Spencer could hear the door to the back close behind you.    

You check the cake, and it's good to go. The back freezer wasn’t cold enough to freeze it solid, so the cake is still easy to cut. you press the candles into the top, a three and a zero to make 30. You slowly light the candles and back up to bring the cake out. You gently set it down in front of Spencer, who’s just standing there with his eyes closed and a goofy grin.     

“Okay, open.”    

Spencer opens his eyes, and he looks stunned. His mouth just kind of hangs open like a gaping fish before he murmured, “This isn’t a Halloween treat...”    

“Happy birthday Spencer.” you whisper looking at his reaction and trying to gauge it. “I didn’t make your cake, Josie did, but I promise her cakes are the very best.”    

Spencer was stunned into silence. He truly didn’t expect you to remember his birthday, or know he was turning 30. Hell, even his team wasn’t aware it was his birthday until Emily told them. Which, he does appreciate her listening to him. He was having a crisis over his own accomplishments.   

You start getting antsy when Spencer doesn’t respond. He’s standing there with his mouth open. You start rambling, “I just thought, you know, 30 is a big deal! It’s a milestone and I didn’t get to celebrate your past two birthdays so I thought this would be a nice treat... I know I didn’t ask if you even like surprises, but it was so small-”    

Spencer cuts her off.    

“Sorry, I just... thank you.” He tells you with a soft smile. “I love it.”    

Your eyes light up and you brush your hair out of your face. The nerves leaving your body.    

“Make a wish Spencer.”    

Spencer doesn’t have to think about it as he blows out his candles.    

“What did you wish for?” you asked, grabbing a knife to cut his cake.    

Spencer raised a brow, “Well if I tell you, it won’t come true.”    

You roll your eyes, “Didn’t peg you to be superstitious.”    

Spencer just shrugged at that and bit his lip. If his wish had to do with you, well, you didn’t need to know.    

The one about Rocky Horror Picture Show  

Spencer’s sorting through the collection of DVD’s you’ve brought over for their movie night. You brought an eclectic mixed taste of Halloween movies, from Hocus Pocus to Insidious. Spencer pauses on Rocky Horror Picture Show and you make a noise of excitement.    

“Oh, we should watch it! I’m going to the showing next weekend and I’m so excited.” you said, reaching for the bowl of popcorn.    

“I didn’t know they still showed it in movie theaters, I’ve never been.” he said casually popping open the case to grab the DVD.   

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Rocky Horror Picture Show? It’s like quintessentially a Halloween staple.” you said in abject horror.    

Spencer is once again being berated for his lack of pop culture knowledge. To be fair, he does know the movie. So, he isn’t fully aware of why you are looking at him like he has two heads.   

“I’ve seen the movie. I know what it is.” He gives a scoff and shakes his head.    

“No, that’s not what I mean. Why haven’t you ever been to a local show? It’s iconic!” you said exaggeratedly.   

Spencer rolled his eyes. “My job doesn’t always let me preplan my events well. Besides, it can’t be much different than watching the movie at home.” He said turning to press play on the DVD player.   

You audibly gasp standing up from the couch.    

“Spencer Reid, that is blasphemous! You are absolutely coming with me to a viewing of Rocky Horror, like immediately.” you demand planting your hands on your hips and shooting him a playful glare.    

“What makes it so different?” He cocked his head in confusion, brows furrowed. “It’s a musical from the 70’s that barely makes sense in the plot line and some of the verbiage is really outdated, borderline offensive really.” He states matter of factly.   

You sighed, “You don’t understand art! It’s about the experience of the show, it’s such a great time going to a live show and seeing everyone in costume and singing together, chanting, using props! It’s one of the best things to be in a room of similar people just having fun.” you told him in a dreamy voice.   

Spencer nodded, still not fully getting your image, moving to go sit on the couch, “I didn’t know they were so... performative.”    

“They are some of my favorite shows I’ve been to. Especially bringing new people.” you plop back down on the couch next to him.    

“Why?” he asked, turning to watch the opening credits, leaning down to grab his late-night coffee that wasn’t nearly as good as what you make in the cafe.   

“Because they’re virgins.” You said it like it was so obvious. Like it was a fact as simple as the sky is blue.   

Spencer almost chokes on his coffee.    

“Excuse me?” he asks a little baffled.    

You roll your eyes, “When someone is brought to a live show and they’ve never been, they’re a virgin. There’s even a silly virgin ritual that’s super fun. The whole nights a blast.”    

Spencer goes quiet, his face bursting into a red flush, “It’s not... it’s not like a sex thing, is it?”    

Your laugh filters through his apartment bright and loud. You shake your head, “God no Spencer! I’m not going to some crazy orgy almost every year.”    

Spencer started coughing and looked at you with wide eyes, “I wasn’t implying that you- I-... shit.”    

You just shake your head still trying to control your laughter, “Well you have to come with me now Spencer, to heal my wounded ego. I’m going on Halloween. Dress up please?” you asked with a bat of your lashes.   

Spencer covers his face in embarrassment but nods, “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll go. Can we please just watch the movie now?”    

“Can do.” you snickered settling back into the comfort of his couch.   

-   

Before you can leave, you have a few things you need to check first. Spencer is picking you up to walk to the theater together, which is sweet. You go to check on your dad before leaving.    

You knock gently on your father's door before opening it a crack, “Daddy?” you whisper.   

Big Joe is passed out in his bed, the television still playing faintly in the background of some sports game. His snores letting you know he was out for the night.   

You shake your head with a sigh before going in to turn off his television and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.    

“Love you, I’ll be back later.” you whispered.     

You check your outfit one last time in the mirror, looking at her Janet inspired pajamas. She was wearing tights, a silk slip dress, and wrapped in a similar silk night gown. You were going as Janet in her under garments, but something you were okay with wearing in public. You throw your long coat over it to keep yourself warm.    

You hear Spencer’s gentle knock on the door, and you quickly move to grab the last few items. You grab your large tote bag, double checking to make sure you have all the props you wanted to bring. You look in your wallet to make sure you have both tickets, and you feel confident.    

You slide on your heels and open the door to greet Spencer.    

“Hey! I’m ready.” you greet excitedly, moving to close the door behind you.   

You look at Spencer and see he’s dressed as Brad from the start of the movie, glasses and all. You grin as you tilt your head.    

“I didn’t know you wear glasses?” you said with a tiny smile pointing at his face.   

Spencer shrugged, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” he said holding out his arm for you.    

“A gentleman too!” you faked a gasp as you wrapped your arms around his. “To the theater!” you proclaim with an exaggerated drawl of your accent.   

It’s not the shortest of walks, but the duo arrives at the theater only a little chilly. Mostly you, even under your coat. You present the tickets, and they are quickly ushered inside. You immediately relax, feeling the warmth of the heater.    

You move to hang up your coat on the rake and Spencer catches what your actual costume is. His face flushed a bit.    

“You, you look great.” He almost chokes on his words as he compliments you.    

You do a little spin, your loose robe fanning out around you. “Thought it would be cute and comfy!” you tell him with a proud smile.    

You come back up to Spencer to link their arms together again, “Come on let’s go find our seats! I wanna make sure I have the props in the right order.” you looked up at him with unbridled excitement that’s just too contagious.    

Spencer just gives a nod, “Lead the way, Janet.”    

“Aren’t you just a peach Brad!” you responded without missing a beat.    

Everything about this movie experience is the exact opposite of what Spencer would expect when going to see a film. Almost everyone in the crowd was dressed and just as many were carrying around props.    

Your bag was filled with rice, newspapers, playing cards, he was honestly impressed by the Mary Poppins effect. He couldn’t see the bottom and every time you pulled something out, he really thought you had hit the end.   

The Time Warp plays, and you drag him out of his seat to dance together. The whole room ignited into a loud cacophony of singing. Your laughter is the only sound he can hear pierce through, and he finds himself smiling alongside you.    

Once that musical number ends, they almost fall back into their seats, you lean closer to him and whispers in his ear, “Are you having fun?”   

He turns and nods, bending down to grab some left-over rice to toss at you playfully. “It’s a blast.” he laughs.   

You squeeze his arm, “I’m glad.”    

The evening is chaotic, loud, and so so so messy. By the time the movie ends the theater is a real mess. You grab as many of the large props as you can and shove them back into your bag, trying to make the clean-up at least a bit easier.    

Once they’re outside, and you’re wrapped back up in your coat, Spencer takes a deep breath.    

“Soooooooooo?” you start, giving him an expectant look.   

“I had a lot of fun. I totally get the theater experience.” He chuckled looking over at you.   

“Good! Maybe we can make it a tradition.” You said giving him a gently nudge with your elbow.   

“You mean add more activities to our Halloween calendar? How will we ever find room!” He says in jest.    

You shrugged lazily with a dramatic sigh. “We’re just too festive Spencer.”   

“Clearly, we’re going to have to start Halloween in September next year.” He suggested.   

“Oh, that would give me something to look forward to!” you said in excitement.   

Spencer walks you home and drops you off at the foot of the apartment.    

“Thanks again Spencer. It was so much fun going with someone again.” you tell him with a soft smile. “I haven’t been able to go with anyone since we moved here.”   

Spencer steps forward to brush your hair out of your face, “I love spending Halloween with you.” he whispered.   

Your face bursts into a deep flush as you can feel your heart almost beat out of your chest. “Goodnight Spencer.”   

“Goodnight, Y/N.”   

The one where Birdie visits  

You're cleaning some dishes left over from breakfast when the doorbell rings. You sigh, knowing it’s far too early for Spencer to come by to pick you up for lunch. It has to be Bridget. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect, since you had just dropped your father off for a checkup.   

Your baby sister had called last night asking if their dad would be home tomorrow. You were too hopeful to think that meant Bridget was trying to spend time with their dad. It’s like pulling teeth trying to get Bridget to spend some time with their dad. Since he’s been diagnosed it’s almost like she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. Big Jo tries to not let it hurt his feelings, but you see his face and how he deflates.    

The day she came by, and he was in a wheelchair, it was like they’d both been hit by a truck.    

You plant a forced smile on your face as you answer the door, “I thought you were coming by later? When daddy would be here.”    

Your sister shakes her head, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. “Nope, I just needed to stop by before I started running my errands for the day.” she said calmly.    

“Well come in, come on, it’s freezing.” You step aside to let your sister in. Bridget quickly sheds her coat and scarf hanging them on the rack next to the door.    

“Magpie, did you pack any of my stuff when you moved daddy up here?” Bridget asks, walking into the kitchen and making herself a glass of water.    

“Come on in, fix yourself a drink, don’t mind your sister... by the way do you have my junk?” you mock crossing your arms as you raise your brow at your younger sister.    

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just in a hurry.” Bridget replied rolling her eyes.    

“Well, what are you looking for Birdie?” you asked.    

“I told you, it’s Bri.” She murmured with a sour face. “I can’t find any of my old high school stuff.” she said casually.    

You lean against the counter, “I didn’t take any of that stuff. I just packed up the essentials.”    

“So, my stuff is in a storage unit?” Bridget asked irritated.    

“No Birdie, it’s all still at the house in Georgia. I have Aunt Jo taking care of it. All your stuffs at home.” you replied exasperated.    

“Aunt Josephine? I thought she was like... a recluse?” Bridget asked, making a scrunched face.   

You roll your eyes, “No, Aunt Jo just never liked Lauren, so she never came around.”    

“God, can you just call her mom Magpie? I hate it when you call momma Lauren... it’s weird.” Bridget said defensively.    

You look up at Bridget with a raised brow, “I’m good, thanks. That would involve her having to stick around to be my mom.”   

“I’m not getting into this with you again.” Bridget says in a huff of frustration hitting the counter with her hands.    

“Fine.”   

“Fine.”   

Silence settles over the two sisters, and you go to open the fridge to grab a prepackaged cold coffee.    

“Soooooooooo,” you drawl out as you open the drink.    

Bridget looks at you with a suspicious look.    

“What are your Christmas plans?” you ask, trying to be casual.    

“Jamie and I are going to see momma in Florida. We’ve had these plans for a while.” She said defensively not making eye contact.   

“Birdie come on, you haven’t spent the past few Christmases with daddy, and if you did see him, it was for twenty minutes or a crummy half assed phone call.” you plead, throwing your hand up in emphasis.   

“Y/N, I didn’t come here for a lecture, I just needed to know if you packed my shit when you decided to pack up all our lives and move out to DC without asking me.” Bridget murmurs bitterly under her breath.   

Your brows furrow as you’re taken aback by your sister.    

“Bridget, I didn’t pack up everyone's lives- we still have the house in Georgia!" You said mildly irritated.   

Bridget just rolls her eyes and puts her glass in the sink. “Whatever...” She murmured.   

You feel that small part of yourself, the one that gnaws and claws bubbling under your skin, poke itself to the surface. “What was I supposed to do? I had to make a decision for dad’s health!” you feel your voice rising in irritation that only your sister can bring out of you.   

“Besides, I wasn’t the one who moved to DC to run away from her family.” you state bitterly.   

“Oh, come off it!” Bridget throws her hands up in defeat. “I’m not running away-this was the best program for me, and you know that!”   

“Then what do you call never seeing dad! You even called to ask if he was home before you came today, Birdie, just so you could avoid him... What would you call that?” you feel your voice raising and can’t stop the vitriol that spits out of your mouth at your sister.   

There’s a pit in the bottom of your stomach that twists and churns when it comes to your sister and your dad. You had tried so hard to get her to understand that their father was dying. They’re already lucky with the years they’ve gotten. He’s beaten the odds, but he can’t go on forever. You don’t understand how Bridget can just act like life is normal when every day could be their dad’s last.   

“It’s not my fault daddy’s sick!” Bridgit shouts, her own voice cracking, “It’s not my fault you’ve given up your own life to be his caretaker! So, stop blaming me for living my life, while you’re stuck here playing nurse!”    

“I’m not blaming you-”   

“Yes, you are! You always blame me-”   

“No, I don’t Bridget! If anything, I’m jealous about how selfish you can be!” you feel the words tumbling out of your mouth like bile before you can stop herself. You're so angry and sad all the time. It’s not fair that you’re so aware of your father’s mortality while your baby sister gets to run around and live her carefree life.    

“I just wish you’d think about the fact that daddy is dying!”    

The silence that falls between them is thick, the tension tight, about to break. Bridget looks at her sister with hatred, “I’m very aware he’s dying Y/N... I’m not stupid.” she whispers out in a hard tone.    

Bridget turns around to grab her coat and rushes quickly to the door.    

You dig your heels in more, the words almost vomiting out your mouth in fierce resentment, “Go on Bridget, run away like you always do! I’ve been taking care of dad alone, anyway, not like he has two daughters!” your voice peaks and cracks in frustration.    

You blink away the fat angry tears pricking your eyes.   

Bridget turns on her heels to face her older sister, flipping you off, “Fuck you!” she hisses out in a venomous tone.   

Bridget elbows her way past the man in front of her almost knocking him down as she runs off.    

You rush to the door, about to yell something else after her when you see Spencer standing to the side in shock.    

Your shoulders drop and you look ashamed, closing your mouth tightly. You take a deep breath.    

“How much of that did you hear?” you asked quietly.    

You can’t find it in yourself to look up at Spencer yet, embarrassed by your own unbridled rage.    

He moves to push you gently back inside, “enough...” he replied softly closing the door behind him.    

“C’mon sit down.” He gently moves you to the couch, forcing you to sit down.    

He disappears into the kitchen for a short while and you sit on the couch looking at your lap. You feel the wave of resentment you were holding onto leave and be replaced with the intense sorrow that follows. The tears that were building finally fell, landing on your lap as you sobbed, trying to hold back your voice. Your throat feels tight as you sit there trying to hold yourself together, to not scream your lungs out.    

You feel the sofa dip next to you and a small mug is pushed into your hands. It’s warm tea.   

“There’s a lot of honey in there, I wasn’t thinking so it might be too sweet.” he said softly.    

You just shake your head and sniffle, trying to compose yourself. “No such thing...” you tried to joke, moving the cup to your mouth, your hands shaking the whole time.    

A sob escapes you before you can even drink the tea.    

“I’m sorry,” you tried to say, the tears just sliding down your face, you look up at Spencer your lip quivering and eyes red.    

Spencer gently grabs the tea and puts it on the coffee table before he opens his arms for you, and it doesn’t take but a short second before your face is in Spencer’s chest bawling.   

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Your body shakes from crying, you sound like a small child with how the sobs rip through your throat.    

Spencer holds you until you calm down enough, he finally feels you stop shaking.   

“Do you feel better now?” he whispers.    

You pulled back and tried to dry your eyes, you could already feel the puffiness settling.    

“No...” you murmured pitifully. “I feel worse, like I’m a bitch.” You look up at Spencer and see the massive wet stain from your tears.   

“Sorry,” you point to his shirt, “didn’t mean to unload all of that on you. I thought you were coming later?” you said in a tiny voice.    

“I was running early so I thought I’d just drop by, was that... Bridget?” he asked in a soft voice.    

You nodded. “We were fighting about dad... again.” you admit finally grabbing your cup of tea that he made you.    

Spencer face makes a silent ‘Oh’ as he nods in understanding.    

“It sounded pretty bad.” he replied.   

You groan, “I don’t like fighting about it. I don’t like fighting at all!” you said facing him. “We used to get along great, then... I don’t know. Everything changed when our parents divorced, and the gap just never stopped growing... Now there’s this great divide I can’t seem to reach across and...” you pause, taking a deep breath trying to stop the words from just falling out of your mouth. Exposing your raw skin that you’ve picked at so much your bones are exposed telling your story.   

“I know she thinks I hate her for living her life.” You sigh looking at Spencer, who’s just been sitting and kindly listening. Attentively. “I do sometimes resent how carefree she is... but” you bite your lip.   

“Spencer, I’m so scared that when dad dies... it’ll just,” you scoffed, “Me and that god forsaken bookstore.”   

“I don’t want to lose them both.” you said, your eyes brimming with tears again.    

If there was anything Spencer felt confident that he could do, it was helping you handle loss. He’s experienced it enough.   

“You won’t be alone.” He tells you confidently; he reaches out to hold your hands tightly. “I’ll be here.” he reassured you.    

“If there’s anything I’ve learned, everyone handles grief differently. Bridget...she might not be able to handle how sick your dad is.” Spencer tried to reason, anything to make you feel less alone.   

“Avoiding it won’t make it go away...” you muttered.    

“No, and she’ll eventually see that. You can’t force her to confront that fear.” he said pushing your hair behind her ear.    

“It’s so hard, how do you do it? Alone with your mom?” you asked softly.    

Spencer loses his breath for a moment before he swallows. Trying to find an answer.    

“Well, she has doctors she trusts now. And a home that she feels safe in... but I spent my childhood taking care of her.”    

Spencer scoffs, “I resent my father, he left a child alone to take care of a sick mother? He never helped me.”    

You give him a soft nudge with your shoulder, “my mom's pretty shitty too.”    

Spencer gives a hollow chuckle, “Does everyone have a shitty parent?” he asks, squeezing your hand.   

You lay your head on his shoulder, “There has to be good parents... we just- we got unlucky.” you whisper.   

“Maybe we did...” He murmured.    

Silence settles between them and it’s calming, not the tense air that was with Bridget.    

“You never told me what happened with your mom.”   

You tense up.    

“It’s not a story I like telling...” you sighed, “When I was thirteen, I overheard my parents arguing. Long story short, my mom cheated on my dad. Bridget was so young, like six, so when they divorced, they tried to lie to us. That it was mutual. Civil... I knew the truth though; I couldn’t look at my mom the same after that." you told him with a bitter smile.    

“I already lost my mom; I just couldn’t take away Birdie’s...”    

“You never told her?” he asked in surprise.    

“It wasn’t for me to tell. I just, I was a teenager...I wanted to protect her you know? She didn’t need the bitterness that bites at the back of my throat every time I see that woman.”   

Spencer nods in understanding. “You know, you’re allowed to feel angry. You don’t have to be agreeable or happy about everything. It’s okay to get mad sometimes.” His hand moves up to gently brush your hair.    

You don’t respond to his statement, just try to not cry anymore.    

“Can we go get lunch now?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.    

“Anywhere you want.”   

The one where you find out Spencer works for the FBI   

It’s a rough morning.   

Massively rough, actually. Your alarm didn’t go off and if it wasn’t for Spencer calling you, you’d still be heavily sleeping.    

You roll over to grab your phone and answer it.    

“Hello?” your voice comes out groggy, slow, and thick with sleep.    

“Hey! You still want to go to the convention? I’m leaving soon and I can swing by to grab you.” Spencer’s voice comes through.    

You panic, and shots up staring at your bedside clock. “Oh god, Spencer I’m so sorry! I slept in!” You jump out of your bed and almost trip over your own clothes strewn on the floor from the night before.    

“It’s okay- I can wait if you need me to-”   

“No, no no! You were so excited, don’t wait up!” You interrupt him as you throw clothes from your closet around trying to find something you want to wear.    

“It’s no big deal.” Spencer started to answer but you sighed.    

“Spencer are you already dressed?” you pressed, grabbing one of your comfortable but cute skirts and a simple sweater. You throw them on your bed.   

His silence is enough of an answer.    

“You are.” you sighed and shook your head, “I have to go to the shop and pick up the money to deposit for the bank today. I’ll just meet up with you later. Promise. I just have to run this errand first.” you told him with a soft tone.   

You hear his small huff, “It’s really not a big deal,”    

“Spencer” you chastise him. “You’re already ready to go. I’ll probably just take a little over an hour. Then I'll be there, okay? Just do a few laps in the artist alley for me.” you tell him teasingly.    

You can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Fine, but you owe me a coffee.”    

“I always do.” you joked before hanging up.    

You rush through putting on your makeup and throwing your clothes on. You gave yourself a quick once over before deciding that you can’t waste any more time. You looked decent enough.   

You rushed down the stairs and came around the corner to see your dad sitting at the kitchen table.    

“You sure you’re okay without me today?” you asked him, leaning down to kiss your dad on the cheek.    

Her dad huffs, “I told you I can handle one day. Magpie, go out. You haven’t been out in months for fun.” He grunted in his deep voice, slurring his words together.    

“I’m just asking daddy!” you snorted a soft laugh. “I want to make sure you don’t need anything before I leave.” you told him.    

Her dad’s been able to move himself in and out of his own wheelchair for the most part, but you’re waiting for the day he can’t.    

You’re waiting for the day your daddy can’t do most things.   

“Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna watch the Brave’s game today and I better see them win.” He mumbled nodding to you.    

You roll your eyes, “Don’t hold your breath on that one. I love you.”   

“Love you too pumpkin.”    

You grab your bag, “Be safe!” He hollers at you.    

“I always am!” you shout back to him before leaving for the bookstore.    

-   

You are checking your watch in a mild panic. You’re not super off on the time you gave Spencer, but you still hate making him wait. You should have just taken the money deposit on Friday, but you were so sleepy you barely could do more than take your dad to his appointment.    

You huffed in frustration, you only had yourself to blame.    

You're finally up to deposit the stores money, and you thank the gods above. Then your, already bad day, goes terrible.   

“Hey!”   

Gun shots. Gun shots go off and you are frozen, your brain going into fight or flight. You turn quickly and see a woman with a short bob holding a gun and the security guard is on the ground, blood pooling beneath his body.    

You feel your stomach fall out of your body and you’re shuffled with the crowd trying to get out. It feels like a blur.   

“I want to see hands in the sky!” a new voice shouts.   

Your hands go up, you see at least three guns and three different ugly face masks swinging their guns around. You feel like your ears are ringing while you’re ushered into a corner with the other patrons.    

Your body is shaking from fear. Who the hell robs a bank on a Saturday afternoon?    

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are the Face Cards, maybe you’ve heard of us.” The woman’s voice rings through again.   

You stand next to a couple who start speaking lowly in a foreign language, you think it’s German. You know that they’re trying to plan something together.    

The woman with her face mask turns around pointing her gun at the couple quickly walking toward them, speaking in their language. You have no idea what she says but you know it’s a threat.    

“Get your faces on the floor already. I see eyes, you see bullets. Get it?” the woman shouts at them.    

You slide down with everyone, fear eating away at you. You just hope the police are either quick or the robbers are.    

“Get down on the ground!” one of the males screams.   

You feel like a rock is in your throat. You just keep your head down, trying to keep yourself together. You aren’t focusing on what they’re saying. You know he’s demanding money but you’re just trying to focus on living.   

You hear them shuffling, shouting, and then they're gone. Just as soon as you feel like you can breathe again, there’s more gunshots and the robbers come running back inside.   

You are yanked up by your arm, forced to your feet. Your eyes meet the hollow black abyss of the woman’s mask as she holds the gun to your stomach. You can’t breathe, all you can think about is how you can’t leave your dad alone.    

“Make a wall, stand near the doors and windows.” she demanded, shoving you toward the front door.    

You heard the woman walk away, and you released a shaky breath squeezing your eyes shut.    

This is not how you wanted today to go. You were supposed to be at a convention with Spencer. Dressed as Doctor Who characters, eating bland food, and buying something silly from the artist alley. You’d come home, make dinner, and watch a movie with your dad.    

Now you don’t know if you’ll see your dad or Spencer again. God, you can’t think, what if you don’t see your dad again? Who’s going to take care of him? Your sister won’t. Your mind starts to spiral and you’re panicking, your breathing becomes shallow.    

You're brought back by the woman who’s next to you grabbing your hand and holding it tight. It grounds you to the present. You can hear the conversation happening with the squabbling face masked robbers.   

“I can’t find anything. No doors, no grates, nothing.” The woman informed the man.   

“Yo! Lynne! What’s another way outta here?” He shouts disgruntled to the woman who was working behind the counter.   

“Just the main entrance and the side door. It’s for security.” She responds timidly.   

“I know that. You think I’m stupid?” He shouted at her with an exhausted sigh.   

“What went wrong? We were on count.” The woman growls out in frustration.   

“I need a doctor. Is anyone a doctor?!” The man is clearly ignoring her and trying to save the other man that’s with them.   

You don’t hear much else, you start to tune out all the noise into a hum that almost feels like tv static against your skin. It makes you itch, but you can’t be bothered to try to move.   

There’s a murmur of conversation from the group next to you but it just makes white noise in your ears. You're just numb and want desperately to be home or at the coffee shop with Spencer. Anywhere else.   

A phone ringing is the only thing that vaguely pulls you out of it enough to pay attention again.   

One of the robbers is on the phone, the woman keeps circling murmuring her own commentary.   

“He’s trying to negotiate.” the man’s gruff voice cuts through.   

“We’re not playing games!” The woman sneers back.   

You feel the woman’s eyes scanning, heels clicking on the floor. You can feel your heart in your throat as it beats aggressively.   

There’s sudden movement and near you the woman pulls a small girl. She screams for her dad who’s with her and he spins around begging for his daughter.   

“Either we get what we want, or everyone in this room dies.”   

The father’s voice is shaking as he begs. “Take me instead, please. Take me.”   

“It’s okay baby.”   

Then the loud noise of gun being shot makes you flinch as you see the man falling backwards and lands on the ground in front of you. His daughter screaming for him and trying to grab him.   

You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing too easily you could be shot too.   

“You better send in some help or more people are gonna die.” The man tells the police calmly on the phone.   

You feel a shaky breath leave your body.   

They keep going back and forth and you hear the phone again.   

It feels like an out of body experience. You can’t think, barely can feel yourself breathing. If it wasn’t for the occasional heel clicking or unfortunate gun shot, you’d think it was a nightmare.   

The front door opens, and a man walks through a metal detector, he looks like medical personnel. The woman tries to pat him down, but the other robber is in the floor with a dying man screaming for help.   

The room in dead silent as you hear the man work, trying to save the robber on the ground.   

The room is starting to smell like blood and what you can only assume is the stench of death. You hate the iron that’s infiltrating your nostrils, and you’ve never thought of yourself to be queasy with gore, but this is real. Not a horror movie.   

There’s at least two dead men in front of you on the floor, a small girl sobbing into a strange woman, and soon to be another body.   

Another gunshot.   

You still flinch. The medics body now is dragged forward into the pile of dead men. Alongside the other robber. Four. Four dead men.   

You want to hurl. You are not built for this, that’s why you run a bookstore and cafe.   

“Everyone move forward!” the woman demands with a shout.   

You vaguely hear the phone ring again and you wonder when this will be over. Will they shoot all of them? Will they kill another person, five more? When does it end and what can the police even do?   

You’re starting to think this bank will be the last four walls you ever see. You have to blink back the tears and not let that thought overwhelm you.   

The man and woman are squabbling again. Turning on each other? You can’t really tell.   

“I wanna talk to the cop who shot my brother.”   

Well, there goes that tactic. No betrayals here... just possibly another dead officer.   

The man gets back on the phone and the back and forth goes on, he keeps demanding the officer, even offering to let hostages go. That feels far too good to be true though.   

One of the men near you gets dragged back, pulled over to the phone.   

“Come on bud, let’s go!”   

“Pick up the phone.” the robber demands.   

“Why?” the man’s shaking voice asks.   

“Pick up the phone!” he shouts, like he’s desperate.   

“Hello?” the man is clearly scared, voice shaking and small.   

“Tell him your name.”   

“It’s...” He swallows, “It’s Shawn Harper.”   

There’s another gun shot, and you wish you didn’t know what a body hitting the floor sounded like.   

And that makes five innocent bodies, and one dead robber.   

“Ugh, you just killed Shawn Harper. Not me, you.” the man hisses through the phone.   

You’re going to hurl, what a sick thing to say.   

“I’m going to shoot another hostage every sixty seconds until you send in the cop.”   

You freeze. 

You try to close your eyes, and you’ve never been a very religious person... which is not common for someone from Georgia, but you find yourself begging to some god, or whoever, that you can make it out. You have to make it out.   

“Who’s next huh?”   

He grabs a woman and drags her back. Telling her to pick up the phone. Your body trembled as you tried desperately to block out the gunshot you knew you would hear.   

“Pick it up, come on. Pick it up.” he goads the woman, her sobs broken between her shaking breathes.   

“What’s your name?” he pressures.   

“No,” she gasps, “Please...” her voice broken.   

“Tell him your name!” he shouts at the woman.   

“Annie...” she gasps, swallowing a sob, “It’s Annie.”   

“Annie, you got about 30 seconds, I hope Agent Rossi doesn’t make me shoot you too.” he tells her, with fake sympathy in his voice.   

The man next to you decides that now is the time to chat. He turned to face the woman with children, he whispered something to her, and you can’t believe this man has lost his mind.   

“Hey! You! Come over here.” The robber yells at him, his gun pointing much too close to you for your liking.   

“Just let the women and children go. They don’t need to see this.” The man tried to negotiate with the robber.   

You almost scoffed, what did this guy think he was doing?   

“Pretty soon they’re gonna be doing a lot more than seeing.” The man hisses out, “Annie, you just got yourself a reprieve, get in line over there.”   

The robber grabs the man shoving him towards the phone and you sigh.   

“My name is Matthew Downs.” he speaks into the phone.   

Suddenly an officer walks through the door, his hands up in surrender.   

“Let those people go.” his accent is much thicker than yours, southern but he’s not from Georgia.   

“Alright, you, you, you, you-” he pushes the woman and two children next to you. “The kids, get out.”   

He sounds like a man who’s finally found release, like he’s getting what he’s always wanted.   

You watch the officer talk to the robbers, and you see him fall, two shots to his chest.   

You released a shaky gasp. The man, Matthew? Who was at the phone rushes over and grabs onto you. He directs you and forces you to put her hands on the officer.   

“Keep pressure on it.”   

You nod and follow his instruction easily.   

Matthew grabs the medical bag and starts instructing you on what to do. You're on the floor, holding a cloth and putting pressure heavily on the cop in front of you. He instructs the pressure is the most important and that’s what she does.   

She’s trying to breathe, steady her hands to be helpful. The officer on the ground keeps trying to talk and you are so close to panicking that you’re about to yell at this poor man bleeding out on the ground.   

“Are you armed?” Matthew asked him.   

“No.” He murmured, hissing in pain.   

“Damn... I think we might have something of a chance here.” your eyebrows were raised in surprise at his words.   

“What?” the cop looks just as confused.   

“The girls gone and the guys off his head. He doesn’t know who to trust. We can work them against each other.” Matthew whispered to both of them.   

“Wait are you a cop?” he tries to ask, still struggling.   

“A former marine.” Matthew grunts out.   

The officer is moving too much, and his blood is all over your hands. You can’t get the metallic smell out of your nose and you’re trying to keep it together.   

“You gotta listen to me, I need you to get a message to my girlfriend.” he tried to ask.   

“All right, you can tell her yourself when you get out of here.” Matthew reassures him.   

You huff and looks at the officer with determination, “I need you to not think in only death, okay? Everything looks a little bleak right now and I really need some kind of hope to hold on to. There are already five dead bodies, don’t make it six.” you hiss out at him.   

“Only I’m not getting outta here... you need someone to cause a distraction.” he murmured trying to sit up.   

“What are you doing?!” you try to push him back down but he’s surprisingly resilient for someone who was just shot.   

“Her name is Jennifer, and she’s a federal agent. You tell her I’m sorry.” the cop tells Matthew.   

The two continue to go back and forth and you can’t bother to get yourself off the ground. You're watching this officer like he’s gone mad.   

He walks on shaky legs, hobbling over to the robber. He goads him, pushing the man. Turning his trust around on its head.   

Then the robbers walking off with him to the back, and they’ve left an opening for them to escape.   

Matthew bends down to help you off the ground and shoves you out the door, and suddenly you can breathe again. Officers swarm them and escort them off to the safety of a police barricade.   

You look around, taking in the massive amounts of vans, officers, the FBI agents, and swat team.   

You're watching them move in, trying to do their jobs. Arrest the bad guys... but you watch with wide eyes the massive explosion that destroys the inside of the bank. Shooting debris out onto the ground. It really hits you, like a massive punch to your gut, how lucky you are to even be alive.   

You’re with the rest of the survivors, huddled near one of the police cruisers, all of them waiting for medics to check them and for other cops to take statements. It’s all just a blur. Everything is happening too fast and too slowly all at once. You don’t even know what the time is or how long you’ve been trapped in that bank.   

Then through the fog of your head you see something so familiar you have to do a double take to believe it.    

Spencer.   

Your Spencer, coming out of a federal vehicle in a bullet proof vest reading FBI. You'll blame the adrenaline later, but your feet start walking away from the safety of your spot and it’s like tunnel vision. you're running, and while you hear people yelling, you can’t stop. Your only goal is Spencer, he was a lifeline in this moment. A grounding figure in your shock.   

“Spencer?” your feet pound on the pavement, the loud commotion around you fading into a buzzing sound behind you. “Spencer!” you shout at him.    

With laser focus he finds you, his face filled with relief but even more worry.   

Spencer had seen you on the cameras, and it took every fiber of his being to not immediately want to drive down to barge in for you. He knew, logically, he was better helping out Garcia and looking over the maps. Every time Spencer heard a gunshot; it was a jolt of panic as his eyes scanned the cameras making sure it wasn’t you. You couldn’t die. Spencer doesn’t think he could recover from that. You’re bright and kind and the last person who deserved to be in this kind of hostage situation.    

Every second felt like an hour and his brain was whirling a million different scenarios.    

“Y/N,” he meets you halfway, holding your arms and walking you back to safety.    

“You can’t be here, this isn’t safe.” He tells you sternly, his brow furrowed in a deep line. It’s an expression you've never seen, so serious. His eyes flashed over your body trying to check if you were okay. He freezes when he sees the blood caked on your hands. He gently grabbed your hands, and it made you look down.   

“It’s not mine.” you murmured quietly.   

Spencer sighed in relief and looked back at you with more determination.   

“Just stay with the officers, okay? They will keep you safe. I promise I’ll explain but I have to do my job.” He tells you; he’s navigated you back to where you started, and he hands you off to a medic.   

You want to argue with him, but his tone leaves no room for it and your energy is fading.    

“Make sure she’s looked at.” He told the medic in a fiercely intense tone.   

“Stay with them. I will explain...later.” he said giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before he turns to leave.    

You have no energy left to try to argue. You’re just filled with exhaustion as the medic checks your vitals. You vaguely hear him talking to you, but you can’t pay attention. Your eyes never left Spencer as you follow him. He works his way around like it's second nature.   

For a moment, you realized there’s a whole part of his life that you had no idea about... he’d never told you.   

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur, you don’t touch your phone until it’s well into the late evening. Seeing missed calls from so many people. You can only find it in yourself to call your dad.    

“Magpie? Magpie, please tell me you’re okay.” Your dad’s voice rings through, warbled like he’s about to cry. Big Joe isn’t a crier, he just never has been. A pang of guilt shoots through you because you feel guilty for not calling sooner.    

“I’m, I’m safe daddy, I’m at the station.” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the smoke and underuse.    

“Oh, thank god.” The sigh of relief speaks more than his words do.   

“I’ll be home tonight, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave...”    

“Come home as soon as you can sweetie.”   

“I love you daddy.” your voice shakes, and it’s watery, almost on the verge of tears.   

“I love you too. Come home safe, and I mean it.” His voice is firm, but filled with warmth and it has you cracking her foundation. Tears escaped your eyes.    

She wipes them away furiously, trying to save her waterworks for when she’s alone tonight and processing what the hell even happened today.   

By the time you hang up you see a small group entering the police station, and there's a familiar mop of brown hair.    

Spencer beelines towards you. You stand to meet him, and you’re enveloped in a tight hug and whispers you can’t hear against your neck.   

“You’re safe, you’re safe.” You hear him chanting and from how he’s holding you, you realize he’s saying it for his benefit.   

The two stand in silence, holding onto each other. You really couldn’t care about the onlookers. You almost died over a stupid bank robbery; you were going to hug your best friend.   

“So, is every day this scary for you?” you asked quietly.   

“Kind of part of the job.” he chuckled moving back to look you over. His sharp eyes trying to see if there was something wrong, if you were injured.    

“So, FBI?” you tilt your head with a raised brow. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a fed.” you teased, trying to ease the tension.   

“Behavioral Analysis Unit, specifically.” He adds.   

Your eyebrows raise, “Jesus, I need a sedative...” you murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”   

Spencer just shrugged, “I just needed somewhere that was for me, yeah know? Keep the work out of the personal?”    

You nodded, “Yeah well, I’d would have liked to know that when my best friends out of town, it could be life threatening.” you said with a small fake punch to his arm.    

“You worry enough about too much. Don’t worry about me.” he told you firmly.    

“That’s easier said than done.” you murmured with a frown.    

“Come on, let me take you home. I’m sure Big Joe’s worried sick.” Spencer said moving to grab your hand and lead you out.    

You just nod and follow behind him.   

-   

“Spencer, are you sure this is okay? I mean I don’t know anyone.” You asked trying to straighten out your dress.    

Spencer was behind the driver's seat in a tuxedo of his own and he was looking at your nervous gestures. He reaches over to hold your hands and squeezes.    

“I know it’s okay. Besides, you might as well meet everyone. I was going to introduce you to Garcia at the convention anyway.” He shrugs casually.     

“I promise they don’t bite; besides, you definitely know Will.” he said with a faint smirk.   

“Spencer Reid that does not count! I was applying pressure to make sure the man didn’t bleed out all over the floor of that bank!” you huff in irritation.    

“I promise you’ll get along, and if I don’t Morgan’s going to start thinking I’m taking out call girls after work.” He frowns in mild annoyance.   

“Wow, glad to know you think I'm a step up from call girl.” you said jokingly, reaching over to pat his arm. “Great pep talk Spence.”   

You move to get out of the car your giggles following. Spencer fumbles to escape the car.    

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he tried to explain.    

You put your hand up, “It’s fine, come on my nerves are definitely gone now.”   

Spencer just smiled at you, watching you smooth out your starry sky dress. The deep blue complimenting her as silver stars dangle from your ears.    

“I’ll stop while I’m ahead.” he said.    

“Good call.”   

Spencer walks you up to Rossi’s house, well, mansion. Your eyes widened a bit before turning to him.    

“Bestselling author... for multiple books.” he confirmed.    

He takes you out to the back to greet everyone’s who's there. You're distracted by the large space and beautiful displays. The flower petals on the ground, the beautiful tables, not to mention an open bar. Spencer gently guides you over to his team Hotch, Garcia, and Morgan who are gathered in a small circle.   

Before Spencer can introduce you Morgan’s already looking you up and down.   

“So, you're the little friend Reid wouldn’t tell us about?” He points at you before returning his hand to his pocket. Morgan’s charming and mischievous smile on his face.   

There’s a gasp, and Garcia gives a small, excited jump, “The bookstore girl!” She almost shouts at you. “You’re gorgeous!” She moved to hold your hands and made you do a small spin to look at your dress. “So sparkly, I like!”   

Morgan leaned over to Reid, “She might have already started drinking...”   

“Can’t believe you’d keep us a secret Reid.” Hotch teased, his arm resting around Beth’s waist pressing her closer to his side.   

“You’re all vultures, every single one. No privacy with you guys.” Spencer told them shaking his head.   

“You’re lucky you lasted this long, if I had known just a little more, I could have looked into her.”   

“That's... exactly what I’m talking about Garcia...” Spencer sighs heavily.   

“I’m Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you guys.” You introduce yourself with a smile and a small laugh.   

“So, a bookstore?” Morgan raised his brow in question.   

“Yeah! I co-own the Midnight Owl. It’s a bookstore and cafe that is open late nights to offer a space for book loving insomniacs like myself.” you said cheerfully.   

“That explains how Reid met you.” Rossi’s voice drifts in as he comes up to meet Spencer’s new friend.   

He extends his hand out to shake yours. “David Rossi, nice to meet you.”     

You give him a warm smile, “Thank you for hosting, your home is beautiful.”   

You leave Spencer for a while going to walk off with Penelope as the blonde leads you to the open bar.   

“How long have you been friends with Reid?” she asked.   

You take a sip from your drink and think, “Three years, going on four.”   

Penelope’s brows go up, “Oh he’s been keeping you a verrrrrry big secret.”   

You roll your eyes, “Well he regretted to inform me his day job was being an FBI agent.”   

“Does it matter?” The blonde asked tilting her head.   

You could feel Penelope’s piercing protective gaze on you. You shake your head. “No obviously not. He’s my best friend. I just... will probably worry ten times more about him now.” you admit.   

“They’re the best team I know.” Penelope tells you softly.   

“Won’t stop me from worrying, but thanks for trying.” you give a half smile before taking another sip.   

“I worry too, constantly.” She stage whispers to you.  

You bubble into laughter and the two make their way back over to the small group.   

Other groups of people were trickling into the back yard filling up space and chattering.   

Spencer’s nowhere to be found with his coworkers and you try to search for him, finally finding him crouched next to a small blonde child. You excuse yourself and make your way over.   

You tilt your head as you watch Spencer roll a ring between his fingers in front of the child and make the ring disappear and reappear before the boy's eyes. 

“Go on Henry,” he ruffles the blonde’s hair, “Time to go be the ring bearer. It’s a very important job.” Spencer ushers Henry off.   

“You just keep surprising me.” you whispered walking over to him.   

Spencer shrugs, “There’s a lot to find out.” he replied.   

“Have you always been this good with kids?” you asked.   

Spencer smiled, “I love them.” The way that he says it, you can see how much he wants that. To be a dad. To be in love.   

“I think you’ll make a great dad one day, if that’s anything to go by.” you tell him.   

Spencer just brushed the comment off and led you over to the altar.   

“Who knows, maybe one day.”   

[ragsy]

The Hole to Nowhere in Your Kitchen Floor (2nd Edition)

This morning, you find a hole.

It's not huge-- about the size of your fist, punched straight through the kitchen's yellowed vinyl tile and underlying subfloor. It's dark inside this hole; a dense, viscous black that suppresses any chance of seeing the bottom. Loose crumbs from the floor, nudged into the gap, make no sound when they drop. Especially curious, given that you're pretty sure there should be another apartment below you.

You add it to your growing pile of concerns: Dishes. Food. Rent. Medical bills. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You kick a rug over the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor and finish getting dressed. In a flurry of shoelaces, jangling keys, and slammed car doors, it is forgotten.

But later, at work, your mind wanders to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Was it there yesterday? Was it something you did wrong? Did it happen on its own? Will it get bigger? Are you going to get billed for this?

You had only given it a cursory glance. Maybe you were mistaken. It's probably not even a hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor, it's just a a hole to your downstairs neighbor's kitchen ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time they've had a reason to complain about you. It probably won't be the last.

Suddenly it's six in the evening. You barely remember the drive home.

Inside your apartment, you kick off your shoes and toe away the rug over the hole to nowhere in the kitchen floor. You stare into it. You sit next to it. You trace it with your finger. It could almost be a natural, like an animal burrow or a knothole in a tree. You think about measuring it, telling people about it, you want to drop small objects down its throat. What would happen? Doesn't everyone want to know? You want to know.

Your cat winds around your ankles. She touches her paws to the edges of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor; You swat her away and conceal it with the rug again. Somehow, it's after midnight. Your stomach churns. You don't sleep. You resolve that tomorrow, you'll tell your landlord about the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

In the morning, you find the rug heaped in a rough pile at the opposite end of the room. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor lies naked. Is it bigger?

A warm, humid breeze wafts out of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. You text your landlord. Mold problem, you suggest.

The vinyl flooring curls away from the edges of the cavity in tiny waves. The hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor sits stoic, silent, and empty. You want it gone. You want to be part of it. Is it bigger? You could probably fit your head inside it now. You should eat. A firm headbutt from the cat reminds you that she should eat too.

You pour her some kibble. You resume your place by the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Maybe it's hungry too?

You blink. That's stupid. It's just a hole. You haul yourself to your feet.

You search in vain for the rug, and with an unceremonious clunk drop a baking sheet over the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You go to work.

You come home.

You go to bed.

Once again, you don't sleep.

At dawn, you find yourself crouched at the precipice. Is it bigger? The emptiness inside it smells just as warm and wet as it did yesterday. You could definitely shimmy your aching body in there now.

You nudge one of your shoes over the edge. You watch as the darkness swallows it whole. You wait for the echoing impact that will never come. For good measure, you prod the other shoe in after it. Hate to waste one of a pair.

You drop more objects into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor: a spatula, a lamp, a family-size bottle of ibuprofen, canned goods from your pantry. You imagine the rush they would feel as they fall. You're beyond embarrassment of your envy of that can of peas.

It's two in the morning, and you drag yourself to bed. Has your stomach ever hurt this badly? Did the cat even bother you for her dinner?

You don't sleep. Your sheets are saturated with cold sweat. A rumble echoes through your apartment.

As objects around your room vibrate themselves from their shelves, a chorus of crashes and shatters and sweet farewells accompany the thrumming.

In the morning, the hole to nowhere in the kitchen floor is waiting for you. You pour a dustpan full of broken figurines into its mouth. Breakfast.

You pull up a chair and sit in its company. Does anyone else have a hole to nowhere in their kitchen floor? You perish the thought. You never get to feel special.

Later, your fatigue draws you from your seat and onto the ground. Later still, you lie, face against the sticky vinyl, next to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. It's only a little wider than you are tall. You could slide inside it with little effort. You still can't see its bottom. Maybe it's rude to be looking for one. You close your eyes.

The rumbling, like a monstrous purr, soothes your body. Occasionally, the ground quakes. Somewhere in your apartment, a framed picture crashes from the wall.

The day passes. Crawling to bed, you collapse just inside your bedroom door. For once, you're blessed with sleep.

When you stir, the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor meets you at the threshold of your bedroom; its yawning gullet now having consumed your fridge, your stove, your pots and pans. Water gushes from severed plumbing, jetting out gallon after gallon that glitters in the morning sun before dropping silently into the void below. Your tongue is dry on your cracked lips.

Now, you seat yourself on the edge of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. You dangle your feet into darkness. You can just barely make out the tips of your toes; everything beyond them falls away from view. You note the set of small, frantic claw scratches that are trenched into the floor along the edge. She's fine, you tell yourself. There's no bottom, after all.

A knock at the door, and your attention returns in a snap. Your muscles and joints are sore. How many hours have you been sitting there for? When did the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor swallow your dinner table? Just as well, you hadn't needed it recently anyway.

There's that knock again. You wait for it to go away. The ground before your door crumbles, and you watch as the doormat slides helplessly into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor.

You hear the rattle of a key entering the lock, and then the clack of the deadbolt. When the door swings open, your landlord is silhouetted against the hall lights outside your apartment. What is he yelling about? Why is he here, again? He should just leave. Can't he see you're busy?

The floor beneath you tremors. You lock eyes with him. He's saying something to you. He's reaching for you. Your lips move, but your words are lost to your ears. The color drains from your landlord's face, and he takes a step backward in fear. His footing slips. Arms flailing, key ring launched from his grip: From the edge of the crumbling floor, he topples headfirst into the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. His scream is cut short as he is engulfed. It's like he was never here.

You release your held breath. Lucky bastard. Maybe your cat will bother him for kibble as they fall together.

Alone again, you lie down next to the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. Your body trembles and your limbs are leaden. The ground convulses violently beneath you. Across the chasm, your living room wall has just fallen in.

You fill your chest with the warm, humid air. You extend a hand toward the ink-black brink of nothing.

Meanwhile, our couch is consumed, followed by your TV. Your coffee table tips over the edge after them.

You inch your body toward the precipice of the hole to nowhere in your kitchen floor. The rolling growl chatters your teeth. Your heart skips several beats.

Your front door collapses. Long tongues of hallway carpet dangle into the opening, soon joined by toppling chunks of drywall.

You close your eyes.

You slide yourself forward, past its jagged incisors, down, down, into its embrace, into nothing, into everything.

If there's a bottom, there's nothing left of you when you find it.

[moonlight-tmd]

So I said that in this Dadimus Prime AU post, Optimus is not Bee's biological sire... but what if he was?

So the story so far is that Optimus found Bee on the streets and adopted him. There wasn't any information about Bee's creators so he never tried to check it...

But what if he had them and never knew about it?

One day when the Autobots were fighting the 'cons, Blackarachnia (who was still with them at that time) kidnapped him and brought him to her own private lair that she found. She was lacking test subjects and the mini was right there, offered on a platter almost.

Bee woke up in the cave, tied up in web, after he's been injected with tranquilizing poison and threatened her. Arachnia didn't think any of it and found it amusing that this little mech has such a cocky blabbermouth. But then he said something unexpected, he started thretening her with his team and more interestingly, his sire.

"When my sire gets here, you're gonna regret ever seeing me!" Bee yelled, still trying to wriggle out of the sticky cocoon.

BA was growing annoyed of this but also intrigued. "And who is this sire of yours, huh?"

"Optimus!" That single name made her freeze up. "He's the best warrior ever and he's gonna kick your aft miles from here when he gets here!"

"...Optimus is your sire?" He voice was cold but there was something about it that sounded... broken. Bee never noticed and continued to threaten her. She just stood there, hearing but not listening to his words, At some point she turned to watch him.

His plating, his helm features, his optics... at some point she left somewhere. When she came back Bee was no longer there, he must've cut the web somehow and escaped. She didn't find him again.

Her processor couldn't stop thinking about it... It wasn't- it couldn't be... Could it? No, he didn't... he-...

She found herself going around the city at night, spying on whoever of the autobots she saw, but most importantly Optimus and Bee.

One time she swung by and managed to lure Optimus away from his patrol route. Of course, he was sceptical when she appeared and said she only wanted to talk- he tried to apologize and persuade her when they first met again but she rejected him... but, maybe she changed her mind?

It wasn't a long talk, they mostly explained their situations right now asked what the other did when they were apart- BA was quite shocked to learn Sentinel demoted Op from a high ranking Elite Guard to a repair bot.

They parted shortly after, Arachnia found herself recalling the memories of her previous life as Elita... She took less and less part in Decepticon activities but still server them as a medic, she met up with Optimus sometimes and began to open up a bit.

On one of their secret meetings, she asked about Bee. She told him that he threatened her with his sire coming over and chopping her in half with his axe. But then she brought up a shared memory of theirs... the party after one of their missions. They both got drunk and slept together.

Optimus couldn't help but blush remembering that, they weren't dating but there was definitely some chemistry going on between then back then. That was unexpected, but what was more unexpected was Blackarachnia telling him that something happened that night that she never told him.

She got sparked. She only found out a week after the party and didn't know what to do. She wasn't ready to be a parent, so she chose to give away the newspark. She went to the clinic that was supposed to keep it alive and put it in a new protoform once it matured and left it there without giving any information. Optimus was the sire.

She wasn't completely sure but when Bee mentioned him being his sire, the memory of that flooded back to her. Optimus just sat there in shock, trying to process.... could it be that the bitlet he found was actually his biological sparkling?

He wasn't sure what to do, he tried his best to not act odd around others and Bee... but he certainly didn't sit there doing nothing.

He dug up the old files Bee had in his folder. He knew the carequarters and the medical info, after a long search he dug deep enough and found the forging files and the minimal information provided from the clinic; Bee was given to them as a newspark in early growth stage, the donor was unknown. He only saw a mention of a femme in the document.

He thought about what should he do about it...

One day, he came to Bee's room to talk. It was like the usual, he asked about stuff, things he did recently... then he changed the tone of the conversation.

"Say... how would you feel if I said that I might be your biological sire?" He asked unsure. Bee paused whatever he was doing and looked at him, smile falling into a more serious expression. "But- i'm from carequarters?"

"Back when I was still an Elite Guard, I knew a femme named Elita." Bee knew about her, Optimus told him stories about her more than once. "But I thought you said she died?"

"Well, it wasn't entirely the case. At least, I learned so recently."

Bee listened carefully as his sire spoke. "One time we were celebrating after a successful mission, we both got drunk and... well, apparently she got sparked and never told me."

"She wasn't ready to be a parent so she gave away the newspark... Then the mission on Archa-7 happened and we thought she was dead." He spoke with saddened fondness, remembering both the intoxicated night and the mission at once. "Then a couple days after I returned to Cybertron, I met you... I aways thought there was something familiar about you that I couldn't quite place."

Silence filled the room, both mechs thinking about the situation. Bee spoke up after a while, in an unsure but soft voice. "So, you're my... real creator?"

"Maybe, we'll have to do a test to know for sure... only if you want to of cou-" He was cut off with Bee holding onto his arm, the look of desperation to know in his eyes. "I wanna know." Bee always wanted to know if he had any biological family, if his adoptive sire was in fact his creator then he needed to know.

As soon as Ratchet got back to base they both went and asked him to make the code comparison, he sure was confused as to why they would do want to do it right now while also knowing Bee is adopted.

Optimus only told him they learned some new information and to just do it. The results took a few hours to process but once they got them... 87.9% match.

The old docbot left them be to talk about the new discovery, as soon as Optimus sat down on one of the berths Bee climbed on and hugged him.

Blackarachnia in the meantime was sitting restless in her lair. Optimus hasn't spoken to her yet, she didn't know if anything she hoped- she thought could be true was in fact true... Growing tired of waiting she decided to find out.

She still had a vial of internal fluid from when she kidnapped Bee, she took it from his life lines to see if he could be a good match for the experiments... She never used it and now was the time to do so. She got her own fluid and ran tests...

65.8% match. It should've been higher but considering what fate she endured after giving up the newspark it still was much higher than if it wasn't matching. She leaned against her desk heavy, there was no point in denying it...

Optimus found her days later, he told her about the test and so did she. Bee was theirs.

Speaking of Bee, the scout wanted to know about his carrier more- what was she like? If she survived then where was she? Could he meet her? All those questions that Optimus tried his best to avoid, he only told him that now wasn't the time and it was complicated.

Until one day. Optimus has taken Bee on a ride late in the afternoon. He drove them to a ruin in the forest, Bee took a defensive stand the moment he saw Blackarachnia step out from behind the walls. To his shock Optimus told him to calm down, Bee tried to get some sense to him cuz hello? Enemy in sight and right in front of them!

His only reaction was to kneel down to his optic level and slowly explain... Elita survived but wasn't herself anymore, and that she was right here... She was Blackarachnia.

Bee was silent for the longest time, shock painted on his faceplate as he stared at his sire. "No."

"No, no no.. No! You can't be serious!" A disbelieving smile appearing as he denied. Optimus tried to speak but he got cut of with a yell. "Her?! She tried to kill us! She's evil!"

Optimus couldn't calm him, Arachnia tried- "YOU SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT MY PARENT! YOU ABANDONED ME!!"

Optimus desperately tried to calm him, to make him stay when he turned to leave.

"Bee, please wait-" "I'm not gonna wait!... You're both crazy!!" And with that he drove off as fast as he could. Optimus tried to stop him but Arachnia stopped him.

"He's right.. I'm not his parent." She left too, Optimus was left all alone to wallow in his sorrow... How could he fail so bad. All he wanted was to bring the lost family together... Instead, he ruined the relationships with both Elita and Bee.

Bee returned to base, but he didn't go to his room, Optimus would look for him there. He sat on the roof on the far end of base, away from all the holes or windows that could let any sounds into anyone's audials... or so he thought. Prowl caught him crying up there, he tried to comfort him and asked what's wrong. Bee told him about Optimus being his real creator. "That's good news, isn't it?" Yeah... The same can't be said about my carrier though." Prowl was confused, he knew Bee was adopted and thought that him finding his real creators would make him happy. But then Bee told him about Elita... or rather Blackarachnia.

"-and apparently they decided to get back together and expect all of us to be one big happy family. Tch- that crazy bitch tried to kill me more than once!" Bee ranted, he needed to let this out, to share with someone. He didn't know what to do...

As shocking as this may have been, Prowl took it quite well and told him it was perfectly okay to not want to be involved. However if Blackarachnia really was trying to fix her mistakes then it would be fair to give her at least one chance to do so. They sat there till late night, Bee didn't know if his sire came back home nor did he care. Prowl told his to consider his words before they parted for recharge.

Days passed and the atmosphere around base seemed to be heavy. Bee wasn't talking with his sire and it was clear something was up between them. None of them knew what though... All this time Bee tried to get all the things in his helm in order; Optimus was his real sire. Elita- who was now Blackarachnia was his carrier. Blackarachnia abandoned him and tried to kill him later... but, she was trying to fix it now. Was she?

It was so confusing. He felt guilty for screaming at his sire too, Optimus only wanted them to be a family.... Aaagh, it was a mess! He thought about what Prowl told him.... He sighed, for once, he would pocket his pride and follow the advice given.

After many silent days he knocked on his sire's door and went in for a talk. He apologized, offered to give the idea a try-but he wasn't gonna be all nice to BA like nothing bad happened between them in an instant.

Honestly, Optimus was just happy that Bee wanted to talk with him again. He agreed and told him he'll tell her when he finds her- which was easier said than done. After what happened it was like she disappeared completely. Optimus knew she couldn't have left earth and a tiny bit in the back of his processor feared the worst... but at last he found her near the lake one night. Of course, she wasn't really happy to see him. She almost didn't believe him when he told her the news from Bee. She didn't think she deserved a second chance... but she wasn't gonna reject it.

Optimus organized for them to go on a picnic together. It was rather awkward but they managed. They told their sides of the story, Arachnia blamed herself for letting her bitty suffer like this, the others were surprised to learn that the femme quit following Decepticon orders, only helping injured soldiers if they went thru trouble to find her.

They went on those picnics once a week, each time getting easier to talk and simply have fun. Although they haven't expected Arachnia to show up at their base once day and try to bond with the rest of the team. Yeah, it was a long talk explaining what happened. Of course, all of them were protective of Bee and didn't trust BA a single bit. It took a while for them to accept and adjust to the situation but they still weren't that fond of her.

Then, the worst happened. Elite Guard visited as the 'cons began to get rowdy and things got rather heated when they talked. One evening Sentinel decided to take it out on Bee and scolded him for being so useless- even going as far as reminding him he was adopted when Bee referred to Optimus as his creator... to which Optimus protested. He told him the truth, he was his creator. And when Sentinel demanded to know who was the carrier- "I am." Blackarachnia stepped out of the hiding.

They argued, Sentinel keeping his lance pointed to attack her. "You don't know who I am, do you?" She stated. "You're-!" "Elite One Prime."

Those thretening words froze him in place, disbelieving. She told him him she survived and that he was a worthless excuse of a friend. She threatened him to never come back or else he'll be dead in the doorstep. He never appeared in base again, only send Jazz to run errands for him if needed and talked with Optimus outside when it was necessary.

Blackarachnia was slowly but surely redeeming herself and undoing the bitter character she made for herself.

One time Team Prime was in a very rough fight with the 'cons on the abandoned factory grounds outside detroit, Arachnia joined to help them. Both teams were trying to off one another and the Allspark shard was wrecking havoc on top of that. It decame dangerous, they had to run. All did, except Blackarachnia. She stayed behind to help Bee cuz he got stuck. She protected him as the energy exploded and the ruin and nearby area collapsed.

All came together to help, they dug Bee and few others out of the rubble but there was no sight of BA. Optimus began panicking as the search didn't seem to bring fruition, then they heard something pushing, banging. Trying to dig out- the giant portion of rubble broke and revealed a small chamber that formed when the building collapsed- but more importantly someone falling out of it.

She was so sore, her frame felt so weird... She felt something crawl up her intake and coughed out the remaining of the green fluid that was spider venom. She wiped her intake with ther servo- wait, servo..? "What..?"

It was yellow. Like the other one- and the rest of her. She pushed herself up to sit, looking over herself... she was normal. Not a spider. "How..?"

Optimus came closer, soft gaze looking over the frame of his past companion. "Elita..."

She felt herself cracking, tears slipping down involuntarily. Optimus knelt down and hugged her, letting her cry her spark out...

"...Mom?" Elita looked up, Bee- her sparkling, was standing in front of them, holding the same worry in his optics as Optimus. Elita reached out only to pull her servo back in shame. But Bee rushed forward and hugged her too.

The three sat there, comforting one another in a shared embrace. The others decided to distance themselves to let them have some privacy.

Now, they could really be a happy family. Just like Bee once wanted.

Oooooh geez, hello, have some juice after surviving this text wall. 🧃

I am 50/50 whether or not to make this canon, but it's a fun alternate ending per se to this thing.