#poms fic challenge

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[toruskiii]

MR. TELEPHONE MAN!

"𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺'𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!"

Synopsis: Pick up, pick up, pick up— still no answer. Desperately trying to reach you after your argument, Boothill finds himself repeatedly directed to the operator's automated voicemail. 'Please hang up and try again, baby.' Genre: Comfort, fluff Character: Boothill x gn!reader Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of Dan Heng, a little strayed from canon events maybe, slightly ooc, mentions of prior argument, slight angst if you squint, half of the fic is just Boothill and Dan Heng having a heart to heart bro talk lol [masterlist] [about me]

Boothill cursed himself silently, though as vigorously as he could manage since his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning. Walking briskly around the Parlor car, phone gripped tightly in hand, he couldn't escape the relentless sound of the dial tone on repeat. Meanwhile, Dan Heng observed him with a quizzical expression, one brow arched in curiosity.

Witnessing Boothill in such evident distress was a rare sight for Dan Heng. The ranger typically exuded an aura of nonchalant confidence, often adopting a "fudge it, we ball" attitude towards life's challenges. Consequences were either dealt with head-on or circumvented through sheer audacity.

Reckless. Yes, that word seemed to define him perfectly. And perhaps that's why he was so visibly agitated now. Boothill's thumb hovered over the name 'sweetcheeks' on his phone, a term that made Dan Heng cringe inwardly, yet he dismissed it knowing it was a manifestation of love.

"May I inquire as to your purpose for boarding the Astral Express today? If your intention is merely to cause a disturbance, I suggest you reconsider," Dan Heng stated firmly, crossing his arms and adopting his usual stoic expression, his brow arching slightly. While he and the other nameless welcomed all aboard the Express with open arms, Boothill remained a figure of caution, especially given recent events, despite the significant assistance he had provided.

"What? Ain't you the one who said I could drop by anytime?" Boothill retorted, his frown deepening as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His attention flickered momentarily to his vibrating phone before returning with disappointment when he heard the all-too-familiar phrase that had been echoing for the past half-hour. "Sorry, please hang up and call again."

"I never made such a claim," Dan Heng countered, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his narrowed eyes as he observed the disgruntled expression on Boothill's face. "Apart from the conductor, Pom Pom, none of my colleagues have had the pleasure of meeting you. It would be prudent for you to acquaint yourself with them before boarding."

Boothill let out a derisive snort, his thumb instinctively jabbing at the 'dial again' button as he locked eyes with Dan Heng. "Aw, come on now. The conductor already gave me the green light. Ain't that sufficient? And you, you actin' like a youngster. Do I gotta meet your folks before I can come over and play?"

Instantly, Boothill regretted his words, his lips forming a tight line as he realized he had overstepped. "Well, shoot. My apologies," he conceded, his voice softened with regret as he retrieved his hat and made his way to the nearest couch, slumping down with a heavy sigh. This was his perpetual dilemma— he was too forthright, too bold with his language. His words spilled out before he could filter them.

Boothill was baffled by his own behavior. Apologizing to strangers or mere acquaintances came naturally to him, the words slipping out effortlessly, whether they were genuine or not. But when it came to you, it was as if his internal wiring malfunctioned. His mechanical body buzzed with static, sparks dancing erratically, and his words emerged in a tangled mess. The simple phrases��� "I love you" or "I'm sorry"— seemed trapped behind a barricade, struggling to find their way past his lips.

"Forget it," Dan Heng sighed, striding over to the dejected figure slumped on the couch. "But do enlighten me as to why you're here just to make a phone call, presumably to your significant other? Is it a must to reach them while aboard the Express?"

Boothill simply shrugged, emitting a grunt of frustration before pulling his hat down over his face, a gesture of defeat. "There ain't no signal anywhere else, I reckon. Figured your train might lend me a hand, even just a tad."

As the number continued to ring with no response from you, Boothill finally opened up, his voice softening as he admitted, "Got into a spat with my partner."

With those words, he began to dismantle the barriers surrounding his emotions, allowing them to spill forth within the confines of the Express. Dan Heng listened attentively, offering a supportive presence to the troubled man.

Boothill couldn't shake the feeling of remorse gnawing at him. He knew he had deeply upset you this time, and he had no one to blame but himself. Who wouldn't be hurt if their own partner hurled insults at them, especially when all they wanted was to show care and concern? Boothill couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed, and the mere thought made his stomach churn.

"I think I really got under their skin— no doubt about it," he muttered to himself, replaying the scene in his mind where you were left with a furrowed brow and glistening tears threatening to spill. In that moment of frustration, he couldn't fathom why you would bother caring about him. After all, he was no longer flesh and blood; he was encased in metal, his heart silent, and his tear ducts dry.

He couldn't feel pain or sorrow like he used to. So why should you waste your concern on someone who couldn't be harmed or hurt? He couldn't feel anything beyond his face. There was no need for you to worry about him getting into trouble or getting hurt, because he wouldn't feel it.

It was a selfish thought, he admitted, yet at the same time, it wasn't. After all, you were human— a fragile being whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant— while he remained invulnerable. So why waste your energy worrying about him, when he should be the one worrying about you?

As Boothill drowned in his sorrows, his metal hand tapping incessantly on his phone in a desperate attempt to reach you, Dan Heng listened intently, a somber hum escaping his lips as he nodded along.

'Sorry, please hang up and call again.'

Well, fork me.

"Have you apologized?"

"I want to," Boothill admitted, his brows furrowing with guilt. He mulled over various ways he could make it up to you without actually uttering those two crucial words—an apology. Perhaps he could buy you your favorite cake, shower you with affectionate kisses until you couldn't help but giggle, and lavish you with words of admiration.

"That sounds more like a birthday celebration, Boothill. It would be selfish and ignorant of you to avoid apologizing," Dan Heng interjected, cutting through Boothill's thoughts with a firm reminder.

"But— But it's dang near impossible to say those words!" Boothill groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he sat upright on the couch, dialing your number once more, silently pleading for you to answer. "It's like pulling teeth."

"And that's precisely the issue you need to address," Dan Heng replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.

The Ranger slumped back, averting his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of defeat. "…What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Apologize."

"…you—alright. Fine."

"But apologize like you actually mean it, not just because you have to."

As Dan Heng's words sank in, Boothill felt a sudden jolt of realization. Apologize like he meant it— not just because it was expected of him. The gravity of those words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to freeze in place, his wide eyes meeting Dan Heng's steady gaze.

With a nod and an encouraging thumbs up from Dan Heng, Boothill was left to ponder his next move in solitude. Did he truly mean it, this apology? Absolutely. It shouldn't be so difficult to utter those words, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar automated message playing once more: "Sorry, please hang up and call again, baby."

A small gasp escaped Boothill's lips as he jolted upright, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his phone. Could it be? Was it really you on the other end? "W-wait—! Darlin'? Sweetcheeks? Is that really you?" he stammered, lifting the phone to his ear and pacing in circles, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Forgot my voice already?" Your retort hit Boothill like a punch to the gut, and he could almost see the frown forming on your face. He let out a noise of frustration, his head bowed as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket, rendered momentarily speechless. "Erm— nah. How could I?"

If he still possessed skin and flesh, Boothill was certain his palms would be sweating profusely right now. A man who had faced countless bounties on his head, vanquishing his enemies with a flick of his gun, and executing daring escapes from perilous heights— now reduced to a speechless fool at the mere sound of his lover's voice.

"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to breathe out, his voice laced with uncertainty. He could almost hear the slight scoff on the other end of the line, a sound that made his heart ache with regret.

"About what? I don't think there's much to talk about after the tantrum you threw at me," your voice came through, laced with a hint of bitterness. Were you being immature? Perhaps. But you had every right to be upset, every right to be salty.

Boothill swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he stumbled over his words, the apology he wanted to offer caught in his throat. "I- uh, um…" He cursed inwardly, his free hand nervously tugging at a few strands of his hair in a panic.

Darn it, why didn't he ask Dan Heng when the Express would reach the planet where you resided?

"I wanted to say that I…I'm so—" He groaned in frustration, slapping his hand against his face as he gritted his teeth in irritation. Why was it so blasted difficult to express himself? "I-I'm sorry, darlin'. Truly, I am."

The silence from your end only intensified Boothill's nerves, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. Was this it? Were you going to leave him, leaving him to wander aimlessly without a home once more? "Please, sweetheart. I'm pourin' my heart out here," he pleaded softly, his voice trembling with genuine sincerity.

He listened intently, straining to hear any sign of your response. From the muffled sounds of sheets rustling, he could only guess that you might be on the verge of tears again, and it tore at his nonexistent heart. "I'm sorry for…for yellin' and such. I was actin' selfish and ignorant, and I know that was wrong of me," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt as he cast his gaze downward.

Desperation clawed at him, the longing for your touch, the warmth of your presence beside him each morning, the comfort of your embrace— it all flooded his senses. He yearned for a home to return to, a sanctuary where he could find solace in your love once more.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," Boothill vowed earnestly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

He heard a quiet sigh escape your lips, and he squirmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting your response.

"You've got 10 minutes to get your ass back into our home, right this instant," you blurted out, attempting to inject a joking tone into your words, but Boothill could detect the slight tremor in your voice.

His heart soared with relief and joy at your words. "Alright— okay, I'll be there. Just let me ask Dan Heng when we'll be arriving, alright?" he replied eagerly, his demeanor brightening considerably. This was his chance to make things right, to rebuild what he had almost shattered. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers.

As Boothill's metal boots echoed through the halls of the Express, his heart lightened at the sound of your voice. "I miss you," you confessed, the sniffle in your tone tugging at his wired heartstrings.

A chuckle escaped him, his hand reaching for the doorknob that led to Dan Heng's room. "I missed you too, sweetcheeks. I'll make it up to you, I swear on my bounty," he promised, determination lacing his words.

He could sense the relief in your giggle as you bid him goodbye and hung up, prompting him to knock on Dan Heng's door. "Yo, bro! When we makin' a stop at my planet?"

"We're not," Dan Heng's muffled voice responded, causing Boothill to freeze in his tracks. "We're stopping at Penacony to go to The Reverie to pick up my colleagues."

"…We're what."

[bylerbigbang]

2023 Byler Big Bang Fics & Art Masterpost

Now that December is here, that's a wrap on the 2023 Byler Big Bang! We welcomed 22 fics and even more art into the fandom over October and November, and now we want to celebrate everyone's hard work one more time with this masterpost of all the fics and art links completed for the challenge. A huge thanks to everyone who took part or otherwise supported the fics and art of the creators!

We will be back in summer 2024 with info about next year's event.

[The full fic collection on Ao3]

Masterposts here on Tumblr with fics + art:

Second Chances and Dances

remember to remember me

Theatre and Pom Poms

a swingset stuck in amber

Teal Streaked Ribbons

in the springtime, in the sun (we can be alone without anyone)

it's nice to have a friend

What a Time to Be Alive

under the stars with you

Ain’t it enough that I'm laying my heart out?

Through A Dark Glass, Wanting

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face)

Autumn Leaves

this must be the place

And the Wonder of it All is That You Just Don’t Realize How Much I Love You

Lips Like Sugar

never did shine as bright

afterimage

On the Same Frequency

At the Time of Sight

ai! ai! (fūnestaque littera ducta est)

Sick of Meaning (I just want to hold you)

[foxy-eva]

Waltz with Me

Summary: When Reader is sad that she won’t be getting a New Year’s kiss, Spencer is there to save the night

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: a little bit of ‘end of the year’-melancholy

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Comfort Fic Writing Challenge! Shoutout to Pom for helping me come up with this blurb (and for being my friend ❤️)

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

What a year for a new year. 

As I watched most of my friends pairing up to get ready to kiss their loved ones at midnight, I took a deep breath and walked over to the window to look at some stray fireworks that made their way to the sky early. 

Soon I would be able to leave the old year behind me. 

It surprised me every New Year’s Eve how it could be that days always seemed endless but the years were so short in comparison. There was not enough time for me to find someone I could kiss tonight, so instead I decided to linger by the window until the clock would strike midnight. 

Five more minutes until the new year. 

Noticing timid footsteps approaching me, I turned around to find Spencer looking at me with a worried look. 

“You okay?”

Smiling at him, I nodded and lied, “Sure.”

He raised one eyebrow at me and chuckled, “Very convincing.” 

His eyes left mine to look at the fireworks for a moment. He stood close enough for me to sense the heat radiating from his body and I instantly felt soothed by his presence. 

“In all honesty, I’m a little annoyed that I wasted another year,” I sighed. 

Spencer locked eyes with me and wondered, “What do you mean? You accomplished so much, for example you– “

“ –don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight.” I interrupted him. 

“Ah,” he said. “That’s what you mean.”

I shrugged and looked out the window again. “It’s a stupid tradition anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s rather unlikely that not being kissed at midnight would determine an entire year of loneliness like ancient Romans believed.” 

This time it was me who met his look with raised eyebrows, asking, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“If you choose to believe in superstitions I’d suggest looking into nicer ones. Austrians for example have a tradition to waltz at midnight. They gather up to cheerily dance into the new year, believing that starting it that way will bring them happiness,” he explained. 

My eyes widened at his words and a smile spread over my face. 

“Spencer, now you have to waltz with me!” I giggled as I reached for his hands. 

He pulled back and shook his head. “What? No! I don’t know how to dance.” 

“Come on, how hard can it be to waltz?”

I noticed how everyone around us started counting down numbers, a clear sign that midnight was approaching. Spencer realized that too, looking at our friends before locking eyes with me again. He stepped closer to me and placed his right hand on my waist and his left hand in my palm. 

“Your left hand needs to be on my shoulder,” he told me right before the clock struck midnight. 

And then we did it – sort of. Clumsily Spencer attempted to take the lead as we started swaying from side to side. Right when I wanted to point out that this is not what a waltz is supposed to look like, he took the first step forward, making me step back. We stumbled over each other’s feet and I kept crashing into his chest whenever he tried to get back into the motion. 

There was no way for me to stop the fit of laughter falling from my lips. 

Spencer, however, seemed very determined to do this right when he complained, “The noise of the fireworks doesn’t fit the three-quarter time of the waltz at all! How am I supposed to do this right?!” 

“This is supposed to be joyful, remember?” I snickered. 

Slowly but surely we found the right pace to dance with each other. Our motions weren’t completely right and I’m sure we didn’t look graceful at all, but waltzing with Spencer made me really, really happy. I kept my eyes on him, noticing how the crease between his eyebrows slowly disappeared and a hint of a smile became visible on his face. 

“So,” I tried to start a conversation, “Any plans for the new year?” 

“I want to take dancing lessons so I’ll do this right next time,” he joked. 

The prospect of dancing with Spencer again some time made my heart jump and I felt a comforting warmth spreading through my chest. 

“Great idea,” I agreed. “You really aren’t that good at this.”

“I considered my other options to cheer you up but I’m even worse at kissing.”

His statement made me laugh again. “I really doubt that.” 

A moment of comfortable silence followed as we slowed down our motions until we were only swaying from side to side. I noticed how his sight dropped from my eyes to my lips for a split second as if he considered proving to me what he just claimed. 

“What about you?” he asked instead. “Any resolutions for the new year?”

“Just one,” I told him. “I want to grow a couple of inches.” 

“And why is that?” He wondered. 

“So I don’t have to stand on my tiptoes to find out if you really are bad at kissing.”

A lovely rosy shade spread over Spencer’s cheeks at my words and his lips slightly parted, almost inviting me to do what I just announced. My left hand wandered from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and I noticed how his grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me closer until our bodies touched. 

He leaned down and I stood on my tiptoes so our lips could meet, timidly brushing over one another. It was short and sweet and I couldn’t help but smile into our kiss. When I pulled back and looked at him, I almost got lost in the depth of his golden irises. 

It took me a few moments to find my words and when I did, I finally concluded, “You lied.”

He leaned down again, his breath hot against my face as he whispered, “I know,” before capturing my lips once more. 

Thank you so much for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and feedback helps me stay motivated to come up with more stories. Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @delicatespencer @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luna-novae @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @jordierama @daniacat @ellamaianderson @cynbx @feltonswifesworld87 @sweetannanas

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 7

Also, a little Valentine's Day fic! 💕

back on schedule, babyyy

Week 7: “Can’t you see how much I love you”/love confessions & makeovers/dressing up

The annual Valentine's Day costume ball is coming up at the Abbey, and Aurora can't wait to attend in matching costumes with Mist. One small issue: she has to ask her first.

Rating: T Content: Fluff, Mistrora being cute and in love, allusions to sexual themes Words: 2002

This one got out of hand quite quickly! Happy Valentine's Day if you celebrate! 💕

Read below or on AO3!

At the Abbey, the annual Valentine’s Day costume ball was coming up. Because what said “Satan-worshipping-church” like a debauched disco on a Saint’s memorial day? At these parties, the ghouls and humans intermingled freely, and nights often ended in more than just intermingling. For the ghouls, it was also a night of freedom from their masks, all the more appreciated by the newer ghouls with their oppressive helmets.

Aurora couldn’t wait. This was her first Valentine’s costume ball topside, and if it was anything like the other parties she had been to topside, it would be a blast. From the minute it was announced, she had been thinking of what her costume should be. Halloween had been incredible, everyone dressed some kind of spooky or sexy, or both. Aurora had matched costumes with the other touring ghoulettes Cirrus and Cumulus, going as The Plastics from Mean Girls.

Aurora wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue her chick-flick move theme for this party. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to go as. What she did know, is that she wanted to coordinate with her girlfriend, Mist. Was that even the correct word, Aurora wondered to herself? They weren’t mated yet, but they were… something. The humans had more words than they could possibly need for these situations, Aurora could surely borrow some.

There was one slight issue with this plan, however. Mist famously did not attend costume parties at the Abbey. Aurora figured her best chance at going with Mist was to come up with a costume concept the older ghoulette couldn’t resist.

This was going to be a challenge: Aurora’s aesthetic and media preferences didn’t exactly align with Mist’s. While she would happily go as anything pink, princess-y, or otherwise hyperfeminine with a 2000s movie influence, Mist was quite the opposite. She was more into dark colours, androgenous styles and fantasy novels. Aurora was sure there had to be some crossover to explore though.

Putting aside her initial dream of matching Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper costumes, she tried to think closer to what Mist would choose. Certainly nothing involving a dress or a skirt, she knew the thought of wearing them made Mist’s skin crawl. What about a knight? Heroic, Big Sword, rescue the Princess from a big tower? Aurora wasn’t the sort of Princess that would need rescuing though.

“What about dragons?” she mused aloud to Sunshine one evening, watching the multi ghoulette crouched on the floor sewing sequins onto a pair of intricate butterfly wings.

“I think Swiss and Phantom are doing dragons…” Sunshine hummed, almost cross-eyed with concentration, “something about dragon and dragon rider.”

Aurora rolled her eyes and mimed gagging, as Sunshine looked up from her work to snicker at her reaction.

“Yeah, you might want to steer clear of them all night. Swiss gets a bit carried away on Valentine’s.”

Aurora flopped backwards onto Sunshine’s bed with a huff, “What are you going as? Maybe I can convince Mist to do a ghoulette group costume?”

Sunshine proudly held her wings aloft, “I’m a butterfly, and Mountain’s going as a caterpillar! He’s still got about fifty pom-pom feet to sew to his outfit before the party.”

“They look amazing Sunny!” Aurora looked on with envy. At this rate she was going to end up going as a lonely cat without a date.

“Why don’t you just ask Mist to go to the party with you, Rory? She might have an idea for your costumes.”

“Maybe…” Aurora rolled onto her front to face Sunshine properly, “How should I ask her?”

Sunshine sighed, setting her wings to the side and moving to sit next to Aurora. In times like these she really felt like a big sister to the newest ghoulette.

“The same way you asked her to be your girlfriend, petal. But maybe with less references to movies she hasn’t seen.” Sunshine tossed an arm around Aurora’s shoulders as best she could in their awkward position on the edge of the bed, “Besides, there’s no way she’d say no, Mist is so head over heels for you that Satan Himself could see it from the pit!”

Aurora hoped she was right.

Later that day, Aurora steeled herself to ask Mist to go to the Valentine’s ball together. She found Mist where she often was when she didn’t have duties, sat reading on the stone bench next to a small, secluded pond. Mist looked up when she heard footsteps approaching, and seeing her wide smile as Aurora approached made her heart stutter in her chest.

“Hi Moonflower, I thought I’d find you here.” Aurora sat down next to Mist, the pair instinctually shuffling as close together as possible, pressed to each other like magnets; shoulder to hip to ankle.

“Hello Sweet Thing, come to keep me company?” Mist set her book down to snake an arm around Aurora’s waist and press a kiss to the corner of her lips, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. Aurora giggles against her lips, happily losing herself in Mist’s embrace.

When they eventually broke apart for air, Aurora remembered why she had some come find Mist in the first place.

“So…” she started, trying her best to sound casual, “are you going to the Valentine’s ball?”

“Why do you ask?” smirked Mist, “are you inviting me?”

Aurora forgot what she was going to say, not expecting Mist to see straight through to what she was asking so quickly. She was flustered, stuttering out some sounds that could possibly have been interpreted as a “yes”. No one else could manage that quite like Mist.

“So, what are you going as then?” asked Mist, reaching out to play with a piece of hair behind Aurora’s ear.

“I’m not sure yet, I was hoping you might have an idea actually. I want us to go as something we both like.”

“I’ll be happy in anything, as long as you’re there.” Mist cooed in her ear, “I’d turn up with nothing but my unglamoured fins, if that was what you wanted.” Her cool and delicate fingers traced over Aurora’s neck, where gills would be if she had any, and Aurora gave in to the carnal distraction of Mist’s smooth tongue and fingertips. The costume party didn’t seem so important anymore.

Stuck polishing the wooden pews in the chapel the next day, Aurora thought more on Mist’s comment. Unglamoured fins. Creatures of the Sea. She started formulating a story in her head. She could still be a princess, but how about a mermaid princess, with the alluring voice of a siren. Mist often called her my sweet siren after all. Mist could be a beautiful pirate queen trying to pillage the mermaid’s lands, but ending up beguiled by her song convinced to go adventuring upon the high seas together.

Mist would hopefully like the costume too, a blouse loose enough around her gills, not an overly “girly” costume, but still badass. Rory lost herself in her daydream, fleshing out her perfect Halloween costume idea and backstory, until she realised that she has been polishing the same armrest for ten minutes.

This idea seemed perfect for them; dressing for a story no one but them knew. They’d tried to keep their relationship a secret for so long, even though they later learned that they hadn’t been in the least bit subtle, and their respective packs had seen through them near instantly.

She dropped by Mist’s pack dorm on the way back to her own quarters, to suggest her idea. If she’d been surprised by Mist’s enthusiasm to accompany her to the ball, she was even more astounded by her interest in the costume. Mist had all but begged to make her own, and to keep them a surprise from each other until the night of the party.

For the rest of the week leading up to the party, she spent her spare evenings in Sunshine’s room, joining her on the floor to sew sequins onto her own costume. Sunshine was predictably now making Mountain’s costume for him, attaching fist-sized pom-poms to a green zip-up hoodie. She had asked Cirrus and Cumulus if they wanted to join their crafting sessions, but they had claimed their own costumes, the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch, were already finished.

Little did Aurora know, that Mist had already enlisted the air ghoulettes to help her with her own costume, showing her how to stitch frills and ruffles to the cuffs of a blouse, and embellish the rest of her outfit in a way befitting of a pirate queen.

The evening of the Valentine’s day ball finally arrived, and Aurora was buzzing with anticipation as she waited for Mist to knock on the dormitory door. She had insisted on coming by before the party to collect Aurora. Eventually, there were three sharp raps on the door, and Aurora had to force herself to count to ten before she threw it open.

"Ahoy! I be here t’ collect me Princess!” Mist grinned widely, flourishing a plastic cutlass bedazzled with crystals. Aurora looked at her outfit in wonder; Mist looked ferociously beautiful. The delicate linen fabric of her blouse rippled in the breeze from the hallway, showing off the numerous gold swirls stitched along the frilly cuffs. The cut of her tight leather pants was enough to make Aurora’s mouth water, her long legs emphasized by the tall boots she was wearing, also decorated with rhinestones and gold. But nothing quite compared to the costume jewellery she was practically dripping in; body chains, hooped earrings, hammered metal arm cuffs. She looked every inch the terrifying pirate queen she was meant to be.

“Mist…” Aurora whispered, in awe, “you look incredible!” Mist broke character to blush at the praise, full of compliments of her own for Aurora’s sparkling bodice and mermaid “tail”.

Their tender moment in the doorway was interrupted by the boisterous entrance of a sparsely-clothed dragon and his equally underdressed rider, off to join the other ghouls that were pre-gaming in the kitchen.

“Woah Mist, you look awesome!” hollered Swiss, clearly already in the party spirit. Mist straightened her spine, and glared mock-haughtily at the multi-ghoul,

“'Tis yer Royal ‘ighness Cap'n Mist t' ye, ye rum-soaked scalawag!” she leered at him with a dangerous grin. Swiss looked like he was torn between being terrified and turned on, but was saved from having to justify either reaction by Phantom dragging him away to the kitchen. When the door closed behind them, leaving both ghoulettes alone in the entrance hall of the dorm again, they collapsed into each other’s arms in peals of laughter.

“His face Mist! You’ve given the poor guy a pirate crisis!” Aurora managed to catch her breath just enough to talk between fits of giggles.

“It’s not him I feel sorry for, think about Phantom!” they both promptly dissolved into laughter again. “Poor Bug…” mused Aurora, as she dragged Mist by the hand to her room, before they had to leave for the party proper in the Abbey’s main hall.

“You really do look amazing, Waterlily.” Aurora smiled at her as her bedroom door swung closed behind them.

“So do you, my Songbird, you’re always the most beautiful thing in every room, but tonight you look exquisite.”

Aurora pulled her onto the bed and into a kiss. They had time for a brief distraction while the other ghouls drained their liquor supplies.

“I can’t believe you went to all this effort!” pulling away, Aurora ran her hand down Mist’s arm to admire the little details of her outfit. “I didn’t even think you would want to go at all!”

“Can you still not see it?” asked Mist, raising Aurora’s chin with the tip of one long finger, “This is for you. Everything is always for you. I’d do anything just for one more smile from your beautiful lips.” She brushed across them, soft and gently parted, with her thumb. “Can’t you see how much I love you?”

[dangerous-disposition]

🩷 Fic Writing Review 2023 🩷

I was tagged by @scarcrossdlvrs @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes and @eriquin

rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Words & Fics

183,675 words on AO3 (plus a handful of stuff on tumblr)

30 fics published to ao3

2 multi-chap fics completed

Top 5 Fics by Kudos

i could be honest, i could be human (2,075)

here i have found some peace of mind (1,246)

when heaven falls, i will be your light (783)

grow back your sharpest teeth (you know my desire) (503)

i can't tell where you end and where i start (451)

My Fandom Fic Events in 2023

lex's spicy six fanworks challenge - summer

@steddiemicrofic

@steddieholidayexchange

discord server secret santa fic exchange

Upcoming Projects and Continued WIPs for 2024

pom!verse sequel

pom!verse aside

romcom!au

completing both of my summer fics for lex's summer challenges

icbh sequel (kinda)

a bunch of like... original stuff actually

Reflections

So looking at my stats on AO3, i hadn't really written anything in three years and just... I have to say it's been so fucking excellent getting back into writing? Like I desperately missed doing this and I'm so fucking happy to be back at it. The past couple months have been hell at work and I know I haven't really put much out because of that, but like... I'm still writing and still creating and I can't wait to start posting some stuff again.

i feel like everyone's already been tagged so i'm not going to tag anyone else haha

[imagining-in-the-margins]

congrats on the huge milestone Pom! 🎉🎉

🌸 Give a Fic Rec 🌸

Professor Blake by @nightmarish-fae is my absolutely favourite comfort fic!

(plus a cheeky self promo of my Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader Never Good Enough)

🍓 Get a Fic Rec 🍓

would love any recs for Temily <3

🥐 Prompt Builder 🥐

5vs1 with any CM women pretty please <3

[pom’s afterparty] I’ve noted the two recs ❤️

1. Five times Emily felt alone versus the one time she knew she wasn’t. Emily has been Lauren Reynolds and she’s been a ghost. She’s been the new agent, the new Unit Chief, and she’s been stripped of her status with the BAU. In an ever changing set of roles, it’s hard to connect with someone. (Character) changes that for her.

2. Five times Penelope calls (Character) a nickname versus the one time she uses their real name. (Character) knows they’ve either done something very good or very bad (they really hope it’s good).

3. Five times JJ is forced to lie to the people she loves versus the one time she decides to tell the truth, anyway. Each role JJ has undertaken has forced her to put herself last. She is defined by her duty, but there are some things even she can’t bear to lose.

Temily Fic Recs below! 💋

I know that there aren’t many Temily fics and you probably already know all of these, but I figured it’s still worth it to spread the gospel of my favorite ship 🙏

Lead the Way by @foxy-eva: When Tara finds Unit Chief Emily Prentiss in her hotel room at night, they need to figure out who really is in charge.

Motherhood by Foxy: Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Anniversary by Foxy: Emily plans a special surprise for Tara on their first wedding anniversary.

And my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE OF HERS…

In the Middle by Foxy: Getting together with Emily and Tara feels like a dream come true for Fem!Reader.

Plus anything by @gaelic-symphony , including…

A Year in the Life: Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara and Emily.

I Need Someone I Know is Real: Emily is struggling with flashbacks and nightmares after being kidnapped and tortured by Mr. Scratch. Fortunately, her wonderful girlfriend, Tara, is there to help her through it.

The Road Ahead: Emily and Tara hit the road for a weekend getaway at Rossi’s vacation house on the Eastern Shore.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY…!

Caution to the Wind: Tara has a rule against dating her coworkers. But after a one-night stand with an attractive Interpol agent spirals into something more serious, she finds herself in the unfortunate position of being hopelessly in love with her boss, Emily Prentiss.

Finally, two challenge entries from my friends:

Something There That Wasn’t There Before by @andiebeaword: You know what they say about roommates? Can't keep anything straight.

Let it Snow by @lollipopgal: Emily and Tara enjoy Christmas in a snowy New York.

Happy reading!

[pomgore]

Pom!!! What can you tell us about “the empty lands where no men are”? 👀💜

HOHOHO YOU HAVE RISEN TO THE CHALLENGE!

i can tell you it's a boromir lives amnesia fic where aragorn is so polyamorous he cries

a while ago i was fantasizing about like, the boromir-arwen side of the love triangle and decided i thought their dynamic could be incredible (two chivalrous courtly lovers who bond over their destiny-riddled third half) so i give arwen plenty of time in the spotlight in that fic as well

as for boromir and aragorn, they are as dramatic as ever

“There was- kingsfoil, that’s the name, kingsfoil in the arrow-wounds,” Boromir continued. “... I expect that was the work of the King. He was a ranger in the realm where Arnor once stood, isn’t that right? A ranger’s knowledge of medicine.”

“To use athalas on wounds is an elven remedy,” Arwen told him. “Before Aragorn was a ranger, he lived in Rivendell among elves for many years.”

Boromir watched Aragorn for a while. “I do not know why,” he said, “but that seems to explain some things about him.”

“Indeed,” Arwen agreed. “Continue about Lórien, please.”

i'm still not sure whether i'll finish this one as i've hit a tough spot in it, but i love the concept so much that i can't bear to delete it - boromir my babygirl for real

thank you sm for the ask btw! maybe i will send you one after i have a nap to recover from this wretched sickliness

[boldlyvoid]

10 Days

this is for @imagining-in-the-margins father's day fic challenge <3

summary: it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.

a/n: just a lot of new dad spencer fluff ♥︎ happy father's day everyone

word count: 1.4K

Read on Ao3

10 days.

That’s how long it has been since he became a father. Holding the small gift the love of his life brought into the world, Edwin was so tiny. He slept, swaddled up, resting against Spencer’s knees as he sat up in bed. Y/N asleep on the pillow beside them.

Spencer couldn’t believe how perfect his life had become. Edwin’s small coo’s and grunts as he slept making him smile at the perfect little being they created. All 6lbs, 10oz and 21 inches of pure perfection, joy and love.

He was peaceful, his cute little button nose twitched as he pouted. About to wake up, hungry as the sun rose, like clockwork. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, looking around with his deep brown eyes before he started to wail.

“Shhh,” Spencer soothed him as he brought him to his chest, bouncing him softly as Y/N started to wake up.

She yawned beside him, stretching into a banana shape as she did so. Curling around him slightly before sitting up, keeping her eyes closed as she swallowed a few times and became a person again.

“Good morning,” Spencer spoke over the slight crying.

“Hello,” she replied, opening one eye as she un-clipped her nursing bra, “hand him over.”

Spencer laid him in her arms, watching as she led him towards the nipple. He latched with no problems, she tilted her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes once again. She had become a pro at sleeping while feeding, excited for when he was finally big enough that she could just roll over and feed him while laying down.

Spencer watched as Edwin's little hand found its way out of the swaddle, reaching up to hold the side of her boob. His eyes wide open as he ate, staring up at his mother with amazement.

Spencer always felt a bit emotional when he really looked at them. Seeing all the best qualities of both himself and Y/N in him already, Edwin was the most perfect baby he had ever seen.

He couldn’t believe sometimes that he was his son.

He leaned his head onto Y/N’s shoulder, cuddling into her as he reached out to cup Edwin’s tiny little head. Rubbing his thumb over the soft spot covered in hair. He loved them so much it felt overwhelming.

He kissed her shoulder softly, feeling her smile as her cheek pressed against his head. “Happy Father’s Day,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” he felt the tears well before one slipped out, trailing his cheek before dropping to her shoulder in a small splash.

“Oh Spence,” she started to cry too, laughing into the tears. Making her chest bounce and disturb Edwin’s breakfast.

“I just love you so much, they’re happy tears,” Spencer said softly before he kissed her cheek.

“Seriously, Spence,” she looked at him softly, still all puffy from sleep and the pregnancy. “Making you a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Seeing you become a mom was like, everything just connected and the world made sense,” he explained softly. “The way you just powered through and suddenly you’re helping reach down and bringing this life into the world,” he started crying again. “It was magical, the feeling of becoming a father at that moment, seeing the life we made?” He had to stop to catch his breath as he cried, lifting his shirt up to wipe his tears off his face.

“I know,” she cried in agreement, looking down at her beautiful little boy as he ate away, unaware that his sleep-deprived parents were having a moment.

“I love you,” Spencer laughed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips finally.

There was a knock on their bedroom door then, “come in?” Y/N answered as Spencer sat back against the headboard beside her.

“Good morning,” her mother and Diana cheered softly as they walked in, breakfast for the both of them on trays. “Happy father’s day!”

“Oh my god,” Spence got overwhelmed again, covering his face so he wouldn’t cry in front of them too.

“Thank you guys,” he could hear the smile on Y/N’s face as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do all this?”

“Spencer used to make me breakfast on both Father’s and Mother’s day, I thought I’d repay the favour,” Diana recalled the memory with a soft smile.

“Thank you, mom,” Spencer said as Diana placed the tray on his lap, hugging him softly before she moved back.

“We’ll leave you alone now,” Y/N’s mom added as she placed the other tray on Y/N’s side of the bed. “Call me if you need anything else?”

“Sure thing, thanks nanny,” Y/N replied, using her mother’s new nickname.

It was so nice having both of them visit, they were very helpful. Allowing them to have time to shower and use the bathroom, they cleaned the house and made all the meals while Y/N and Spencer bonded with their little miracle.

It was the best father’s day he could have asked for, with the best wife, the best son and the best family in the whole world.

He was overfilled with joy, bursting at the seams and the tears never stopped. Even as he quietly ate his own breakfast, he was sniffling and wiping the occasional tear. It was overwhelming, he was tired, he was so in love, it was just a lot for him.

When Edwin was done eating, Y/N passed him back to Spencer with a smile. Spencer held him in his arms gently before placing a burp rag in his lap and burping the little guy. Patting his back, he let out a deep burp and then sighed, making Spencer laugh. He was so cute, it was insane.

He held him close, resting Edwin’s tiny little head on his shoulder as he cradled him, bounding slightly to help him fall back to sleep, Y/N called him the baby whisperer. He was amazing, he just had to hold Edwin with his arms crossed and tilt him at an angle, and he'd stop crying. It was like Magic seeing Spencer with a baby, he just knew what he was doing.

He changed Edwin like it was nothing, he talked to him like a big kid already as he changed or bathed him. She’d overhear him in the bathroom, his voice echoing off the tiled walls as he goes on and on in Edwin’s ear about how diapers are made and how they looked for the safest ones for his little bum. It was adorable.

Edwin was wonderful, full of excitement and joy and hope. He looked at everything like it was magic, learning about the world through his brand new eyes as Spencer was gifted with witnessing it all. It was magnificent, he loved colours and belly kisses and he smiled when you poke his cheeks. He was the best thing Spencer’s ever helped make, and he was so completely in love with him. His little baby, the reason he’s a father.

His whole life was in Edwin’s hands now; whatever he wanted, Spencer would be it. Whatever he needed, Spencer would get it. He was wrapped around his finger like his life depended on it, and Spencer was fine with that. He would sell his soul for him, step in front of a bullet or a speeding train, the love he had for this little baby was unspeakably large for how small he was.

He’s wide awake in Spencer’s arms, tilting his head and licking his lips as he stares up at his father. Spencer smiles down at him, amazed by everything going on inside his mind. Thinking about the electrons firing, the memories being made and re-written by the second as he learns and explores, colours erupting in his mind like nebulas.

“Did you know you’re named after Edwin Hubble?” Spencer whispers to him, booping his nose gently, “he’s the reason we can see the stars so well, why people were able to complete their dreams and go to the stars. To see the far off worlds and contemplate what’s out there… to see a greater purpose for us all.”

Edwin had no idea what he was talking about, but he was so content listening. Knowing his dad’s voice very well from all the talking he did to Y/N’s belly over the long 9 months of anticipation to meet him.

“You’re my stars, you’re my greater purpose,” he whispers, bring him closer so he can kiss his tiny little forehead. “I love you.”

[cicimunson]

Just a little enemies to lovers blurb, may turn this into a fic.

"Oh and you think you're hot shit, the almighty king of the freaks?"

"Better than the harlot of the court of jocks!" He throws back, his face full of fury as he glares down at you.

You draw back to slap him. In a flash, he grips your wrist and yanks you flush against him.

"Don't ever raise a hand at me. I'm not your pathetic boyfriend or one of your little pom-pom lackeys. I don't worship you. And I have no trouble putting you in your place."

His words send a shiver down your spine.

You glare up at him, clearly issuing a challenge.

"Oh yeah, freak? And where would that be? Where's my place?"

He grips your wrist tighter. "On your back."

Before you can react, his lips are crashing into yours. You gasp and he shoves his tongue into your open mouth, his hand cupping the back of your head.

You moan and grip the lapels of his vest, pulling him closer.

Eddie's mouth devours yours. He's selfish, using you for his own pleasure, taking what he wants from your lips with no hesitation, only roughness and heat.

He breaks the kiss. You stare up at him as he takes deep ragged breaths, glaring down at you. The anger in his eyes is still there, but you can see something else now, too. Lust.

"I knew it. I knew you wanted me." He smirks.

"Eat shit, Munson." You snap, your cheeks turning crimson.

He releases your wrist and runs a hand up your thigh, making you gasp as it slips under your skirt.

"Now why would I do that, when I could eat you instead?"

[late-to-the-party-81]

Messy Gifts

AN: Hi, lovelies. This is my entry for the Happy Hoelidays challenge by @navybrat817 @stargazingfangirl18 ad @drabblewithfrannybarnes. At the bottom you will find my recipe card. Dialogue prompts are in bold.

This is my first time writing for Andy, and in fact my first non-Marvel fic since I recommenced fan fiction earlier this year.

Beta'd by the wonderful @christywantspizza who appears to be beta-ing nearly everything coming out of the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Find my Masterlist here

Not suitable for minors, as usual.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Wordcount: 2.6k

CW: Cheating (technically), Angst, Needy Andy, Smut (inc unprotected sex, although Reader is probably on birth control, but not explicitly stated), unrequited love, hopeful ending.

Messy Gifts

“Hey sweetheart. What’s going on here?”

A deep, syrupy voice broke through your concentration, making you jump. You span around, clutching the piece of card to your chest, like it could shield you, but you relaxed when you saw who it was. Your boyfriend, Andy.

“Jeez, Andy, you scared me!”

He moved towards you, looping his arms around your waist and drawing you in close, unheeding of the gold glitter on your cheek that rubbed off onto his tie.

“I’m sorry, but you did leave the door unlocked.”

He looked at you with a slight frown, his thumb coming up to swipe away a smear of red paint off your nose.

“You really should be more careful, baby girl. Anyone could walk in.”

“I’m sorry. I swear I’ll be more careful.” You reached up, on your toes, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the tickle of his full beard against your chin and cheeks. “And as to what I’ve been doing, just some festive crafting.”

You moved to the side, so he could see the fruits of your labour. Card, glitter, and pom-poms littered the table. As a kindergarten teacher, you always had to try out your various projects for the kids at home before carrying them out with your class. And, to kill two birds with one stone, you had more decorations for your house.

Andy took a step forward, lifting up a star headband made from gold card and covered in glitter. He had a small smile on his face, but it didn’t meet his eyes. You pressed up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He was thinking about Jacob. You remembered when the boy had been in your class, all those years ago. He had played the Angel Gabriel in the school Nativity that year, wearing a similar headband to the one in Andy’s hand. And now he was lying in the hospital, still comatose from the accident with Laurie.

And Laurie herself. She had physically recovered, but all of the stress has caused some kind of mental break within her. Andy had tried, he really had, but in the end the best thing for her, and for him, was to place her in an institution. The prognosis wasn’t good. It was unlikely that she’d ever fully return from whatever mental space she now occupied, which led you to your current quandary.

In the wake of all those traumatic events, you’d stopped by the Barber house to offer a friendly face. You’d always remembered Jacob, he’d been a joy to teach. So you’d offered Andy a few kind words, brought him a lasagne so he’d have something easy just to heat up, and then made your good-byes.

But the universe had a strange sense of humour, because from that point on it seemed as though you were always running into him. In the grocery store, in the coffee shop, in the library. The stares from other people made you mad. The judgement, and the ‘holier than thou’ attitude levelled at a man who had gone through something so awful. So you’d always made a point to sit with him, or at least pass the time of day. You wanted him to know he had a friend.

Then came the night that he’d popped by to return your lasagne dish. You’d invited him in for a coffee, which had turned into him staying for a takeaway and some wine. Which had transitioned into watching a film together, and then the next moment he had been kissing you. And you knew it was wrong. He was married, but he’d never divorce her, nor would he ever really be with her again. He visited Jacob every day, but from your previous conversations you knew his visits to Laurie were much less frequent. You’d never probed much, but you knew he was lonely in that big house all on his own.

The kiss hadn’t lasted long. He’d pulled away, mumbled his excuses and left. You’d thought that was it, the end of your fledgling friendship, but, like the plot of a cheesy rom com, he’d returned to your house a few nights later, the rain pouring outside and him, soaked to the skin. When you opened the door, Andy had stared at you for a couple of heartbeats, eyes dark, water dripping down his nose, his hair and beard plastered to his face. Then he took your face in his hands and kissed you again.

But this hadn’t been the kiss of a man who was lonely and confused about his feelings. This had been the kiss of a man feral with need and when you’d grabbed onto his sopping shirt and pulled him in closer it was like a dam had burst. He’d pressed you backwards, kicked your front door shut and eased you down, taking you right there on your hallway floor. And you wouldn’t, couldn’t, regret it.

The pair of you had been more circumspect since. This town didn’t need any more fodder for the gossip mill, and it wouldn’t look good for the kindergarten teacher to be dating a married man, despite the extenuating circumstances. Still, Andy still came over nearly every night, sneaking in to avoid prying eyes, and you were thankful that you lived on the edge of town, in a less densely populated area. You’d offered to come to him, but he’d told you he preferred it at yours, and you understood what hadn’t been said.

Here, in your house, he could forget for a bit. Not be constantly reminded of the trauma he was suffering. Over the last few months a lot of his clothes had migrated here, taking up half your meagre closet space, but you didn’t mind.

Returning to the present, you pulled yourself away from Andy’s back and started to clear up your mess. He moved, absent-mindedly, to sit on your couch, still holding the headband, lost in his memories. You didn’t disturb him. He’d come back to you at some point, he always did.

That moment came about half an hour later. You’d started to prepare dinner, when he came up behind you, arms around your waist and his head resting on your shoulder.

“Mmmmm, smells delicious baby.”

“Just doing a meatloaf.”

“I didn’t mean dinner.”

He pressed a kiss behind your ear, before giving a small nip to your lobe. You giggled and playfully swatted at him, making him laugh, before he untangled himself to get a beer from the fridge and set the table.

That night he made love to you sweetly and gently, a touch of melancholy about him, and a plan started to form in your mind as to how to cheer him up.

A week later, 7 days before Christmas, your plans had come to fruition. You’d always been artistic, a skill that served you well in your job, but this was your best work yet.

Upstairs, in your guest room-come-painting studio, you’d once again had not heard Andy enter the house.

“Sweetheart, you did it again, you left the door unl-”

You turned, a cry of surprise leaving your lips as you tried to shield the canvas with your body.

“No, you can’t see, it’s not done yet and it’s for Christmas…”

Your efforts to hide his gift were fruitless as Andy easily moved you out of the way.

And just stared…

The scene on the canvas had not come from a specific photo, just your memory and snippets of all the pictures you could find. A younger Jacob, in his nativity outfit, being held aloft by Andy, both of them smiling and laughing.

Andy clamped a hand over his mouth, and you could see the tears swimming in his blue eyes as he turned to look at you.

“You made this for me?”

“Merry Christmas?”

You were hit with a wave of uncertainty, now unsure as to whether this had been a good idea or not. Would it actually make him happy, or would it make him feel even worse? You watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Look… Andy, I’m so sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but…”

You tried to apologise for your completely off base gift idea, but your words were cut off, suddenly, by Andy’s mouth on yours, his large body crushing yours up against the wall. The kiss was demanding, Andy taking from you what he wanted, what he needed. And you let him. Because it was what you did. Giving him solace in a world that appeared to have taken everything from him. The last time he had been like this was that very first night, driven by pain and barely the restrained undercurrent of violence, seeking something to cancel it all out.

You opened your mouth to him, letting him inside, hitching a leg over one of his thighs so he could press in closer. He hands scrambled at your flannel shirt desperate to remove it, some of the buttons falling victim to his haste. You helped him, by pulling it down your arms, discarding it to the side. His lips never left yours as he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt, whilst you pushed down your yoga pants.

You pulled at his belt, unzipping his fly, and you were glad he had already removed his shoes at the door. With the pair of you now clad only in your underwear, Andy gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you with ease, and you clung on with your arms and legs. He rushed through to your bedroom, still kissing you like he would suffocate if he stopped, crashing down onto the bed on top of you.

Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and your hips jerked up to rub along his length, despite the two layers of clothing still between you. His hands palmed at your breasts through your soft cotton bra, and his lips finally left yours, but only so they could trail down your jaw and your neck, nipping and sucking with aggressive need. You arched up in response, offering yourself to him, mewling his name, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

His mouth trailed down your skin, sucking at one of your breasts through the fabric, pushing the cup down on the other side so he could pluck at and roll the nipple.

“Fuck!”

He pulled back with a shout, tugging at your bra, until he managed to remove it from you, before latching back onto your breast. A hand, large and calloused, stroked down your ribcage, across your abdomen, and eased under the elastic of your panties. His fingers slid into your folds, smearing around the evidence of your arousal, before he pressed two of them, so thick, inside your pussy. His rough thumb settled on your clit, rubbing practised circles onto it.

It never failed to amaze you how this man had easily found every sweet spot on your body. He could play you like an instrument and you knew he revelled in watching you fall apart under his touch. So you never tried to fight it, just gave into the pleasure spiralling through you, until you were writhing and screaming as your muscles clenched and your mind soared.

Given the mood he was in, the lust that had taken over his mind, you knew bringing you to one shattering orgasm wasn’t going to be enough for Andy. You were still recovering, panting and shaking, as he slid down your body, pulling your panties off as if the fabric offended him. Despite your sensitivity, he latched his mouth over you, sucking your clit into the wet warmth of his mouth and you almost came straight away, given how you still throbbed.

His fingers dug into your upper thighs, and you knew you would have bruises in the morning. Only the pair of you would know they were there and that knowledge sent a thrill through you, making you jerk your hips.

“Fuck sweetheart!”

His voice was muffled against your cunt.

“Do it again, fuck my face! I want you to take what you want from me.”

His beard burned your thighs and your pussy lips as he continued to suckle on your nub, and the friction was delicious. Your hands made their way down so your fingers could tangle in his hair, pulling tightly to give you the leverage you desired. You could feel how wet you were, how your juices were soaking into Andy’s beard. And it was intoxicating. You didn’t think it could get any better, and then he slid one of his fingers back inside you, pressing on your g-spot from the inside, and torturing your clit on the outside.

“Shit! Andy! Fuck! Gonna cum…gonna cum again!”

You could feel the pressure building inside you and you screamed as it burst. You felt a rush of fluid between your legs, heard a grunt of surprise from Andy before he moaned and sucked you harder through your climax.

As you collapsed back on the bed Andy surged up your body, beard drenched with your release. He captured your mouth again and you could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue.

“Look at that mess you made….”

His voice was deep and gruff.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

He kissed you again, deep and passionate and you felt his cock, thick and heavy on your thigh as he shimmied out of his boxers. You slid a leg up one of his, hooking it over his hip.

“Andy, baby, please.”

“I know, honey, I know.”

He took hold of himself, guided his way to your entrance, and sank in with a groan. You enjoyed the stretch, every single time. No-one had ever made you feel the way Andy did. Your other leg came up, drawing him in closer, no space between to show where you ended and he began.

He pressed kisses to your neck as he started to move, rocking into your sensitive body, whispering endearments to you, telling you how happy you made him, how wonderful you were. His movements sped up, but he still maintained that precise angle, the one he had perfected to ensure you could come when he’s inside you like this. And you knew he could feel you clenching him, from the punched out moans that made it past his lips as he rambled his feelings at you.

His hips ground in circles, his groin rubbing over your clit, bringing you to your third orgasm, and through the dizzying sensations you felt him swell inside you, his movements stuttering before he spilt into you, a sound almost like a roar leaving him as he buried his head into the side of your neck.

You kept him enfolded in your body, stroking his hair and pressing kisses to wherever you could reach as he came back to himself. You loved him, you’d known it for a while. You didn’t know if he felt the same, although it was evident that he cared for you very much, at least. So you would continue to hold him, love him, be there for him, through this most difficult stage of his life.

You may never get exactly what you’ve always dreamed of, but you would accept that, for now at least, he needed you. That no-one else could do this for him. Be this for him. It was a gift you were allowing yourself, this feeling of being wanted and needed, and you tried not to think of how messy the inevitable end would be.

You realised Andy had fallen asleep, his body half covering yours, arms tight around your waist, head resting on your shoulder, and you let yourself believe that all this was enough.

Before succumbing to sleep yourself, you pressed a final kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Andy.”

Maybe, just maybe, you saw him smile in his sleep.

[kalee60]

Just everything about your reaction makes me giddy 😘

Love you to the Milky Way and back ❤️ (now I want chocolate...)

Kalee. Kal. Hi. Hello.

So I recently got a Tiktok because all the kids these days are doing it and my sister keeps sending me videos 🤦🏼‍♀️🙄 I know.

Anyways

There’s apparently this challenge.

Kalee.

It’s a kiss your best friend challenge.

And all I can think is:

Steve and Bucky.

It could be canon verse. It could be an au.

But like imagine. If you haven’t seen the videos it’s super cute but also cringy because like what if it doesn’t go over well, it would be awkwardddd! They basically just film themselves hangout with their best friend and then try to kiss them and see if they’ve secretly been pining too.

Imagine.

Claire - my gorgeous pocket rocket from the Big Apple 🍎

This ask (that you sent eons ago) could not just be answered with a simple - ‘omg, yes - I know right - it’s the perfect Stucky scenario - someone should write it’… Because well - I guess somehow it turned out that I could write a little something…

I hope you enjoy this, because without your cheerleading, your throwing of pom poms and generally screaming at me in comments and on here - well writing wouldn’t be half as much fun.

So for you Claire - enjoy this little story of two boys, a kiss in the making and a TikTok account 😘

~*~*~*~*~

Nerves rode Bucky as he placed his phone down into the perfect position; camera at the ready, not pressing record yet - but waiting for the signal. Steve was doing the exact same with his phone, only from a slightly different angle, setting it up for their parkour trick - something they were going to post to TikTok later. But although Steve was under the impression he was about to perform a flip off Bucky’s shoulders to grab hold of a tree branch then scale the fifteen foot wall beside it - Bucky had other ideas.

He’d seen a new TikTok challenge that week, it was plastered all over the platform and filled his suggested videos, and since the first time he’d watched one, then devoured another fifty straight away, he’d secretly wanted to do it. Wanted to throw all caution to the wind and seize the moment.

Today was that day.

Bucky Barnes was going to kiss Stevie Rogers right on the lips. His best friend since middle school, the boy, now man that he’d secretly loved for over a decade - and although Bucky could have thought of a million different ways to show Steve how he felt - he’d just never had the courage. At least if the video bombed, he could still put it up as a laugh and hopefully Steve would see the joke and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship - hopefully.

Keep reading

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[latibvles]

jarring realization that i haven't actually haven't done a proper introduction post — no time like the present I suppose?

Anyways you can refer to me as either Poet or Lexi ( or any variation of those two nicknames, Poe, Lex, etc. ). I am nineteen years old ( as of June 2021, because I will no doubt forget to update this as I age so please feel free to do that math ) and go by any pronouns ( although I must ask if we are not close, please stick to she / they ). I'm currently in college pursuing a degree in english, with hopes of being an editor in the future. I've been writing since I was eleven years old and like to think I've gotten pretty good at it. This is my first time posting any work on Tumblr, despite being a reader of stories on here for quite some time.

I am a self-proclaimed "war boy enjoyer" — so you can safely assume I've watched Band of Brothers, The Pacific, and a few different films. Haven't gotten around to Generation Kill quite yet. Outside of period pieces, I enjoy tolkienverse, animanga, and thai dramas primarily. I also play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons and play a lot of video games ( and for all our sakes I am a Gemini, ENXP, and 8w7 ). I’ve got a puppy named Loki who likes to bite my hands to prevent me from writing, and I’m prone to impulse posting AUs at 3am because all of my friends are enablers (affectionate).

My pride and joy, my current focus work is Sad, Beautiful, Tragic, which you can read here on Tumblr and here on AO3. It’s sister work and some extra fun bits are also posted on my AO3. I’ve also got an OC Masterlist here featuring some OCs from my next work, With A Fighting Heart, which I am quite fond of. They’ve got their respective tags if you’d like to read about them too.

SOME USEFUL TAGS

" poet's think thoughts " — alternatively titled "the poet screams into the void and now you must all listen." this is first and foremost a place of safety and comfort, as my url suggests. also just

" poet's mail box " — anything from my inbox goes here including answers to games & writing challenges

" poe's pals " — anything from friends / mutuals goes here

" poet's notepad " — i try to update this fairly regularly with whatever drabbles / ficlets i’ve written which aren’t apart of the main fic

“ poet’s secret friends ” — my anon tag, for those of you who are a little too shy to say hello, but I love you anyway

“ hi pretty boy ” — gifsets of my favorite war boys ( so .. a lot of ron + dick + some snafu sprinkled in there too ) alternatively, for my favorite women — try “ hi pretty girl ”

SOME FIC RECS alternatively titled "what is getting Poet through the semester?" complete with AO3 / masterlist links (and their tumblrs, if I have it) — can also be found under #fic recs

The Names We Call Upon by TysMisadventures ; for my Dragon Age enjoyers. I am Elera's number one fan and also her wife. If Solas won't make a move I WILL! Also I love a good Modern AU.

A Garden In Bloom by Arlana ; it has Hanahaki and Medieval AU in Haikyuu. Also the first AO3 fic I ever read and life just hasn't been the same since. I love princes falling in love.

Fire on Fire by liebgotts-lovergirl ( @liebgotts-lovergirl ) ; I am going to war for Alix Martinelli. If she asked me to jump I would ask how high. I am her number one fan.

The Darkening Sky by MercuryGray ( @mercurygray ) ; If you see me crying over Annie Sutton in a public restroom no you don't. I'm cheering Joan Warren on with pom-poms whenever she does anything ever. I am her ride or die forever.

Barren Soul by softspeirs ( @softspeirs ) ; If Kat Gray has million numbers of fan i am one of them . if Kat Gray has ten fans i am one of them. if Kat Gray has only one fan that is me . if Kat Gray has no fans, that means i am dead . if world is against the Kat Gray, i am against the world.

as spring makes promises outside by shoshiwrites ( @shoshiwrites ) ; shoshi will write an au and I will think about it for the next month and a half and that’s not even a joke. anyways flower shops and joe toye and jo brandt will save 2022 and if you disagree argue with your momma.

[astro-kitty-launch]

The Centuries Between Us [ Prologue]

Summary: A steaming Barry hikes up Mt. Cornet in search of his best friend and reigning champion of the Sinnoh Region after two days of radio silence.

Warnings: None

W/C: 3.83

A/N: I cross posted this on AO3. This My First Fic.

Master list: [N/A]

“Ugh, wait until I get my hands on them. I am so going to fine them a million Poke dollars!” Shouted Barry rigorously, thrusting his fist at the sky. Trekking through the rigid terrain he recalled making this same trek nearly five years ago. Even now the winds howled ominously echoing all around making him swear it sounded just like a Mightyena. Except he knew they weren’t native to the Sinnoh region. Hell, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.

Last time when he checked his Poketch it had clearly stated that the weather was clear then lo and behold a freak storm dive bombed him in the middle of his journey. Now he was being pelted by the unrelenting blizzard that had consumed the higher parts of Mt. Cornet.

Each step followed by each breath burned, causing him to wonder how he hadn’t noticed it back then. In all that frenzy it was as though his mind had overridden acknowledging how grueling the climb was. The harsh climate only seemed to grow, the icy wind biting at his exposed skin all the way down to his bone. As if it was trying to freeze him solid.

Forging through squinting through the rapid onslaught of flurries was the outline of a half oval. Using one of his arms to guard his face from the chaotic weather he closed the distance. Only when he was a few inches away did he make out the tunnel entrance into the cave. Falling to his hands and feet panting heavily, Barry managed to prop himself against the cavern’s wall.

His mouth impossibly dry as the worst-case scenario flashed behind his eyes. As more time dragged on the more on edge he felt. The thought alone revitalized him no matter what he wouldn’t let it come to pass. Not again.

Slipping out his phone, glancing at the corner of the screen only to be welcomed with the sight of the nonexistent cell service. Pressing a hand into his face he breathed out the hundredth groan of that day. It had to be karma for overdoing it the previous day causing him to zonk out for an entire day. All in the name of his pursuit to prepare for the day he’s only ever dreamed of as a small child.

In a few days he’d finally get to his summit to finally battle his father to show him how far he got without him. Shoving those thoughts away he tapped on the messaging app going into the top thread of messages exchanged between him and his best friend:

[Wednesday 12:00 P.M.]

ReigningChamp: Oi Barry just to let you know I am going up to Mt. Cornet. [12:01 P.M.] Debtcollector: Wait what you're going there?! Hold the phone. Who do I need to fine Gazillion poke dollars! [12:01 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Lol geez it’s fine, no one needs to be put into debt. I’ll be fine. We aren’t kids anymore. [12:03 P.M.] Debtcollector: Still why go there I know…that there isn’t anything worth doing up there? [12:03 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Well I have champion duties up there. [12:04 P.M.] Debtcollector: Then make that oversized Pom Pom do it they need to earn keep some how. It’s not just your job to investigate strange occurrences. [12:05 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Ha ha don’t be like that you know Flint, once he’s on a walk about it’s hard tracking him down. [12:05 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Lucas and Volkner detected some ‘Disturbing wavelengths’ but the readings were sporadic. So I am going to help them get clearer readings. [12:06 P.M.] Debtcollecor: There is no way I am letting you go alone. Wait for me. I’ll be there after training. [12:06 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Not a chance Barry you're finally challenging your Father. Focus on that. I'll see ya in two days. [12:11 P.M.] Debtcollector: Ugh fine. But I expect an update to show a sign of life within the hour. If not I’ll come up there and fine your ass. [12:12 P.M.] ReigningChamp: Okay. Okay. Okay, you worrywart. I’ll text you so now go back to focusing unless you want me to see an epic flop against your father. [12:12 P.M.] Debtcollector: Ha ha I ain’t going to flop I am going to show him! [17:00 P.M.] Debtcollector: Hey finished training, how's it going up there? Other than an overabundance of Geodude? [21:00 P.M.] Debtcollector: Okay settling in for the night. So are you getting any clear readings on the ‘Disturbing waves’? Why are they disturbing anyway? [21:29 P.M] Debtcollector: Can’t tell if you're trying to focus or force me to give up through silence but it isn’t funny.

[Today 7:00 A.M.]

Debtcollector: Hey it’s me you didn’t come down like you said. [8:30 A.M.] Debtcollector: I don’t know if you saw this but I am coming up there you space cadet. I’m fining you for life for ignoring me!!!

Nothing had changed, not that there was any way for him to check for changes. He knew she wasn't as talkative as him but his texts were never left unanswered for too long. It was a silent agreement between the three of them to never let the other go up here alone. Far too much had happened for any of them to go up alone.

A day that was engraved into his memory that he’d remember for life to the tiniest of details. The day Cyrus, a crazed Pokémon Mafia leader of the organization called Team Galactic attempted to create a new world. With age came the nagging realization that one of them should have thought to call an adult.

He wondered how different it would have turned out if more authorities had been present for that monumental event. But that road and all the diverging paths were cut off. What’s done is done. Together with his friends at the tender age of twelve had diverted the end of the world as they knew.

Stuffing his phone back into his bag he stood up pushing deeper into the craggy cave speckled generously with stalactites looming over and stalagmite shaping the path to walk around. If not for his own Pokémon possessing the hidden move Flash, he was sure he’d be as blind as Zubat.

Even with the help of the HM he could only see a few feet in front of him. Sounds bounced everywhere even the sounds of the raging storms managed to still be present. Even the sounds of his feet to the sounds of dripping water. Despite being shielded from the harsh weather outside Barry felt, if possible, colder than when he was outside.

Not that he’d get lost considering he wasn’t some noob trainer and even then, he managed just fine. Chewing on his lower lip as he threaded through the rocky caverns glancing around to see if any markers had come up. Bizarrely enough he hadn’t even heard the faint cry of the native Pokémon within.

Then again, the pokemon were probably more sensitive to the aura that Spear Pillar emanated than humans were. Spotting the familiar abnormally large stone, Barry hastened his speed. As it registered in his mind just how close he was to the final cavern before the peak. Pressing onward his foot made contact in mere moments without his consent he tumbled face first into the ground.

“Arg Arceus Almighty! How the fuck did that idiot even manage to get past this Geodude sized rock!” Barry cried as Floatzel scampered towards him, giving out a small cry nudging his face.

“I know. I know. Screaming attracts Zubats I’ll hush up!” Huffed the blond maneuvering onto his knees as Floatzel let out a persistent cry tugging at his sleeve.

“I am alright Floatzel. It takes more than one fall for the man who’s about to conquer the battle tower down!” Again came the tugging as though his assurances had fallen on deaf ears. As the aquatic pokemon waved at the area ahead of them.

Exhaling deeply Barry nodded to see what the fuss was all about. Silently signaling his companion as his mouth crashed to the ground. There, digging into nearly every space imaginable was a boldar thrice the size of any Abomasnow he’s ever seen. A literal mother of all monster sized cave-ins.

Was the disturbing wavelengths connected to this somehow?

Or could a pokemon have rammed into one of the more fragile parts of the cavern?

Either way this would most certainly keep anyone from passing through and with the brutal winds outside flying was just as disastrous.

“Oh my Arceus no wonder that idiot hasn’t come down! Floatzel points Flash at the ceiling.” Glancing up, spider cracks bleed into larger fissures in the ceiling which took rock smashing his way through off the table. Not unless he wanted to get buried alive. Which would still leave his best friend possibly trapped on the other side.

“Well so much for the direct route Floatzel. Let’s find the roundabout route then get back to the pokemon center for a feast. What’d you say?” Floatzel cried out in joy.

Turning around they traced their steps back from the way they came back to the fork in the cavern they had taken. Gripping Empolion’s pokeball in his hand, readying himself for an overabundance of pokemon. He stepped through cautiously long had the days of carelessly running through pokemon infested areas had passed.

Blinking once then rearing a step back snatching up an extra heavy duty flashlight to gain a better look. Just like before the cavern was empty, the void of zubat’s and other native pokemon. The goosebumps on his arms prickled as he glanced side to side moving deeper into the open space.

His skin crawled at the sight that identically mirrored the opposing cavern Barry’s heart dropped into the deepest chasm. This Arceus damned mountain really was cursed for him and his friends. No way it was possible to have a quaint hike up with Arceus deciding it would be a shame if nothing eventful would transpire.

“Floatzel let’s hurry!” He hollered as his eyes began to sting from the cold or the realization that his best friend was screwed.

Why was getting through so much harder?

The uncertainty began to stab at his chest the closer he got the more his vision seemed to tunnel towards his goal. Even the sounds of Floatzel cry sounded like it was underwater. It was as though his body wasn’t his own. Why couldn’t she have just waited for him to join her? Why did she have to insist on going alone when that idiot always begged him or Lucas to tag along?

Why?

Why?

Tears pooling at the corner of his vision, he slammed his fist against the Arceus forsaken boldar in his path. Leaving not even a tiny opening to the other side.

“NO!”

“No! You idiot! Oh come on!”

“I can’t!”

“I can’t! I just can’t give up. You hear that Arceus no fucking boldar is going to stop Barry the man to conquer the battle tower!” He hollered, rubbing his now pulsing knuckles as snout nuzzled into his side. Blinking, he bent down hugging the water type as if his life depended on it. Floatzel didn’t seem to mind purring in return as he stole his nerves.

“Alright. We’ll either find another way or make our own way. Let’s rest for a while.” Barry murmured, sinking to his knees. Pressing a hand to his face sliding it down as he sighs deeply glancing back at the boulder. Considering the time frame, she’s been in there for over forty eight hours. Meaning the cavenins had to have occurred between the last text to now.

Being at the peak of the mountain meant they were in the area with the least amount of oxygen. Food and water could last for a while if rationed properly but the supply couldn’t be that big. There was no way to ration wood to maintain heat long enough not to freeze. The trek up here alone had taken him half the day.

If he went down for help, could he trust that idiot to keep herself and her pokemon warm. So much time had passed already, going down for back up was just as much of a big risk as finding a way on his own. The voice in his head that sounded like Lucas admonished him for being reckless and that it wasn’t necessary.

Yet thinking back to all those times where he had so brazenly taken on more than he could handle, and he thought this was it. His best friend barreled in guns blazing in some of the most ridiculous ways possible. Practically making his reckless actions look like a small baby could have done it.

That idiot may have been the most reckless human being in the universe, but it was always when another was in danger. Always for the sake of others. So he would do the same. Who knew how long they could survive on the other side of the cave in?

Leaping back into action after a few moments of patting Floatzel's head before aiming his flashlight at the cave-in to gauge the integrity. Only to find that it was in the same exact state as the cave-in on the other side of the cave.

Barry contemplated the ensuing backlash if he disregarded the possibilities of worsening the cave-in. The Worst-case scenario was his pokemon and his best friend being hurt in the aftermath. On the other hand he could actually get through if he was creative enough.

Ice beam could have done the trick of filling in all the cracks to possibly hold long enough to get through. Or it could prove to exacerbate the whole situation. Plus, none of his pokemon knew Ice Beam nor did he have the TM for it.

Running a hand through his head groaning he turned away. Heading out the cave and back outside to find the storm had let up significantly. Allowing him to see further than his own hand.

He knew what he needed to do.

Brisk winds pelted both Staraptor and Barry for a moment when he felt his winged friend wavered. A brief image flashed behind his eyes of the possible nose dive to their death. Resulting in a lethal fall for the both of them and his best friend possibly freezing to death. Clenching his chattering teeth while pressing on Staraptor he inhaled deeply.

Another onslaught came again causing a quick jolt to the left for a mere moment he felt them descend. Tightening his hold along with his resolve he yelled “Come on Staraptor we can do this together. No storm can defeat the best flier in Sinnoh!”

Releasing a battle cry of its own, Staraptor began to fly higher feeling the same burning will to push past it all.

The brutal winds.

The snow.

The thinner air.

Narrowly dodging the hurtling ball of ice only for a few strays to pelt them each leaving a stinging red dot. Almost as though they had graduated from snow to hunks of ice. Cursing under his breath he swore if they made it out of this, he’d make Staraptor’s the best tasting poffin he ever had! He was so going to fine that idiot for this whole mess.

Blinking past the welling tears in the distance he saw the looming snow clouds closing in and if they broke though they were home free. “Just a little more Staraptor and we will have conquered this!” Barry shouted over the howling winds.

Just on the cups of rising above the nearly insurmountable weather a huge piece of hail came hurtling at them. Time slowed down to snail pace as there wasn’t room to even dodge and slowing down would cause them to plummet. This was it! Closing his eyes tightly tightening his grip as Staraptor released a ferocious wearable.

Peeling his eyes open he gaped at what he was witnessing. Light enveloped his wings, letting go of restraint he began spinning rapidly towards the ice. Holding his bird companion tighter he let out a war cry of his own. A crushing sound resounded on impact, bleeding with their cries as they burst through the clouds above.

“Oh Arceus almighty! Oh Arceus! We did it! Ha ha ha Staraptor see you’re the best!” He cried out with a hysterical laugh as his breath came out short and fast. Heart hammering inside of his chest froze in state of disbelief. To have made it through by sheer force.

“Oh there’s Spear….Oh no Staraptor!” Shattering the brief moment of victory they began plunging down. The wind ripped through them both frantically glancing about what was wrong.

Okay he can’t panic!

Okay easy, don't panic!

“Aim for Spear Pillar!” He screamed out hoarsely as his trembling hands grasped onto a pokeball. The ground came closer and closer as his unsteady arm rose as his hands sweated through his glove. Hands gripping the ball tighter about to let go, it slipped crashing to the ground. Barry fought to keep his eyes open in consolidation with Staraptor.

What came next happened so fast he barely processed it as they bounced off the cushion of fat known as Snorlax. Barry was flung off in the process, leaving no time to brace himself. When the expected pain hadn’t lanced though. His sense caught up with his brain as strong furry arms wrapped around him.

Gazing up dazed he met a pair of cerulean pools black spots danced across his vision, a pained groan emanating from his throat. Everything was still spinning like they were still spinning through the ice. For a moment the world stilled then began fading away.

When the world came back into focus, he was being shaken gently by the shoulders. Peering down at him were red lined eyes, a fox-like muzzle pressing into his hair.

“Mana! Oh wait, Staraptor! Snorlax!” Jolting up, dizziness speared through his body almost as though he was being cleaved in half. With the support of Mana, he saw they were both on the ground. As if sensing his desire, he was carried closer to them both. Narrowing his gaze, he saw the small rise and fall of their chest.

Signing deeply his trembling hands pressed against them both sucking in a shaky breath.

“Thank you. Both of you I am fined for life to you both. Rest now.” He murmured, recalling them to their pokeballs. Turning his gaze to meet Zoroark gaze he ran a hand through its fluffy crimson mane.

“Thank you, Mana.” Glancing away he took in the surroundings seeing the same old shambled ruins without a hint of moss. Which always seemed to confound Lucas saying it doesn't make sense. To Barry though it did, this was a place of unknown origins tied to the legendary pokemon of this region.

Resting for a while he saw in the distance now that both of his pokemon were safely tucked into their pokeballs was black shards gleaming in the distance. Furrowing his brows, he stood up almost toppling over thanks to his shaking limbs. A furry arm wrapped around his waist he sent a thankful look.

“Let's go there.” He coughed despite the way his body cried out for him to glue himself back on the ground. Barry refused, there was no time for it. Weaving through the temple's debris there lying smashed were shards of a device he’d known anywhere. Lucas had been texting them non-stop for weeks that he was going to investigate the magnetic fields and the odd waves of Mt. Cornet.

There was absolutely no way she would let that happen had the incident really stretched this far.

Tip toeing through the broken shards as his eyes roamed through the wreckage liberally scattered around were pieces of the dish, the antenna split through the center, and torn up wires. Pausing briefly. What kind of freak accident happened here? The antenna nor did the wires look as though they had been smashed in fact the offending rock was nowhere in the circumference of the remains.

Sweeping over again, glimmering under a long-collapsed pillar was a rectangular object. Maneuvering through the jagged pieces, Barry made it to the pillar. Bending down he snatched up the chip that shockingly sustained no damage. Unsure what to do with it he slipped it in his pocket he may not know what to do with it, but he knew someone who did.

“Mana take me to her!” He breathed out pausing for a moment and wondered why had Mana greeted him alone? Shouldn't she have come out with Mana and if she was unable to, wouldn't Mana be frantic to get him to her?

She could have been resting to conserve energy from the whole ordeal. Knowing Mana she wasn’t one to wake others when they needed to rest. No doubt anybody would have been exhausted after this. Mana seemed to sag at the mention of her companion, beginning to slowly lead him towards the tunnel entrance.

Passing the threshold his eyes fluttered rapidly to adjust to the lack of brightness as fire flickered illuminating a small portion of the area. Still going strong, breathing warmth into the cavern. There fully intact was a familiar orange tent firmly anchored in place. Not so much as a tiny rock on it. Good, it looked like the idiot's camp was out of the cave-in’s radius.

“Honestly, I go through all this and she’s sleeping. Geze Mana I think you baby her a tad bit too much. I grew concerned about how you'll smother her future offspring.” He mocked snorting a little. Tension fading from his shoulders, glad he made the right choice after all. Screw what others said about them being adults that could handle stuff alone. In Barry’s book some stuff couldn’t be faced alone. Glancing over his shoulder to his best friend's pokemon, he paused.

Mana didn’t seem to find the humor, nor did she seem offended, almost as if it hadn’t registered. Her eyes remained trained on the tent not even blinking. Pressing his lips together he leisurely made his way towards the tent. Unzipping the flap, he frowned deeply at the sight.

This couldn’t be right, he thought.

Illuminating the tent was the self-sufficient solar powered lamp Lucas built to the right.

To the left was her pack flap opened with pajamas neatly folded.

Between them both located on the upper part was her belt, six pokeballs still attached.

Boots were left of the center surrounded by a dried area, evidence that it trekked through the snow.

In the center laided two sleeping bags, one for Anup another for her.

Except neither of them were there.

[sassymoon]

please hug me \ dads!ralvez x teen!reader

pairing: dads!ralvez (spencer and luke) x teen!reader summary: how are you going to tell your dads that you're 17 and pregnant? genre: angst? i think? some fluff if you squint word count: 2.4k cw: teen pregnancy, curse words, reader has self hating thoughts, use of nicknames (peanut, monkey, love, baby), mentions of food. a\n: the lovely pom (@imagining-in-the-margins) had a challenge on her discord to write a fathers day fic, and me being an angsty bitch- decided on this topic. this is the first time i write luke, i hope i did him justice, i absolutely adore him (and honestly he really reminds me of my dad). what is in bold and italic are readers thoughts masterlist

-

The walk back from her best friend's house was only 15 minutes, but she needed it to be more. She needed more time to think, more time to process, more time to freak out. So she walked slower, she stopped to pet stray cats, she took the longer route home. But all the lil minutes she managed to buy didn't really help her get to an idea of how she's going to talk to her dads. Or even which dad she wants to tell first.

On the one hand, Spencer would probably be telling her all the different statistics about teen pregnancy and the options she has, but she also knows that he will freak out and will probably start rambling nonsense and using his high pitched voice that was reserved to times where she really fucked up.

So maybe she should tell Luke first. He would probably comfort her and wont pressure her into one decision. But being the protective father that he is he will probably go and beat up the boy who got her pregnant. Did the boy deserve it? Yea probably. But she didn't want to put herself in this situation or get her dad in trouble.

So either way, she was fucked. Without even noticing, since she was too busy thinking about how utterly fucked she is, she found herself already at the entrance to the apartment.

‘Ok y\n relax. Whoever is home will be the first one you tell. You can't run away from this any longer.’ On the count to 3 she opened the door slowly, peeking inside to the empty living room.

“Dads? Im home”

At first there was no answer, but as she slumped her bag to the floor and walked into the apartment, some faint music could be heard from the kitchen and she knew exactly who was home.

Opening the kitchen door, she saw Luke was standing above the stove, trying (and failing) to cook some scrambled eggs. With 2 dads that can hardly cook anything it's really a mystery how she survived 17 years. Knocking twice on the door to get his attention, she managed to scare him enough for him to slip the pan and send the burnt eggs to the floor.

“Fucking shit” her dad mumbeled before turning around to see her laughing at the kitchen entrance.

“What's so funny peanut? Come and help your dad clean up”

Laughing and pointing at the un-eatable food on the floor, she proposed a better idea.

“How about you clean up and I will make you some decent dinner?”

Luke only laughed while starting to clean the floor with some paper towels.

“How can I say no to your cooking? Me and your dad would probably starve without you”

As she started to boil some water to cook rice, Luke sat on the kitchen chairs and turned off the music. She knew that it's probably a sign he was going to talk to her, of course he would, He is her dad after all. But that terrified her, because all she wanted was to disappear and never having to talk to anyone again. Hide under her blanket and forget that something was growing inside her. She wished she could avoid him forever, just stop the rollercoaster that her life turned into and just get off the ride.

“How was your time at Emma's? Good? She hasn't come to ours in awhile, maybe you should invite her for dinner on friday”

No luck for her. She's gonna have to talk to him. Fuck. Pouring the water into the pot, she tried to avoid eye contact as long as she could.

“It was good, yeah.. We um, we studied for our math test next week”

Luke’s phone buzzed with a new text and she thanked whatever god there is above that gave her more time to think. Not that it will help her in any way, but she really needed it. How do you start this conversation? ‘Hey dad i got pregnant the first time i had sex?’ or should she say ‘i know how you love kids so surprise!’ how she wishes there was some tutorial on youtube about how to tell your dads about the stupidest mistake you've ever made without having a panic attack. After a few minutes of luke texting and her mind exploding from fear and anxiety, she heard him put his phone down.

“Peanut is everything ok? You're awfully quiet.”

Still avoiding eye contact and only staring at her hand while stirring the sauce she answered.

“Yes of course, you were on your phone i didn't want to disturb-”

“No i'm not talking about right now, in the last week you've been acting a bit weird”

Of course her dads has to be profilers fucking hell

“Yea just stressed about school.. You know it's finals soon and i gotta prepare for prom and all”

Roxy, their beautiful old dog walked into the kitchen and sat at Luke's feet, y\n looked at her with adoring eyes. She loved that dog more than anything. Maybe if she was a dog, life would be so much simpler, she wouldn't have to worry about the consequences of her actions, or have to deal with disappointing the people she loves most.

As She looked up and caught her dad staring at her face, she quickly looked away and got back to stirring the pot. She was trying her best to avoid eye contact, knowing he will see she's hiding a secret, and he will never let it go.

“Look sweetheart, I know we promised you a long time ago we won't profile you..”

Shit

“But I can't help but see how weird you are acting. Your hands are shaking with anxiety, you won't say more than a few words, and most of all you won't even look me in the eyes. I want to help you, but i can't if you wont talk to me”

Releasing a big sigh and slumping her shoulders, she turned around to face her dad. When she looked into his eyes all she saw was love, and maybe a bit of worry.

“You're right, i um, i actually need to talk to you about something. But can it wait after dinner? Food will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Of course, peanut. Whenever you're ready i'm here”

-

She was hungry, god she was so hungry. But she couldn't bring herself to eat. All she could think about was how mad her dads are going to be and how she will be grounded for life. But she has to tell them! They will be able to see it eventually, and it's not like she can disappear for 9 months and suddenly come back with a baby saying ‘surprise! You're grandads now!’ or maybe she can? Maybe move to some farm in texas and disappear forever without having to face them again, or maybe..

“I can hear you overthinking”

She looked up from her plate and found her dad with an amused look on his face, mouth full of rice and meatballs.

“If you're not going to eat i would love a second dish tho”

he smirked and pointed at her still full plate.

It's now or never y\n. Get your shit together.

“Dad im pregnant”

His fork fell on the plate making a loud clicking noise, and she watched his face twitching with thousands of emotions going all at once. Confusion, anger, sympathy, anger again.

“You- you're what? I- is this a joke?”

Y\n shook her head slowly, tears already forming in her eyes.

“No dad, I am so sorry. I took like 3 tests today, and they are all positive. Fuck i am so stupid!”

She started hitting her head with her hands, angry at herself for ever being in this situation

“You both have such big dreams for me and I'm here being a cliche getting pregnant at 17!”

Luke got up from his seat, and walked over to his crying child. Was he angry? No, he was furious. But right now all he wanted to do was calm her down, and make her feel safe. He grabbed her hands that were hitting her face and held them, all while kneeling down near her chair, softly looking into her crying eyes.

“My love, you are not stupid. You are human, and humans make mistakes. Yes, this mistake is big and important, but it doesn't mean you have to hurt yourself over it ok?”

Y\n slowly nodded but continued to cry.

“Look, you have options ok? And whatever you decide, me and your dad are going to be by your side. It's your choice”

He wiped her tears with his hands and reached out to hug her, comfort her. He knew what the right choice was- no parent wants their child to have a baby while still in high school. Of course he wanted her to be able to go to college and pursue her dreams. But he will never force her into such a big decision over her body. It's her choice only. Her crying stopped, and Luke pulled back to look at her, holding her small face between his hands.

“What do you want to do peanut?”

“I.. i don't know”

with her eyes towards the floor, she felt tears creeping up again.

“I know i should probably get an abortion, but im so scared. And I know that dad will probably tell me all the statistics about how safe it is, but what if it will damage my body? What if I'll never be able to have children? But the other option is equally terrifying! Having a baby at 17? How will I go to college? And the father doesn't even know! He doesn't even talk to me, he acts like I don't exist when he's around his friend. fuck i am so stupid”

“Hey hey love look at me, you're spiraling. Just breathe ok?”

As they took slow deep breaths together, all while he rubs small soothing circles on her palm, her anxiety started to melt away. Luke wasn't mad at her, he didn't want to punch the boy, and he didn't tell her what to do. She could feel the air return to her lungs and her thoughts starting to clear out.

“Ok now that you're relaxed, can you listen to me?”

Y\n looked into his eyes and nodded

“I know you're scared, and this is an impossible situation, but it's something we're gonna have to deal with as a family. I'm going to call a doctor, one that isnt your know-it-all dad, and all 3 of us are going to go and hear your options, ok?”

all she could do was nod.

“And about that stupid boy. Just say the world and me and your dad will dig up on him to find everything we can to be able to go and scare him with our badge and gun.”

A small laugh left her lips, but before she could respond, Spencer walked into the kitchen, looking at them with a confused look.

“monkey? Why are you crying? What happened?”

Y\n looked at Luke with worried eyes, begging him to talk for her. She was still speechless and scared, and she couldn't really say those 2 words again. She couldn't admit again that she let some stupid boy convince her not to use a condom. She couldn't think about how terrified she is of Spencer's reaction.

Luke pointed at the chair, telling Spencer to sit down. Spencer was worried, but he walked over to the table, pulled a chair and sat on the other side of y\n, putting his hand over her thigh.

“I'm going to say something that will freak you out but you have to stay calm for me ok spence?”

Spencer's eyes moved from looking at his husband, to his daughter, and back to his husband.

“Luke, you're scaring me. What's going on?”

Luke took a deep breath and squeezed his daughter's hand before speaking again.

“Y\n is pregnant”

Spencer shot up from his chair in a millisecond, screaming from the top of his lungs.

“YOU'RE WHAT? HOW? WHEN? WHO? WHY? WHAT?”

Walking around the kitchen in circles he continued mambeling nonsense, from threatening to kill the father of the baby to saying he will perform the abortion himself, and even blaming luke. None of the stuff he said was logical, but how can you expect him to think right when he finds out his teen girl is pregnant while in her junior year?

But while he was losing his mind, he saw his daughter slowly sinking into her chair, hiding herself with fear. He had to calm down, for her. He will go out and scream at the world later. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to compose himself once again, before sitting down next to her.

“I'm sorry monkey, i- i overreacted a bit.”

Y\n was still hiding her face with her hands, afraid to look at him. Luke was staring at his husband with angry eyes, begging him to comfort their crying child.

“Baby can you look at me?”

She didn't move.

“Y\n please, i want to tell you something important.” She peeked at him, afraid to make eye contact. Afraid he was going to scream at her.

“I am not mad, I'm just a bit shocked, ok? I didn't expect this to happen. I'm sorry i yelled”

She reached her hand out to hold his, while he continued speaking “I love you so much, both of us. And I'm not going to tell you what to do. Yea, i have my own preference but that doesn't matter right now. What can we do to help you?”

She closed her shaking hand around her dad's palm, looking at the floor, ashamed of herself. Ashamed of the whole situation, ashamed of being so stupid.

“I think I just want a hug from you both.. I'm so scared”

Both men reached over and wrapped their arms around their scared kid. They both wanted to scream out in frustration, to punch the wall, to go and scare the shit out of the boy who got her into this mess. But like the good dads they were, they knew that her needs came first. She needed love, she needed to feel safe, she needed them to be there for her.

They can go to planned parenthood tomorrow, they can consider all the options in a later day. But right now, they just wanted to cherish their little girl, and how much she needed them.

No matter what will happen, they will love her.

tell me what you think here!