⋆˖⁺‧₊☽batty☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ @absolutelyb4tty - Tumblr Blog

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Hihi! I'm batty! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Welcome to my blog, feel free to take a look around ~ unless you're a minor or a bigot, in that case you can fuck off ˚₊‧⁺

Masterlist

23 ⟡₊⊹ Ak > Lower 48 ⟡₊⊹ bi/demi ⟡₊⊹ agender/demigirl ⟡₊⊹ disabled she/her/hers + vae/vem/vaers

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

#going batty #batty writes #navigation #absolutelyb4tty #battys works

coconutchiapudding

jesusreid shrine

#batty giggles

woodwool

severely deficient in whatever vitamin makes u a person

#batty rambles

catlips001

FUCK. honestly just FUCK. We missed a very important day yesterday.

battebitch-deactivated20200410

what was yesterday, cat?

catlips001

I’m not missing it this year.

#batty rambles

lifesgrandparade

I want you guys to all start making a bigger stink about Tumblr's Age Verification Horseshit.

lifesgrandparade

Like they tried to change Reblogs and people rightfully got up in arms, this is a LOT worse. In order to have access to any sort of thing dubbed mature, and We haveALL seen what they think is mature, Everything from a black and white photo of a black woman's arm, to posts about IUD recalls, to a nude painted by a 17th century artist, to anything involving the word Trans; you have to send your personal information to a third party site that WILL get hacked, and you will be doxxed. And they can say "Oh shit, well it wasn't us who sent your name address and gender identity to Moldovan teenagers, here's a couple extra minutes in the ball pit.

That's bad enough!!!!!!!! But the entire idea of needing permission from state authorities to access anything labeled mature by our friendly AI overlords is some fucking Boll shit. Die Gedenken Sind Frie baby. This is all a reaction to people getting uppity about their lowly lowly rights and is being propped up by the same bad actors tht have made life unlivable. Fuck that shit.

"Well it's only being rolled out in Brazil and UK" Yeah, to start. "Well they're being forced to do this by laws." YOu know it's always really funny when these tech giants (Or whatever you call owning tumblr dot com) get really antsy about laws considering they pick and choose which ones they abide by.

This is a breaking point and it's going to be very interesting to see how we proceed from here.

teh-nos

i get this now and it won't let me click through to any 'mature' blogs :(

hylianengineer

Where's the fucking. The form. The fucking form. Hang on, lemme find it.

Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your

This! Please fill out this! Select "Feedback" and fill out the form! They won't necessarily be paying attention to us complaining in posts, but they will read these forms!

#batty rambles

Folks. I got my nipples pierced. I officially feel hot and sexy again so I am finally in the mindset to write fics again. Prepare for some pent up unhinged shit in the next couple weeks and thank you for your patience

#batty rambles #batty giggles #fun fact about batty #going batty

studentofetherium

and credit where credit is due. they changed course basically as soon as they could. a day is a very quick turnaround for development and reversing what waa clearly intended as a massive change. they deserve credit for recognizing the mistake and fixing it. thank you tumblr for not doing something obviously stupid

studentofetherium

i'd rather not watch tumblr carefully position its dick between the body of a car and the open door, then forcefully slam it shut, but after they've done it once, i'll still congratulate them for removing it and walking away, instead of doing it again several more times

#batty rambles

ch 5: Will You Think Of Me? || Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!childhoodbsf!reader Category: Fluff and smut Summary: Weeks after Spencer has left you talk on the phone, the conversation having unintended consequences. (Part 5) Word Count: 6.6k CW: Spencer Reid/ fem!childhoodbsf!reader, pining, self doubt, mentions of arousal and attraction, slutty thoughts, accidental underwear stealing, masturbation (m/f), fantasizing about a friend, shame around masturbation, lowkey pervy Spencer, fantasies, fingering, mentions of sex, mentions of cunnilingus, accidental invasion of privacy, mentions of reader having a shitty ex, creepy coworker, coworker pushing boundaries, vague stalking vibes in next chapter, Spencer has a traumatic backstory™ , potentially embarrassing situations, slow burn, probably hella ooc A/N: It’s finally heating up! Welcome to the very beginnings of the smut in this series, I know it’s not a ton, but hopefully you like it! Readers coworker is kind of creepy, but ultimately harmless. I don’t plan to involve any real stalking or aggressive behavior, he’s just kind of annoying and doesn’t respect boundaries because I need a bad guy for Plot Reasons™. Purple text is from Spencer, red is from reader! Next chapter will be posted on the 13th! Thank you for reading!

Spencer resurfaces from the depths of his mind, blinking hard to wipe his thoughts. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he tries to sound like he’s been listening. You nod and fill him in on a few more details of why you don’t want to date this coworker. He continues to drift in and out of the conversation, hopelessly distracted by the conversation topic and your, still descending, shirt strap. Finally deciding he needs to put an end to his daydreaming, he pipes up, “your tank top strap is falling.” You glance down, flushing at how much it’s moved and pulling it back into place. Hoping to distract from how flustered you are, you smile, “actually it’s a nightgown!” Before Spencer really has time to react you prop your phone against your lamp and stand up. You reveal the, rather short, nightgown, twirling in a few small circles to show it off. Spencer's heart thuds in his chest, part from the love sick puppy side that can't stand how cute you are, and part from the overly excited part of his brain that notices how easy it would be to take that piece of clothing off. ‘Jesus christ,’ he thinks to himself, ‘what is wrong with me?’ You sit back down, “anyways, I’ve been rambling. How was your day?” He welcomes the distraction, “the flight was alright, the case wrapped up nicely, and I finished one of the books you recommended to me!” “Awesome! What’d you think,” your eyebrows shoot up as you await an answer. He beams at you, “I loved it! The color symbolism and use of flowers was incredibly interesting!” You clap your hands together, “I knew you’d like it!” Spencer smiles, suddenly feeling very tired from his day of travel. As if you can read his mind you suddenly give him a soft smile. “Are you feeling tired?” He frowns slightly, “yeah, but I don’t want to stop talking.” “We can talk tomorrow, don’t make yourself stay up for me,” you give him a smile that would almost read as pitying if he didn’t know better. He doesn’t catch himself before thinking ‘I’d do anything for you.’ “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckles.

This was, admittedly, the second time this had happened. The last time had also been the last time he’d touched himself in general. He woke up next to you, hard enough that it hurt, from a dream he had. The dream involved you, dressed in a flowing see through dress. You climbed onto his lap and guided his hands over you, eventually slipping the dress off and letting him explore you on his own. Upon waking up he practically ran to the bathroom. He waited around for a while, hoping his erection would go down, but it wouldn’t. So he took care of it, with one hand over his mouth and a chest full of shame. The difference was that before he had tried to keep himself from thinking of you, failing spectacularly, but he tried. This time he let himself think of you. He pictures those photos he found of you, your cute little nightgown, that robe you’d mentioned, the underwear he’d accidentally brought home with him, and he lets the shame swallow him. His overwhelmingly horny brain masking the shame and cloaking it with something bigger. He pictures his lips kissing their way down your body. Your neck, chest, stomach, hips, until he finally found you sweet center. He thinks of how you’d taste, how you’d wrap your legs around his head and scream his name. His hand tightens on himself, working faster as he throws his head back and groans. A deep sound rumbling through his chest as he pictured you on top of him, being the thing gripping him so tight. He moans your name, over and over, as he delves into his fantasies. Pinning you to your bed and learning every centimeter of your skin. Filling his senses with you until he could think of nothing else. Making you scream his name until your neighbors know who he is. He moans loudly, biting down on his forearm as he spills all over himself, hoping to muffle some of his sounds. He strokes himself one, two, three more times as he comes down from his high with your name on his lips. He quickly wipes himself off with the tissues he keeps near his bed, immediately flopping back down and burying his head in his hands. As good as it felt to imagine you, the immediate sobering shame afterwards is hard to cope with. He feels like a horrible friend as he realizes that this wasn’t a passing crush or simply a way to cope with him losing you for so long. He wanted you. He needed you.

Returning back to your office briefly, you slide your phone from your pocket. You tap it to life, immediately finding Spencer's message in your notifications. ‘Are you bored to death yet? I sure am with all the paperwork I have to do today.’ ‘God, yes!! I have a meeting in 10 and I want to skip it and take a nap so bad.’ You grab the things you need for your meeting and start to head to the conference room hiding in the depths of the museum , your phone propped on top of your papers as you await a response. Entering the hall that leads to the behind the scenes areas of the museum, you’re met by Thomas sidling up to your side and matching your pace. “Hey,” he raises one hand in greeting. You wave your fingers at him as best you can without dropping your belongings. “So, I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. I think it’s best to wait,” he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. You try to not sound annoyed when you answer, “can we avoid talking about this at work for now, I’d rather talk about this when I’m not focusing on a million other things, ya know?” He nods, but starts to counter you when your phone dings. You see him follow your eyes to the screen, an immediate shift in him when he reads the screen. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can…’ The end of the message is cut off, but he clearly reads something into it that isn’t there. “Oh. Yeah, I get it,” he mutters. You praise whatever sweet mercy there is when you reach the conference room and find it already filling up with others. You sit next to one of your closest friends and slump into your seat as Thomas seats himself elsewhere. You greet your friend and quickly check your messages while everyone waits for the meeting time to strike. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can talk about our days at work and compare boredom.’ ‘I’m so down for that. You’ll probably win, my day involves a lot more talking than paperwork currently.’ You smile and put your phone back in your pocket, not missing the scowl from Thomas, as you join in the conversation. The meeting goes well, just a basic brainstorming and planning session for the upcoming holiday season, and before you know it you’re getting ready to head home.

calmdowngorgeous

Destroy the myth that libraries are no longer relevant. If you use your library, please reblog.

#batty rambles

hiddinginmyroom

the hottest thing a man can do is be a weird little nerd

#batty giggles

ch 4: Making the Most of It || Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!childhoodbsf!reader Category: Fluff (with suggestive content and a sprinkle of sadness) Summary: It's finally Spencer's last day with reader. They try to make the most of their final hours together and have some conversations they've been avoiding (Part 4) Word Count: 6.4k CW: Spencer Reid/ fem!childhoodbsf!reader, pining, self doubt, suggestive content (no actual smut yet), mentions of arousal and attraction, slutty thoughts, a game of truth or dare, mentions of reader being cheated on, mentions of reader having a shitty ex, descriptions of sex, vague mentions that seem like reader was used by her ex (sexually), little bits of angst, Spencer has a traumatic backstory™ , potentially embarrassing situations, tearful goodbye, platonic-ish physical affection, slow burn, eventual smut in this series, probably hella ooc

As if he’s read your mind, which with his profiling skills he probably has, he pipes up, “are you doing okay? What are you thinking about?” You mull over your words for a moment before answering, “are we going to talk about it?” He swallows hard, maybe automatically or maybe because he’s forgotten that you’re close enough to notice, “talk about what?” You sigh, “the cuddling. This.” Spencer relaxes against you slightly, only tensing again when you shift to look him in the eye. “Can I be honest,” he drops his voice lower, sincerity dripping from his words. You flush, scared of what he’s about to say, “always.” “You do this every night. When you fall asleep, you reach out for me and try to get as close to me as possible, so I hold you while you sleep.” Your system floods with embarrassment, face turning bright pink. “What,” your voice cracks slightly as you stare up at him. His face breaks into an adorable smile as he giggles at you, “yeah, I think you’re touch starved.” He notices your brain breaking and tries to stop his laughing, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I completely understand. I spend most of my life alone so I get the same way.” You bring your hands to your face, squealing quietly into your palms as you hide from Spencer, “oh my god, I can’t believe this.” You break into a fit of laughter, still hiding behind your hands, “I’m so sorry, this whole time I thought you were doing it!” “You knew,” Spencer nearly shrieks the question. “Yeah,” you keep laughing, near hysterics at the sheer goofiness, “I kept waking up before you and moving away because I didn’t want to embarrass you.” Spencer slaps his hand over his eyes, “oh my god. We’re so hopeless.” “We’re so bad at communicating, this is pathetic,” you finally uncover your face. “To be fair, we haven’t communicated since we were 10,” he scrubs his hand down his face with a smile. You giggle, “true.” Spencer shifts to meet your eyes again, “have you noticed me doing anything else in my sleep?” Your mind flashes to the state you woke up in the other day, a feeling you can’t quite identify rushing through you. You ultimately decide to keep the lie going, “nope, unless you count mumbling things.” Spencer chuckles, “good.” After a beat of silence, he continues, “so how are you feeling about this? Does it make you uncomfortable, because I can absolutely keep my distance?" “No, I don’t want distance. We’ve had enough distance. Having you here has been a great comfort and that includes the unconventional sleeping situation. I think it’s fine for us to be platonically affectionate, as long as you’re comfortable,” you reason. Spencer blushes a bit, a strange expression on his face, “I agree. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time and I’m happy to have us back together.”

“Did you think about me a lot,” you ask before you’re aware the words are leaving your mouth. “All the time,” he sighs, “I had so many questions.” “Like what,” your voice whispers like a breeze through the trees. “What you did after I left. Where you were, how you were. What you might look like or sound like. If you remembered me…if you missed me. What you were going through. What I could have been there for. Who you’d become,” he rambles quietly. “Do you want answers? Now’s the perfect time to ask whatever you want,” you smile against his collarbone. “I’d do anything for answers,” his breath sweeps over your hair, whether it’s that or his tone that sends shivers through you, you aren’t sure. “Well, after you left I tried to make new friends. It didn’t work out so well. I eventually made friends, but they were fake and I was better off without them. I kept going to school, graduated early and went straight to college. I was a huge nerd,” you laugh wistfully, “I got into the school I wanted on a good scholarship and it led to an internship and eventual employment at a smaller museum before I got invited to have a spot at my current job.” “I had a couple relationships that didn’t work out, I regret one of them. I left Las Vegas when I was 19, I moved twice before ending up here. How I was has always been complicated. Sometimes good, sometimes the kind of struggling where I wanted nothing more than to give up, but I’m here. I remembered you,” you look up to find him watching you now, “I missed you so much and I thought of you all the time. I remembered you in the little things, stuff I’d see in store windows and hear in passing conversations. It felt like you haunted my life sometimes. You missed a lot, first dates, tests I stressed about, proms, graduations, my first car, embarrassing moments, happy moments, everything if we’re being honest. The important thing is that you’re here now. You get to see what I look like, hear what I sound like, and meet the person I’ve become. Hopefully you like them as much as you liked the me you knew before.” He smiles at you now, his sonderous expression cracking into something pleasant, “I might like you more now.” You smile back and let your heart swell without guilt this time, “I think I like you more too.”

After a brief intermission to get changed into real clothes, you march yourself back to the living room and plop down on the couch, turning to smile at Spencer as a way to ask ‘what now’ without having to speak. “You know something I never really got to do growing up,” he grins anxiously. “What’s that,” your eyes are expectant. He looks away, pausing before letting his eyes find you again, “truth or dare.” You laugh raucously, “you want to play truth or dare with me, Spence?” He nods, smile growing wider at your enthusiasm. “You are so on, you start,” you try to stop laughing so he can go. He suddenly looks nervous, “uh…truth or dare?” “Truth, an easy start for you,” you chuckle. He thinks for a second, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling, “uh, I- have you ever done drugs?” You laugh at the innocence of his first question, “yes, I’ve tried weed a handful of times. I never got into the harder stuff that was popular in my school though, Adderall seemed like too much to me. Truth or dare, bud?” “Truth,” he twiddles his fingers slightly. “What about you,” you glance at his hands, before looking in his eyes again, “have you ever tried drugs?” He looks away, blushing, “I have.” “What? That’s all I get,” you giggle until you see the look on his face, inferring that something around the topic upset him. “We can circle back to this whenever you’re ready. Your turn.” “Truth or dare,” his face lightens a bit at your refusal to push. “Dare,” you say casually. “Spin around three times,” he shrugs, as if he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. You do as you’re told, sitting back down and pointing a finger at him, “truth or dare?” “Dare.” You smile, “balance a spoon on your nose for thirty seconds.” He gets up and saunters over to the kitchen, dramatically pulling a spoon from the drawer and resting it on his face. “Start counting,” he mutters as he watches the spoon. You watch as he bobs around, trying to keep the spoon in place until you finally announce, “done! That was really impressive!” “And totally not embarrassing,” he laughs, walking back over to the couch, “Truth or dare?” “Dare,” you just want to see what other ideas he has, the spinning was super tame. He rolls his eyes, “sit on the floor for the next three rounds.” You climb down onto your knees with a sigh, maintaining eye contact the whole way, “I think you just like telling me what to do with these dares.” He laughs, “totally not.” “Then I guess you just want me down here, huh?” When you realize what that can imply, you try to save it, “-ya know, so you can have more space on the couch.” His face is beet red and his laugh is slightly strained as you look up at him from the ground, “ye-eah totally.”

“Where’d you go,” he chuckles. You blink, “huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking.” “Abooouuttt??” You look at him as he raises his eyebrows in question. He smiles wider, teasing, “were you thinking about the last time you had sex?” You splutter a guffaw, “oh god, no! The last time I had sex was so bad I wish it was immemorable!” “Oh god, really? How bad,” he winces. Now you smirk, “you already asked my truth.” He groans dramatically, “come oooon.” You motion a zipper over your mouth as you shake your head at him. He rolls his eyes and huffs at you. “Truth or dare, oh curious one,” you giggle. “Truth.” “What’s the story of the last time you had sex,” you smile at him, an evil grin carved into your face. He exhales heavily, “oh god, I don’t even know.” His fingers fidget anxiously against your waist, “it wasn’t very romantic. Rushed, someone I didn’t follow up with afterwards, I had to sneak back to the hotel before my whole team noticed in the morning. She was a good kisser, but we wouldn’t have meshed in a real relationship and I just wanted to get something out of my system.” You stare at him in a mild state of shock. “What,” he notices. “You had a one night stand? Spencer Reid has one night stands,” you deadpan. He flushes, “is that so shocking? I’m an adult. Also don’t say ‘has’ like it happens all the time. I was having a moment,” he puffs something close to a nervous laugh. You break, shoulders bouncing with laughter, “I’m kidding! It’s only a little shocking. I didn’t think you the type.” He blushes more, backing away in offense, “I’m not the type! I just needed to get out of my head,” he seems more worried about offending you than anything. “Oh, by getting under someone? I see how you work,” you laugh, only relenting when you feel you’ve embarrassed him enough, “I know you aren’t a womanizer, I’m just teasing.” He sighs, a slight pout to his face. Mock disgruntled, he continues, “truth or dare? Jerk.” “Dare,” you grin again. His eyes flick to you, “I dare you to tell me about that bad sex with your ex.” You slap his chest, “you can’t dare me into a truth!” Whining now he flops his head against your shoulder, “I wanna know so I can properly make fun of this asshole.” “Since when are you so nosey,” you look down at his ruffled curls. His breath is warm against your chest, "I've always been like this, you just haven’t had anything interesting to tell me.” At that you push him back, fake outrage awaiting him when he can see you again, “what about the drama of drums from the high middle ages isn’t interesting?”

He laughs so hard he snorts slightly and it's so cute you decide to let him win. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.” His eyes light up as he settles in for the harrowing tale of your ex and his lack of prowess. “Okay,” you sigh, “it was before I knew about the cheating, but things had been bad for a while. We, if we’re being honest, never really matched sexually. He wanted what he wanted and I wanted things he, apparently, couldn’t provide. The last time we had sex it was right after an argument, and you’d think ‘hate sex, hot’ right?” He nods, engrossed in your story. “Well you’d be wrong. He bent me over the couch, which was about as adventurous as it got, and we were done in about six minutes. I didn’t even get most of my clothes off and when he was done he just went to play a video game in the bedroom,” you throw your hands up and frown in a ‘what can ya do’ motion. Spencer stares at you for a long moment, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you-” You cut him off before he finishes his question, “nope. I think I did like ten times in our whole relationship, max.” “Did you talk to him about it?” “Multiple times. We tried to work on his technique a few times, but he got impatient or bored and decided it was my fault.” Spencer looks shocked and enraged, “you know how I told you not to kill your coworker? I’m about to ignore my own advice and kill your ex.” You laugh, “he’s not worth it. Just find me someone that knows what they’re doing and we’ll consider me avenged.” He nods solemnly, “can do.” “Do you have any ex’s I need to kill,” you put the spotlight back on him, ready to have the focus off you. Something sparks in his eyes that you don’t understand, but it seems sad. He shakes his head, giving you a smile and moving on immediately. “Wait. Have you gotten a new couch since you broke up?” “No,” you look away anxiously. Spencer looks disgusted, “oh no. Is this the couch?” You simply nod, a giggle bubbling up inside you at his fake horror. He feigns outrage at the new information and you can’t help but laugh. “Spencer, you’ve been sleeping in my bed. I’ve had sex in that bed,” you snort. “No, I can’t believe this, the horror, oh the horror,” he throws the back of his hand against his forehead, as if to swoon. You swat at him again and he drops the act. “I’m ready to be asked a horribly embarrassing question or be made to do something horribly embarrassing.” You make a circle with your index finger in the air, “get up and spin around in a circle until I tell you to stop.”

Pulling up to the airport, you find parking and unload his things. You walk together, hand in hand yet again, to get him checked in. You walk with him until you can’t anymore, stopping just outside the line to security. He finally turns to you, eyes heavy with emotion, “so…” The end of the sentence doesn’t come, he just watches you. “Don’t forget about me,” you realize how serious that sounds and try to cut the tension by adding, “don’t forget I exist or anything.” He smiles, soft and sad, “I could never.” He pauses again, letting himself rake his eyes over you like he’ll never see you again. “Thank you for letting me stay with you. I had an amazing time and I can’t wait to visit again,” he keeps his voice soft like this farewell isn’t meant for your public setting. “Thank you for staying with me. You don’t know how much I needed you in my life again, but I’m better for having you here,” you smile, trying not to crack. “I’ll visit whenever I can and you can always come see me. I’ll let you know where I am so we can plan something whenever we’re both around.” You rub your thumb over his skin, hand still in his, reassuring him and yourself with one motion. You look up at him, letting the tears prick your eyes finally. “Don’t let this be goodbye forever.” He frowns before pulling it back into a smile, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” With that he pulls you into a hug. His arms are tight around you like he hopes to mold you together, he’s warm and comforting, but the feeling leaves something cold and alone in you. You worry he won’t come back or you’ll be forgotten once he gets on that plane, but the hug is a reminder of how much he wants you back too. You stand there for far too long, watching the line dwindle to nothing over his shoulder, just embracing and soaking in as much as you can. When you glance at the clock and get anxious for Spencer's ability to make it to his gate, you know it’s time to let go. You slowly release each other, reluctant. When you see his face again his eyes are red and you can see tear tracks on his cheeks. This goodbye shouldn’t be so emotional, but you both have something bigger looming over this moment. “I should go,” he whispers, “thank you for letting me back into your life.” “Thank you for coming back.” Without another word he slips away, walking slowly towards the last members of the security line to join them. When he reaches them, turning to find you still standing there, he waves delicately. “See you later,” he says with a confidence that doesn’t match his body language. You return his farewell and he waits in the line, watching you. Once he’s done showing his identification to the agent, he disappears into security.

twofingerswhiskey

alright everyone line up for your award

#batty rambles

francesderwent

reblog this and tag with a food you no longer have access to (closed restaurant, state you moved away from, ex’s mom’s cooking, etc) that will haunt you until your dying day, mine are the spicy chicken sandwich on the employee menu at the fine dining restaurant I was a prep cook at, and the onion bagel from the kosher place down the street from my house when I lived in the city

#spring rolls from Peter’s oriental #my beloved #batty rambles

ch 3: A Day to Himself || Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!childhoodbsf!reader Category: Fluff (with suggestive content and very minor angst) Summary: Spencer is alone in readers apartment. As we get a little look into his head things go from awkward to downright embarrassing. (Part 3) Word Count: 6.5k CW: Spencer Reid/ fem!childhoodbsf!reader, pining, self doubt, suggestive content (no actual smut this time), mentions of arousal and attraction, slutty thoughts, boudoir photos, accidental voyeurism if you squint and put a blanket over your head, accidental invasion of privacy, mentions of reader being cheated on, mentions of reader having a shitty ex, mention of Maeve Donavan (surpriiiiise shorty), little bits of angst, very vague mention of readers relationship with their mother and that it might not be all sunshine and rainbows, Spencer has a traumatic backstory™ , potentially embarrassing situations, platonic-ish physical affection, slow burn, eventual smut in this series, probably hella ooc

A/N: This is chapter 3! I wanted to step outside my comfort zone a bit with this one. I'm excited to share the next chapters. Next upload will be unrelated to this series, but don't worry, we'll have a new chapter for this series soon! Keeping with the slow burn, there's no actual contact in this one! Next chapter is coming soon. Thank you to anyone who's following along even though there's no smut yet! Love you guys!

Spencer sits in a booth at a local restaurant, picking at the food on his plate, when his thoughts are interrupted by his friend's voice. “You look like a wounded dog, you doing alright,” your mutual friend asks. Spencer glances at him, “yeah, just thinking.” “Is this about your new friend,” he keeps his voice quiet and welcoming, Spencer knows it’s in hopes he’ll open up. “She’s not a new friend, we’ve just reunited,” he corrects. “Oh yeah, you’re right, my bad,” he chuckles, “so is this about your old friend then?” Spencer chuckles, relenting, “yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.” “Everything okay with you and your slumber party buddy,” he presses his eyebrows together in genuine concern. “Yeah, I- wait what,” Spencer pauses and chuckles slightly, “slumber party buddy?” The friend laughs, “well, yeah, aren’t you crashing at her place?” “Yeah, I guess we’re slumber party buddies,” Spencer laughs, “but, everything’s good. We’re getting back to how we were before we lost contact.” “So what’s up?” Spencer tucks a piece of hair behind his ear nervously, “I guess my feelings have changed. I still see her as a friend first, but now that we’re adults, and I’m getting to know who she’s become in my absence, I’m struggling with my image of her. I keep having these moments where I want to kiss her or tell her that I feel differently than I did when we were kids, but I know I shouldn’t and I’m just struggling with it. Everything's so new since we just reconnected that I don’t really know what to do with myself.” “Have you thought of just being honest,” the friend tries to make the question not sound condescending. “I will. A-at some point, but I don’t want to ruin things right now.” “So you’re just going to suffer in silence until then,” he’s half joking. “Pretty much,” Spencer sighs. “Really? She’s an adult, she can handle a serious conversation about feelings.” “Oh I know, that’s not my worry, I just don’t want her to think I have some hidden agenda,” he stirs his coffee with a spoon, “I don’t want her to think that things have been going how they have been just because I want to ‘get in her pants’ or something.” “Well, do you want to get in her pants,” he says like it’s the most normal question in the world. Spencer almost spit-takes his coffee, “no! I-I mean I- I wouldn’t hate it, but that’s not it,” he whisper shouts. The friend laughs, “dude, just explain that. We’ve talked about her dating life before and she’d honestly probably appreciate the attention. Everything she’s told me has been ‘men suck,’ ‘women don’t like me,’ ‘no one likes me,’ I haven’t gotten laid in so long,’ ‘I had this great date and then they ghosted me.’ Just put yourself out there!” Spencer feels a little scummy learning this stuff about you without your knowledge, “I don’t need to know all that, but how is she not taken? I mean, she’s smart, funny, and beautiful.” “That’s what I tell her, but I guess people don’t appreciate quality dates anymore,” he chuckles, “most people are too focused on hooking up, especially at our age.” Spencer nods, even though he couldn’t imagine it happening to you as much, he’d experienced similar things.

Spencer decides to surprise you by cleaning while you’re out. Your apartment wasn’t messy by any means, more the usual kind of cluttered you get when a busy 20-something lives alone and doesn’t have time to worry about how dusty her bookshelves gotten. Spencer started with making your bed, dusting your nightstands, picking up the loose hair ties that’d been flung under the bed, listening to some of your records as he cleaned. He wanted to know you, your interests, your likes, your dislikes, so he started with listening to what you had in your record collection. Next he moved to the bathroom, putting away towels that had been folded, but just stacked on your bathroom caddy instead of actually put away. He moved through your house, organizing, dusting, humming along with songs he knew, ignoring the hours that passed until his phone dinged from your kitchen counter. He picks it up, slightly swaying to a tune carrying from your living room. His screen lights up with a text from you, ‘how’s it going at home base? Keeping yourself entertained? - your friend, elbow deep in plaque writing nonsense’ He smiles to himself before typing a reply, ‘I found something to busy my time with. How’s work? - Your friend, fighting off a post-lunch nap’ ‘Work’s been good, I’m going to kill one of our delivery guys though. Hope you can pay bail - Your soon to be favorite criminal’ ‘Please don’t murder anyone, I already don’t have much time to visit you here, imagine trying to visit you in prison - your incredibly concerned friend’ ‘I mostly promise that I won’t ;) - friend who is looking at 25 to life’ Spencer laughs to himself, setting the phone back down and returning to the task at hand. Finished with most of the rooms, he decides to explore your bookcase. He takes books off the shelves, leafing through them to get the gist of your interests, and putting them back. He picks up on which ones you’re most interested in based on dust paths on the shelves. Some have clear clean sections where they’ve been recently pulled from their home, others have a nice collection of dust particles showing they haven’t left in a while. He ignores ones he’s already read, delighting in the things you have in common, and skims pages of ones he’s never ventured into. He notices one book, on a higher shelf than most of the books on this bookcase, has a thick sheet of dust in front of it. Spencer dusts the shelf before sliding the book from its resting spot. The cover is smooth in his hands as he turns it over to read. It’s some kind of healthy dating manual. “Your Partner and You: Conversations No One Wants to Start,” he mumbles to himself, “why would she need a book about talking to your partner?” He opens to the first page and finds a note written over the first chapter header, ‘I know you don’t want to hear it, but you might get something useful from this - love mom’ “Yeesh,” Spencer sighs. He flips through the pages, chapters about confrontation and communicating about boundaries flying by, until he reaches a bookmark. The slick sheet slides from the pages and lands below him on the carpet. When Spencer glances down at the floor he sees that it wasn’t actually a bookmark. A small collection of polaroid's lay face down on the floor.

He feels that tug of guilt grow unbearable as he finally breaks eye contact, “I actually have to tell you about something.” You frown, backing away as he breaks the hug and walks to sit on the couch, before going to join him. “I-if you want me to leave after I tell you this, then I’ll understand completely,” he looks at you earnestly. You nod, he sees how you visibly get more tense the longer he sits in silence. “You can tell me anything, Spence, I won’t judge or whatever,” the sincerity in your eyes almost causes him physical pain. “E-earlier, when I was cleaning, I picked up a, uh, book from the bookcase. ‘Your Partner and You: Conversations No One Wants to Start,’ and I-” He watches as your face goes pale, before flushing a deep crimson he’s never seen on you before. “Oh my god,” your eyes drop to his chest as you appear to zone out. “-I, I’m so sorry, I know this is completely unforgivable and I understand if-,” he continues, frantically trying to think of how to fix your broken trust. “What,” you interrupt bluntly. “W-what,” Spencer's eyebrows are knit together in confusion and concern. “I mean, why is that unforgivable,” you cock your head in question, face still burning bright. “W-well I- I didn’t ask or anything,” he wrings his hands nervously. “Yeah, but you didn’t know they were there. I forgot I even had that book or those pictures, it’s not like you did that on purpose,” you gesture loosely in the air. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he looks at his hands in contemplation. “Let’s just forget it happened,” you smile, face still not quite a normal color yet. “That’s the thing, I can’t,” his head immediately shoots up as his hands rise in defense, “not that I- I mean, I want to forget it, but eidetic memory!” You laugh now, eyes creasing as the sound leaves your body, “I know, I didn’t think you meant anything else, dude.” Spencer sighs, “sorry, I would just really hate to make you uncomfortable.” “Thank you, Spence, it’s alright though,” you pat his knee, sending a jolt through his body. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” he looks away, mentally reassuring himself that you’d be honest if you felt uncomfortable, “why do you have a book like that?”

As the movie continues, Spencer picks up on you slowly scooting closer and closer to him. He didn’t mind, of course, but you also didn’t seem to notice you were doing it. When a particularly frightening jumpscare gets you, you launch yourself towards Spencer. You wrap your arms around his waist and scoot towards him with a yelp. He automatically puts one arm around you, looking down only to be met with your, very embarrassed, face. “I-I’m sorry,” you laugh. He feels you moving to back away and just rubs his hand over your arm, “it’s alright.” “Is this why you don’t like watching horror on your own,” he chuckles. You smile, “I just get paranoid afterwards…also yeah, the jumping.” He brushes his thumb over your arm, “do you want to turn it off?” “N-no! No, it’s okay,” you wave your hands frantically to call him off, “as long as you don’t mind me occasionally clinging to you.” Spencer tries to not make a fool of himself by jumping at the opportunity, instead slowly raising his arm to beckon you under, “I don’t mind at all.” You sidle up to him, making a home against his ribs, as he wraps his arm back around you. ‘Way to keep her unsuspecting,’ he thinks to himself, ‘now she can probably hear how loud my heart is beating.’ Spencer was surprised to find that, instead of you hearing his heart, when his hand landed on your wrist he could feel how fast yours was beating. He told himself it was because of the movie, but he caught himself hoping it was because he was touching you. That thought sent him spiraling down the path of how else he could be touching you. A path that was very suddenly interrupted when another jumpscare led to you grabbing his thigh and gasping. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ rang out in his head as he tensed. He felt like he was harboring a dirty secret when you touched him in the middle of him thinking of things he shouldn’t. Especially after what happened yesterday. You laughed nervously next to him before returning your hand to your lap. Above you, he was trying to avoid watching your every move, focusing on the terror filling your screen instead.

The rest of the night passes largely without incident. He’s fixated on everything happening around you, trying to drag himself from the shadows. He doesn’t panic again, but there is that lingering fear lurking just out of view. Once the movie ends Spencer points out how tired you seem, suggesting it might be time for bed. “But I don’t want the day to end yet,” you whine. Spencer chuckles, “I don’t either, but if you stay up later now then you’ll wake up later tomorrow and we’ll have less time to spend together.” You groan, dramatically throwing your head back, “you’re riiiight.” With that the two of you giggle and retire to your room for the night. You slide under the covers across from him, his eyes lingering on the expanse of your bare leg more than he wants it to. He climbs under the blankets, shifting across the sheet to be closer to you so he doesn’t fall off the side. When he’s finally situated he looks down to find you smiling up at him. “What do you want to do tomorrow,” your eyes shine, making him fight a smile. “Don’t you have to work,” he tries to hide how upset he is that he’s leaving. You grin wider, mischievous, “I called out. Told them a friend needed me and I’d be back the day after.” Now it’s Spencer's turn to smile like he just got away with something, “really? For me? That’s amazing.” “Of course, I’m not letting you escape without a proper goodbye!” Spencer reaches over to hug you, pulling you against his chest, “I’m so happy we’re back together, even if I have to go home tomorrow.” “Me too,” your voice is muffled against his shirt, hiding the hurt tone in it. Spencer moves away, lingering with his hand on your shoulder, “we should sleep so we can do whatever we want tomorrow.” You nod in agreement, a hint of sadness shining in your eyes, before turning to your back and closing your eyes. “Goodnight Spencer,” you almost whisper in the dark. “Sleep well,” he mutters, your name leaving his lips like he’s losing something.