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soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years ago

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What did he say? - Daniel Ricciardo one shot

Update: I just realized it's Carlos' birthday TODAY! I'm so so sorry hahaha I feel like a jerk, but it's just play pretend ok?

Guys, this is based on a dream I had but listen, it’s so weird cause I KNOW this is not like Carlos AT ALL. He’s kind of the vilan in this one... Please don’t be mad if you’re a Carlos fan, it’s just for fun, I swear. I’ll even try to write something with him later to make it up to you guys! Also, I clearly don't know how vacuum works in racing, so again, just humor me and pretend I got it right, ok?

As always, please take the time to let me know what you think, means a lot to me (even if it’s constructive criticism)! And thank you so much to everyone that always does! 💕 Your lovely messages always motivate me to keep writing!

Warnings: angst, jealous Daniel, kind of a dick Carlos (again, sorry! I know he’d never)

I was in the “side stage” at the press room for the Austin GP, the first I ever went and of course, the first with Daniel, as his girlfriend. He was answering questions along with Pierre Gasly on stage. There were a few people besides me, including some of the drivers, waiting for their turn to face the press.

"Coco, ¿quién es?" I heard Carlos Sainz whispering to his cousin, nodding his head in my direction.

"No conozco. ¿Creo que es periodista?" his cousin answered looking at me. I just acted like I wasn't listening, or understanding, not sure why though.

"No, si fuera periodista estaría allá fuera, haciendo preguntas" Carlos continued.

"Sí, pero no me parece estar perdida" his cousin commented, they kept whispering but I could hear them very clearly.

"Qué pena, no me importaría darte direcciones" Carlos said with a smirk and I felt really uncomfortable at that, which only made me stay even more frozen in place and wish Daniel came back sooner.

"Si no te conociera, diría que acabas de romper una relación. Ni siquiera puedes ver a una chica alrededor" his cousin said hitting him playfully in the head.

"¿Y te parece esta una chica cualquier? Siempre debes andar con supermodelos, ¿no?" Carlos joked back.

"Vale, tienes razón" his cousin answered him and I was counting the seconds for Daniel to come back now.

"Pero sin duda es nueva aquí. Me recordaría de algo como eso. Tampoco pienso ser americana, ellas no tienen esta-" Just then someone called him.

"Sainz, you're up next" Daniel walked out, coming by my side. "Hey" he said to me and I smiled. "They just asked to wait 5 minutes, something about changing the batteries of the mics" he said looking back at Carlos, his cousin, and Kimi, who was going to be pairing with Carlos in the press conference and was just hanging in the corner by himself this whole time.

"Alright, thanks mate" Carlos answered.

"Hey, have you guys met (y/n)? Carlos, Carlos, (y/n)... (y/n), Carlos, Carlos" Daniel made the introductions grinning like a teenager, probably finding it super funny that they had the same first name.

"¡Hola! Mucho gusto en conocerlos, soy (y/n). ¿Como están?" I extended my hand to greet them, feeling much more confident now that I had a 5' 9" Australian by my side. They looked startled at me and then at each other.

“¿Hablas español?” Carlos asked me.

“Sí, y compreendo muy bien también” I told him and my tone made it clear I knew exactly what they were talking about earlier and didn’t like it a bit.

"Carlos, Kimi, they're ready for you" an assistant called.

"Good one kid" Kimi said to me when he walked past us, winking at Daniel. Carlos followed him to the stage and since I didn't want to just stand there in the remains of the awkward situation with Dan and Carlos’ cousin, I just walked in the opposite direction, outside the press room. Not too long after, Daniel walked after me.

"Hey, what was that about?" he asked, still smiling. Boy, he wouldn't be smiling for too long after I told him what that was about.

"What?" I asked, trying not to make a big deal. He reached for my hand, taking it in his.

"You know what. Come on, what happened back there? Did you guys know each other?"

"No!" I have to tell him now, or he'll think I have something to hide. I took a deep breath. "They were talking between themselves before you come out, in Spanish. And I don't think they thought I could understand" he looked at me confused but then it hit him and his expression changed from confusion to rage.

"What did they said?"

"Nothing, it's not a big deal ok? I just wanted to let them know I could understand, so I just said 'hello' in Spanish, that's all" I said, walking away from the place where we were standing and pulling his hand. God knows I didn't want to be there when Carlos walked out, or better, for Daniel to be there.

"I figured that much. But what did he said? Just tell me" Daniel looked at me.

"Let's just go? Please? It's not worth it. What are you going to do? Sucker punch him?"

"Do I need to sucker punch him? Is it that bad?"

"No! Dan, please, let's just go. This is not going to lead us anywhere"

"(y/n)"

"I'll tell you. Promise. Back at the trailer, okay?" I tried to negotiate.

"Fine"

When we stepped back inside his driver's room, Daniel closed the door and looked at me.

"Alright. Spill it"

"Promise me you won't do anything to him"

"Absolutely not. The longer you stall me, the more pissed off I get"

"Okay” I knew I had no choice and honestly, why should I protect him really? I’m just worried about how this might make Daniel feel. “They were wondering who I was, his cousin was teasing him saying he was only interested because he just ended a relationship"

"That's not all" he said and I didn't answer, just looked away, shaking my head. "Alright. I'm sorry you had to hear that. But you can tell me these things ok? I want to protect you baby" He said stepping closer to me and hugging me.

"I don't want you to cause trouble for something stupid"

"Hey!" he said pulling away a bit to look at me. "This is not stupid. Nothing about you is stupid. It's a big deal baby, that’s plain disrespectful. I want you here with me, always. And I want you to feel comfortable here, okay?"

"I feel comfortable now" I said hugging him closer. He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

"Fuckers" he whispered to himself.

"Promise me you won't confront him. He'll deny, or start a fight. Or both. And besides, it’s not so much what he said, it’s more like how they were eyeing me. And I don't want you to get involved in a scandal" I said pulling away and sitting down in a chair. Daniel leaned against the table, looking at me.

"A scandal?" he laughed.

"You do know gossip is the major product of motorsports, right?" I smirked at him.

"Fair enough" he agreed. "Fuck baby, the things I have to deal with for having a goddess as a girlfriend" he was joking now, so the mood seemed lighter, but knowing Daniel, I knew he hadn't completely let that go yet. I just rolled my eyes at him. Hopefully, the events of the weekend would be enough to get his mind out of it.

Friday and Saturday kept us busy enough so that we didn’t touch the subject anymore, but I could still catch Daniel staring at Carlos here and there. And I could definitely see Carlos staring at me too, which I tried to avoid at all costs, staying out of his visual field. If Daniel saw that, I don’t know if I’d be able to hold him back again.

On Sunday I’d be watching from the garage with Michael and Blake, which was super exciting, to see all the action from the front row. But I didn’t want to disturb Daniel’s routine, so I tried to stay back a little. Yet, he kept coming to steal kisses and joke around. He seemed really relaxed and confident. He was P5 and I took the care to see that Carlos was P8, so I knew they might race each other eventually but I also knew that Dan would be much more preoccupied doing what he does best and overtaking the 4 in front of him to even think about whoever was behind. Everything was going to be fine, no harm done.

“Alright. Time to go” he announced to me. “Kiss for good luck?”

“Good luck. Just go and do what you do best, okay? And try to come back in one piece” I smiled through the kiss and then watched him take his helmet from the table, wink at me, and turn to walk towards his Mclaren. My chest was tight but I could only pray and hope now.

The cars were already outside the garage for some reason, so Dan was walking out when Carlos passed in front of the orange crew. He stopped to greet some of them and that would be fine, except he was not paying any attention to the people he was talking to. He was looking inside the garage like he was looking for something, or rather someone, cause when he saw me he nodded like he was greeting me and checked me out, head to toes. Dan saw it and looked back inside just in time to see me step aside, behind Michael, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Hey... man” Carlos greeted Daniel. And his tone made me sure that it wasn’t even about me anymore. Carlos knew how much it must be bothering Daniel and was clearly using it to try and get him pissed off and unfocused. The thing is, very few things were capable of getting Daniel out of his “all good all ways” vibe, but when they did, you definitely don’t want to be on his way. I’m actually a bit worried about the other drivers now, Carlos included, because Dan just turned back to his machine, like he knew exactly what he was going to do and nothing would stop him, getting inside the car a mere formality. He didn’t even bother to take a second look at Carlos.

“Oh boy” I commented.

“Yeah, I saw it” Michael said to me. “What was that about anyway? I thought they got along fine”. I don’t say anything else, and from that moment on my eyes are glued to the screen in front of us, following any micro movement Daniel makes.

They go for the warm-up lap, which feels like it takes forever, and then, finally, Grid formation. That sign must be broken cause the lights also took hours to change.

3, 2, 1... there they go. Thank god we’re wearing masks, otherwise, my nails and fingertips would be long gone.

The first turn is a sharp one and Daniel had an opening to overtake Perez, the first driver in front of him, we could see it clearly from the drone view, but he didn’t take it. What is he doing?

“What is he doing?” Somebody in the garage voiced my thoughts.

“You had an opening Daniel” the engineer said on the radio.

“All under control. I know what I’m doing. How far are the others behind me?” Daniel answered.

I hoped he wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing but I already knew he was. Being the risk-it-all-idiot he was, Dan was waiting for Carlos to catch up to him. Knowing him, I knew he wanted to race and beat him personally, which was crazy stupid, but wouldn’t take long since Carlos had already overtaken Gasly and Alonso, and was now only a few nanoseconds behind Daniel.

“Come on Dan” I said to myself.

“Come on Daniel” Blake practically yelled at the screen.

I feel like throwing up. He’s gonna get hurt and jeopardize all the work the team put into the weekend just to... to what? I don’t even know. If he gets out of this race alive, I’ll personally kill him.

The race’s still going, no major changes after the first turn. Then suddenly Daniel seems to remember he had a gas pedal, finally getting speed in the big straight and leaving Perez behind. Carlos followed him, seeming to use the vacuum in his favor. Everybody in the garage celebrates, but I’m too focused to cheer along. He’s so close to the podium now. Just keep it up, baby. Carlos is still on his tail.

“Good job mate” the engineer says on the radio. “Watch for Sainz on your right. Bottas’ next”

“Keep me posted on Sainz’s time” it’s all Daniel says.

A couple more laps go and he’s really trying to overtake Bottas, not playing games anymore. Carlos doesn’t seem to try to overtake him even once though, he’s too far behind still.

More laps go by and I can’t standstill. When they’re in the 19th lap, with Max and Hamilton battling each other and taking turns in the lead, Daniel’s voice comes on the radio.

“Let’s be the first to box” I’m not sure what he’s playing at, as it’s still too soon to box, but the team seems to agree.

“Copy that. I’ll let you know when. Let’s get a couple more laps in. Keep this up for now” his engineer answers.

“Understood” Daniel’s voice come through the radio. “How’s Sainz time?”

“At least 1.5 seconds behind you” the engineer informs him.

“Understood” Daniel says.

He’s planning something. Not sure what, and I don’t know if I even could, not knowing much about racing strategies, but it definitely has something to do with Carlos and what happened earlier.

“Ouch!” I hear Michael say and nod towards the screen, making me focus on the race again, and not only on Daniel. Max and Hamilton had touched tires. “They're really going at it, definitely using way more tires than necessary"

"If Dan box before them..." I begin to ask.

"He needs a fast box, gaining speed later and for their box to be slower, but yeah, that's his best shot at them" Michael explains to me.

"Come on baby" I whisper to myself.

Daniel seems to finally get close enough to Bottas, but the Finnish guy won't make it easy for him. Turn 11 on sector 2 will be his best shot now and it's getting closer.

The garage and the radio go silent. Feels like the whole world is holding their breaths while Daniel smoothly overtakes Bottas from his left. And then I almost go deaf with all the cheering around me, it's a podium for Daniel, for now.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to last too long, cause once he comes to the box all the other drivers will pass him. It's just so frustrating.

"Good job mate. Spectacular time. Box now" the engineer informs on the radio.

"Box confirmed. We need to ace this, boys" Daniels says.

Not even a full minute later, I hear his car and see it on the screen. I look outside to see the orange machine with the big 3 in front of it, but I don't even have time to try and take a look at him, cause 2.3 seconds later (or at least that's what the TV tells me) there he goes again. The good news is, only Bottas passed him. The bad news is he almost crashes into Carlos when he comes out of the Pit Lane.

Some of the crew were still celebrating the fast pit stop when they realized what happened. I let out a gasp. They touched tires but Carlos seemed to have managed to get away from Daniel, quickly returning to his side a moment later but struggling to keep it up. Dan, on the other side, seems unbothered. He keeps gaining speed, even though the pit exit is right on the first turn.

"Take it easy now mate, even if Sainz passes you, his time is not enough to stay in front" the engineer informs Daniel, clearly worried that the risk doesn't justify the ends.

"Understood" Daniel responds.

We're on lap 30 now and just as the engineer said, Carlos is a full 2 seconds behind Daniel. Bottas still in front of him (which is frustrating for me because he had just overtaken him before the pit stop), then Hamilton, and finally Max.

"Daniel" the engineer calls him. "How're the tires?"

"All good"

"Good. Ready to race, mate? Hamilton's going to box now"

"Before Bottas?"

"Yes, that's confirmed"

"Understood"

I listen to the conversation between Daniel and the engineer closely, but I can't say I know exactly what the implications are.

"Bottas' going to second, Daniel to third again. Let's hope for a slow pitstop for Hamilton, so when he comes out, he comes in third and races Daniel. That's the best-case scenario, so he needs to gain speed now" Blake explains to me.

"Got it" I confirm to him. "What about Bottas? He should box on the next lap right?"

"Yeah. If Daniel overtakes him still on this lap, the difference will be too big for him to recover after his pit stop. Hopefully" He tells me.

There's a lot of 'hopefullys' and 'best-case scenarios' in this conversation, but I'll take it. I start to silently pray right away, eyes glued to the screen to see exactly what Blake predicted unfold: Hamilton pit stops, Bottas and Daniel are the firsts to go up on the positions, then Carlos, Alonso, and Gasly. The first turn comes again and Dan seises the opportunity to overtake Bottas, who, to his credit, is fighting real hard, but Dan isn't letting him take back his position.

Dan is P2 now. Max is almost 3 seconds in front of him. Hamilton comes out of the pit lane behind Gasly, it should take him long to again his positions.

"Bottas to box on this lap mate" the engineer announces.

"Not worried about Bottas. What about Max?" Daniel answers. A few moments of silence follow.

"Box confirmed for Max on this lap as well. Just get closer to him" the engineer instructs.

"Understood" Daniel answers.

"Come on, baby" I cheer silently again.

"Fuck! He's gonna make it" Michael yells. "Come on Daniel!"

Bottas is 2 seconds behind Daniel, and on the big straight Daniel manages to shorten his time difference to Max to 1.8 seconds. The next thing I know, Max is coming down the pit lane, quickly followed by Bottas. Daniel is P1. I can't believe this. Carlos is P2, but he hasn't boxed yet. Surprisingly enough, Alonso is P3 and, not so surprisingly, Hamilton is already P4 and gaining speed.

"Alonso hasn't boxed yet" Blake comments. That's bad news if we were hoping for him to defend his position against Hamilton. I take a look on the TV and they're showing the conditions of his tires, which to me doesn't mean anything.

"Will he be able to hold him?" I ask Blake.

"Not sure, he's tough though and doesn't want Hamilton to win, that's for sure" Blake answers me.

Then we hear Max passing outside, had almost forgotten about him.

"That took him longer than normal" Michael comments and we look at the screen, his pit stop was 3.6 seconds long. An eternity for the Redbull team. But awesome news for us. Bottas had already left the pit lane, his pit stop was 2.4 seconds long.

The grid is now Daniel, Carlos, Alonso, Hamilton, Bottas, and then Max. Alonso is still holding Hamilton back. Normally, I'd guess Carlos would box soon and maybe even Alonso, but since I know Carlos has some personal motivation against Daniel, I feel like he's going to hold on the longer he can and the same goes for Alonso regarding Hamilton.

We're at the final 10 laps now and nothing has changed, except Carlos is dangerously closer to Daniel now. Alonso still hasn't let Hamilton go by him, repeating the Hungaroring events. I hear the signal of the radio, indicating we're about to hear some communication between Daniel and his engineer, and my chest tightens. It's Daniel's voice that comes on then.

"Something wrong. I'm losing power" Fuck. No.

"Sainz is at your tail. Can you hold on?" the engineer asks.

"I don't know. Fuck. It's just not working. How much's the difference?"

"Less than 1 second"

"Fuck. Why hasn't he boxed yet?"

"His tires are in real bad condition. But I don't think he's going to do it now"

"I'll put some pressure on him"

"Negative. Negative. Stay away"

"Not going to touch him. Pinky promise" Bastard. I can hear the smirk in his voice, even though this is extremely dangerous and insane pressure, Daniel's still having the time of his life.

9 laps to go.

8 laps to go.

Carlos almost overtakes Daniel.

"Engine's not good. Can you do something?" Daniel asks.

"Negative. 7 laps to go mate, just hold it"

"Understood"

On the big straight of the 51st lap, Carlos overtakes Daniel, but then on the next turn, Daniel takes back his position. The sequel of turns that follows is the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever seen in my life, they're so close to each other, and at such a high speed that if they simply touch tires they would fly off the track and everything would be lost to both of them, maybe even their lives.

"Hamilton passed Alonso, mate. Watch out" the engineer informs him, and I look at the screen. Fuck.

"Fuuuuck" Daniel says on the radio.

It's the 52nd lap now, only 4 more to go and Carlos doesn't even signal a pit stop. He's going to try to make the whole race without it.

"Ferrari is not happy with him" Michael laughs a dark laugh. I knew he had a history of being stubborn but this is too much.

"His tires are at less than 10% integrity. How is he still going?" I ask.

There's the big straight again and Carlos falls a bit behind Daniel, but I've watched enough to know that that doesn't necessarily mean a good thing. Just as I predicted, he tries to use Daniel's vacuum to gain more speed and overtake him, Daniel doesn't let him through and get in front of him, making him almost go off track. That would be a "normal" movement, except Hamilton was using Carlos' vacuum in his favor and, when Carlos is forced to change directions, Hamilton hits his back left tire, which makes it blows off and it's a mess from then on.

Daniel is far from the whole ordeal by now, safe and sound, thankfully. But Carlos spins in the track, taking Hamilton with him. They both go off track and Max flies by, followed by Bottas, Charles (where did he come from?), and then Alonso.

"Are they alright?" It's the first thing that comes up to me to ask.

"Fuck! That was crazy. Is everyone ok?" Daniel asks on the radio.

"Positive. Everyone's ok. Keep going, mate. 3 more laps to go" the engineer informs him.

"Who's behind me now? Bottas?" Daniel asks.

"Max. But he's at least 2 seconds behind, we should be fine" I hear the engineer say and it's like I can almost breathe again. Daniel's going to win this thing. He's so close now.

"It wasn't Daniel's fault, was it? Can they punish him in some way for the accident?" I ask Michael.

"Don't know. He was defending his position, but he's been closing in Carlos ever since the begging of the race. Depends on how Ferrari and Mercedes spin this, they'll try anything that favors them" Michael explains to me in a worried tone.

They're in the final lap and Daniel's been clearly losing speed. Something's wrong with the engine. But it's the final lap, just a few more moments, come on baby, you can do it. Max is so close to him though, I wouldn't be surprised if the winner was declared based on the replay of the finishing line. The big straight comes up and Dan has to stay out of Max's front, so as to not give him any advantages.

I can barely see it, but at the same time, I can't take my eyes off the screen.

"Full force now mate, final sector. You can win this" the engineer says on the radio but Daniel doesn't respond. Max is right by his side, he's going to pass him.

There's smoke coming out of his car, the whole thing is going to blow off any second now. Oh my god, please just a few more seconds.

5 turns to go.

4 turns to go.

3 turns to go. Max overtakes him. Shit.

2 turns to go. Daniel wins his place on the podium back.

Final turn. Daniel's in the front, barely. They cross the finish line and the whole garage explores with cheering. There are people running outside to wave at him. I can only smile and hold my own head like it would fall off otherwise. He did it. He fucking did it.

"Woo-hoo! Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!" I can hear Daniel on the radio, screaming his lungs out.

"Good job mate. Spectacular work. First-class, really! Well done!" the engineer cheers on.

The next thing I know, Michael is hugging me and lifting me from the ground just to puck me back down and Blake lift me up again. I can only laugh at their excitement. I'm so happy for Daniel I can barely grasp it!

"Let's go!" Blake puts me down and runs outside the garage. I follow him out, to the place where Daniel is stopping the car, a bunch of smoke coming out and some people with fire extinguishers around it.

He's got his fists up, celebrating. But is still inside the car. Then he takes off the steering wheel and handles it to one of the mechanics waiting outside. He gets out of the car and stands on top of it, smokes still coming out from behind. It's a nice picture. I just hoped he got away from that thing before it explodes, but it's a nice picture, can't deny it.

Then he jumps down and run towards the crew, jumping over them, helmet still on. Everybody is celebrating and cheering, I can only laugh and clap at the scene before me. So much joy and happiness going on, the energy is amazing! Then I can see Daniel looking around, but since his helmet is still on, I have no idea what he's doing. Somebody seems to understand though and they wave at me, calling me to come closer. I approach, but I'm still unsure, don't want to get in the middle of the team's celebration. But Daniel grabs me, pulling me closer and hugging me. I just laugh, can't barely see him with the suit and helmet still on. He's saying something, but I can't understand a thing.

"What?" I laugh at his attempts to communicating with me. He opens his helmet visor and repeats.

"I fucking won baby!" He yells laughing.

"I know! I know! You won Dan! I'm so proud! You're the best baby!"

"I need to get this thing off" he says struggling to get the helmet and the balaclava off, when he finally manages to do it, he jumps over the fence that was separating us and hugs me again, lifting me in the air and kissing me deeply, making everyone around us cheer even louder and I smile against his lips. I wrap my legs around him and he keeps kissing me, only after a few seconds do I pull away to breathe and he touches our foreheads. I laugh again, just enjoying the feeling of pure happiness for him.

"I'm so proud of you. You were so good. This is crazy" I whisper to him.

"Get used to it, cause there's more where it came from" he answers kissing me again.

#daniel ricciardo #Daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader

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managedmischiefs · 5 years ago

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north//chapter three

here’s the new chapter!! please enjoy and leave me your feedback! as always, let me know if you want to be on the taglist by sending me an ask :)

genre: fluff, angst if u squint

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 11.3k

SPENCER

The elevator doors pop open on the sixth floor on a bright, sunny day, and the smile on my face is the biggest it’s ever been and I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to wipe it off. This morning, Amelia confessed that she had never seen Doctor Who before, and then she encouraged me to ramble on and on about my favorite parts and favorite characters and she asked questions and my smile never went away, even as we said our goodbyes and through the dirty train ride. But having seen Amelia will make my day better and the walk to my desk seems so much brighter and happier than normal.

"Good morning, Spencer," Alex smiles at me as she passes my desk, setting her bag down and sending me a wave.

"Morning," I return her smile, taking the last sip of the coffee from my cup, the one from my meeting with Amelia, giving it one more longing look before tossing the cup in the trash.

Alex watches me closely as she sheds her jacket and scarf, draping it over her chair. "Weather's rough, right? It's getting really cold,"

I spin in my chair and my eyes trace up to where the wall and the ceiling meet, staring out the windows there. "Yeah, it's pretty rough out there,"

"Christmas is soon though," a smile comes to her face as she sits and takes a breath. "Do you have any plans yet? Do you think you'll go to see your mom?"

I shrug my shoulders and push away the sharp pain in my chest at the mention of my mom and at the mention of such a joyous holiday that’s supposed to be filled with friends and family. But instead, I’ll do the same things I’ve done the last few years- sit by myself at home and reread a book from my shelf. "Not sure yet. Haven't really thought about it,"

Alex hums, not pleased with that answer, and spins her chair around to face her desk. "Okay, well, don't wait too long or else you won't have any plans, and nobody should be left alone on Christmas," I choose not to respond. I just turn my chair back to face my desk and get to work.

"Good morning, wonderful crime fighters!" Garcia exclaims, bounding into the bullpen as Morgan holds the door open for her. Her bubbly attitude brings JJ and Rossi over to my desk area and even though I was trying to avoid any conversation, I spin in my chair to join the circle that forms. "I've brought cookies to lighten the mood that this horrible, horrible cold weather is reigning down on you BAU-tiful people," she grins happily at her recycled pun as she pops the top off the tin in her hand. Everyone, except for me because group food is not and has never been my jam, reaches their hands in and grabs some cookies, mumbling a few thank yous to our dear friend.

"So what's up with everyone?" Morgan asks, glancing around at the team. "We're always together but we don't always get to talk about our lives. So, come on, I know someone's got something,"

There's a moment of silence between the team where everyone wants someone else to speak up first, especially me. I wish I could duck my head down and hide under my desk because I know they will all want to ask me about what’s going on in my life and I'm not ready to tell them yet, and I’m not the best liar. I want to keep Amelia a secret. I want to keep her for myself. But if I try to make myself smaller in any way, then a team of profilers will notice immediately and I'll get called out. It's a lose-lose for me. And maybe it's irrational to want to keep her my secret. Last time I did that, it didn't end well and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But even still, I want to keep Amelia for myself.

"Well," JJ laughs when nobody speaks up, "Will and I took Henry to the zoo for the first time over the weekend and he absolutely loved it,"

That brings everyone into a conversation and I'm glad I can let my mind wander off to Amelia. She always looks beautiful, but she looked especially stunning today. She wore plaid jeans with a black sweater tucked in, a black knit scarf, and her normal black boots. Of course, she had a black peacoat on to shield her from the weather, and the strap of her camera was slung over her shoulder instead of around her neck. Her hair was up in this messy braided updo that I don't even want to spend time wondering how long it took her to execute. Her nail color changed for the millionth time, now to a pale blue. Her necklace was almost completely hidden behind her scarf but I noticed that she wears the same one every day, a small butterfly. But today, there was just something about her smile and her laugh that made me feel extra warm inside. It made me feel like I wanted to scoop her up and bring her back to my apartment and never let her leave.

"Reid? Hey, Reid!" There's suddenly a hand snapping in front of my face, bringing me out of yet another one of my daydreams.

Everyone has vacated the area and Alex is crouched in front of me, brows furrowed in confusion. I lift my head, blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Alex tilts her head, resting her arms on her legs. "Are you okay? You haven't been yourself lately. You've been a little bit distracted," she sighs and I can tell that she's wondering if she should say something. She ultimately makes a decision in her head to not say it and instead just waits for me to answer. But her holding back her thoughts frustrates me. I thought we were close so why would she hold anything back from me? When has she ever held anything back from me?

"Say what you were gonna say," I insist, sitting up more in my chair. "You were gonna say something. Say it,"

Alex chews on her lips and lets out a long breath, glancing around to make sure that nobody is too close. "Well," she hesitates one more time, "I know that you're still hurting about Maeve and-"

"No," I cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, "it's not about that. It's-" I push my hair out of my face as my breath gets caught in my throat. I take a replenishing breath and shake my head, turning back to the paperwork on my desk, "I'm fine, okay? I promise. Thanks for, uh, looking out for me,"

"Maybe you should consider going to therapy," Alex is clearly not ready to let this conversation go.

"I'm fine," I say yet again, giving her a tight-lipped smile, not even glancing her way again.

I hear Blake sigh and then walk around, seeing her sit down at her desk. There's part of me that feels bad for being so secretive to my closest friends. But I want to keep Amelia for myself. The team likes to know everything and they like to bring up significant others all the time. I don't want Amelia brought up like that. I don't want Morgan teasing me about her, or Garcia insisting on a double date, or JJ wanting to know how we met. But besides, Amelia isn't even my girlfriend. Right now, she's just a girl that I get coffee with before work. I wish she was more, but she's not.

Garcia comes back into the bullpen, holding a hoard of IPads in her arms and one case file for me. "It's case time, my loves!"

There’s a collective sigh that falls over the group as everyone pushes themselves out of their seats and towards the round table room, ready to endure another day of sadness. There’s no good day to get cases but really, there couldn’t be a worse time to get a case. Amelia and I ran out of time this morning and her story about the time her and her best friend got lost in California on a spring break vacation got cut short, and she promised to finish it tomorrow. She also swore that I could tell her all about my time at CalTech and about my favorite classes, all while she lets me fiddle around with whichever camera she happens to bring that day, even though I could possibly break it. I mean, she couldn’t get any more amazing. Technology is not my strong suit, whether it’s a computer or a phone or even a camera, but she’s still going to let me tinker with it. I didn’t think that she could get any better.

After the catastrophe with Maeve, I never thought I'd ever have feelings for another person again. I thought that I'd die alone and loving Maeve. I thought she was my soulmate. I thought that the connection we had was one in a million and that I would never connect with someone on a romantic level again. Seeing her die right in front of me was like no other death I had ever witnessed and nobody, including and especially me, thought I would ever recover from that.

As much as I don't want to admit it and as adamantly as I will deny it, I've been through a lot. Childhood aside, my work at the FBI has been grueling. I've been taken hostage, I've mourned the death of my best friend who actually wound up to be alive and I’ve mourned the death of my unit chiefs wife, I've conquered drug addiction and two relapses alone, I’ve spent months mulling over the death of my girlfriend, and I've seen more death, destruction, and horror than anyone ever should.

It's unfair, really. All I wanted to do with my life and with my career was to help people and do something bigger than myself, but in turn, I've ruined myself. And after everything I've seen and how it has changed me, I’ve been expecting to work myself to death and die alone. I'm a loose cannon and it's obvious. I try to keep myself reined in, but I know that won't last for long. The years that I’ve spent at the FBI have imprinted on my brain and I thought that Maeve would be my refuge, but she was ripped away from me. Then and there, I knew that I would never love again.

But then Amelia waltz's into my life. She comes bouncing in with her black heels, vintage cameras, tea bags, nose piercing, beautiful smile, and melodious laugh. She makes me feel like a normal person. She doesn't treat me like an FBI agent, or like someone who has endured the traumas that I have, and maybe that's because I haven't told her about any of my trauma, but I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Amelia comes laughing into my life with her denim skirts that aren't appropriate for the cold weather, curly blonde hair wrapped in patterned scarves or tied back in scrunchies, love for red wine, entrancing blue eyes, and her affinity for strawberries.

It's impossible to not fall in love with her and I hate myself for that. She makes it incredibly easy, so maybe it's not my fault that I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's not my fault that I look at the empty spot on my desk and wonder what it would be like to have a picture of her there. Maybe it's not my fault that I hold her pinky in mine for far too long when we say our goodbyes. I wish I could blame my feelings all on her. I wish I could blame Amelia for how fast I'm falling for her.

I fall in love with the energy she radiates. I fall in love with the way she speaks of her creative process while painting a new piece or drawing a new picture. I fall in love with the way she claims she has a foolproof formula for finding hidden treasures in any given thrift store. I fall in love with the way she always has a new story to tell yet listens to every word I have to say. She speaks with such passion and fire in her eyes that it draws me in. Amelia has even taken to setting an alarm on her phone to make sure I leave on time for work and every few days, she makes sure to show up before I do so that she can order both of our drinks so that it's not always me ordering for her and "wasting my money on her hot, flavored water."

Amelia and I keep up our morning coffee meetings for two months. We meet as much as we can, only taking the time off when I'm not away on a case. It's actually normalizing my sleep schedule too and I'm getting more sleep than I have in two years- or since Maeve died. When these meetings started, I used to not be able to sleep out of pure excitement of knowing I'd be able to see Amelia again. But then she started to text me the night before, sometimes to remind me to set an alarm so I'm not late or to remind me to bring a magic trick to show her (magic tricks are now common occurrences in the mornings) or to just tell me that she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. It’s always an odd sensation to get that third text because most people aren’t usually excited to see me.

The word date never surfaced in any of our conversations. I'm not sure if any of these meetings would be considered a date. Typically, dates happen at night, but these coffee meetings are happening bright and early in the morning. And maybe I'm too scared to even bring up the word date because then that will solidify what we're doing, if we even are doing anything. I'm too scared to admit that I'm falling way too hard and way too fast for Amelia.

But as terrified as I am of the way that I feel about Amelia, I wish so desperately that I wasn’t. I wish I could climb to the roof of my apartment building and scream at the top of my lungs that I’m falling in love and that I want everyone to know. I want to be able to see her outside of the confines of a tiny cafe just a block away from my apartment. I want to be able to see her out on the town, laughing and bouncing on her toes in the adorable way that she does. I want to do anything else in the world with her besides just sitting and drinking tea or coffee. I want to know even more about her. I want to know absolutely everything. I need to know everything.

ONE WEEK LATER

SPENCER

"So you got shot in the knee?"

"Yeah. The doctors told me that I might never walk without a cane again,"

"I'd like to see you with a cane," Amelia snorts, tucking her face behind her cup of tea as she succumbs to a fit of giggles. The sight makes me laugh too, trying to hide my joy behind my cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just-" she takes a long breath to calm herself, and, with a giant smile, she continues, "an FBI agent with a cane? I can't picture it,"

"Well, I wouldn't be allowed in the field. As much as I thrive in the police departments, I love being in the field. It gives you a rush, you know?"

"Mm, no. I don't know," Amelia laughs, "but I can imagine what you're talking about. An adrenaline rush. I've never caught a bad guy in action like you do. I mean, the closest I've ever come to that is catching one of my siblings stealing cookies late at night,"

A fond memory comes to mind, one involving a dinosaur-shaped cookie jar and a little hand. "I've caught my godson doing the same,"

"So, Spencer," Amelia's voice is lighter as she moves away from the previous topic of me taking a bullet in the field. She shimmies her shoulders just a little bit, then gestures to the Christmas drawings on the window. "Do you have any plans for Christmas next week?"

Oh, the dreaded question. Each of my team members had asked me that during our case last week and I had to lie every single time. I don't want them to feel bad for me when I tell them I don’t have any plans and I’ll be spending Christmas alone. Alex might try to invite me to dinner with her family, and JJ would probably do the same and swear that Henry had been asking about his godfather, but it's just out of pure pity. I don't need any more pity from my team.

"Um," I have to keep my voice from cracking as I drown out myself in a sip of coffee, "no,"

"No?" Amelia repeats, but her face doesn't change at all, not like she’s sad or she’s pitying me. "Me either. I told you, my family's in Texas and I'd only be able to go out there for two days. So as much as I'd love to go, it doesn't really make sense, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. My mom is in Las Vegas so I know what you mean,”

Amelia looks down at her cup of tea, fiddling with the teabag. "You know, if you don't have anything to do on Christmas, maybe we could spend the day together?" She suggests, glancing up at me with a nervous smile. "I was planning on spending the day alone but if you also don't have anything to do, maybe we could do something together," she goes quiet for a moment and I wait, wondering if she's finished with her request. Or maybe it’s just that I’m speechless and I have absolutely nothing to say in response to that request. Yeah, that’s more likely. She, again, looks down at her cup and I can see her fingers shaking slightly as she toys with the teabag. "And besides, I love our little coffee dates but it'd be nice to see you outside of here,"

And there it is. It all comes out with just those few sentences. Not only does Amelia see these meetings as dates, but she wants to see me outside of the cafe. She wants to spend Christmas with me, a day that you usually spend with your family or your closest friends. She was so nervous to ask me about this that her hands are shaking. When has this ever happened? Usually I'm the anxious one. I'm the one here who does the nervous laughing and fumbles over my words and taps my feet and fiddles with my hair. She's usually the one who takes charge of the conversation and laughs louder and initiates our pinky hold when we have to say goodbye. Being anxious is my thing and if Amelia is taking that over, then that must mean that this request took a lot to say.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she adds quickly before hiding, again, behind a sip of her tea.

I’ve let myself hold back with Amelia for far too long- for two whole months. I’ve gone two months without growing some balls and asking her out and I can’t handle it anymore. I need to see her with a different background behind her other than a tan leather booth. So I don’t give myself a moment to think or stress before I speak. "I'd love to,"

Amelia's eyes dart up to me and her smile starts to grow. "Really?" I nod wordlessly, too scared that I'll say something dumb and ruin it if I open my mouth. "I would've thought you'd say no," The alarm on Amelia's phone goes off, telling us that it's time for me to leave for work. She gives me a sad smile and silences it, chewing on her lip. "Time for you to go. You've got people to save, Dr. Reid,"

The two of us stand and wrap ourselves in our coats and scarves before heading out the door, into the bitter, cold wind. Amelia turns on her heel and holds out her pinky to me. I switch my coffee to my left hand and wrap my right pinky around her, watching her nose start to go pink from the weather surrounding us. Amelia smiles, and the timer in my head starts to run, counting up the seconds we stand in front of each other and just smile. We’re already standing here longer than yesterday but not as long as Tuesday two weeks ago. And the longer we stand here, the pinker Amelia’s nose gets, and the more my heart melts.

"Get warm soon," I tell her softly, worried that if I speak too loud, I’ll ruin the moment.

"You too," she smiles, wrapping her finger even tighter around mine as a way to tell me not to leave just yet. "I know you'll let me know if you have a case. But if you do," she lets out a breath, dropping her smile until her dimples disappear, "get home before Christmas."

///

I inhale deeply and brush my fingers through my hair, trying to make it seem somewhat presentable as I turn the corner to Amelia's apartment, double-checking that I'm at the right one. I smooth down my sweater and check that my converse are tied twice before knocking on the door. I can hear music from inside her apartment but I can't tell exactly what the song is yet, but based on what today is, I can only assume it’s a Christmas song.

I wait patiently for a moment behind a closed door, still second-guessing my slightly more casual outfit of converse, jeans, and a Christmas sweater. And after only a minute I'm convinced that Amelia has backed out and doesn't want me around for this sacred holiday, and I’m almost convince o turn around and leave. Maybe I could walk home and find a bookstore and get some takeout. I'm about to do just that and I’m mentally mapping out the best route home when the door swings open and Amelia stands there with her stunning smile.

"Hi, Spencer!" She exclaims, popping the door all the way open and letting me feel the heat that radiates from the inside. "Come in, please," Relief washes over me as I step inside her warm apartment, my eyes darting around the walls and decor of her home. "You can just put your stuff anywhere. It doesn't really matter to me. Make yourself at home. Be comfortable," I recognize the song now as It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, playing from her beloved record player that I’ve heard a surprising amount about. She bought it when she first moved to Virginia and it was the first thing she bought for her apartment, before she even bought a bed or food or utensils.

I pull my messenger bag off and set it beside the door, ridding myself of my peacoat and my scarf, hanging them up on the coatrack. Amelia is still standing beside me but before I take the time to admire her like I usually do, I really stop to look at her apartment. It's exactly how I pictured it to be. It reflects her personality perfectly.

The walls are comprised of dark brick and there are different pieces of artwork scattered along the walls of her entire apartment, like stray photographs and polaroids put up with wash tape, or a canvas painting in a frame, and a floral tapestry behind the television. To my left is a huge shelf of books and records followed by a wall full of picture frames with pictures I can only assume are of her family and friends. To the right of the door is a cozy looking living room with a tv and the active record player, and a fireplace with a log already lit. Beside the living room is the kitchen, and across from the kitchen is a set of floating stairs that leads up to what I presume is Amelia's bedroom. In front of the stairs is a door out to a small balcony overlooking the city.

"Hey," Amelia reaches over and pokes my shoulder, laughing, "stop profiling my apartment. I cleaned up for you, there can't be too much for you to judge,"

"Profiling isn't actually judging, per se," I blurt out facts before I can stop myself. "Profiling is actually just noticing behavior,"

Amelia crosses her arms over her chest, etching on a smile. "Sometimes I wonder how your head isn't physically bigger with all that information you've got stored up in there. Really, it keeps me up at night sometimes," she says quickly, and then rolls her eyes at herself. She gestures towards the kitchen, "Well, I've got- oh, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas,” I echo, following her into her kitchen, trailing just a step behind her.

As she walks in front of me, I get the chance to admire her. Today, she's decided to wear a black and white plaid tweed skirt with a red knit turtleneck tucked into it. Her legs are bare otherwise but she's wearing dark wool socks with a pattern on them, almost identical to the ones I’m wearing. Her hair is down in curls and flowing down to her waistline, but there's a green clip on the left side of her head that's holding back some of her hair. Her face is glowing, like usual, and her nose and ear piercings are in, like usual. It takes me a moment to realize how much smaller she is now that she's not wearing the heels she always has on. I'd peg her at around 5'2" and that's a major difference with me at about 6'1”. But even though I’ve observed countless outfits of hers, she's just as beautiful today as she is every other day.

"So I thought that, since it's only noon, we could make some Christmas cookies," she suggests, showing me her kitchen island full of cookies and bags and ingredients. "I have ingredients for quite a lot of cookies because I meant to make them myself but never got around to it. I have ingredients for gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies and oatmeal cookies and probably way more,"

"Sounds good to me. I like all of those,” The thought of making all those cookies with Amelia sounds much better than sitting and doing nothing. I don’t have time to make cookies like this on my own and I didn’t get to have any of Penelope’s, so making cookies with Amelia sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas.

Amelia sits down at a barstool and gestures for me to sit beside her, and it’s a weird sensation, for a split second, to be sitting beside her instead of across from her. She reaches for a bag of flour and a bowl, but her hand stops midair when she looks over at me and a smile breaks out on her face. "I like your sweater,"

I glance down at my sweater, just shrugging at my own appearance as if I wasn’t freaking out about it ten minutes ago. "It's just a sweater," It’s one that I’ve had for as long as I can remember and one that could probably pass as ugly, but it has a pattern with snowflakes and stripes and reindeer. I almost didn’t wear it because I thought that maybe Amelia would think it was ugly.

"But Spencer, I always see you in your work clothes. You're always wearing sweater vests and button-ups. You're still wearing jeans and converse but the sweater is a change. I like it, that's all,"

She turns her back to me to grab something else and her compliment makes me chew on the inside of my cheek. I wipe my hands on my pants before I take a deep breath. You can do it, Spencer. You grew enough balls to accept her Christmas invitation. You can do this. "I like your outfit," Oh thank god I managed to say that without sounding like a total idiot.

When Amelia turns back around to set the sugar on the counter, she's blushing. "Thanks,"

I read over the recipes she has printed out and then set them aside, standing up again so I can attempt to start helping her. We decide to start with the Pillsbury sugar cookies since all we have to do is put those in the oven, so we start arranging them on a tray.

"I should warn you," I mumble to Amelia as we bump hips, "I'm not the best baker,"

"It's not too hard," Amelia says nonchalantly. "I'll give you some tips. A smart man like you can pick it up, don't worry, love,"

The simple pet name makes me blush but we're both so preoccupied with putting the frozen cookies on the tray that Amelia doesn't notice. The simple pet name makes my heart beat faster and almost burst out of my chest. Once the cookies are on the tray, she puts them in the oven and then turns to me.

"Okay, which cookies do you wanna make first?" She grabs the recipes and holds them up for me to see as if I hadn’t looked at them before.

"What do you think we should do?" She looks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I almost get lost for a moment, but I pull myself back when she rustles the papers again. "I've never done this before and you seem to have a lot of experience so-"

"You've never made Christmas cookies before?" Amelia gasps, the papers falling onto the table as her jaw drops in disbelief, and I shake my head at her. "Okay, then we're gonna make gingerbread cookies first because they’re a classic. They're my favorite and they're the most fun to decorate so hopefully you’ll like them too. I can't believe you've never done this before!"

She whips around and starts to assemble a new set of ingredients, telling me now and then how much to measure out, even though I've memorized the entire recipe. But nonetheless, I let her take the lead and take the previous cookies out of the oven.

"Okay, come here," Amelia says when my back is turned to her. She has the gingerbread dough rolled out on the island and a few different sized molds laid out, flour caked on her hands. "Getting the dough onto the pan is an art itself," I let out a little laugh, but then she turns her head with a threatening look as if to say I’m serious, that isn't threatening at all. "I'm serious. First, you've gotta use the mold to cut. Then you've gotta wiggle the mold. Then you've gotta get the dough off the counter and that's the hardest part because if you didn't put down enough flour then you’re screwed. It's an art. You laugh, but it's true,"

"I believe you," I put my hands up in surrender, reaching for one of the molds. I stand beside her and it takes me a moment to process how close I actually am, and I only do when I feel her body heat on me. "So, like this?" I push the mold into the dough and then wiggle the plastic back and forth until it's completely separated from the mass of dough, just like she told me to. But then when I lift the mold, the snowflake-shaped piece of dough completely lifts and folds over, ruining the dough. I let out a defeated sigh, looking up at Amelia with a dramatic pout, silently begging for help. "It is an art,"

Amelia giggles, bopping my nose, and I can feel some flour residue getting left there, making me scrunch up my nose. "Yes, it is. I'm glad you've realized, let me help you,"

///

An hour passes and we've finished baking all the gingerbread men, we're baking chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, and we've eaten half of the sugar cookies. We're chatting aimlessly about anything and everything and I'm starting to really actually enjoy this. I’m happy to be seeing Amelia outside of the cafe and I’m happy to be so comfortable with her, and to see her literally and metaphorically let her hair down. I thought I would be riddled with anxiety and would have to make some excuse to go rushing out, but now I don’t think I ever want to go home. I would be content with never leave this artsy apartment and making cookies with Amelia for the rest of my life.

"I'm gonna try to make you but as a gingerbread man," Amelia says as she sits down with a piping bag full of icing and half of the gingerbread men. I've got the other bag of icing in my hand and the other half of the gingerbread men in front of me, waiting to be decorated with far less finesse than Amelia’s cookies.

"You're an artist. You've got an unfair advantage," I pout yet again, starting to make uneven lines and lopsided eyes on my cookies. I grimace at my creations and my pout only grows when I glance over and see that Amelia’s look perfect.

"It's not a competition," Amelia responds, not even looking up from her interpretation of me in gingerbread form. "And remember what I said, everyone sees art differently. There’s no right or wrong in art,” she lets out a small squeal and then throws her piping bag down, leaning closer to me to show me the cookie. “Look! It’s you!”

The gingerbread man has an attempt at curly hair along with a button-up shirt, a tie, slacks, and converse. Honestly, the cookie version of me is pretty cute, but maybe I’m biased because Amelia made it. Amelia is elated at my pleased reaction and goes on to decorating more cookies, so I prop up her creation and keep on going.

I settle into my barstool and keep my eyes down, swinging my feet back and forth. There's a question on the tip of my tongue that I'm too scared to ask. It's been there for weeks. But this question implies follow up questions about me and I don't want to risk that. But I’ve been pondering this question since I met Amelia and I think that I would be willing to risk the follow-up questions if it means I get some sort of answer.

"Amelia," I say quietly, earning a hum in response, "I have a question,"

"Yeah?" She's soft-spoken, clearly focused on her cookies.

"Why don't you talk about your family?"

I look up just in time to see her grip on the piping bag falter, and she has to readjust her hold. But before she can do that, her hand reaches for the butterfly necklace that's forever around her neck and she tugs on it gently. That tells me that the necklace has a connection to her family, I just don't know how. Nope. Stop it right there. She told me when I came in to stop profiling her, even though it was clearly a joke, I shouldn’t start doing it now.

"I, um," she lets out a breath and lets her eyes wander behind me, presumably at the wall of picture frames, "I just don't really like to talk about my family," that's all she says before she goes quiet. She readjusts her grip on the piping bag and goes back to work, deciding the conversation is over. Heat rises to my cheeks and my anxiety increases when I realize that my curiosity has gotten the better of me and I’ve ruined the good thing we have going on here with that simple question. So I just decide to shut my mouth and keep decorating my cookies. "You don't talk about your family either,"

It’s the question I was dreading, but it’s the one I was expecting. So I just shrug my shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to talk about their family,"

Amelia doesn't respond to that. It's one of the first times in our two months of knowing each other that I've seen her act shut off. The only time she ever acted out of character was asking if I would come over today, and she was only a little bit nervous for a few minutes. She's always so bubbly and open to any question or topic I have, so to have her sitting as close as ever but feel so far away is frustrating and the need to fill the grave I just dug myself.

"Amelia, I didn't mean to offend you with-"

"No, it's okay," she shakes her head, once again, her fingers adjusting around the piping bag. "It's a common thing that people talk about and I've never brought it up and you're a profiler so naturally, you would bring it up. It's fine, Spencer. I promise,"

"It doesn't seem fine. You're not even looking at me,"

"You're profiling me again," Amelia responds, her voice wavering.

I put my piping bag down and move closer to her, gently taking hers out of her hand and placing it down on the table. "Amelia, I-I didn't mean anything by it. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,"

She looks up at me and I can see that her eyes are glassy, and it stings to know that I’m the one who made her feel like that. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be doing this on Christmas," She sniffles, reaching her fingertips up to wipe at her under-eyes. I have an overwhelming need to comfort her back to happiness, especially since I made her so unhappy. So even though my hands shake in the slightest, I hold my arms out towards her. Amelia notices right away, her eyebrows raising. "Seriously?" I nod. "You won't shake or hold my hand but you'll hug me?"

"You need a hug so I'm here to give you a hug,"

Amelia’s face lights up and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly. I circle my arms around her shoulders and tuck her head under my chin, smiling at the way she fits perfectly under me. This is comfortable and I feel warm and when she wiggles her body to get closer, it brings a smile to my face. I feel safe. I haven't felt like this is a long time. I might never want to let go, but I think Amelia might have the same idea.

"Does this mean I get to hug you more often now?" Amelia mumbles into the fabric of my sweater. "Don't get me wrong, I love our pinky promises but I also love hugs,"

My eyelids flutter closed and I nod against her head. "Yeah, we can hug more often," I flatten my hands on her back and pull her closer. "I really am sorry about asking about your family,"

"Well, I brought yours up afterward so it's fine,"

We're only pulled apart when the timer on the oven dings and lets us know that the oatmeal cookies are finished. I reluctantly pull myself off of her and grab the oven mitts, pulling the tray out while Amelia returns to frosting her gingerbread men.

"Hey, Spencer?" Amelia calls as I'm scooping cookies off the pan. "Do you have any information about gingerbread men in your big genius head?"

She asked, so I answered. I go off and tell her how gingerbread men date back to the 15th Century and how the first documented use of them was at the court of Elizabeth I. I go on for maybe ten minutes about the history of these edible men and maybe it's more than she was bargaining for, but she never interrupted and she listened to the whole thing. That's rare these days. Even my closest friends on my team cut me off constantly and sometimes tune out my facts.

"I didn't know any of that. School really doesn't teach students anything they wanna learn about," Amelia laughs, adding two more gingerbread men to the pile of cookies.

We finish creating our mountain of different types of cookies at around 4 so we decide that we should start making dinner, that way, we can relax the rest of the night and not have to be rushing around the kitchen. The sun starts to set and the snow starts to fall as we set out on a new adventure of cooking dinner. Amelia goes to turn up the heat and I notice her take a moment to pause in front of the balcony doors to stare out at the fresh blanket of snow. But the second she turns and comes back to the kitchen, I whip my head down to the lasagna recipe in my hands to memorize it. Yet again, I decide to let Amelia take charge of this recipe because I would rather not mess it up.

///

We pop our tray of lasagna in the oven and then set a timer for the proper amount of time. "Alright," Amelia says, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes, "that'll be done in about twenty-five minutes. So maybe we could watch a movie? We've been baking all day so it'd be a good idea to get off our feet,"

It’s a no brainer to agree to the suggestion and I follow Amelia into her living room like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs. She gestures for me to sit on the couch while she drops to the floor in front of the tv, sitting up on her knees to shut off the record player. Then she pulls out a wicker basket filled to the brim with movies. "What are we watching?"

"I've got plenty of Christmas movies because they're my favorite. I've got ones like," she holds up the case to each movie as she names it, "Polar Express, The Grinch, Home Alone, Elf, Love Actually, A Christmas Story and way, way more. Plus I've got the claymation ones like Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolph, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town," she looks up at me. "So which one do you fancy, love?"

There's that damn pet name again.

"Um," I let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of my neck, "I've actually never seen any of those before so I guess just put on your favorite,"

Amelia's eyes widen. "You've never seen any of these before?" I shake my head with a coy smile, my cheeks turning pink. "Wow, I guess it's my turn to educate you, Spencer. I might never get the opportunity to do this again so I'm going to take advantage while I can,"

Amelia jumps to her feet and pops one of the movies in the DVD player. She doesn't tell me what it is but she grabs the remote and comes to sit next to me on the couch. She's not too close to me but she's close enough to make my hands sweaty. I lean down to unlace my shoes and set them aside before getting myself a bit more comfortable on the couch, but not too comfortable. I’ve overheard far too many arguments between Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Garcia about how sitting too close to girls in moments like these can make a guy seem like, in Garcia’s words, a douchebag. And the last thing I want is for Amelia to think I’m a douchebag. So even though I feel I’m a mile away from her with just a couch cushion between us, I don’t move to close the distance.

"I put on The Polar Express because this is one of my favorite Christmas movies of all time," Amelia explains as the main menu comes up and shows the opening titles. "It's a good intro to Christmas movies, I guess, I don't really know,"

"Sure," I nod enthusiastically. "I like learning, I'm ready to watch. Go ahead, play,"

Amelia presses play and then reaches behind her for the blanket draped over the couch. She folds it over her lap and then glances over at me, holding up the corner of the blanket. "Do you-" she trails off, asking me if I want to share. I nod, scooting just a bit closer so we can both comfortably fit under the blanket. Our thighs are touching and it takes everything in me not to cuddle up even closer to her. She invited me over here so she must not think I’m a douchebag, right? This is okay, right?

The movie starts and it's quite different from the movies I'm used to watching. But I can tell it's a movie that has sentimental value to her so I pay close attention to it. It’s not filled with history or framed with subtitles or spewing information at me to instantly memorize. It’s just a lighthearted children’s movie that celebrates Christmas and teaches kids to not let others judge you and to believe in what you want to believe. I would have never watched a movie like this without Amelia and the longer I sit through the movie, the more I wish it wouldn’t end.

But eventually, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "None of the kids have names. Only Billy does,"

Amelia giggles, her head tilting closer to mine but keeping her eyes locked on the tv. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not sure why, they just don't,"

I hum, looking back up at the tv, not completely satisfied with the answer but willing to accept it. I try to focus back on the movie and figure out why these kids are sliding down tiny conveyor belts but I feel Amelia's eyes on me, locked on the side of my face. My attempts to ignore her gaze go in vain because I'm looking back down at her within another minute. She's looking up at me with her bottom lip between her teeth and her blue eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering. She looks horribly stunning and I fear I let my eyes linger on her lips for too long.

"What?" I whisper, wondering why she's staring at me when she should be watching the movie, a movie she claims is one of her favorites.

"Nothing," she says, but makes no attempt to break eye contact with me. "Nothing, I just-" she trails off yet again.

My hands had been placed at my sides but I can't help it when one of them moves to Amelia's cheek, barely even touching her soft skin at first, too afraid that she would flinch. A part of me is almost surprised when she doesn't pull away, but why do I keep getting surprised by her? She's remarkable. She asked me to spend Christmas with her so I wouldn't be alone. She cares about me in some capacity. She's showing me her favorite movies and baking cookies with me and she cares about me. I care about her and she cares about me. Why am I holding back?

"Can-" I clear my throat nervously, "can I kiss you?"

Amelia's eyes flutter for a moment before she nods, tilting her chin upwards. For a moment I think she's going to initiate the kiss, but then she doesn't. She just waits there, leaving me to feel her warm breath on my face and her cold skin under my fingertips. But she respected my boundaries when it came to handshakes and hugs, so even though I've already asked and she's already accepted, it makes sense that she would respect my inevitable boundaries with something as germy and personal and bacteria-filled as a kiss. So that means I have to finally take charge and I don't even have time to figure out if that terrifies me or excites me.

With my hand on her cheek and my heart about to beat out of my chest, I draw her forward and press my lips to hers in the softest and sweetest, most wonderful kiss. She tastes sweet, like strawberry lip balm and gingerbread, and I find my senses being filled with the taste of her. My brain had intended for a simple kiss, but after said simple kiss, I had to have more of her. Amelia doesn't resist as I deepen the kiss, bringing my hand to her neck to bring her closer. Her hands start at my chest but eventually travel up to my jawline, fingertips resting there softly, just barely coaxing me forward. Our lips move perfectly in sync and I could swear, as cheesy as it sounds, I feel burning on my skin from the fallout of the fireworks that erupt above us. I feel Amelia smile as she shuffles a bit closer to me on her knees, her body making even more contact with mine than before when we were just sitting.

My mind is screaming at me to pull away, to push her off of me and run home and curl up in bed, and to ignore Amelia forever. My head says to shield her from this horrible part of the world that I expose myself to and to protect her innocence. That's all I want to do. I want to protect her. As it often does, my head says no but my heart says yes. I can't deny what I'm feeling for Amelia. I can't deny that I haven't slept over my alarm for two months because I'm far too excited to see her every morning at the cafe. I can't help the way my heart speeds up when she walks in and waves at me, or the way I can't help but beam when she laughs, or how I don't want to leave when the alarm on her phone sounds. That's what leads me to wrap my free arm around her waist and bring her chest to mine, the fabric of her sweater clutched in my fist and my lips fervently sliding against hers.

The sharp cry of the oven alarm is the only thing that can get us to pull apart, far too quickly for either of our likings. Amelia pulls away with a sharp inhale, her eyes closed for just a moment longer than mine. "I'll-" she moves one of the hands from my jaw to wipe at her bottom lip, "um, I'll go get that,"

Amelia begrudgingly untangles herself from my arms and then from the blanket around her legs, feet silent on the floor as she hurries to pull the lasagna out of the oven. I'm left on the couch for a moment, completely stunned and actually quite pleased. I’ve never been kissed like that. I didn’t even know I could kiss like that. I didn’t even know I had it in me. But once the momentary shock wears off, the tension sets in and I know I need to follow Amelia. I reach up to pause the movie so we don’t miss anything before following Amelia into the kitchen, seeing her close the oven as she places the tray of lasagna on the stove. Her cheeks are flushed but I can't tell if that's from the kiss or the heat from the oven.

The apartment is tense now that it's silent and Amelia's back is turned to me. Despite the obvious verbal consent, I fear I've ruined everything. I asked to kiss her and even though she accepted, she's quiet. She's busying herself with dishing lasagna and I'm realizing that the only other time she acted this shut off was when I asked about her family. Does that mean I need to apologize again? Oh my gosh, I really don’t know how girls work. I’ve already upset her twice in one day and made her act in ways I’ve never seen before. Maybe I should have listened more when Morgan complained about his girl problems. You know what? Maybe I won’t apologize this time. I’ll try a different approach.

"That wasn't-" I mumble, lingering in the entryway to the kitchen, "weird, right? That didn't totally ruin things, right?"

Amelia's hands pause mid-air for a moment but then she continues dishing food. "No, it wasn't weird,"

Okay, Spencer. If you've ever needed to be bold, now's the time. She obviously likes you and you've accepted that you like her too and that you don't want to lose her, and right now, you're losing her to whatever her brain is telling her. Don't let that happen. Do something.

"So," I take a step closer to her and place my hand on her waist, spinning her around to face me, "so you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?"

Amelia doesn't even respond, she just grabs my cheeks and kisses me again. I instinctively push her against the counter and hold her there, my hands clutching her waistline as her hands start to thread through my hair. This kiss is needier than the first one, almost as if it's solidifying to both of us that we're really doing this and that these feelings are actually mutual. That the first kiss didn’t scare either of us off and we’re not going anywhere.

I'm the first to pull away when I run out of breath, but I have not a single intention of moving away from her. I still feel Amelia's lips brushing mine and her warm breath fanning across my face, delicate fingers pushing my hair off my forehead. It's shaggy and falling over my forehead, but she arranges it perfectly so it's out of the way. She smiles nervously at me and then she shrinks, and I realize she had to go on her tiptoes to kiss me. "I, um," she laughs, letting her hands fall to my shoulders, "I've had a crush on you for a while. Like, since we first talked,"

I slide my hands down to her hips, feeling the rough tweed fabric under my fingertips. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles bashfully. "I thought you were really cute and I may have walked into you on purpose because I was too scared to approach you when you were reading,"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the realization that the camera fiddling was just a ruse. "What?" Amelia giggles, ducking her head into my shoulder to hide her blush from showing. "No! No hiding!"

"It's true!" She pulls her hands from my shoulders and covers her face. "You were reading and you were doing it so fast and I was confused at how you were actually retaining the information and you looked so cute with your hair up like that and I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how to. When you got up, I just walked over and then grabbed my camera and-" I grab her wrists gently and pull her hands away from her face. Amelia's face is bright red in embarrassment but she smiles as I slide my hands into hers and lace our fingers together. "I thought you didn't hold hands,"

"You also thought I didn't hug or kiss until tonight," I remark, bringing our hands down to our sides. I lean in one more time and press our lips together, and this time the kiss doesn't need to be quick or passionate or wet. It's slow and sweet. It fills me with the familiar warmth that only Amelia has been able to provide me with.

"You're just full of surprises," Amelia giggles, twisting her head to kiss my cheek. "We should eat before it gets cold, right?"

"Yeah, probably," I don't want to let go of her but I reluctantly do, letting her continue her task of dishing lasagna for the two of us. We resume our positions on the couch, sitting even closer than before. Amelia rewinds the movie quite a bit, making sure I’ve seen every frame that we missed while we were engaged in other activities. She claims she doesn’t mind seeing it again, that she watched this movie last week anyway so rewinding it for me isn’t a big deal at all.

I do my best to pay attention throughout the rest of the movie like Amelia wants me to do, but it's proven to be a challenge. All I want to do is look down at the angel sitting beside me and kiss her and play with her hair and talk to her about any topic that might pop into my head. But she's fixated on the movie and I don't want to tear her away from something that she's so invested in. So I stay silent and sling my arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to get more comfortable. I do it unintentionally, but Amelia takes this as an invitation to cuddle up beside me. She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on my shoulder, effectively tucking herself into my side. I'm not complaining, because even though I wasn’t intending to do the ultimate douchebag move and basically silently invite her to cuddle with me, I’m not complaining. I grin for the rest of the movie.

///

"So did you like it?" Amelia asks eagerly, sitting up on her knees as the credits rolls, an expecting grin plastered on her face. "I know you're used to watching movies in different languages and-"

"It was pretty great, actually,"

"You're not just saying that because I told you it's one of my favorites?"

"Not at all. It bothered me that the children didn't have names, besides Billy, but other than that, it was a wonderful movie. I can see why you like it so much," I tell her. "And it's only seven. Are we gonna watch something else?"

"Well," Amelia chews on her lip, pulling away from my embrace slightly as she plays with the hem of her skirt, "the depends on you. If you wanna head home, I know you have work tomorrow and-"

"Actually," unintentionally, I cut her off yet again. But she looks up at me with bright eyes, hopeful that I'll want to stay, "I don't expect that you got me anything but I brought you a gift,"

I quickly leap up to avoid seeing her reaction, returning to my messenger bag in the doorway, reaching in for the perfectly wrapped gift. I spent hours on the floor of my bedroom wrapping the present, and then unwrapping it when the paper creased, then wrapping it again, then unwrapping it when the paper ripped, and then finally leaving the wrapping after what seemed like the millionth try. It was a process but it was worth it because it looks absolutely perfect.

When I return to the living room, Amelia is gone. I sit down with the gift in my lap, assuming she'll be back soon. And sure enough, she comes bounding down the floating stairs a second later. "I did actually get you a gift," she says, jumping back onto her spot on the couch. "Just something little," I pass my gift off to her and she does the same with me until we're holding each other's presents. It's odd actually, because I've given and received gifts with my team and with my mom, but never like this. Never with a girl I have a massive crush on. Never with someone who I care on another level for. Never with a girl who seems to put the sun in the sky.

I gesture for Amelia to go first, placing her gift in my lap, to be opened next. She gives me an excited smile and nods, obeying my quiet warning to hold it carefully as she searches for a spot to pull the paper back. "They're-" she pulls the paper clean off and beams, "45's,"

"Yeah," I nod anxiously as she reveals my present. "You told me you love records and this bookstore I love sells records too. I found these and I thought of-" I clear my throat, "well, they made me think of you,"

Amelia looks through the small stack of records in her hands, narrowing her eyes at me. "Most of them are classical, Spencer,"

"You need more classical music in your life, Amelia," I sass back at her, earning a small scoff in returning, bringing up a small quarrel we had a few weeks ago. "You can't spend your days listening to Christmas music, Frank Sinatra, and Taylor Swift,"

Amelia glances up at me with a small pout. "I could try,"

I laugh, pointing to the records in her hand. "Well, now you don't have to,"

"Thank you, love. This is wonderful, really. I'm gonna put one of these on right after you open your gift," she places them on her lap and then points at the present in my lap. "Go ahead. It's your turn."

I tear back the wrapping paper and first find a pack of coloring pencils, which seems like an odd gift, considering how many times I’ve established that I’m bad at art, but then I find a black leather journal behind it. Upon further inspection, I find that there are drawings on the front of the journal. My name is written in beautiful calligraphy on the top of the cover, and all around the front are small pictures. I find things like coffee cups, cameras, a deck of cards, an imperfect square with the pattern of one of Amelia's scarves, a record player, beakers, plenty of books, and much more.

"It's a sketchbook," Amelia explains softly. "You were saying how you wish you were better at art, so now you have the means to practice. And I was thinking about when you go on cases and you could bring it with you and I tried to put things on the front that would maybe, I don't know, comfort you." She pauses and I look up at her, waiting for her to continue with what she wants to say. Because just by the tight-lipped smile on her face, I know she wants to say something else. "Selfishly, I put references to me on there,"

I set my gift onto the coffee table and then move the records aside, pulling Amelia into my arms again. She happily accepts this embrace, arms circling my shoulders. "I love it," I tell her. "Thank you. I'll definitely bring it on cases with me. I can't ensure that anything I draw in it is good, but-"

"But you've got a pretty great teacher right here."

///

Amelia watches with an overly dramatic pout as I button up my jacket and put my scarf on, glancing out the window to check out bad the snow is. She crosses her arms over her chest as I put my messenger bag over my shoulder, making me laugh. "Don't make me feel even worse for leaving,"

"If I make you feel really bad, will you stay?" Amelia practically begs, even though she's already reaching for the doorknob. She knows I have work tomorrow and I have to be up early. She opens the door and then leans against the frame, still clearly not ready for me to depart.

"Hey, why don't you sleep in tomorrow? We don't need to meet up tomorrow morning. Get some extra sleep. It's almost midnight,"

Amelia's pout grows. "What? But what if you get a case? Then I won't see you for a few days, at least,"

"Then," I hadn't entirely thought this through because she totally has a point. WWDMD? I know exactly what Derek Morgan would do. Of all the times I’ve thought about Morgan today, I know exactly how he would respond in this situation. I reach out to grab her waist and pull her into a half hug, smiling, "then I'll make it up to you by taking you out on a proper date when I get back,"

Amelia's smile grows and she starts to nod. "That sounds like a plan," she goes up on her toes to kiss me but her lips only brush mine before pulling away again. "What if you don't get a case? Are you still gonna take me on a date?"

I put on a pensive face that makes her laugh. "I'll think about it," I press my lips to hers, unable to handle the short, torturous distance anymore. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as I want it to because we’re standing the hallway at midnight where anyone could catch us, letting the heat out, after a long day of making cookies and watching movies, and it’s absolutely freezing. So when we pull away, I have to will myself to not groan or grimace.

"Let me walk you out," Amelia hums, grabbing her keys before walking out with me. Our pinky's interlock as we walk down her apartment hallway, towards the door outside. "Will you text me when you get home? I just wanna make sure you get home safe," we stop in front of the door and she wraps her arms around my waist. "I know you're a fully capable FBI agent and all but it's late and I worry about that stuff,"

"Of course I will," I hug her tightly, pressing my lips to her cheek. "Thank you for inviting me over. I would've just been sitting alone and reading books all day without you,"

"Thanks for coming over," she echoes, pulling away from our ultra-warm hug and letting a chill run down her spine. "I would've watched movies alone all day. So thanks for being with me. I'll miss you tomorrow,"

"I will too, but I'll text you when I get home and I'll talk to you tomorrow to let you know if I get a case or not,"

"I'll be glued to my phone," Amelia winks at me, getting me to laugh one last time for the night. "Now go, before it gets even later."

“You go back to your apartment first. I know it’s right there but I, uh,” I glance behind her, down the dim hallway, “I worry about that stuff,”

Amelia smiles in the most smitten way I think I’ve ever seen, and for once, I think I’ve actually done something right. “Yeah, okay,” she nods, and she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss my cheek on more time. “Bye, Spencer. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” I echo, watching her scurry back to her apartment and unlock the door, stepping into the warmth. Her head pops out once more and she sends me a wave, blowing me a kiss before she disappears. The air I exhale reverberates off the wall and the smile on my face is undeniable, even as I dance on the cusp of frostbite during my walk home. A girl like that is mine? A girl like that who blows kisses and bakes cookies all day and cuddles during movies? She’s mine? Amelia is mine. She really is and as soon as that thought echoes in my head, a laugh escapes my lips. I must be the luckiest man alive.

hello there! if you’re still reading here then please tell me your favorite snack!! plz im v hungry thank u sm okay here’s the taglist

TAGLIST

@etheralgubler @babybobbybones @whollytaciturn @reidswords @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @nastyhar @gublergirls @mandapanda8

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #nikos north fic

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moistmailman · 5 years ago

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Yang, dusting Jaune off: You got this man. Just calm down already.

Jaune, in a suit: B-but i'm so nervous. This is my and Pyrrha's first date. What if I fuck this up somehow?

Yang: Just don't think like that. Nothing bad is going to happen. This date is going to be amazing.

Jaune: B-but what if Pyrrha tells me she loves me?

Yang: Then you tell her that you love her back confidently. Speak very clearly, and passionately too.

Jaune: O-okay, right. I-I think I can do that.

Yang: Oh, and Jaune, I can not stress this enough! Do not, under any circumstance whatsoever, say I love you while finger gunning!

Jaune: Okay, I won't.

Yang: I want you to promise me this. Do NOT finger gun at Pyrrha! Promise me!

Jaune: I-I won't!

Yang: I don't care how nervous you feel, or how awkward you are! DONT do it! It will make everything unbearably awkward.

Jaune: Okay! I got it!

Yang: Okay, now let's practice real quick to make sure. Pretend I'm Pyrrha.

Jaune: do we have to?

Yang: I'm trying to help you here! Just humor me!

Jaune: Okay, fine!

Yang: Great. *Ahem* I love you.

Jaune:.........*hands twitching* I love you too.

Yang: What was that?!

Jaune, nervously: What was what?

Yang: What you did with your hands just now! Did you just instinctively try to finger gun at me?!

Jaune: N-NO!

Yang: YES YOU DID! I SAW IT!

Jaune: YOU DIDNT SEE SHIT! SHUT UP!

Yang: DONT FINGER GUN ON YOUR DATE DAMNIT! ITS LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO STRESS THIS EVEN MORE! DONT FINGER GUN!

Jaune: I WONT! CALM DOWN!

Yang: You better not! Because it won't end well! Trust me! *Sighs to catch breath*......where is Pyrrha anyway? I thought she should be here by now.

*MEANWHILE*

Blake: So look, before you go on that date, I need to give you some advice. There will be a 99% chance that when you tell Jaune that love him, he will awkwardly finger gun at you while saying it back. Don't take any offense to it or anything. He will mean it. It's just that his awkwardness will work against him.

Pyrrha: W-what? Really?

Blake: Yes. If I know anything about dumb blondes, which I should since I'm dating Yang, then Jaune will most likely do this.

Pyrrha: Oh my.

Blake: Yep. So do yourself a favor and just finger gun back at him while winking. This will get rid of all of the awkwardness, and save the date. Trust me. I told Yang I love her last month and she did this to me, and let me tell you something, the next 20 seconds were just uncomfortable silence. I don't want anyone else go through this.

Pyrrha: oh that's terrible.

Blake: It sure was. I wish someone gave me this advice back then.

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby #rwby bmblb #imagine your otp #imagine your ship

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kali-tmblr · 5 years ago

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Problematic Atlas Quotes: Volumes 1-3

All of the places on Remnant put together have not produced as many jarring incongruities and mixed messages as Atlas. These are all quotes relating to Atlas that really stood out to me at the time and have stayed with me since.

Volume 1

Penny: I am combat ready! (Yeah, but are you ready for anything else? And who would send out a cute girl robot who was ONLY ready for combat?)

Weiss: The innocent never run, Yang! (Karmic law says that one will come back to bite your ass, Weiss.)

Penny: I don't have a lot of friends, but if I did, I would want them to talk to me about things. (We haven't seen this one come back around to Penny yet. Blake, yes. Penny, no.)

Volume 2

Ironwood: But ask yourself this: Do you honestly believe your children can win a war?

Ozpin: I hope they never have to. (Note that Ozpin believes they can. It's having to fight he considers a failure. Later revelations would make his view even more tragic.)

Ruby: But why not let us know you were okay?

Penny: I... was asked not to talk to you. Or Weiss. Or Blake. Or Yang. Anybody, really.

Ruby: Was your dad that upset?

Penny: No, it wasn't my father... (Ironwood speaks next. An early sign of Ironwood's controlling nature.)

Penny: I'm the world's first synthetic person capable of generating an Aura. (Tell me more.)

Penny: One day, it will be my job to save the world (The whole world? Seriously, tell me more.)

Penny: It's okay, Ruby. They're not bad people; I just don't want to get you in trouble. (And why would talking to you get Ruby in trouble? And why send her to a festival that encourages students to talk to each other if you won't let her talk?)

Penny: Just promise me you won't tell anyone else my secret. Okay?

Ruby: I promise.(If she HAD told Pyrrha, the whole debacle might not have happened. Will this come up again?)

Roman: As some of you may have heard, this right here... (Taps the giant mech) ...is Atlas's newest defense against all the scary things in the world. And thanks to my "employer", we've managed to snag a few before they, uh, "hit the shelves". (Damn, Atlas, y'all got a lot worse security problems than Ruby.)

(The image of Penny dancing by herself at the ball surrounded by uniformed guards. Say what?)

Ironwood: Ruby, I feel it's appropriate to let you know that I think what you did last night is exactly what being a Huntress is all about. You recognized a threat. You took action. And you did the very best you could. (Ah well, that's nice. Doesn't entirely fit in with the rest of your character James, but it's nice.)

Ruby: Wait. You think this girl is connected to Torchwick and the White Fang?

Ozpin: It's possible. But we still lack the required evidence to link the two together.

Ruby: Actually, I... I think I remember her saying something about a hideout, or something, in the southeast. Just outside the Kingdom.

Ozpin: Interesting.

Glynda: I thought you said the intruder never—

Ozpin: Thank you for your cooperation, Ruby. Why don't you go and spend some time with your team? You have a big day ahead of you.

Ruby: Any time.

Ozpin: And Miss Rose, please try and be ... discreet about this matter.

Ruby: Yes sir. (This tells Ironwood several things. It tells him that Ruby will lie for Ozpin, that Ozpin will cover up Ruby's lie to protect her, and most importantly that Ruby and Ozpin TRUST EACH OTHER.)

Glynda: Why must your answer to everything involve a triumphant display of military bravado!? You treat every situation like it's a contest of measuring di—!

Ozpin: Glynda!

Glynda: Well, he does. (Tell me more, Glynda.)

Ozpin: You're a general, James. So tell me, when you prepare to go to war, which do you send in first? The flag bearers, or the scouts? (Why is a civilian Headmaster schooling a general with a lesson taught to greenhorn Lieutenants? And why does he have to?)

Ozpin: We fought for countless reasons, one of which being the destruction of all forms of art and self-expression. (SOME kingdom has control issues.)

Glynda: You're a good person, James. You've always done what you think is best for the people, even against strong protest. It's admirable. But it's high time you stopped talking about trust and started showing it. (So Ironwood's trust issues are not new. Tell me more.)

Councilman 1: You've left us no choice! The Vytal Festival tournament cannot be broadcast, let alone held, if we are unable to ensure the safety of the citizens.

Councilman 1: Ahem... Therefore, we have reached out to the Atlas Council and together have decided that the best action is to appoint General Ironwood as head of security for the event.

Ironwood: Thank you, Councilman. Our Kingdom is happy to lend as many troops as it takes to ensure that the event runs smoothly and safely as possible.

Councilman 1: And we thank you, General.

Ozpin: Will that be all?

Councilman 1: For now. But after this festival comes to a close, we are going to have a serious discussion about your position at Beacon Academy. General Ironwood's reports over the last few weeks have left us somewhat... concerned. I am sure you understand.

Ironwood: This is the right move, Ozpin. I promise, I will keep our people safe, you have to trust me.(Damn dude, what did Glynda just say about trusting people? And why do you expect Ozpin to trust you when you clearly have tattled behind his back?)

Ironwood: You brought this on yourself. (Yeah, he did. By trusting you.)

Volume 3

I have already written a detailed post on the vast discrepancies between how Winter Schnee behaves and what she is trying to convey in her first scenes, titled "Snowbirds of a Feather". Suffice to say Ironwood isn't the only Atlesian sending mixed messages.

Ironwood: If you were one of my men, I would have you shot!

Qrow: If I was one of your men, I'd shoot myself.(So y'all have an acrimonious history as well. Okay.)

Goodwitch: While I wouldn't condone his behavior, retaliating like you did certainly didn't help the situation. ("Call yourself a grown-up? I've seen better behavior from first-year students! Why do I even have to say anything to you? Don't answer that.")

Qrow: You sent me to get intel on our enemy, and I'm telling you, our enemy is here.

Ironwood: We know.

Qrow: Oh! Oh, you know! Well, thank goodness I'm out there risking my life to keep you all informed!

Ironwood:Qrow-

Qrow: Communication's a two-way street, pal. You see this? That's the SEND button.

Winter: They had reason to assume you'd been compromised. (So, Ironwood, explain to me WHY, if you seriously think Qrow has been compromised, you haven't brought it up with HIS BOSS before now? Isn't that information kind of important?)

Qrow: Despite what the world thinks, we're not just teachers, or generals, or headmasters. The people in this room, the leaders of the other two academies, we're the ones that keep the world safe from the evils no one even knows about! It's why we meet behind closed doors, why we work in the shadows. So you tell me, James, when you brought your army to Vale, did you think you were being discreet, or did you just not give a damn!?

Ironwood: Discreet wasn't working. (Explain.)

I'm here because this is what was necessary. (Explain.)

Qrow: You're here because Ozpin wanted you here! (Is it just me, or does anyone else think this sounds like it was an unpopular decision?)

Ciel: Ruby Rose. 15. Hails from Patch. Leader of Team RWBY. Status: Questionable. (Daaaammmn son. We need to talk. You ordered a full background check on a teenage girl just because she talked to your android? And then you gave it to your android's handler? And on top of all that, a gifted honor student from a multigenerational Huntsmen family who leads Beacon's first-year star team, who Ozpin clearly trusts, only rates as "Questionable"? Who doesn't rate as "Questionable"? Oh that's right. Qrow is also "Questionable", and so is Ozpin. Tell me, do you rate yourself as "Questionable"?)

Ciel: Penny? I believe it is best if we move on to our next location.

Penny: Could we have just a minute to talk? (No seriously, is Penny now not allowed any free time?)

Ciel: It's been precisely one minute, ma'am.(Apparently not.)

Penny: Ruby, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. I want to stay at Beacon.

Ruby: Penny, they'll never let you do that.

Penny: I know, but I have a plan.(Tell me more.)

Yang: You're from Atlas. What could we expect?

Weiss: Well, seeing as their Kingdom, academy and armed forces are all merged as one, I think we can expect strict, militant fighters with advanced technology and carefully rehearsed strategies. ... Or whatever they are.(So even other Atlesians think Atlesians send mixed messages.)

Ironwood: For the past few years, Atlas has been studying Aura from a more scientific standpoint; how it works, what's it made of, how it can be used. We've made... significant strides. And we believe we've found a way to capture it.

Qrow: Capture it and cram it into something else. (Dude, exactly WHERE did Penny's Aura come from?)

Ironwood: What I believe and hope this to be is nothing more than the result of stress and adrenaline. When you're out on the battlefield, your judgment can become clouded in an instant. Sometimes you see things that simply aren't there. Even after the fight is past... (That answers that question. You don't trust yourself either. What happened to you?)

Ironwood: Ozpin, the girl... I-I can explain! (You've got a full scale Grimm invasion going on and you're more terrified of OZPIN? What did you do to create Penny, James? How ELSE have you betrayed Oz?)

Ironwood: Qrow! This isn't my doing! (Why did you automatically assume Qrow is attacking you instead of looking behind you? Guilt?)

This post is long enough already, so I'll finish later. While I may be overreacting to some of these statements, that doesn't explain all of them. It's looked from the beginning like there was something fishy going on in Atlas, especially having to do with Ironwood.

#rwby #penny polendina #rwby ruby rose #james ironwood #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #ozpin #glynda goodwitch #ciel soleil

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ask-bellamy-blake · 8 years ago

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Bell- I'm fine.

I thought I lost you.

Gif credit: stevenrogered

#bellamy blake #octavia blake #the 100 #the 100 spoilers #ask bellamy blake #ask-octavia-blake #i won't let anything bad happen to you #i promise

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raven-reyes-of-sunshine · 7 years ago

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45 for the OTP prompts omg please my heart won't be able to take it

Here you go, babe! Hopefully this improves your shitty week (writing it kind of improved mine). 💖💖💖

Operation; GCGL

Clarke Griffin has known Bellamy Blake forever. He was her best friends brother, who somehow went from the most annoying person in the world, to one of her favourites. He’s been there for every memory she has. Grazing her knees while trying to stop kids in his grade picking on Jasper when she was six, Bellamy had run over and pushed them away from her. He’d taught her and O how to ride their bikes without training wheels. He’d been the one that encouraged her to paint the walls of her tree house, despite what her parents said. He was who she went to when her first boyfriend cheated on her, when she failed her first test and when didn’t know how to tell her parents she didn’t want to go to med school. He was there for her high school graduation and when her dad had been killed in a car accident. He helped her figure out her sexuality and dealt with the mess of her last relationship.

Bellamy’s always been there for her. And somewhere along the line, Clarke fell in love with him. But he sees her as another sister, one he’s only slightly less protective over and slightly more inclined to get drunk with. He’s someone she goes to when she’s moody or bored and just wants to hang out. She wants to spend the majority of her time with him, but she can’t. Because they’re just friends.

Which is what she’s telling Raven while they get ready for Monty’s twenty-third birthday. She’s also messaging Bellamy, who is complaining about having to go out on a Friday night. He acts an awful lot like a seventy year old man, given he’s only two years older than them.

“Are you’re sure he doesn’t like you back?” Raven asks, rummaging through Clarke’s makeup bag and pulling out a red lipstick that Clarke had recently bought but not been game to try. “Because I’m not.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Clarke shrugs. “He treats me the same as Octavia.” She’s leaning into the mirror, carefully running her eyeliner over Raven’s handiwork on her eyelid.

“He definitely doesn’t. And even if he did, he doesn’t look at you the way he looks at Octavia.” Raven scoffs, rolling her eyes. “And I can prove it.” Raven waves the lipstick that Clarke had thought she was going to use on herself in front of Clarke’s face.

“I’m not wearing that.” Clarke says, mostly because she doesn’t know how to not argue.

“You want me to prove that he’s into you?”

“He’s not, but go on.” Clarke mutters, reaching for her drink. She’s too sober for this.

“You show up, wearing this and the black dress we bought the other day and then show him that you like him.” Raven says excitedly.

“Show him that I like him?” Clarke repeats dubiously.

“Up your flirting game, Griffin.” Raven says, waggling her eyebrows. “Seduce him.”

Clarke sighs. It’s not like she doesn’t flirt with Bellamy, it’s just very low key. She sends him slightly cuter Snapchats than she does the rest of their friends and she always makes sure she seeks him out first when they go somewhere as a group. But they’ve been friends for so long that it would be weird if she suddenly started brushing up against him or make casual innuendos.

Which of course is exactly what Raven tells her to do. And with each extra sip of her drink, she’s somehow convinced that maybe it’s a good idea to at least let Bellamy know she’s interested. Then the ball is in his court. He can politely turn her down or pretend it never happened.

“Or maybe he’ll shove you up against a wall and finally make a move.” Raven suggests, a shit eating grin on her face. “Commencing Operation; get Clarke Griffin laid.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Clarke mutters and then groans when she hears the words repeated back at her. Raven recorded it. She groans again when she looks down at her phone and sees the video from Raven in the group chat.

Half an hour later she’s adjusting the skirt of her dress and checking her lipstick in the reflection of her phone as they walk into Monty’s favourite bar. They’re a little late, so they immediately spot their friends crammed around a table in the back corner.

“Commencing operation; GCGL.” Raven whispers and it takes everything in Clarke not to smack her as they cross the bar.

“You made it!” Monty cries enthusiastically, scampering over Jasper to throw himself at Clarke and Raven. “Jasper got me drunk.”

“Of course he did.” Raven grins.

“Hey.” Clarke glances over and sees Bellamy sliding out of his seat and stepping beside her. Time to do this. She leans in to give him a hug, which isn’t unusual but she makes sure to linger a little longer than necessary. It’s instantly worth it when he doesn’t pull away until she lets go. Raven gives her another grin, before purposefully turning her back to them and engaging Octavia and Miller in a conversation.

“Want to come get a drink?” She asks, putting her hand on his arm. She feels his muscles tense under the black button down he’s wearing and she rolls her eyes at him. He can’t help but show off and now that Raven’s put the idea in her head, she can’t help but think it’s for her.

“Sure thing, princess.” He says, leading the way back across the crowded room to the bar. She lets him order the first round, accepting the vodka cranberry and taking a sip through the straw. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger on her lips and maybe Raven was right? She raises her eyebrows questioningly at him and it’s hard to tell in the dimly lit bar, but she’s pretty sure he’s blushing.

“You look great.” He tells her.

“I know.” She smirks. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Very humble.” He mutters, putting a hand on her back as they cross the room again.

They return to their table, sliding into the booth which is now so crowded that she has to press into him to not fall off the seat. Not that she’s complaining, unnecessary touching was part of Raven’s plan. After fifteen minutes, Bellamy seems to give up and lifts his arm, draping it over the back of the chair and allowing Clarke to tuck herself into his side.

As the night gets later and Clarke gets only slightly tipsier, she finds it easier to flirt with Bellamy. A hand on his leg as she leans over the table for her drink, one hand on his arm when she laughs at his jokes, a compliment between the teasing insults they always drop. She’s being so obvious she’s getting a look from Miller, who normally just minds his own business. But at least that means Bellamy has to have noticed. Even if he isn’t acting any differently right now. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed.

“Let’s dance.” Octavia calls as she returns to the table with a pitcher of whatever she and Raven had been drinking.

“O.” Lincoln mutters, shaking his head as she tries to drag him and Raven out of the booth.

“Dance with me?” Clarke asks, in what she decides is her final attempt at seducing him. If this doesn’t work, she’s going to accept that he’s not interested.

Bellamy glances at Miller with what looks like panic in his eyes, but Miller looks away. Clarke is about the give him the easy option out, when he finally concedes and laces their fingers together, letting her lead him to the small space that doubles as a dance floor.

She wraps her arms loosely around his neck in a way that could be platonic if you squinted and can’t help but smile when he puts his hands on her waist. Raven smirks at her and mouths something that looks suspiciously like ‘Operation GCGL,’ but mercifully leads Octavia and Lincoln to the other side of the dance floor.

After a slow song that has them swaying in a circle and teasing each other about their dancing technique, the music changes to something she doesn’t recognise but has a lot of bass. Before she can overthink it, she pulls him closer and tightens her arms around his nick. He freezes for a second, but then wraps his arms around her waist.

“You’re killing me, princess.” Bellamy whispers, leaning forward so their foreheads are almost touching.

“Am I?” She breathes, leaning in further.

“All night.” He mutters, meeting her eye. “And basically always. But you’re drunk, I’m not doing anything tonight.”

“I’m not drunk.” Clarke whispers. “I’ve had like two drinks since I’ve gotten here.” Her head still reeling for his confession. Basically always? Does that mean what she thinks it does?

“If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop.” Bellamy confesses, ducking his head so his mouth is pressed to the corner of hers.

“I don’t want you to stop. This is what I wanted.”

“Fuck it.” Bellamy pulls her closer and puts one hand on the back of her neck. “Promise me you’re not going to regret this in the morning?”

“I promise.” She tugs him down so his mouth finally meets hers. Kissing Bellamy is a lot like she always imagined. He’s warm and insistent, like he is with everything they do. He tastes a little like the beer he’s been drinking and a little like the gum and a little like home. It’s perfect and she never wants to stop. She can’t help the little whine that escapes when he pushes closer still and opens his mouth. But then he pulls away.

“Actually killing me.” He whispers, gently pushing a lock of her hair of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I tried.” She says, pressing a kiss to his jaw. She misses the contact of his lips on hers but they should probably have a conversation before they make out anymore. If only to make sure they’re on the same page before they do – anything else.

“You tried to kill me?” He teases.

“To seduce you.” She says, willing the flush off her face. This is important and Bellamy deserves to know how she feels. Especially because (and it pains her to admit it) Raven was right. He seems to love her back. “But I definitely don’t want a one time seduction.”

“Just to clarify, I’ve been into you forever.” Bellamy tells her. “And you tried to kill me tonight, to seduce me permanently.”

“Or to be your girlfriend.” She laughs a little, giddy with excitement because after years of wanting and not thinking her feelings were returning, she’s finally got Bellamy.

“Girlfriend sounds perfect.” He agrees, kissing her again.

“Operation; GCGL is a success!” Raven shouts, interrupting their kiss. “Now take this somewhere else so we don’t have to watch.”

On AO3.

#bellarke #otp #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #youleftme-clarke #drabble #bellarke fanfiction #mordern au #i want to fall in love with the stars in your eyes #elyse writes

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aadmelioraa · 7 years ago

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Hello, slytherin princess! For the holiday prompts-Bellamy's hanging the christmas lights and falls and breaks something and is pouty and she takes care of him cuz he's in pain and a little high on painkillers and he's sad that he can't help her finish decorating and won't be able to build a snowman and give her all the stuff she loves doing when it's winter outside! (p.s don't kill me with this) (ps.2 yes pls do)

I went about 600 words over target here, whoops. I also changed the prompt because I was in the mood for angsty exes with my hurt/comfort. Hope you don’t mind :)

Clarke hadn’t exactly been looking forward to seeing one half of the Blake siblings that night, but when she reached their house to find a text from Octavia saying that she and Niylah were running late, she was pretty irritated. Of course she’d be left alone with her ex-boyfriend when Octavia had promised her that wouldn’t happen. She shouldn’t have agreed to come and decorate the tree in the first place. It was guaranteed to be weird. What had she been thinking?

Clarke half considered leaving and texting Octavia some excuse later, when she saw him. Bellamy. He was slumped against the front stoop, head bent forward, and something looked…off. It was freezing outside, and unless he was locked out, there was no reason for him to be sitting in the cold. Clarke’s curiosity and good nature got the better of her. She got out of the car.

She approached him slowly, unsure how he would react when he saw her. It had been about six months since they broke up, and it hadn’t exactly been easy for either of them. Clarke had been too busy with her internship and Bellamy with his dissertation for a serious relationship, and by the time they’d realized that it had somehow become serious. After several “just this once” hookups over the course of a few weeks, she’d realized they needed to spend some time apart in order to move on. Now, his current vulnerable position tugged at her heart, reminding her that the last time she’d seen him he’d been leaving her apartment to give her space, at her request.

There was a ladder leaning against the front of the house, and a box of Christmas lights beside the front stoop. Bellamy must have been decorating. She was close enough to see that he was sitting strangely, one arm crossed stiffly over his chest as he cradled it with the other hand.

“Bellamy?”

His raised his head slowly, taking a moment to focus and when he recognized her he frowned. Clarke sighed. Octavia must not have told him she was coming, and she should have known that. Oh well. She was here now, and Bellamy was clearly in some sort of situation.

“What are you doing here, Clarke?” he asked, a little gruffly but not unkind.

“I was supposed to meet Octavia to help trim the tree, but she’s running late apparently. She must not have told you. What are you doing? Why are you sitting outside? Is your arm ok?”

“She told me, I just…forgot for a minute.” He frowned up at her, and his manner was strange. “What time is it?”

“Four o’clock.” Clarke’s small amount of patience was wearing thin. “What happened, Bellamy?”

“It’s nothing.” Bellamy cleared his throat and looked down as if guilty of something. “I was hanging the lights and…I kind of fell off the ladder.”

“What the fuck?” Clarke knelt down so that she was at his eye level. “Bellamy, are you alright?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged, avoiding her stare. “ I just needed to catch my breath for a second before I go inside.”

Clarke took his chin lightly in her hands and tipped it up towards her. She could see his pupils were slightly blown out, even in the low light of the winter afternoon. She sighed. “No, what you need to do is go to the hospital. Right now, come on. I’m driving you.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “I’m fine, Clarke, its nothing.”

“Ok,” Clarke snapped, and stood up, crossing her arms. “If it’s nothing, stand up and go inside. It’s ridiculously cold, you shouldn’t be sitting out even if you are fine.”

Bellamy sighed in exasperation, and attempted to push himself up from his seated position. He ended up giving up halfway, biting his lip in pain and clutching his right shoulder with his left hand.

Clarke’s annoyance quickly turned back to concern. “How far up the ladder were you when fell?”

“I don’t know, a few feet?”

Clarke exhaled, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “I doubt it. You landed squarely on your left shoulder, didn’t you? How bad is the pain, on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“I don’t know,” he grunted, “that’s a dumb scale.”

Clarke bit back an exasperated smile. It was a very Bellamy response. “Ok, well, we’re going to get you to the E.R. and they can take a better look at you there.” She crouched and offered her hand to Bellamy, and he took hold of her arm with his good side.

In a moment, he was on his feet and Clarke had slid her own shoulder under his right armpit to help him to the car. She’d forgotten exactly how tall he was.

“What about O?” he muttered as she helped him buckle his seatbelt, clearly trying to distract himself from the awkwardness of the situation.

“That’s what cell phones are for, Bell,” Clarke replied brusquely, calling him by his nickname without thinking. She bit her lip and walked to her side of the car, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

The drive was silent. Clarke glanced over every few moments to make sure that he hadn’t passed out or fallen asleep.

“I’m fine, Clarke,” he commented the fifth time she glanced over at him.

“Sure, ok, you were clearly in control of the situation back there. I’m in work mode at this point, just let me do my job.”

“Fine. But please don’t freak Octavia out. I’ll be the one to text her when we get there.”

“Fine.” Clarke agreed.

She got him admitted straight away, of course. Jackson was on duty, fortunately, so he helped her get the x-rays taken. It turned out Bellamy had seriously bruised his shoulder, as Clarke predicted, as well as giving himself a fairly severe concussion. Clarke somehow refrained from saying “I told you so,” through this entire discussion, which she hoped Bellamy appreciated.

“Clarke will drive you home,” Jackson finished. “Make sure you take those painkillers as needed, and stay away from screens for the next few days until symptoms subside. And under no circumstances are you to try and lift anything….maybe leave the rest of the decorating to someone else?”

Bellamy nodded, wincing at the feeling in his head as he did so, and glanced up at Clarke. “You happy now?”

“Extremely,” Clarke replied sarcastically. “Come on, let’s go.”

Octavia called Clarke in a panic on their way to the car, since Bellamy’s phone battery had died after he’d texted her. Clarke reassured Octavia her brother was alright, and Octavia promised to meet them at the house. Clarke made her swear she wouldn’t stress him out, only make him feel the appropriate amount of guilt for putting himself in such a precarious position. Bellamy just rolled his eyes at that.

On the way back, he surprised her with an apology.

“I’m sorry I was such a pain. You were right. I’ve been as ass today.”

Clarke smirked and glanced over at him. “It’s ok, you can blame the head injury.”

Bellamy chuckled, and Clarke’s face broke into a smile. Hearing him laugh after so long brought back a flood of memories. The reasons they’d gotten together in the first place, reasons she’d been so happy with him. Reasons that she’d missed him since the break up. He sure was an idiot sometimes, but she’d definitely felt his absence lately.

“I know Octavia loves the holidays, Bellamy, but next time will you just ask someone for help before you climb up on that rickety ladder?”

“It wasn’t just for Octavia,” Bellamy muttered, staring out the passenger side window.

“What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t just for Octavia,” he repeated a little more clearly. “I was trying to have it ready before you came over.”

“What? Why?” Clarke pulled into the Blake driveway and turned to Bellamy, utterly bewildered. He continued to stare out the passenger window.

“I just knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you to be here today, and I know the holidays are a tough time for you since your dad and everything…I wanted to make it festive, I don’t know.”

Clarke was stunned. He was actually blushing a little bit. She had not expected that, but nothing today so far as gone as expected.

“That’s really…nice, Bellamy.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I honestly didn’t think you wanted to see me ever again, after the way we left things.”

He glanced over at her. “Clarke, that’s ridiculous.”

“It really isn’t. I mean, it’s been hard for me, not having you around, but I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Bellamy’s eyes were locked on her face. “Of course it was hard for me too, Clarke.”

“If you say so. You know,” Clarke admitted, “I almost drove away when I realized Octavia wasn’t here yet, but I saw you sitting outside and I got worried…”

A smile played on his lips. “Worried?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Bellamy. Don’t be a moron. We may not be together anymore, but you still mean a lot to me. I’ve already admitted as much.”

Bellamy’s face was slowly overtaken by a grin. “Wow, don’t get all sappy on me, Griffin. It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Shut up!” Clarke hit him on the shoulder with her mittened hand.

“Careful, I’m injured!” he mimed being hurt.

“It’s the other shoulder, idiot,” Clarke replied and turned off the car. “Come on, let’s get you inside before Octavia gets back.”

Octavia arrived just as they reached the door, the beat up Camry she shared with her brother squealing to a halt in the driveway. She didn’t waste a second rushing towards them, Niylah close on her heels, both women wearing concern on their faces.

“What the hell, Bellamy?” Octavia spat, getting right in her brother’s face as Clarke gently took Bellamy’s keys to let them all in the house.

“I’m fine, O,” he muttered, wincing and stumbling a little as the screen door almost closed on him.

“He’s fine, but he does need some help for the next few days,” Clarke informed them, helping to guide Bellamy through the doorway.

She and Octavia had him settled on the couch immediately. Niylah went to make some tea in the kitchen, and Octavia began covering her brother in blankets as he smirked up at her.

Clarke made sure Bellamy had his first round of painkillers, then stepped back and took in her surroundings. The Blake house looked very much the same, except for the bare Christmas tree sitting just by the window. It was too large for the room but it made it smell like pine. Octavia had always insisted on getting a full sized tree, Clarke remembered, even though the living room real estate was tight.

“I can’t believe you were such an idiot,” Octavia groaned, taking in the extent of her brother’s injuries for the first time as she threw the last blanket over his feet.

“I can,” Clarke sighed ruefully.

“You couldn’t have waited an hour till I got home?” Octavia asked, crossing her arms and glancing at Clarke for support.

Bellamy’s eyelashes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion. Clarke could see the painkillers at work. “I’ll wait next time,” he murmured.

“I’m locking those Christmas decorations up next year,” Octavia muttered. “You’re not to get them out until you have help.” Glancing over to the box of Christmas ornaments on the floor, she asked, “Clarke, you still want to stay and help us decorate?”

Clarke glanced from one Blake sibling to the other. Bellamy’s eyes opened slightly and he nodded at her almost imperceptibly.

“Sure, Octavia, I’ll stay. You’re going to need help making sure he doesn’t get up at some point, I’m sure.”

“You’re all smothering me,” Bellamy said, but they could tell he was almost enjoying himself.

Octavia smiled and finally seemed relieved. “Good. I’m gonna go order takeout. You want Garlic Chicken, Clarke?”

Clarke grinned. “China Garden? Sounds good!”

She was surprised to feel Bellamy’s touch and looked down to see he’d grabbed her hand. Eyes still closed, he was reclining against the couch cushions, but his grasp on her fingers was firm. She took a seat next to him, gingerly holding his good hand in hers.

“It’s still ok for me to stay, right?”

She could swear that the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile for a mere second.

“It’s still ok,” he mumbled. “Sorry about all this.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and settled in next to him, squeezing his hand. “Will you just shut up and get some rest, Bell?”

He smiled and leaned into her. “Sure, whatever you say.”

#kat writes #kat writes holiday fills #bellarke fanfiction

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