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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 2 years ago

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It’s The Avengers (04x08)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 4 Episode 08: Unfair Practices

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of the housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: an idiot sonovabich with bad intentions for our girl and a...um...thing we’ve been waiting for?

Word Count: I had no idea that when the gases in your intestines had no way to escape they could make various parts of your body hurt where you never thought gases could reach. Yes I am feeling the acidity in my chest tonight

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"That's that for the class. You may talk to David and I'll be available on Wednesday for any queries." The camera panned out of the professor's face to take in a smug David leaning on the lectern at the end of the platform. "Uh, professor, may I talk to you about the Oedipus complex subsection in the chapter?" The camera focused on Tamikah, the ace student in the class sitting in the front row. "I'd rather clarify my doubts from someone who can make me understand the complexity as a researcher rather than a man baby who thinks the complex is the ultimate truth of the world." The entire class chuckled. David gave a chuckle with a tik in his jaw. Javier even caught the professor suppressing a smile before indicating for Tamikah to follow him to his office. "Ugh, women," David whispered, "Everyone please submit your assignments. The grades will be up on Wednesday morning." The camera turned towards the back of the class to find your figure lost in your notebook, your face resting on your palm while the other hand doodled something on the pages as you tried to hide a smile. "Earth to Y/N," Yusuf whispered, calling you out of whatever trance you were experiencing before pulling out your assignment from beneath your notebook and walking down the lecture hall towards David. A millisecond of fear flashed in your eyes and you looked for the camera.

You: *biting your lip* he looked at my notebook, Javi. God, he must be judging me so much right now! *you look behind the camera* oh! *Open your notebook and show him the doodles* *camera pans in to show the last page having incoherent scribbles with a couple of horns here and there along with a few flowers scattered across* *camera pans out* *silence* *you blink* *you gasp* what do you mean you don't get it. I could not have been more obvious!

You joined Yusuf near the platform, giving him a friendly slap on the back before wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "Should we grab lunch at Erma's? I'm craving their jelly doughnuts," you asked your friend as you both began to head out of the lecture hall. The camera made it a point to show the transparency of emotions on David's face when you did that. Yusuf was more than happy to be in your company. "Please submit your assignment on your own, Miss Y/N," David calls you out in front of the class, "rather than running your errands through your classmates. It reflects how least interested you are about the work you are putting in receiving a good grade." You ignored him. Someone in class shouted, "She's not interested in you, man. Move on." Neither you nor the camera felt the need to turn back and see what David was feeling right now.

The Lounge The camera sat next to Wanda as she lay her head on the cold kitchenette island all the while groaning. Scott came from the elevator, drenched in sweat and glowing from the workout. "Upset stomach? I got some tablets in my room ever since Y/N introduced me to those orgasmic Korean recipes." "No," Wanda whimpered and went back to her groaning. Gulping down a bottle of cucumber water, Scott took a huge gulp of air before looking back at Wanda. "What's wrong? Magic gone bad?" The camera panned in on her face. The groaning stopped, her lips pouted the saddest pout imaginable and tears welled up in her eyes. "No," she finally sobbed. Fear seemed to cloud Scott's eyes as the bottle was carelessly dropped in the sink and Scott bent down, placing his hands gently on her hair to caress it. "Hey! Hey! What happened?" The tears didn't stop. "Nothing happened," came a small cry out of her before her voice cracked and the sobbing got worse.

Vision: *trying to adjust himself in his seat* Wanda has threatened me not to say anything but I'm worried for her. She had a nightmare yesterday and kept saying 'no!', 'No, you Glupyy bog!' *shrugs* I don't know which bog is trying to hurt her but *camera pans in onto his serious face* that bog better be ready to...grab these hands. *looks behind the camera* Oh...catch! That bog better be ready to catch these hands! *shows his hands*

The camera swerved to watch Tony enter the Lounge, pausing his conversation on the phone and observing Wanda. "I'll call you back." He turned to Scott and pointed towards Wanda's figure with a tilt of his head. Scott shrugged. "Should I send for some Sokovian delicacies?" Tony asked her softly. "Or should I teach Vision to stop sleeping while standing in corner of your room?" "No, he doesn't do that anymore," Wanda wailed through her sobs, wiping her tears but still not getting up from the kitchen island. "Tony," she gasped a little, forcing the man to bend down and face her, "no matter what happens, all you need to do is give a hug." Tony tilted his head in confusion. Before he could ask her anything, Wanda's hand came for his collar and pushed his face closer to hers. "Do you hear me Tony?!" she wailed, swollen eyes bearing into the man. "Just a hug." Tony gulped and nodded, bringing his arms around to hug her. "NOT ME, DAMMIT!" Wanda yelled, the lens feeling a little tremble and Tony immediately pulled back, his hands up and away.

University Library The camera sneakily walked across the library, trying to avoid the students and book racks, looking for someone. One corner of the library had a familiar figure hunched on a huge book opened upon a stack of more books. "Yeah, I think I found something," you whispered into your cellphone, "I'll text you pictures right away." Yusuf joined you with three more books. "Oh, by the way-" you thanked Yusuf through your facial expressions- "Friday could have done this faster than me." The camera came closer and was able to hear the voice at the other end. "The comms went down and the ship's system was ridden with malware because SOMEONE thought it would be a great idea to download Minecraft from an unknown pop-up in the ship's system." You furrowed your brows before the realisation hit you. "Thor." "I was bored and had no games on my phone!" Thor yelled back. "Friday's trying to fight the malware and reboot the system but we don't have enough time on our hands right now. These weirdos have started chanting some bizarre ritual and have started shooting at our ship. Text me the pictures and we'll try to figure out how to fight this cult." "Oh, okay. Is Loki there too?" It took you a second of locking eyes with the camera to realise what you had just said. "Uh-he said he was going to go to the city with Peter." All you could hear was incoherent chants in the back while Thor tried to curse the bad guys away. You facepalmed yourself hard and let out a muted curse. Gripping your lower lip in between your teeth for a stretched second, you blurted, "I needed some menstrual cups."

You: I COULD HAVE SAID ANYTHING ELSE!!! *wide-eyed glaring at the camera* ANY. THING. ELSE!!!! *The camera pans in on every word* *you groan and hide in your hands* *The camera pans out to show college kids passing you by with confused looks on their faces* *one of them offers you orange soda*

"Loki's not here," Natasha finally stated. "Oh, cool." You wanted to bury yourself in your arms. "I'll keep sending you whatever I can find. 'Kay bye." "Loki as in the God?" Yusuf whispered, sitting right next to you. You nodded. It took you a good few seconds to realise your friend did not know about your family. "Cool," he exclaimed before you could add anything, "can you thank him from my side the next time you see him? He's been a lot of help in my term project." Your furrowed brows and tilted head looked at him and then at the camera. And then back at him. "Excuse me? He did what?"

Somewhere in the University Grounds Natasha ended the call with you and switched off the device blaring the chants and Thor's voice. "Y/N is kind to a fault." She walked towards one of the apartment complexes with the camera following her.

Natasha: Loki really is out with Peter today. And Javier is out with Y/N. Today is the perfect chance for me to do some digging and find out about the missing days of their space travel. *looks at the person behind the camera* I know you want to know it as much as I do so I expect you to keep mum about what I'm about to do today. *The camera nods*

Natasha's red hair was now veiled in a golden-coloured wig. Her face was covered behind huge sunglasses and instead of her go-to jeans and shirt, she wore a flower dress.

The apartment manager gave her figure one look before stopping her from getting on the elevator. "Excuse me. Who are you and where do you think you are going?" the manager was a white lady with pixie-cut blonde hair, a wrinkled face with endless worry lines and rimmed glasses. "Oh! Hi! I am Dorothy! Javier's mother! I am letting myself in to clean up my precious baby's dorm. He's a good kid but he takes after his father and never cleans up his mess. I'm pretty sure his place is stanking right now. He didn't bring his clothes for a wash the previous weekend. Don't worry Mama's got the keys to his place and she's gonna leave it squeaky clean for her little angel." Natasha gave her biggest smile and a flawless New Jersey accent to the manager, who clearly was getting uncomfortable with every shoulder touch 'Javier's Mama' was making. "Would you like to come to help me clean the apartment? The more the better, right? Oh, that reminds me, my baby's out of clean undies." The manager was screwing her nose now. "No, thank you. Please, just go." Natasha pressed the elevator button and once against smiled at the flabbergasted manager. She waved her goodbye as the doors closed. "Nice to meet ya!" She announced as the doors clicked close, the New Jersey mom immediately reverting to her resting assassin face. "Not a word about this goes out." She glared at the camera through her sunglasses.

Walking out of the elevator on the fourth floor, she walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. The camera focused on a device she pulled out of her dress pocket and stuck to the doorknob. The device clicked and whirred, blinking twice with a red light before turning green and clicking the door open for the assassin. The apartment had a modest living room cum kitchen with three rooms at the end. Setting the earlier device on the breakfast table, Natasha touched the edge of her sunglasses to switch on the reading mode on them. "Friday, scan the entire apartment for hard disks, flash drives, memory cards and any electronic equipment with a storage." "On it, Miss Romanoff," Friday chimed and began the scan right away. Natasha grabbed two soda cans from the fridge, offering one to the person behind the camera. "And now we wait."

Uni Library 4 PM "Huh. I had no idea Loki was a bookworm in that way!" Yusuf chuckled, offering you a sandwich before going back to clicking pictures of any relevant page that Natasha might need. You were still lost in his laptop, scrolling through the pages of research and citations, not able to believe the layers put into the paper. "He's amazing!" Yusuf almost fangirled too hard before going back to the usual whisper. "He even loaned me some limited editions and research papers that are either sitting in restricted sections of world libraries or at some rich asshole's home." The camera swerved from him to you, recording your fingers pausing the scrolling to look up from the screen.

You: *raise a brow* Excuse me???

"Glad that instead of either of those options, it was in Mr Stark's library. How lucky am I to be able to hold the same books that Mr Stark has preserved so well!" Yusuf adds with starry eyes.

You: *wave of realisation* Oh! *smiles* okay. *walks away from the camera to throw the baseball bat in your hand into the nearest storage closet*

You nodded in approval. "Stark's going to kill him but yeah. He's golden for lending you those books." The camera did not miss the little smile growing on your lips that you tried hard to suppress. "He's a nice guy," Yusuf admitted, leaning back in his seat and smiling. "He often calls me up to ask me how I'm doing and sends me snacks during assignment hours." You let your head rest in your palm as you looked at Yusuf. "Aw! I didn't know that. That's so sweet." Yusuf was grinning now. "But I think he does this less for me and more for someone else." He twirled his finger in your direction. You smacked that twirling finger away. "Yeah, right." Yusuf licked his lips. "I mean-" he pulled his chair closer to the table, letting his arms rest on the surface and leaning his face in your direction- "he always asks about you. How you are doing? Whether you have eaten. If you are sitting alone somewhere, lost in thoughts. If you are enjoying your company. If you are enjoying your company...too much." This time you smacked him away from you, the slap on his back resonating through the silence of the library. Both of you did not move for the next ten seconds, wondering if anyone would come and chuck you out of there. "We should go back to helping Natasha," you whispered eventually, going back to the books in front of you. "I think I should go back to helping that suppressed scream out of you." "One more word and my elbow will bring out a scream from your stomach."

Avenger's Facility The camera focused on the duffel bag Natasha carried through the front doors of the building, heading straight for the security room. She emptied the contents of the bag on the centre table, letting the platform light up and scan all the storage drives and memory cards. "Pull up the contents on all of them, Friday." Friday put up the hologram screen to run all the devices simultaneously. Half of them had test runs of the documentary. Some had shots of the university campus and some had recordings of campus events. "Find me the one with Loki and Y/N's time in space. The missing timeline." Three seconds was all it took to filter out the rest and bring forward the footage with a blank screen. The camera stood opposite Natasha, recording a haze for where the screen was, looking right through at it at the curious assassin. The silence was deafening as both of them waited. There was static for a few seconds before the sound of heavy breathing echoed through the security room. "Do not make me repeat myself," Loki's voice was more of a growl, followed by someone gurgling- as if fighting for their breaths. "Where. Is. She." The frame that was panned in on Natasha's face gradually noticed something. Her furrowed brows were slowly going back to their resting phase. Her usually pursed lips moved apart in a calculated surprise. But there was more. Her figure- earlier leaning on the table wanting to read every little movement on the camera footage- was standing straight and taking a step away from the table. Curdled laughter resonated through the screen, sending Natasha's eyes wide. "She's dead, your highness." The mockery in words was made worse by the maniacal laughter that followed. A boom shook the recording running on the screen, making Natasha jump where she stood. This time, there was horror in the assassin's eyes.

University Campus: 0730 Hours "Sorry, Yusuf. Had I known everyone was out at some event now, I wouldn't have dragged you into this." You groaned and bent down with your hands folded in front of him. Yusuf cackled. "Are you kidding me? It was fun! I don't have a sister so I finally know what it's like to tease one about their crush. This is the best day on campus I've had." The boy glowed with happiness, forcing you to mirror his smile. "Thanks, bro," you chimed. "For teasing you?" "For not asking about the Avengers? For being chill about all of this." He smiled. "Aw, come on. I fangirled about them in front of Loki so I'm good now." Both of you giggled to your heart's content till it was time for you to leave. Assuring Yusuf you can go to the parking lot on your own, you bid goodbye and walked under the street lights towards the parking lot with Javi and his camera. "He's a nice guy, isn't he?" you hummed with a smile, skipping on the pavement. "Pretty nice," a familiar but unwelcoming voice came from the shrubs that decorated the pavement by the college building. The camera quickly turned in that direction, moving ahead of you. "David," your tired voice came from somewhere out of the frame. David looked at the camera and then behind it. "You should get out of here, kid. The adults are gonna have some grownup talk." The camera did not budge where it stood until your voice called for him. "It's okay, Javi. It won't take long."

Javier's camera did not miss the smug smirk David had on his face when you said it wouldn't take long. Standing in the parking lot about a few meters away from you and David, the camera was constantly focused on you while someone's phone keypad was clicking quite fast in the back as if texting someone in a hurry. "What do you want, David?" It was more of a tired plea than a question. "What do I want? What do you want, Y/N?" Your crinkled brows displayed wrinkles of befuddled emotions. "Submitting your assignments seconds before the deadline. Making the excuses of being out of town just so you can do the extra ones to submit them to me. Being overtly sassy during my lectures even when we both know you aren't. Wearing boots even though you prefer flats. Then coming into my lecture yesterday with your hair flowing in the wind and that blue sundress till your knees. I think I know where this is going, sweet cheeks." You had to take in a good gulp of breath to shake your whole body in bafflement at him. "What the f*** are you even talking about, David?" "Oh, I know a flirt wave when I see one, baby." With the amount of offence your brain had taken, you were barely able to form coherent sentences now. "I did not dress for you, you moron! I dressed for- why am I even explaining myself to you?!" "Deny it all you want, Y/N. You can't run away from the fact that you are falling for me all over again." Your offended features went back to their neutral self. Your lips shutting up and your eyes giving him an extremely offensive side, you walked away from him and towards Javi. But David was quick to grab your arm and pull you back to him. Even before you could let this sink in, his hands were already roaming on the small of your back. "It's okay, babygirl. No need to deny the inevitable," David purred. "You can have me back. You don't have to be so needy about it." "Oh, F*** OFF, DAVID!!" your patience was reaching its threshold. "Even the tick on the bug under my boot would not reconcile with a trash like you." You broke away from his hold. The camera panned in on the fallen face of David as he let your words sink in. "Not everything revolves around you. Something I should've known is not easy for you to understand," you declared while looking right into his eyes. David's eyes seemed darker than usual now. The street lamps cast an eerie shadow over his face when he stood there frozen for as long as a cricket chirp before grabbing you by the neck. You never had the time to react with the basic defence skills Natasha had taught you. Javier's camera almost made a dash for it before coming to an unexpected halt. David pushed you into the nearest side of a car in the lot, forcing a whimper out of you. "You think I'm a joke?" His grip got stronger, making you gnaw at his hands. "You f****g slut!" the camera caught David bringing your face closer to his, waiting to growl. "You whiny bi-" "The last person who tried to hurt her ended up with a broken neck." The camera zoomed in on the shadows behind David, trying to find the source of the voice when it caught a pair of glowing golden eyes with a green hue. The God stepped into the light, pausing all movement within seven feet of his radius. Loki never had to spell it out. The mercilessly brutal gaze seared a nauseating feeling into David, compelling him to push you away from him. You felt your ankle twist, not able to bring back the balance in your leg if not for Loki breaking your fall. The God placed his hand on your back and let his eyes survey your neck for any injuries.

The camera slowly closed the distance between you and Javi, focusing on Loki's eyes. The sombre concern saw something on you that brought back that nauseating rage in his eyes. "I should have been more clear for this slow excuse of a human disgrace-" Loki's whisper tried to suppress his lungs as he turned towards David- "broken neck would be too easy a death for him." The camera was a bit too focused on the colours fading from David's skin to notice why he was suddenly backing away from you and your company. Loki's back was towards the camera. No way to record what he looked like. Only that he took two steps towards the man to send the latter running for his life while you grabbed the God by the waist. "Let him be. Loki, stop," you commanded. But within seconds you were begging him when he tried to undo your hold as gently as possible. "Please, let him go." "He hurt you, Y/N," Loki was not even looking at you. "I don't care. Just please don't do anything," you kept wrapping your arms around him and blocking his way. "It's alright," he calmly responded, still trying to walk in his direction, "he won't be able to do anything by sunrise." The camera caught a wave of fear in your eyes. Without another thought, you locked your arms around him as tightly as possible and shouted, "Wanda! Take us home!" With a wave of red plasmic energy, you disappeared before the camera. So did Loki. Another wave hit the camera and everything turned black.

The Lounge Scott whistled the theme of La Cucaracha in the kitchenette as he fetched himself an ice cream tub. "You want one, buddy?" he asked the person behind the camera sitting at the dining table at the other end of the lounge. Fetching another bowl, he walked towards the camera when a wave of red plasmic waves filled the lounge area. Scott found himself jumping behind the sofa. So did the camera. But unlike Scott, the camera peeped from behind the sofa to see you and Loki standing in the middle of the lounge while Javi presented himself out of thin air in the kitchenette, bumping into cabinets before finding a steady ground for his shaky legs. "What? Why did you do that Y/N?" Loki was ticked. The peripheral of the camera caught Scott raising his head to look at you two with peak curiosity. "So, I'd rather let you run behind him and beat him to death?" you responded on the same wavelength as the God. "He deserves it for being such a bloody scum." Loki was on the verge of grinding his teeth now. "I don't care what he deserves, Loki. Okay? This isn't space! You cannot just go about getting your way here! People are watching you!" Your assertion came out more loudly than you expected. "People can watch me punch the Midgardian soil out of him! Why should I care who's watching me!!" Loki was enraged now. Scott scooted back into the shade of the sofa at the first emphatic syllable in Loki's voice. "BECAUSE I CARE!!" you announced at the limit of your lungs. "I care too much about you to let some awful people brand you something you are not! Okay? I care about you too f*****g much to see you get so riled up by a pathetic loser. I-" The camera zoomed in on your expression. The weight of your own words dawned upon you abruptly while Loki stood there in a confused void. The camera made sure to catch Scott's jaw hitting the floor at your confession while you tried to gather your emotions. You did not speak. It looked like you didn't want to. "What?" Loki's voice went soft. And that did it for you. "I like you, Loki," your voice confessed delicately; your fingers pressing the life out of each other, "I like like you. Too much."

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki fiction #loki series #marvel loki #marvel fluff #marvel fic #mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #mcu fluff #the office au #It's The Avengers #Maladaptive Ninja Returns

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integra1127grimmreaper · 2 years ago

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The One That Got Away - Part eight

Negan Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 7

Warning: swearing, mention of gun violence

Present Day

With a heavy sigh, Negan rested his head against the steering wheel, today was going to be one hell of a shit show. It was career day, which meant that the school would be running amuck with fancy-pansy assholes, discussing their choices of careers with the senior kids and how better they were than other people.

Truthfully, Negan couldn't give a shit about them, the only problem he had with today was that all this would be done during his classes. Ah, the fuckin' joys of being a gym teacher... meaning, he'd be the one stuck the entire day having to hear them lecturing the kids of how 'good of a choice' it would be going into their field of work.

Lifting his head up, Negan gives himself a pep talk in the rear-view mirror. "Suck it up... later this evening you can reward yourself with a few drinks."

Dragging his feet as he walked into the admin block, Negan is suddenly stopped dead in his tracks by the fine piece of ass dressed in police uniform that was leaning over the secretary's desk, having what seemed to be one heck of an animated conversation.

Damn... it should be a crime when the po-po be looking that fine these days...

Always the smooth ladies' man, loudly clearing his throat, Negan walks up behind the woman.

"Excuse me Officer, might ya be here for me?"

The woman pauses mid conversation, slowly turning around then and Negan is struck speechless when realizing who was actually standing before him.

"Y/N...?" Negan stares at her dumbfounded.

The last time he had seen her was ten years ago, at her parent's funeral. She had been pretty banged up; wheelchair bound after having finally woken up out of a coma a few days after the accident.

That would be the first time since the accident, as well as the very last that Negan ever saw her again. A few days after that, Y/N had moved to go and live with family, and he never heard of her again.

"Hey Coach..." you flash him a broad smile, "been a while, hasn't it?"

"No shit... it's been ten years" Negan stares at you like he's seen a ghost.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for career day" you wave a hand up and down indicating your uniform.

"So... you're a cop now? Negan stumbles a bit with his words at being in your presence again after so many years.

You stare at him deadpan. "No, this is my Halloween costume..."

"Still the same smartass, I see..." Negan chuckles at your remark.

"Only difference is that ya can't punish me for it anymore..." you smirk at him in response.

Oh, I could think of the perfect punishment... Negan groans internally, biting into his lower lip as he silently scanned Y/N up and down.

"You gonna ask me more questions or just stand there staring at me?" you sass him, hands on your hips as you smirked.

"Uh... yeah" Negan shakes himself back to reality. "How long have you been back?"

"It's been a few months now, but I finally got my bearings after having transferred here."

"Looks and sounds like life's been treating you well then" Negan remarks, placing his hands in his pockets, while he rocked back and forth on balls of his feet.

"Life's been good" you smile at him.

Negan couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment that your life had gone on perfectly without him.

Before the conversation could continue further the bell signalling the start of first period goes off.

"I better get going before those little shitheads end up destroying my gym" Negan remarks and you nod at him. "Wait... what time slot are you scheduled for?"

"I believe right now...?" you turn to the secretary, Mrs Davids for confirmation and she nods at you.

"Shit, why didn't you fuckin' say so from the start. We can catch up a bit while we walk to class."

"So, a cop huh?" Negan remarks as the two of you made your way to the gym. "What made you decide to go into that field of work?"

"My mom's younger brother, Uncle Rick, the one I went to live with after the accident is one" you reply, silently smiling at all of the students that were softly whispering amongst themselves while staring at you walking along side Negan.

"The two of us became really close during that time, I guess he just rubbed off on me" you shrug jokingly.

"It actually suits you..." Negan scans you from the corner of his eye, "you really pull off the uniform well."

"Why, is that an actual compliment coming from your mouth, Coach?" you fake a pretend blush, and he chuckles at you.

"You can take it any which way ya like... and enough with that Coach crap. I haven't been your teacher in over ten years now, so call me, Negan."

Negan silently stood in awe as Y/N spoke to the kids, he couldn't help the smile crossing his lips with how passionate she became when speaking about her job.

God, how he wished more than anything to be the recipient of that passion once more. Even till this day, Negan still thought of the last time they had been together. That day had played in his mind on repeat each time he thought of her and think of her each day he did.

He wondered if she ever thought of him.

Negan could still smell her scent whenever he closed his eyes, could still feel the way she felt wrapped around his cock.

"Have you ever shot someone?" Negan was brought out of his thoughts by one of the student's questions.

"Yes, I have" you respond with a nod.

"Have you ever been shot yourself?"

With a faint smirk, you nod yet again, and Negan couldn't help the lump that had formed in his throat upon finding out that you had yet another brush with death.

"Can we see it?"

"Well, I'm not sure if Coach would allow it..." you state turning to look at him then.

"If it's in an appropriate place, and Officer Y/L/N is comfortable with it..." Negan shrugs.

Nodding at him, you untuck your shirt and then proceed to unbutton it from the top, whistling echoes through the gym then from some of the boys.

"Fuckin' shut up or I'll shut this shit down!" Negan warns them with a growl, and you couldn't help but chuckle at it.

The room goes quiet then as you revealed the black tank top underneath your uniform, Negan's mouth instantly went dry at the sight of your bare shoulder once you had lowered the right strap of the top to reveal the scar of your gunshot wound.

"It doesn't seem that bad..." one of the students scoffs in response to seeing the small scar tissue.

"If you believe that, then you should see the entry wound on the back..." you snicker in response, causing Negan to frown.

"Can we see it?!" someone calls out.

"Nope..."

The room fills with sounds of disappointed sighs, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"It can't be seen anymore..." you explain to them, "the only way you'll know it's there, is by touch, because it's covered..." you then turn around to show them the tattoo that was covering the old scar.

"Is that a baseball bat?! Covered in barbed wire?!" one of the male students yells out.

"Yup..." you turn back around with a smirk as you redressed.

"Why?" one of the girls then ask in confusion.

"Are you telling me that Coach has never bragged about his best softball player in all of history...?" you turn to look at him in disbelieve.

"Oh yeah..." a student replies, "Coach speaks about her damn near every chance he gets..."

You couldn't help but flash a toothy grin at the kid's remark.

"No, way...! You're her?!"

You smirked, nodding your head in response, while Negan snickered at the class that was softly chatting about you amongst themselves.

"Ok, so we get the baseball. But what's up with the barbed wire?"

"Because a barbed wired bat looks badass..." you smirked, "and that's what I am. Just ask Coach..."

Biting into his lower lip with a faint smirk, Negan nods at your remark.

"So, why didn't you go pro if you were so good?"

"Ah... so Coach never told you guys the entire story then" you stare at Negan teasingly in fake disapproval.

"I shattered my knee after a nasty fall during a game, ended up with artificial knee and my dream being flushed on the toilet."

The bell signalling the end of first period then goes off before any more questions could be asked.

"And I believe that's my queue to leave..." you remark, and the entire class lets out loud sounds of protests.

"I don't know why y'all are so disappointed, I spent most of the time talking about myself instead of convincing ya to become a cop..." you chuckle out.

"Well, you're a badass..." one of the girls comments, "I'd say that was convincing enough."

"That... and you're hot too" a boy in the front row remarks.

"Hey! Watch it..." Negan narrows a gaze at him in warning, causing you and the rest of the class to snicker at it.

"Thank you, Officer Y/L/ N, for your time" Negan turns to you, and the entire class joins in. You wave at them as Negan, and you make your way to the door.

Negan, to your surprise, instead of just seeing you off at the door, steps out into the hallway with you.

"It was nice seeing you again after this time..." Negan sheepishly stares at you, hands stuffed into his pants pockets.

"Ditto..." you smile faintly.

"You plan on sticking around more a bit?" Negan looks at you in hope. "We could catch up during lunch break..."

"As much as I'd love to... I unfortunately can't. I'm on duty, so I have to get back to work."

"That's a bummer" Negan's shoulders drop in disappointment. "Maybe we can go out for some drinks one evening then?" he stares at you almost pleadingly.

"Maybe" you respond with a forced smile.

"Then it's settled..." Negan states with a huge smile, grabbing you into a hug unexpectedly.

You were caught off guard for a second by the hug but eventually relax into it.

Finally, Negan lets you go, and you found yourself feeling quite awkward at the entire exchange.

Clearing your throat, you finally make eye contact with him as you begin taking steps backwards and away from him. "Sure Coach... see you around..."

"Great" Negan remarks with a goofy smile on his face as he watched you turn to make your leave.

"And I told you to call me, Negan!" he calls out to your retreating back.

Once you were no longer in eyesight, Negan comes back to his senses. "Shit. I forgot to ask for her phone number...."

Part 8

Tags: @neganswoman @especialily @thecupcakevigilante @nt-multi-fandom @tonysterco

#twd negan #twdfanfic #twdlovestory #negan smith #coach-negan #negan x reader #negan x y/n #The Walking Dead #negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM

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akimagies · 4 years ago

Text

late night phone calls: Matt Simmons

Matt Simmons x female!Reader (Rossi’s daughter)

WORD COUNT: 2,136

WARNINGS: tw: mentions of Scratch

SUMMERY: Based off of 13x01, and how I see the events of it happening between Matt Simmons, and his fiancé Y/N Rossi that night

A/N: so just a little heads up: yes, this character’s father is the david rossi AND the communications liaison for the team. no, i do not have her mother being married or even divorced to david. she (and her twin brother) are byproducts of a one night stand between their parents, and the two had shared custody of them. ((i am thinking of making this a series, so if you like this please comment or message me saying i should continue this))

Late night phone calls during the night were never the best to happen, especially because it wasn’t from either of the two people sleeping in the bed together. Y/N Rossi had recently just started her maternity leave, and the short hours of sleep had just started since there was a newborn baby in the home. It seemed like the little baby girl in the house could wake up to a pin dropping on the floor. It also didn’t help that their three-year-old son liked to wake them up early in the morning as well. So, when Matt and Y/N heard one of their phone’s ringing, the two immediately shot up from their positions on their bed, and leaned over to the nightstand to see which one of them was getting the call. When Y/N looked at her screen though, it showed nothing but some Facebook and Instagram notifications.

“Simmons here.” Was what Y/N heard from the other side of the bed. She was thankful that it wasn’t her own phone call. With the baby still trying to get a sleeping schedule, the poor woman was exhausted.

“Hey-hey! Penelope calm down, repeat what you said but slower.” Matt repeated as all he heard on the other line was just gibberish. Penelope finally calmed down on the other side of the line what was going on. Scratch was back and six team members, including his future father-in-law, signals were all offline. Matt was the one member that wasn’t on the BAU to know about all the current information on Scratch. They choose him since he would be someone that wouldn’t be with the team incase Scratch attacked, and Penelope would be able to call to help with the case and actually know what was happening. “Alright, I’ll be at the office as fast as I can.” Matt said as he swung his legs over his side of the bed and started to head for the closet to put some actual cloth on, instead of the boxers he was wearing.

With the lights and the movement that happening, Y/N sat up from the bed and looked over at her fiancé. “What’s going on? Why are you getting dressed?” She asked as she sat up in bed, turning her lamp on as she looked over at Matt getting dressed.

“Garcia called me; she needs me to come in to help her.” Matt told her as he looked over at her as he threw one of his shirts on before grabbing a button up to put on over the shirt.

“Well, I guess that means I should get up and start getting dressed too. Pen’s probably going to be ringing me soon. I could call my mom up and just drop off Alexander and Lacie with her.” She said rubbing her eyes as she slowly started to sit up, but Matt hurried over to her and pushed her shoulder’s back down towards the bed.

“Nope, Penelope strictly said that you were not to be called onto the case Y/N. You just had a baby. You need some sleep, and since the IRT disbanded, I’ve been dying for a case.” Matt said as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of her forehead. “I will be back as soon as I can, alright?”

“Alright.” Y/N said smiling as she looked up at Matt and smiled up at him. “I love you, and be careful, please.” She said as she squeezed his hand tightly.

“I always am, aren’t I?” he asked her smiling before placing a quick kiss onto her lips before he walked out of the bedroom door and hurried down the steps, knowing that the team really need his help. He was glad that he didn’t tell Y/N, knowing if he did, it would have worried her even more then she was already.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall back asleep, except this time, it was her phone that woke her up. “Hello?” She asked as she answered the phone.

“Is this Miss Rossi?” the female voice on the other side of the line asked.

“Yes, this is she, can I ask who this is?” Y/N asked a she soon stood up from the bed and started to walk over to the closet.

“This is Nurse Hugh’s over at D.C General Hospital. Your father, David Rossi, was brought in tonight with the rest of his team. Since you are his emergency contact, we decided to notify you. He is though refusing medical treatment for right now, so we would really appreciate it if you could come down at this hour and speak some sense into him.” The nurse asked her over the phone.

Of-course her father was refusing treatment, it didn’t shock her at all. “Yes, I will be down as soon as I can.” She said to the woman over the phone, before hanging up and hurrying to throw on some cloths that looked appropriate, all before hurrying and throwing a diaper bag together for little Lacie, and pack some snacks and things to entertain Alexander. She knew that she would have to bring her son and the little baby with her now, to try and convince her father to actually get medical treatment.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a short time to drive to the hospital, and soon enough, she was walking in with Alexander holding her right hand and walking, while she had Lacie in her stroller. “What the hell are you doing here? Your supposed to be on maternity leave, not working a case?” Luke asked once he saw the woman walking in with her baby to the hospital where all the team members. He soon grabbed the stroller out of her hands and started to walk with her while pushing the stroller.

“I’m not coming to work the case Luke, I’m my dad’s emergency contact. So, they called me to say he was denying medical treatment.” She said before following Luke to the room where her father was staying in. Once inside, she saw her father laying on the hospital bed, with a bandage taped around the hair line on his forehead. “Now, why the hell are you denying medical treatment?” Y/N asked her father as she watched Luke place the baby stroller off to the side for her.

“I said, I would accept medical treatment once Luke and Spence went to my office and opened my desk to grab those Cubs season tickets that I’ve been promising him.” Rossi said, giving his daughter a pointed look, as to stay just go with it.

“Alright, well can you two head off then? I would really appreciate it if my father was actually checked out by the doctors.” She told the two men standing in front of her before watching them walk out of the room.

“Grandpa, up.” Alexander said as he put up his arms while standing on the side of his bed. The two were very close, maybe it was the fact that her father insisted on Sunday dinners with the family now.

Y/N walked over to the side of the bed and put her hands under Alexander’s arms and picked him up to sit on the edge of the bed, as she pushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. “You didn’t call your brother or mother about this all did you?” Rossi asked his daughter, hoping that she wouldn’t have called either.

“Mom, no. She would have been glad that you were in here and said you deserved it. It may have been decades since everything, but mom keeps grudges. Nicholas on the other hand I did call.?” She said as she soon saw her father about to start lecturing her on calling her twin brother this late at night. “I called him just to let him know what’s going on, besides he’s not even asleep yet. He’s off in California working on a case.” She told her father. It wasn’t a surprise that THE David Rossi, who started the BAU, would have twins that would both be working as Special Agents. While Y/N now worked for the BAU with her father, she at first worked before with the IRT, where she met her fiancé. While, her twin brother Nicholas worked for NCIS.

“Well, I’m glad. I only one worry child for tonight.” Rossi told his daughter smiling. Soon enough, the doctors were allowed to come in and check Rossi for the injuries he might have sustained in the car accident.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It only took a few hours, but the team had been able to catch Scratch before he could do any more harm to anyone. It might have been wrong to say, but Matt felt amazing right now. He had been missing the thrill of being out there in the field, working on taking down an unsub. Yet, all he wanted to do now after taking down Scratch, was take his family home. Which is why he was standing in the open door, looking into Rossi’s hospital room to see Y/N and Alexander both curled up on the tiny couch with one another, while Lacie was asleep in her stroller. “I told her that she needed her rest.” Matt said sighing as he walked into the room.

“And you really thought she would listen? I raised her; I know she has selective hearing.” Rossi told Matt smiling as he chuckled shaking his head. “Take them home, you all need your rest. Their keeping me over night just to make sure nothing is wrong with me. Then you all can come be my ride home since my car isn’t here.” Rossi told Matt smiling.

“I’ll just leave Y/N’s keys here for you, then you can just drive home and we’ll all come over later in the day for dinner.” Matt said smiling before walking over to where Y/N was sleeping, and shaking her shoulder gently. “Hey, time to go home and get some sleep there.” Matt spoke quietly, trying not to wake up Alex in her arms.

Y/N nodded her head before sitting up from the bed slowly before getting up and passing over slowly before looking over at her father. “Are you sure you are okay for us to leave you for the night?” She asked her father as she soon started to wheel Lacie around the room.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine. You two get some sleep, and make sure my grandchildren are up and ready to eat some of grandpa Rossi’s food tomorrow.” Rossi told his daughter smiling.

“Well Alexander is the only one that can eat your food, as for Lacie, I can’t promise she’s going to be up. She likes to take multiple naps throughout the day.” Y/N said smiling as she walked over to her dad and kiss his forehead. “Love ya dad.” She said smiling.

“Love you too sunshine.” Rossi said smiling as he watched the couple soon walk out of the room.

“Alright, let’s go home and get these kids to bed.” Matt said smiling as the two of them soon walked out to his black SUV that was parked near the front of the hospital.

☾ . ° . ⋆⠀┊---------------------------------------------------------------┊ ⋆⠀. ° . ☾

It seemed as if sleep was just not for the two parents tonight once they got back home. Alex had woken up right when the car stopped, so Matt had gone to go read the young boy a book. While that was happening, Lacie had decided to wake up as well, though she was waking up because she was hungry. So, Y/N had heated up a bottle for the little girl. By the time that the two children had back fallen asleep, it was near 3 in the morning.

The two parents soon laid back down in their bed after the event full night. Y/N placed her head on Matt’s chest and soon asked, “We can do this right?”

“Do what?”

“Be two working FBI agents, while also being parents of two kids?”

“Of-course we can.”

“A-are you sure?”

Matt soon moved up a little to look down at her. “Of-course we can, we are two badass parents that can handle everything that’s thrown at us.” He told her smiling.

Y/N soon let out a yawn. “Your right we are two badass parents.” She said smiling

“And now these two badass parents need their sleep.”

“Oh, you are correct about that. I love you.” She said as she let her eyes flutter shut.

“I love you too.” Matt whispered to her before pressing a kiss into her hair, and letting his eyes shut as well.

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reidecorating · 4 years ago

Text

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

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sometimesiwritebadly · 5 years ago

Text

Rogue Thoughts (Spencer Reid x FBI Agent!Reader)

Summary: Soulmates can occasionally hear each other’s thoughts. You happen to hear the thoughts of a fellow FBI Agent while you’re interviewing for a position at the BAU.

Check out the series

Warnings: Some language, but it’s just fluff

Notes: SOULMATE AU MOTHER HECKERS

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

After nearly 30 years of listening to your soulmate’s thoughts, nothing could surprise you at this point. While most of your friends or family heard relatively normal things from their soulmates before they met, your head consisted of random facts about anything from mental illnesses you’d never heard of to Greek philosophy. Once, you had what you learned to be some of Friedmann’s equations stuck in your head for a week. Despite how little you cared for mathematics, your curiosity had given in eventually and you ended up googling it after 3 days. Whoever your soulmate is, he’s an absolute genius.

Sometimes the thought of just how smart your soulmate is feels a little daunting; You’re not dumb, you have a master’s degree in Criminology and worked for the FBI, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmate would be disappointed when the two of you finally meet. There’s no way of telling which of your thoughts your soulmate had heard from you over the years; maybe he learned about your study of criminals or some of the bad guys you’d managed to catch over the years...or maybe he learned about how you have almost every episode of Friends memorized. Recently, the thoughts you heard have become more frequent. Back when you were a kid, the thoughts you heard could be weeks or even months apart, but as you got older, you heard his thoughts more and more often. Your mom had said that must mean you’re going to meet your soulmate pretty soon; the same thing had happened with her and your father.

“17 interviews and we still don’t have a replacement…”

The thought entered your head for a moment, but flickered away before it completed. “Don’t distract me today, soulmate. I’ve got a job interview.” You thought. Even though you don’t have any control over which thoughts he would hear, you hoped he had gotten your message. You currently worked in Crimes Against Children with the FBI, but after 4 years excelling in that area, one of the higher-ups, Strauss, had suggested applying for the renowned Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had become a profiler of sorts within CAC; when you were in college you had attended multiple lectures on the subject matter. Even though you weren’t officially trained, your bosses all agreed that you had the potential. Plus, the BAU had been down an agent for a while, so today you were meeting with SSA Hotchner.

When you arrived at the FBI headquarters today, instead of heading to your usual building, you went to the building where the BAU was held. Your nerves were getting the best of you as the elevator slowly made its way to the 6th floor, and to make matters worse, your soulmate’s thoughts were flying through your head at an astronomical rate. “I should book a flight to visit mom soon…” “Maybe we’ll finally get a new agent today....” “if Morgan tries to make me do his paperwork one more time…” Clearly, he hadn’t heard your plea to try and keep it down today. Or, he has just about as much control over which thoughts you heard as you did with his. Despite the foreign thoughts filling your head, you tried your best to stay focused as you exited the elevator and made your way towards Hotchner’s office.

As you walked through the room, your eyes were pulled from your destination to the various people sitting at the desks. Or, more specifically, to a certain guy filling out paperwork diligently. “Holy fuck, he’s cute.” You thought. Almost immediately, his head snapped up towards you. “Did he…?” “Wow.” You both thought at the same time. This time, you stopped walking, and he pushed away from his desk to get a better look at you. Your interview had almost completely slipped your mind until you heard someone call your name.

“SSA Y/L/N?” You turned away from the guy, who you were now incredibly intrigued by, to the man you recognized as Aaron Hotchner.

“SSA Hotchner, it’s good to see you again.” You said, giving him a wave. You weren’t a fan of shaking hands, although you were nervous your avoidance of the motion would come off unprofessional. Luckily, Hotchner didn’t seem to mind.

“Please, call me Hotch. My office is just this way, if you’d like to follow me.” Hotch led you to his office, where you took a seat in the chair across from his desk. Luckily, the thoughts from your soulmate - who may or may not be sitting right outside this office - had calmed down, so you had a clear head for your interview.

~~~

“Garcia!” Spencer burst into Garcia’s batcave, shocking the girl. Morgan stood next to her, looking at Spencer like he was insane.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“I need to know the name of the agent Hotch is interviewing right now.”

“Ok, you could’ve just asked like a normal person instead of giving me a heart attack!” Garcia grumbles, sitting in front of her computer to pull up the information. “Do I at least get a reason as to why you need to know about,” She paused, reading the name that had popped up on her screen, “SSA Y/N Y/L/N?” Spencer leaned down next to Garcia, so he could see the picture of you on the screen.

“Y/N Y/L/N…” The name felt perfect coming from his lips. It was like he never wanted to say another name again

“Reid? Seriously, what's up with this girl? Do you think she’s bad news?” Morgan asked, clearly concerned about Spencer’s actions

“N-no, I, um, I think she’s my soulmate.” Spencer whispered, not really registering what he had said until Garcia’s excited squeals finally tore his eyes away from the computer screen

“Oh my god this is the best thing that’s ever happened! Are you sure? Oh my god I need to do more research! No wait - if you think she’s your soulmate what are you doing in here with us! You need to be with her and fall in love and get married and name your first born after me like yesterday!” Garcia began rambling, grabbing Spencer’s hand and practically dragging him out of her office and back towards the bullpen. She continued talking as they walked over, while Morgan trailed behind with a wide smile on his face.

Prentiss and JJ had been chatting at their desks when Garcia dragged Spencer in. “Code Red, ladies! Spencer Reid met his soulmate and she’s with Hotch right now!” Garcia announced, finally letting go of Spencer’s arm.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh my god, Spence!”

Emily and JJ both gave Spencer a hug, while a blush rose to his cheeks. “I-I don’t know for sure yet. I just, it was like something was pulling me to her. And this time when I heard her thoughts it just felt so…” Spencer was at a loss for words, which was very rare for him. He couldn’t describe this brand new experience.

“Like everything suddenly made sense?” JJ suggested, as the only one in the group who actually knew what the experience of meeting your soulmate was like.

“Yeah.” Spencer nervously began to play with his hands, turning to look at the door. Through the blinds of Hotch’s office, he could just make out where she was sitting. “Good luck.” He tried to send her the thought, knowing that if they really were soulmates, he should have more control over which thoughts she would hear or not. He may have been imagining it, but he swore she saw her figure get less tense through the blinds.

~~~

“Well, Agent Y/L/N, you’re certainly one of the best candidate’s I’ve interviewed so far. I know you still have an active case to finish with CAC, but once that’s resolved we’d love to have you transfer over here to the BAU.” Hotch said with a small smile.

“Thank you so much, Hotch! My current case is almost wrapped up, so I should be able to officially transfer within the next week or so.” You said with a smile. The both of you stood from your chairs, and Hotch opened his office door for you. Immediately, your eyes found the man again, and you found he was already looking at you.

“Did you want to meet the rest of the team? Clearly, they’ve all decided it’s social hour anyways.” Hotch suggested, clearly not too pleased with the group that was very clearly not doing any work at the moment. He had mentioned that the team didn’t have a case right now, but you were sure there was still plenty of paperwork to get though.

“Yes! Please.” You said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Even though you did want to be on good terms with the whole team, right now the only person you cared about was the man in the cardigan.

“Guys, this is SSA Y/N Y/L/N, she’ll be joining us here at the BAU soon. Y/L/N, this is SSAs Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, and Dr. Spencer Reid. Penelope Garcia is our technical analyst, and SSA David Rossi should be around here somewhere-”

Hotch was practically cut off by Penelope, who immediately pulled you in for a hug. You did your best to hide your discomfort, but you had always been a bit of a germaphobe.“Oh my God it’s so lovely to meet you, we’re all so excited for you to join our little family…” Penelope began to ramble as she pulled away from the hug, which you found endearing.

“Is she like this all the time?” You thought.

“Yes. You’ll get used to it.” Your eyes immediately move to Spencer’s. Dr. Spencer Reid.

“I’m sure I will. Don’t know if I’ll get used to talking in our minds though.” You think. You were completely tuned out of the conversation the other Agents had started, now focusing only on Spencer.

“Well, studies show that transitioning to life with a soulmate can be jarring, but not because of discomfort of hearing thoughts. It usually takes couples a long time to learn how to turn it off, which can result in soulmates getting to know each other’s secrets rather quickly. That’s why nearly 38% of soulmates will break up within a few months of starting a relationship, although it should be noted that 87% of those that break up will end up getting back together at some point in their lives.” Spencer’s thoughts began racing, and you suddenly understood all the random facts you had learned from him over the course of your life. As he told you the facts and figures of soulmates breaking up - not the best subject for a pair of soulmates that just met, but you didn’t mind - you noticed that the rest of the team had stopped talking and were now just watching you and Spencer converse in your heads.

“That probably explains why we’re talking with our thoughts instead of out loud. And why your team is staring.” Spencer’s cheeks reddened when he looked away from you and realized you were right.

“Honestly, I forgot they were there. Which is rare for me, I have an eidetic memory.” You laughed aloud at his remark, earning more confused looks from everyone else.

“Sorry, guys, I guess we got a little...distracted.” You spoke aloud for the first time in a few minutes. Spencer moved closer to you, his hand itching to take yours.

“Oh, please, don’t apologize, I was the same way with Will after we met. I know how overwhelming it can be at first.” Jennifer waved off your worries, and extended a hand towards you, “You can call me JJ, by the way.”

“Oh, um, I don’t really shake hands, I’m a bit of a germaphobe.” You worried once again about coming off as rude, but this remark only made JJ, and the rest of the team laugh.

“Wow, you two really are soulmates, aren’t you.” Derek remarked, swinging his arm over Penelope’s shoulder as he spoke.

“I’m the same way.” Spencer explained to you, “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

“I’m sure we’ll put that to the test when we’re alone.” You didn’t think it was possible, but Spencer’s face became even more red after your thought entered his own head.

~~~

tagged: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #soulmate au #criminal minds

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 4 years ago

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I Loved Him... Once - CH 1

Title: I Loved Him... Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Spencer:

“What we have done for ourselves alone, dies with us. What we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” - Albert Pike

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fourteen days, fourteen days, fourteen glorious days!”

Spencer barely looked up from the book he was reading, sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair as Derek Morgan sashayed across the bullpen and perched himself on the corner smiling down at him.

He opted to ignore the over the top, ray of sunshine, mood Derek was in, and flipped the page of his book. Derek was not giving in, he was not going to be ignored when he was in such a good mood, so he swiftly swooped his hand and stole Spencer's book, eliciting a whine of protest as he sat forward and reached for it. Though he didn't make any more effort than that, he knew very well there was no way he would be able to get the book back from Derek through force.

“Come on, Morgan, give it back.”

Derek laughed, his eyes shining with mirth as he kept playing keep away with Spencer, “You really want it back that bad?”

“Yes, actually, it was just starting to get good!” He made another jolt forward to reach for the book but it was in vain. Spencer’s brain might be fast, but Derek Morgan's reflexes were always faster.

“Really, kid, you're reading…” He turned the book over and eyed the title with a raised brow, “‘The Art of War’. You planning on taking someone down, Reid?” Spencer just eyed him as he closed the book and tucked it under his crossed arms, knowing full well that the genius would remember not only the page number he had been on before Derek closed the book, but the exact word he had read last. “Now, like I said before, we have fourteen, I repeat, fourteen glorious days of vacation starting right now. And you're telling me that your only plans are to sit here at your desk, at work, and continue reading ‘The Art of War’ instead of going out and doing something, anything, other than that?”

“It never hurts to educate yourself, Morgan, and yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you,” he replied, a little short, then tried once more to swipe unsuccessfully for his book, “now give me back my book.”

“Good god, man, live a little, you're killing me.” Derek stood and moved the book even further out of Spencer's reach, so he just huffed and sat back in his chair again. “You don't have any plans? No dates? No trips to exotic lands to meet fine exotic ladies?”

“When have you ever known me to ever have plans? Or dates for that matter. It's not like girls are exactly lining up to date the lanky, boy genius.”

“Oh you're much more than that, pretty boy, you know that.” Morgan perched himself on the side of his desk again.

“Not to mention the fact that seeing this in a bathing suit on a beach full of, more than likely, gorgeous people, is not something that is on anyone's bucket list, I'm positive of that. I'm so white I'd probably end up blinding half the beach with my legs alone.”

Derek was laughing, near tears at this point, “Oh, come on kid, it can't be that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” Spencer was slightly laughing at this point too, “I went to a pool party once in university and I was asked to put my shirt back on because the light was reflecting off my skin and ‘hurting people's eyes’... Derek, it was ten at night. My skin was reflecting the pool lights so severely it was hurting people.”

Derek barked out a laugh so hard he nearly fell off the table and Spencer couldn't help but join him. “So you just need a little bit of sun, cancel out some of the white. Why not come with me to Barbados? Little sand, little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun.” He shot a quick wink at Spencer who just scoffed and looked away. “Give me two days with you on the beach and I guarantee I could get you a couple shades darker, at least.”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded, smirking, “as well as skin cancer.”

“I promise I won't let you get skin cancer, but that being said, once we get you all sunkissed and confident, I can't promise I'll be able to keep all those fine ladies off of you.”

“You're not making this sound any better. Skin cancer, STD’s, and multitudes of random women hanging off of me, no thank you.”

“Well, if you don't want to be swarmed by the fine exotic women,” he paused, smirking down at a waiting Spencer, “I'm sure I can help you land some handsome exotic men, then. I'm not here to judge. More women for me.”

Spencer reached to the side and grabbed the small pile of papers that were sitting there, and swiftly smacked Derek on the arm with them, “Get off my desk.”

“That doesn't sound like a denial,” he ducked as he was swatted at again, “come with me and I promise you'll have a good time.”

“Go!”

Derek chuckled once more, before ducking under his own desk to grab his bag, then turned back to toss the book back to Spencer who barely caught it, “My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow night, think about it!”

“I don't need to, I'm not going!”

“Think about it!”

“What's the point anyways!?” He called as Derek was almost out of ear shot, but he continued anyways, “When has vacation ever worked out for us? I'd buy a ticket and pay for a room, and realistically we'll probably end up right back here in two days, four tops!”

Derek was gone by this point, not having heard most of what he had said, more than likely already knowing that this was probably their reality, but not wanting to have to accept it. Though his complaints didn't fall on deaf ears.

“Oh, now you've gone and jinxed it. Just know that if our vacation gets cancelled due to a case, I am definitely coming after you first, Reid.”

He gazed up at Emily over the edge of his book, having indeed remembered the exact word he had left off on when it was stolen from him, and gave her a playful smirk. “I am only stating statistics. If you factor in every vacation we have had since we started here at the BAU, the odds that we will have a full, uninterrupted ‘fourteen glorious days’ as Morgan put it, are less than ten percent. Eight point five-six-three-two percent to be exact.”

“God I hate you sometimes,” though she laughed as she said it, “so you really don't have any plans?”

“I never said I didn't have any plans,” he sighed and closed his book on his desk, resigned to not getting any reading done until everyone was gone, “just because I don't have plans involving a hot beach or women, doesn't mean I don't have plans.”

“Oh!” She perked up and moved closer, intrigued. “So what kinds of fun are you up to then?”

“Oh, loads!” He shifted in his chair, moving to lean towards her with his elbows on his desk. “I'm signed up for a lecture series that starts tomorrow, but the one I'm most excited for is a lecture called ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid. It's a Nobel lecture all about possible engineering applications for, and the inner workings of, organic and conductive polymers. It sounds completely fascinating! I was also thinking of taking a trip to Colonial Williamsburg. I mean, how amazing would it be to walk the same streets as Thomas Jefferson, or eat in the same place as George Washington! I was also thinking of visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. They have over twenty- two thousand works on display that are largely focused on modern and contemporary art, especially with a focus on European art after the nineteen hundreds. They are also having a workshop there next week focusing on-”

“Woah, woah, take a breath,” she laughed a bit, then asked with a hint of concern, “aren't you doing anything that doesn't involve… learning? Like, no info intake, no lecture series, no workshops, just relaxing? Letting your brain just take a break?”

Spencer pouted his bottom lip in thought then looked back up to Emily, “No? Why would I want to waste two weeks doing nothing when I could spend them increasing my knowledge?”

“Wouldn't you want to sit back and…” She stared confusedly at an equally confused Spencer, then just shook her head with another laugh, “Nevermind, look who I’m talking to. Of course you would think that spending two weeks learning would be an ideal vacation. To each their own I guess, right.”

He just nodded, picking his book up again as she moved away from his desk.

“Well, have fun with your jam packed knowledge filled two weeks, see you in fourteen days.”

“Or in two to four days. Don't forget the eight point five-six-three-two percent chance that I will see you before-”

“Blah, blah, blah!” She covered her ears as she walked away from him, “Can't hear you, already on vacation!”

“Very mature,” though he was smiling, “have fun with your mother.”

She threw a quick wave at him then disappeared. When she was finally gone, he sat back in his chair with a content sigh. Now that Emily was gone, it was just himself, Rossi, and Hotch who were left in the office, and he knew there was a very low chance that either of them would interrupt him to inquire about his vacation plans. He was finally able to finish his book in peace before catching the last train home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Knock, knock.”

Aaron looked up from where he had been bent over the front of his desk, the pile of papers he had been sorting through covering every inch of it, and towards the door. “David, come in.”

The man did, eyeing the mess, but merely stood in the middle of the room and tucked his hands into the pockets of his very expensive suit. “Always one of the last to leave, huh?”

“Has everyone gone?” Aaron asked without looking up this time.

“Everyone except the usual suspect.”

“Reid.” Aaron sighed. ‘Not last to leave,’ he thought. Spencer always seemed to still be there, even in the late late hours of the night. After a case, before vacation, even sometimes during vacation. Aaron always felt bad for the man, worried that he was lonely, though nowadays he could relate.

“I overheard him talking with Emily and Derek before they left. His most exciting plans seem to have something to do with a Nobel lecture series,” Rossi moved closer, taking up the chair in front of Aaron’s desk, “that kid needs to learn how to slow down and relax, I'm worried he might burn out someday if he doesn't. He should go out, have some fun from time to time.”

“Well I'm not much better,” Aaron turned, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, now facing David, “my plans for the next two weeks pretty much consist of staying home, catching up on more paperwork, and if I can swing it with Haley, taking Jack for a few days. If I play my cards right, the park will be the most exciting adventure of my vacation. I'm not exactly going out to paint the town red either.”

“Yeah, you two are wild,” he drawled with a smirk, “you know, maybe a date would do the kid well. Loosen him up a bit.”

Aaron eyed him warily with a tilt of his head, seeing right through his attempted ruse, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps, while you both have the time off, you and Spencer could plan something together.” Aaron closed his eyes with a sigh and shifted, opened his mouth to say something in protest, but David beat him to it, hands up to stop him. “I'm just saying, you're the only two people on the team that aren't out of town for the next two weeks. I’ll be in Italy visiting family, JJ is taking her family camping, Prentis is visiting her mom, Garcia is, quote, ‘on a shopping tour of all the best malls in the northern hemisphere’, and Morgan is hitting the beach in Barbados. That leaves you and Reid. So all I'm saying is that maybe you can stop fantasizing about the kid and actually do something about your infatuation.”

Aaron just gaped at his friend, shocked, speechless for the first time in as long as he can remember. “I… how…” Was the only thing he was able to manage to stutter out.

David just smiled up at him mischievously and stated, “I'm a profiler, Aaron, and a damn good one. I've seen the way you look at Spencer, the way you stick close to him, and it's very obvious you care about him. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, yet ironically the only one to not have figured it out yet is the only actual certified genius.”

Aaron still didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone about how he felt about Spencer. It was hardly appropriate for him to attempt to pursue the man considering he was his superior, not to mention older than him. Something that had plagued him since the very day he met the cute, quirky doctor on his first day with the BAU.

“I can tell you're over-thinking, Aaron.” Rossi speaking brought him out of his small internal panic and he looked down at him. “What is it? That you're his boss? Strauss?”

He shifted, crossing his arms impossibly closer to his chest. No point in denying it now. “A bit of both, I guess. Not to mention the age difference between us.”

“First off, I wouldn't worry about Strauss. If anything were to happen between you and Spencer, as long as you navigate the correct channels and immediately disclose your relationship, sign the proper papers, then there is nothing Strauss can do against either of you or your jobs. As for you being his superior, I wouldn't even give that a second thought. No one on our team would think anything of it, no one would ever even entertain the thought that you took advantage, and neither would Spencer.” David then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “And the age gap, who cares. Love, is love, is love. Take it while you've got it and don't ever let it go. Age is but a number and love knows no bounds.”

“Very profound of you, David.” He couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip.

“What can I say, I am the embodiment of love.”

“Right, and is that why you've been married three times and are on wife number four?”

They both laughed, hearty and full, and for the first time since they started talking, Aaron found himself feeling a lot lighter. It was nice to finally have someone who knew his secret feelings for the young genius, and be able to actually have someone to talk to and confide in about it.

Rossi's phone ringing broke the moment though, and he reached into his pocket, just looking at the screen and not answering. “Well, my ride to the airport is here. I will see you in two weeks, do not call me.”

Aaron let loose one last light chuckle, moving along with Dave to see him out. With a smile and a pat on the back as they reached the door he said, “I'll try not to, enjoy your time in Italy.”

“Oh I intend to,” he opened the door, then turned back at the last minute, “but do me a favor will ya. Don't call me, but do call Spencer.”

Aaron just smiled, gave Dave a small push out the door, and answered, “Good bye, David.”

Once he was out the door and down the stairs, Aaron closed the door and took a step to the side to watch him cross the bullpen. He gave a quick goodbye to Spencer as he passed, and then he was gone. Then his eyes wandered over to the last person left besides himself, still sitting alone at his desk, leaned back reading his book. He sighed, watching Spencer for a moment longer before thinking to himself, maybe David was right. Why should he worry about all that other nonsense? Besides, he would never know if Spencer felt the same unless he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaron finally finished organizing the paperwork explosion on his desk, filing away what was finished and adding the rest to his bag, then was finally able to head out.

It had been a good two hours since Rossi had left his office, leaving Aaron with all kinds of things to think about, and the man that those thoughts were all about was still sitting in the same spot he had been in since vacation officially began. Though now, Spencer was already halfway through his second book.

As he passed him, the younger man not even so much as lifting his eyes from his book, he said a quiet, “Have a good vacation, Reid.”

“You too, Hotch,” he answered back, and Aaron just about kept walking, but stopped himself at the last minute and turned back.

They were currently alone, no one else around but him and Spencer, so now was just as good a time as any. “Reid…”

At the questioning tone to his name, Spencer looked up at Hotch who was now standing right in front of him, “Yeah?”

“I… I was…'' Spencer was still looking up at him with concerned eyes, a furrowed brow, and if Aaron was being honest, a super cute frown. Now, what Aaron wanted to say was ‘Spencer, I know that you and I are the only two who will be remaining in town for the duration of our vacation time, and I was wondering perhaps, if you would like to take advantage of the fact and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’ But what he actually managed to come out with instead, was a sad and defeated, “I… I just wanted to wish you well. I hope you have a good fourteen days, and I heard you will be attending a lecture series, I hope it's informative.”

“Right…” Hotch couldn't be certain, but he was sure that Spencer almost looked… disappointed? “An-anything else?”

“... No, I don't believe so.” And before he could stumble his way through any more embarrassing sentences he quickly said, “Good night,” and left before Spencer could even return the sentiment. Leaving him staring, still confused and a little down, after a fast walking Aaron, not having the courage to even look back as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek woke for the first time well rested and relaxed. No case to solve, no unsub on his mind, no high speed chase down unfamiliar roads, and no showdown with a psychopath in some dark abandoned warehouse. It was just him, the sun, the sand, and two weeks of relaxing and sleeping late, eating more than he probably should and shoving as much fun into two weeks as was completely possible.

Now, those were Derek's original plans. The plans he made before he left Quantico, Virginia for the beaches in Barbados. For the all night parties, the beautiful ladies, and the all inclusive never ending free drinks. And yet, here he found himself, within arm's reach of all those things, and not doing a single one of them.

Instead, Derek walked down the beach and found an empty lounge chair tucked under a very colourful umbrella. A sprite and lime with ice in hand, he stood and looked out at the calming ebb and flow of the ocean, letting the soft crashing of the waves take over and clear his mind completely. It was nice, the best he'd felt in a long, long time.

A volleyball skid to a halt at his feet, covering his toes in warm sand, caught his attention and he turned to face the small group of women off to his side. He kicked the ball back over to them, each one of them very obviously interested in getting to know Derek, even if it were just for one night. But to his own surprise, he found himself flashing a smile and a wave in decline of their invitation to come play, and instead took up his seat in the covered lounge chair.

He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, took a sip of his drink, then reached down to the small bag he had tucked under the chair, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He settled back in the chair, not able to help the smile that spread across his face as he read the title of the book in his hands, 'The Art of War', and settled back to read it with a quietly muttered, "Damn you, Spencer Reid."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there is chapter 1, chapter 2 to come soon! I’m super excited about this guys XD

And if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please let me know <3

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earnmysong · 4 years ago

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won’t you pick the pieces up (don’t let me keep on walking on broken glass) [for my dearest @pasmonblog! an entirely overboard fulfillment of winterwitch; kiss by a campfire; *vague references to wandavision, the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier, and schitt’s creek*]

Part II of my Wanda-centric series i’ll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming)

and what if i could live like this - but not forever and what if you could move the needle to a more forgiving song and what if this was never really broken all along but - for tonight - i'm sleeping with my television on

television | jack's mannequin

...

There's a story here, there’s always a story. This story starts with the good doctor’s helpful suggestion that a machine that cycles through soothing sounds might help with the nightmares. You know, the ones Bucky doesn’t have? Actually, she recommends an app he can download, but his phone needs to age a couple decades to be able to support the damn thing.

He's standing at the check-out of Atlantic Avenue’s Best Buy with three different types, already planning to chuck every single one in the garbage. A tropical rainforest is going to work miracles that the city’s constantly blaring siren soundtrack can’t?

A hand reaches from behind to tap one of his boxes, as a pleasant lilt he can almost place warns: ‘If you leave this running all night, it dies after a week.’

‘Thanks. You use either of these?’ He turns, holding the two that are still contenders out to his informant. And grinning like an idiot because he recognizes her. Her hair and her affect are both less fiery than they’d been when he’d met her in Wakanda - her messy bun’s edging toward brown and her eyes have painful memories crammed behind them. But her expression’s warm, slightly guilty, when she shakes her head.

‘I have this’ - Wanda touches number two - ‘but it’s still in the box.’ He wants to ask if she’s okay, if there’s an ass that needs kicking – not that he’s supposed to engage in that extracurricular anymore, and she sure as shit can take care of herself; he’s caught the news coverage, though – but she keeps going. ‘My therapist tells me this only hinders my recovery, but - ’ She shrugs, passes him a plastic case with what looks like a family and a misspelled curse on its front ‘- I love it. It’s comforting.’

‘Has to work better than whatever crap I was about to buy.’

‘I think so. You're welcome to judge for yourself. I’m happy to start at the beginning again.’

They trade numbers on the sidewalk out front, he brings lattes to her apartment two nights later, and David drives out of town in Roland’s truck as the sun rises.

…

Wanda's totally right, the doc lectures him about media immersion simply blocking his negative thoughts rather than eliminating them. He smiles serenely at her, says ‘But I have two whole friends now! Aren’t you excited?’ and leaves Wanda a voicemail on his walk home: ‘Whenever we do season two, food’s on me. Mental health should not, actually, be entertainment-dependent and Raynor’s not any happier about our combined coping skills than your guy.’

He knows she’s got class at Fordham until seven-thirty, but she’ll call when she gets out.

…

They finish the series right as the semester’s ending.

He hen-pecks his way through Wanda’s dictation of the final paragraph of her unit plan for her Educational Methods class.

[She'd started crying so hard at David’s ‘I am continuously impressed by you’ compliment to Alexis that there was no way in hell she could see her screen and he’d been afraid her laptop might end up with water damage, erasing all of her efforts in a flash.]

Once she’s hiccupped one last citation at him and he’s saved her paper in four different places, he glances over at her. ‘The doc’s still bugging me about finding more sustainable sleep aids. She fails to understand the medicinal properties of the Rose family. And I basically filibustered her ass on the subject last week. Nothing.’ Wanda laughs through her tears. ‘Anyway. I'm thinking of trying out the up close and personal version of ambient noise. You want to come camping this weekend?’

Wanda’s nose scrunches in disgust and her head slides from side to side, answering for her on its own. But what she offers next is a surprise: ‘I'm only coming because you can’t afford to lose any other limbs, and I can’t say that won’t happen if you’re alone.’

‘We’ll start another show as soon as we get back,’ he promises.

…

Camping blows.

Which, judging by Wanda’s expression underneath her soggy hood, is a secret that she really wants to let him in on. Like he isn’t already fully aware.

The fire’s somehow soldiering on despite the downpour, but they’ve got maybe five minutes before it gutters. ‘Should we admit defeat? Stay city couch commandos forever?’

Wanda’s entire being lights up at his suggestion, and she’d probably take flight right now if he wasn’t around. ‘Thank you’ she says instead, leaning over to frame his face between her wet palms and pressing her mouth to his.

‘Molniya, if you were dying to go home that badly, all you had to do was say so. I can take a hint,” he tells her after they’ve spent several minutes otherwise occupied.

‘That, sir - ’ she smirks ‘ - was for everything but this brilliant disaster of yours.’

And she might levitate a little on the way to the car.

Also on AO3: HERE!

#myfic #MCU #mcu fic #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #wanda x bucky #otp: my waves meet your shore #winterwitch #winterwitch fic #headcanon #affinities - i have them!#faces colliding!#winterwitch moodboard #moodboard #my edit #for #pasmonblog #NATurally fantastic

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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

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A Timing Thing

Happy new year, everyone! A year ago I never imagined what this year would bring... and I’m not even talking about all the hard stuff, I’m talking about my love for Schitt’s Creek and the way the fandom has captured my heart. Who knew that my first 2021 fic would be a story about David Rose and Patrick Brewer? Not me. Anyway, here you go, the latest installment in my series of Episode 5 codas.

Best wishes and warmest regards for a better 2021.

David x Patrick, 1600 words, A03

Summary: Sometimes a lease is more than just a piece of paper.

Alexis shoots a pointed look at Patrick, gives David an exaggerated hug and two smacking air kisses, and flounces out of the store.

Patrick trails after her and flips the sign on the door to closed. “I think Alexis is mad at me,” he says, turning to David.

David focuses on the lip balms arranged by the cash register. Sometimes they topple over while he’s ringing customers up, resulting in lip balms rolling off the counter. This is obviously a problem that he needs to address right now, and it requires his full attention.

“David?” Patrick leans a hand on the counter, and David is graced with the view of his perfect nails, with their round nail beds. He’s never seen Patrick so much as chew on a cuticle.

“What?” he asks, when it becomes clear that Patrick is waiting for a response.

“Is Alexis mad at me?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“She’s not talking to me, for one. Also she sent me a string of emojis that either means she wants to kill me or go vampire hunting.”

Alexis is, in fact, mad at Patrick, although David really, really doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s humiliated enough over the apartment incident, he doesn’t need to explain to Patrick how excited his sister was for him over the idea that his boyfriend asked him to move in together, and how painfully embarrassing it was to tell her that Patrick hadn’t meant that at all.

“I should go. I’m meeting my mother for dinner.” David slips out from behind the counter, but Patrick stops him with a hand on his arm. It’s been a long day working in the store with Patrick always just a few feet away, but David made it through, doing his best to push aside all thoughts of his pathetic misunderstanding and just act natural. He’s not sure how much more he can take.

“David, please. Don’t go yet.” Patrick looks worried now, and that makes David’s heart ache in a way that isn’t fair. As raw as he’s feeling, he still doesn’t want Patrick to hurt. It’s making it hard to remember what to do.

David pauses, and lets Patrick turn him, his hands on David’s waist. Patrick opens his mouth to speak, but David cuts him off. “I’d invite you to dinner, but I think my mom is mad at you too.” Patrick’s face falls, and David wants to bang his head against something, but that would involve moving away from Patrick and he can’t bring himself to do that right now. He doesn’t want to be cruel to Patrick, he just needs to get out of this situation with his dignity and, hopefully, their relationship, intact. “Actually, that’s entirely untrue, I’m sure she’s on your side. She can’t imagine why anyone would want to live with me in the first place.”

“David, it’s not that-”

“No, I know, it’s okay-”

“David….” Patrick’s still got his hands on David’s body, and David loves it, loves that Patrick’s hands feel so natural on him. His own arms have come up to loop around the back of Patrick’s neck, which makes no sense at all, given that a large part of David’s brain is telling him to leave the store tout de suite before he gets himself into more trouble.

It’s as if his body doesn’t know anything’s wrong. It still wants to feel Patrick bump up against him, press a hand up against the small of his back over his sweater, guide him through their day. David slides his fingers up into Patrick’s hair and then leans his forehead on Patrick’s shoulder, unable to resist the comfort his boyfriend is offering.

“Come on,” Patrick says, after a minute or two of stalemated silence. “Let’s go for a walk.”

David can feel the way his face twists at the idea. “A walk?”

“Yeah. We need some fresh air.”

“I’m not sure I’m properly outfitted for a walk.”

“We’re not climbing a mountain, David, I think you’ll survive.”

David’s not thrilled, but he’s curious. He obediently follows Patrick out of the store, taking a moment to make sure the door is locked. “So where will this walk take place?”

“Right here,” Patrick says, and turns towards Bob’s Garage. “Come on.” He holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers, and David frowns. He takes Patrick’s hand and they start off down the sidewalk.

“I don’t see how this is going to help,” David says. “And I’m having dinner with-”

“Your mom, you said. But I can’t imagine your mom is going to be ready to eat until at least seven o’clock, and it’s only just after five.”

“Hmph.” Patrick has a point that’s hard to rebut. Moira Rose doesn’t dine with the early birds, and even David doesn’t need two hours to get ready for dinner at the café. It’s just that David doesn’t know what’s expected of him right now, and it’s making him anxious. His mother has been a thorn in his side often enough, it figures she’s also failing at being an appropriate getaway excuse.

They walk past a few drab houses and an empty lot. It’s not particularly scenic. David can’t help wondering where Patrick is taking him. “We’re not doing another ropes course, are we? Because I have to draw the line there.”

“No.” Patrick gives his hand a squeeze and smiles a little, although the smile doesn’t last long. It’s a shame, because Patrick’s smiles are lovely. At the same time it’s not all that surprising, given that his boyfriend might be taking him out into the woods to murder him. It doesn’t seem like something to smile about.

There’s a little park on the corner a few blocks past the garage, and it becomes clear that this is the destination Patrick has in mind. They stop in front of an old-fashioned metal slide and a set of playground equipment that has seen better days.

Patrick lets go of David’s hand and takes a seat on one of the swings, tilting his head at the one next to him.

“We should talk about inventory,” David says, gingerly sitting down on the swing and testing it to make sure it will hold his weight. “Then at least if there’s an accident we can claim it was a work meeting.”

“I don’t want to talk about inventory,” Patrick says.

David rolls his eyes. This goes without saying - of course Patrick doesn’t want to talk about inventory, or anything neutral and pain-free. Probably Patrick wants to lecture David on the appropriate type of relationship that lends itself to moving in together, and the ways in which their relationship just isn’t the moving in together kind. David imagines Patrick will do this in a very gentle and thoughtful way, and they’ll move past it, and everything will be okay, at least until David oversteps again. In some ways it will be better, even, because then David will know exactly where they stand.

Patrick catches himself with his feet, stopping his swing and then pushing off at the ground, until he is swinging in sync with David. He grins softly at David and holds out his hand again, like he did outside the store. David takes it, and the motion throws off David’s rhythm, making his swing veer sideways and twist off course. Patrick hangs on until they steady, swinging slowly back and forth together.

“I signed the lease on the new apartment today,” Patrick says. “During lunch, I met Ray and signed the lease.”

“That’s good,” David says, watching his sneakers get dusty as his toes push up puffs of dirt. “He really wanted that commission.”

“I had to put down first and last months’ rent, and a security deposit. It’s a twelve-month lease.”

David looks up and finds Patrick looking right back at him. He feels like he’s missing something.

“Um, that’s good?”

Patrick lets go of David’s hand and David’s swing twists again, until David puts his feet down to stop it. “You and I weren’t on the same page about the apartment,” Patrick says, looking frustrated.

“That has been made abundantly clear to me.”

“No, I mean…” Patrick stands up and the swing bumps against the back of his legs. “When I came here, I didn’t know how long I’d be staying. Renting a room at Ray’s was easy. I really didn’t think I’d be here long at all, I just had to go somewhere…”

David stands up too. It’s no fun swinging by himself, and besides, when Patrick gets that look on his face, David has to be closer to him. Patrick still feels guilty about leaving his hometown, even though he clearly needed the change. David’s hands land on Patrick’s shoulders and he rubs his thumbs over the cool cotton of his shirt. “It’s okay,” he says automatically.

“No, I haven’t even said….” Patrick presses his lips together and tries again. “The thing is, looking for a real apartment with a lease, I thought I was showing you something. Telling you something – something good.”

David meets Patrick’s gaze, and suddenly, looking into those warm brown eyes, he gets it. “A lease like that is a commitment.” A shiver runs down David’s spine.

“Yes,” Patrick says, and David can feel the immediate relief in his shoulders. David pulls him in close, hands sliding around his back, and Patrick melts against him. “David, I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never even considered that you would think about moving in with me yet.”

“You were trying to make a grand declaration about the strength of our relationship, and I was afraid it was the opposite,” David says, almost to himself, as he holds Patrick against him. “Does that bode well for our future?”

Patrick breathes out a laugh. “I don’t know. But having some privacy does, right?”

David pulls back and lets the hope that has bubbled up inside him spread to his face. “Definitely.”

#Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #first fic of 2021 #happy new year everybody!#best wishes and warmest regards

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mariequitecontrarie · 5 years ago

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The New Girl

Summary: David talks Gold into attending Storybrooke’s annual spring fair, and Belle has to sit in Gold’s lap in the car on the way there. Notes: For @rumbelleishope, an excuse for awkward Rumbelle mutual pining and Charming Gold friendship moments. Part of Cufflinks, but you don’t have to read the series. Rating: T

On AO3

Gold peered at his laptop screen with a frown.

The error-riddled marketing proposal for Seven Dwarves Landscaping wasn’t going to correct itself, but the juicy crunching sound coming from his doorway wasn’t going away, either. Someone was eating right outside his office.

With a disgusted sigh, he pushed up the glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose. This would be the last time he tried to work with the door open. Open door policy indeed. Regina and he were overdue for another conversation about office dynamics. It would be short, simple, and to-the-point: he would make the rules and everyone else could follow them.

He clenched his jaw and tapped the keyboard with renewed vengeance, hoping to drown out the annoying noise.

Finally, the crunching abated. Blessed silence. And then, “Hey, Mr. Gold.”

“Nolan, you chew like a Missouri fox trotter,” he said, without taking his attention from the screen.

“How’d you know it was me?”

David sounded so impressed that Gold looked up from the overdue proposal. The company’s Director of Advertising was leaning against the doorjamb holding a paring knife and a shiny apple. “Since you’re here and clearly not busy, go fetch the centerspread for the Storybrooke Social,” Gold ordered. “And close the door on your way out.”

Satisfied that he’d shooed Nolan away, Gold resumed his work.

But the chewing started again, only this time, Nolan had the nerve to amble in Gold’s direction and make himself comfortable in the leather barrel chair opposite his desk.

“Fox trotter,” David said when he finally swallowed, “that’s a hell of a horse.”

Gold snorted. “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.”

“Because if you like races, Mary Margaret’s parents have box seats to-”

He held up a hand to stop the invitation midstream. “I don’t socialize.” He didn’t care how well connected Nolan’s future in-laws were. And for reasons he couldn’t understand, the younger man was always inviting him somewhere.

“Right. I forgot.” David furrowed his brow, then grinned. “Why is that again?”

“Because I’m working. You should try it sometime.” Gold’s glasses slipped down his face again, and this time he used it to his advantage. “Get the spread,” he said, looking down his nose at Nolan.

“I’m on it,” David said. But instead of heading toward his own office, he stretched his long legs and carved off another wedge of the fruit. “Apple?” he offered, holding a perfect crescent out on the tip of the knife.

“No, thank you.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask.” He paused to swallow. “How do you like the new girl?”

Gold pursed his lips. Should he propose a six-month or a 12-month contract? “New girl? What new girl?”

“You know,” Nolan gestured with his knife. “Brunette, petite, blue eyes. She has the workspace next to Ruby.”

He pushed the laptop to the side, knowing a lost cause when he saw it.

They hadn’t hired anyone new since...Nolan couldn’t mean...He swallowed reflexively. ”Belle French?”

“Yeah!” Nolan slapped his knee in recognition. “She’s great. Pretty too.” He smiled, a sparkle in his eyes.

The telltale redness of embarrassment crept up Gold’s neck and toward his ears. Thank God for his shaggy shoulder-length hair that covered their pointy red tips.

Pretty didn’t begin to describe Belle French. On most days, he had to take a cleansing breath simply to enter the conference room and sit down opposite her or walk past her desk. The mere mention of her name turned him into a blushing, sweaty mess. Belle was more than a lovely face, though. She was intelligent, capable, and had been hired to do a job, one she performed with mastery and infectious cheerfulness. All the clients loved her. But he was her boss. He had no business thinking of her in any way that wasn’t professional.

He coughed, trying to clear the thickness in his throat.

“Two things, Nolan. One, she has a name. It’s Belle French. Two, Miss French has worked here more than six months now, which hardly qualifies her as new. And three—”

“You said there were two.”

“And three,” he said, glowering with all the superiority he could muster. “This is a boutique marketing company of 50 employees of which you are advertising director. As such, we pay attention to details around here. We get to know our people. Miss French has been an employee here for some time. Do you even know her?”

“You make a good point.” Nolan nodded his enthusiasm. “People are the heart of the business and it’s important we spend time together.”

“Exactly.” He clasped his palms in satisfaction, wishing Regina were walking by to witness this conversation. She claimed he was a poor people manager, said he scared their employees away and they wouldn’t confide in him. But hadn’t Nolan approached him today? And here he was, teaching Nolan about the power of valuing people. If his methods were a touch severe, so what? This was the workplace, not his bloody grandfather’s house.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, then? At Picnic in the Park.” Smiling, Nolan tossed his apple core into the wastebasket and stood. “What a fun way to get to know some of the people we work with.”

Gold swallowed heavily. Blast, he’d forgotten all about that dratted event.

Picnic in the Park was Storybrooke’s annual spring fling. It was a company-wide outing--Regina was crazy for them--and everyone was expected to attend. With its fried foods, rigged games, and death-trap of a Ferris wheel, Picnic in the Park was part fair, part carnival, and one hundred percent nightmare. There was even a dunk tank that Regina was threatening to make him sit in.

Gold eyed the letter opener on the corner of his desk. He would rather gouge out his eyes with the blunt end of the thing than go, but he’d just lectured Nolan about the importance of caring for the people one worked with. No, there was no backing out now.

The sparkle in Nolan’s eye had progressed to a gleam, leaving Gold with the distinct impression that he’d been played.

“Picnic in the Park.” Gold bit back a defeated groan. “Can’t wait.”

xoxo

The plan was to close the office and leave work early. As Gold’s rotten luck would have it, the day was clear and beautiful. Warm, but not hot, and a light breeze ruffled the Oxford shirt and jeans he’d changed into. He felt ridiculous and underdressed, but he wasn’t traipsing about in a field wearing his favorite Armani. If only he were a wizard, he could make it rain and spoil the entire occasion. Why couldn’t one of their high-maintenance clients call a meeting that questioned the entire future of the company?

Work was something he understood. Contracts, words, the fine point of a deal--business made him salivate. Social events made him ill at ease.

But Nolan had thrown down the proverbial gauntlet yesterday, and he had no choice but to assemble in the parking lot with the rest of the sheep. The sun beat down on the back of his head and he ground the tip of his cane into the asphalt with a long-suffering sigh.

Regina, never happier than when she was ordering people about, clapped her hands and blew a whistle.

“What, no megaphone?” he grumbled under his breath.

“Okay, team!” she shouted. “Parking is limited at the event, so we’re going to carpool. Fit as many people into as few vehicles as possible.”

Things seemed to happen quickly, as people swarmed around Gold and darted toward vehicles like an army of ants. All of them seemed to know what to do. All except him.

A white minivan pulled up a few feet away, driven by the unflappable Mary Margaret Blanchard. Beaming, she beeped the horn and waved at him. She was the only person he knew who could get away with driving a minivan that wasn’t filled with children and marching band equipment. David Nolan, her fiance, rolled down the front passenger side window and grinned.

Gold acknowledged him with a cool nod, yesterday’s charade with the apple still fresh in his mind. He’d been tricked into going to this event today and even worse, he’d been tricked into getting his boxers in a twist about Belle French. Nolan knew Belle quite well if the way they were ribbing each other in the breakroom yesterday afternoon was an indication.

The back door on the passenger side slid open. “Hurry up, Gold!” Regina called. Seated next to her in the middle was her girlfriend Emma Swan. Ruby Lucas and her boyfriend Archie Hopper were crowded together in the third row, their knees almost touching their chests.

On the opposite side of Emma sat Belle French, looking so fresh and lovely she eclipsed the beauty of the fine spring day. Her cheeks were a delicate shade of pink, and her chestnut brown hair curled around her shoulders and down her back. The shy smile she sent his way made his heart turn over.

“Gold,” Regina said again, “we’re waiting.”

Where was he to sit? The van was filled to bursting. “Why not rent a bus?” he asked with a wave of his hand.

“Great idea. Next year,” Regina promised, deliberately missing his sarcasm.

He took a half-step backward. “I don’t need to go.”

A chorus of protests met his excuse. “You have to come! Plenty of room! Gold, you can’t miss this!” Only Belle sat in silence, watching him. He wondered what she was thinking.

He squinted into the shade of the building, where his roomy Cadillac was parked.” “My car is right—”

“Not enough parking, Gold,” Regina reminded him. “Come on, everyone else is already on their way.”

“Emma,” Ruby piped up from the back, “why don’t you sit in Regina’s lap?”

Regina pinched her red lips into a thin line. “Em’s wearing dark jeans. I’m wearing white linen.”

Gold nodded in agreement. The delicate linen would stain and Regina would be a crumpled mess by the time they arrived. All the more reason for him to sit this one out. He threw a longing look toward his office windows, which seemed to wink in the sunlight, beckoning his return. “Really, it doesn’t—”

“Hey!” Emma exclaimed, “Here’s a thought. Belle, would you mind sitting in Gold’s lap? It’s not a long drive.”

Gold squeezed the head of his cane, wishing the pavement would open up and swallow him. Why would a sweet young woman like Belle want to sit in the lap of a crippled old grouch? He shot Emma a glare, annoyed with her for putting Belle in an awkward position.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Belle replied. Her bright blue eyes seemed to search his face. “But only if Mr. Gold is comfortable.”

Seven sets of eyes were pinned on him, waiting for him to move. Regina tapped her manicured fingers on her thigh.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood on the warm asphalt frozen with indecision before Belle took action. She scurried out of the van and ushered him into her vacant seat with a gentle push.

The tan leather was warm from her body and smelled faintly of roses and mint. Even crowded in shoulder-to-shoulder with Emma Swan, he had to admit the seats were comfortable. Belle climbed in after him and sat down, straddling his thighs like a side-saddle. Her upper body was as straight as an arrow.

“Everyone ready?” Mary Margaret chirped.

Following a round of affirmatives, she set the van in motion and glided out of the lot.

“Is this okay?” Belle asked him quietly, settling more firmly in his lap as they made a right turn onto Highway 212.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound neither put out nor too comfortable.

She was a delightful warmth against his body and his nerve endings zinged with the unexpected pleasure of holding her close. He thought back to the last time anyone had sat in his lap. Back when his son Neal was a little boy and loved to be bounced, they used to pretend Gold’s leg was a horse named Peggy.

Having Belle sitting in his lap was an altogether different feeling.

Unsure of what to do with his arms, he settled for letting his hands rest against the seat. The van hit a bump and Belle swayed to the side toward the window. He caught her around the waist, his fingertips digging lightly into the fabric of her blue sundress. He wondered if the skin beneath the dress was as warm and soft as the material.

She turned her head to offer him a private smile. “Thank you.”

Satisfied she was balanced, he reluctantly dropped his hands back onto the seat. He didn’t want to let go, but he could see no other reason to continue holding her.

Quiet conversations between the other three couples in the vehicle buzzed around them, but he was strangely unbothered by their presence. Instead, he focused on the woman in his arms. Her head was turned toward the window, her cheeks flushed. Up close, he was surprised by the length and thickness of her eyelashes. He also noticed she had a delightful habit of dragging her lower lip under her teeth, and it turned her plump lips a lovely shade of deep coral.

“You can lean back a bit if you like,” he offered. For some reason, it was important to him that Belle felt at ease. Maybe it was his ego, or maybe it was the confusing attraction he felt toward her--an attraction he decided was better left unexamined.

She settled back against his chest with a soft, contented sigh that sent a thrill up his spine.

At 5’7”, he wasn’t a tall man, but Belle was quite petite. If she were to lean back even more, her head would be resting against his shoulder. And if she turned toward him fully, he would be looking directly into her eyes.

He felt the stirrings of arousal, tamping down on his body’s reaction by biting the inside of his cheek. All she needed was to feel him poking her in the arse like some old lecher in a van filled with people.

Without warning, the van brakes squealed and Belle pitched backward. On reflex, his arms wrapped around her. At the same time, she twisted and threw her arms around his neck. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and her fresh, floral scent tickled his nostrils. He wasn’t sure if the rapid thudding he felt against his ribs was Belle’s heart or his.

“Everybody okay?” Emma asked, ever the policewoman. “Nice reflexes, Mary Margaret.”

Removing his nose from Belle’s hair, Gold looked up in time to see a family of deer scamper across the road.

“Sorry,” Belle whispered to the top of his head before she moved away.

“Quite all right, Miss French.” It was more than all right, which was a serious problem. Having Belle in his arms was quickly becoming habit-forming and he mourned the loss of her closeness.

From across the backseat, he saw Regina flash Emma a triumphant grin before she whipped her head back to stare out her window. He glared daggers at the back of her head.

Carpooling was turning out to be hazardous to his blood pressure.

xoxo

Belle dropped into the Ferris wheel cabin with a grunt, still dazed from her carpooling experience. They’d been here at Picnic in the Park for about thirty minutes, and she’d managed to avoid Mr. Gold for the entire time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, quite the opposite. When they’d piled out of the minivan and entered the carnival, she’d thought about asking him to join her for a game of skeeball or a funnel cake, but she didn’t want to prolong his misery any longer.

Although she knew he hadn’t wanted to ride with her sprawled across his lap, he’d been painfully polite about the entire episode. Ever the clumsy one, Belle had almost toppled headfirst into the side window, forcing him to catch her. And then when Mary Margaret slammed on the brakes to avoid a group of deer, she’d clung to his shoulders as though her life depended on it. Then she had held on for far too long, but she couldn’t seem to help it. The muscles of his shoulders were strong and smooth through the thin fabric of his shirt and he smelled divine. Like sandalwood and peaches and masculinity.

“Lonely rider!” the Ferris wheel attendant crowed, bringing her back to the present. “Single! Single!”

Belle winced as several people turned to stare at her sitting alone in the car, while everyone else was paired off. Riding alone was nothing to be ashamed of, but she didn’t want to be gawked at by everyone at the fair. “Do you have to yell it quite so loud?” she asked.

“Sure I do!” The attendant stroked his thick handlebar mustache with a grin. “Lonely rider! Single!”

Single . Belle groaned, wishing she had remembered to toss her well-loved copy of The Secret Garden in her purse. As the last person to be hired at Regal Marketing in the last six months, she was still fondly known as the new girl. The others at the office were friendly and fun, and they had made her feel like part of a large, silly family. But today almost everyone was paired off with their special someone and she was feeling single and new.

The only other single person in the office was Mr. Gold, and he barely knew she was alive.

A shadow fell over the Ferris wheel car and she looked up. There stood the man himself, shading his eyes from the sun, a bit of powdered sugar gracing his square chin.

“If you’ll permit me to join you, Miss French?” He offered a slight bow.

“Really?” This was more than unexpected. From the way she’d overheard him grumbling about the “death traps” at the carnival yesterday, she didn’t think he would care to ride. “Why, yes, kind sir, I would be delighted.”

He handed his cane to the attendant and took the swinging seat, settling beside her so their thighs touched. The attendant dropped the safety bar into place.

His long-fingered hands rested lightly on the bar, and the tiny silver cufflinks adorning wrists gleamed in the sunlight.

“It seems you’re to be my hero twice in one day, Mr. Gold,” she said, as the car began its slow ascent into the sky.

“Accompanying you on the Ferris wheel is hardly heroic. And it was you who saved me in the car. If you hadn’t given up your seat...”

“You’d have simply taken your own vehicle and driven home,” she finished. “Or perhaps turned around and gone back into the office?” From his conspicuous absence at office birthday lunches and bowling outings, it was clear he didn’t care to socialize with the members of the office.

His expression was severe and for a moment she worried she’d overstepped. Then his frown melted into a lopsided smile. “Touche, Miss French.”

Goosebumps spread over her skin, part relief, and part attraction. Gold’s silver-streaked hair and olive complexion made for a striking combination, but when he smiled his looks were positively devastating. For someone who never had a hair out of place and was always wearing a pressed suit with a coordinated silk tie, seeing him in jeans and his face decorated with powdered sugar only enhanced his appeal.

Why no one had snapped him up was a mystery, but selfishly she was glad. She’d been interested in him almost from the first day she’d started work at Regal. There was something magnetic about Gold that drew her closer, made her want to know him.

They stopped again about halfway up, the car see-sawing as another cabin was loaded, and Belle took the opportunity to study Gold’s profile in the bright afternoon light. He had a strong, sharp nose that looked infinitely kissable. The memory of his warm, strong hands on her waist in the van made her pulse skitter. “Out of curiosity, why did you board the wheel?”

“It should be fairly obvious, Miss French.” He waved over the expanse of the fairground below with another twisted smile. “I’m high on life.”

Belle giggled, then gripped his arm as the fully loaded wheel gained speed, carrying them around in circles, faster and faster.

By the time they reached the apex for the third time, her fingers were digging into his bicep and he touched her shoulder, moving his fingertips in a soothing circle. “Are you all right?”

“Oh yes,” she assured him, the wind rushing through her hair and lungs making her feel somewhat breathless. “I’m a bit afraid of heights.”

The glance he gave her was puzzled. “Then why ride the wheel?”

“For the adventure, of course.” She laughed, the exhilaration of the ride and the energy of the man beside her making her feel happy and carefree. “Why does that not surprise me?” His caramel eyes danced with amusement.

“My mother always says do the brave thing and bravery will follow,” she said. “Truth be told, most of my adventures have happened in books rather than real life.”

“I think it’s time to change that,” he said.

“Oh really?” She batted her lashes a bit, unable to resist the urge to flirt. “What do you have in mind?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing down to a large red tent on the ground, “are the best hamburgers in Maine. And once a year, at this event only, Mrs. Lucas does something rather shocking.”

“What?” she asked, her excitement mounting even as the wheel descended. Soon, it would be their turn to exit the car.

“Instead of using regular rolls, she sandwiches the hamburgers between…” Mr. Gold paused for dramatic effect, waving his hand with a flourish. “Glazed doughnuts.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Belle said. Her mouth watered with hunger; she hadn’t had anything to eat yet and the closer they got to the ground, the smells of buttery popcorn, sizzling meat, and fried, sugared dough became even more tantalizing.

Their Ferris wheel car approached the loading dock, coming to a stop with a rocking jolt.

“Lead the way, but first, there’s something I need to do.” She leaned toward him and carefully wiped his chin with her thumb. His eyes darkened at the contact and she swallowed a gasp. “Just a bit of sugar. From your first hamburger, perhaps?” she teased.

”Funnel cake,” he confirmed, an adorable flush creeping up his neck.“That’s been there the whole time, hasn’t it?

“I won’t tell a soul,” she promised, secretly delighted to discover that the oh-so-serious Mr. Gold had a sweet tooth.

They disembarked from the ride, Gold collected his cane, and they started in the direction of the hamburgers. “I hope you like ketchup,” he said.

“It’s one of my four major food groups,” she said with mock solemnity. “Along with iced tea, chocolate, and pickles.”

“Pickles, obviously,” he said. His soft laughter skidded over her, soaking into her bones like sunshine.

It was the first time she’d heard him laugh and she decided she liked the sound of it. Maybe she could get him to do it again before the day was through.

“Shall we?” He offered his arm and she took it, more than happy to allow him to guide her. The rides whirred, voices lifted in laughter and cheers, and the air crackled with glad expectation.

David passed by with Mary Margaret, each of them holding huge cones of cotton candy, and flashed her a wink. “It’s good to see you two having a good time,” he said.

“We are, Nolan, thank you.” Gold said pleasantly. He gave Belle’s arm a subtle squeeze.

Butterflies exploded in Belle’s stomach at the light pressure and she returned Gold’s lopsided grin with a bright smile of her own.

“Care to join us on the Tilt-a-Whirl?” David asked. “Afterward, we’re going to buy some candles from the convent. Mary Margaret helped make them this year.”

Belle’s good mood faltered a bit. She enjoyed David and Mary Margaret a lot, but she wanted to spend time with Mr. Gold. Alone. Alone in public, yes. But still. But before she could figure out how to respond without hurting their feelings, Gold was already answering.

“Can’t, thanks,” Gold replied. “The new girl and I have a date with a hamburger.”

Belle waved goodbye to Mary Margaret and David and sailed away with Gold, feeling like she was floating on a cloud.

Perhaps Mr. Gold could be interested in her after all.

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #rumbelle fluff #rumbelle is hope #mqc writes #the new girl #cufflinks

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years ago

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Shut Up And Kiss Me [12/?]

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

WC: 5.3k

Warnings: pining, angst(?),

Summary: You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with.

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Tom bets, with everything within him, that the university could afford better seats on the plane. He’s certain that there could be better places to sit than almost at the back, cramped together. There is no way the seats are even economy.

Based on the way Y/N slumps down in her seat with a groan, he guesses she feels the same. However, he doesn’t comment on it outloud.

Since he met her in hallway last Monday and didn’t exactly know how to approach her, things have been weird. They’ve split the creative writing lessons so that they only have one teacher and not two, and she’s stopped sitting with him and Benedict during lunch. Tom guesses he knows why, but he’s not happy with how they’ve lost everything he’s been trying to build up.

It’s, fortunately, not worse than how it was after the kiss. After that, his heart broke, but it broke more how casual Y/N was around him in the aftermath. They were still friends, still talked to each other and it hurt on every level to know she doesn’t feel the same―not that she knows how he feels.

Tom has every hope that this spontaneous conference can help a little bit. The two of them will have to talk together a little bit and maybe they can clear the air. After all, his mind’s been stuck in the same place for the last week and a half but he’s none the wiser as to why Y/N hasn’t said anything during that time. It would be something she would comment on, right?

He shakes off the thoughts. He decided yesterday that he would use the hour and twenty minutes of flight time to sleep. Belt on, carry on secure, and a last minute peek at Y/N, who’s pulling a book out of her little backpack along with weird looking bracelets. His aching heart really needs a rest.

Tom closes his eyes, and tries to let his mind rest. It’s to no avail as his thoughts keep flickering around, but at least he looks asleep. Maybe he’ll bore himself to sleep.

He doesn’t, because, after what feels like forever later, Y/N shoves him a little and says they’ve landed. Tom sighs.

At least she talked to him.

It takes a little less than half an hour to get out of the airport and into a cab. Tom is the one to tell the driver what hotel they’re staying at, and during the ride, all Y/N does is stare out the window. He tries not to look at her, but every now and then he glances her way. Every time her expression seems a little sad, a little disappointed, and very much tired.

That all changes when they come to the hotel and are greeted by the host of the conference, David Tennant. The man smiles at the two of them and Y/N smiles back, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. Tom tries for a smile as well, but he’s not sure he manages.

“Welcome,” says David, clapping his hands together. “We’re all happy you could make it, just walk in and you’ll be lead to your rooms. There’s a small get-together of the lecturers this evening, which is a choice to come to, but we hope you’ll be there.”

Y/N smiles. “We’ll see. But thanks for the invite.”

“Yes, actually, there was someone wanting to talk to you.” David turns fully, only talking to Y/N, which has Tom’s heart ache, pinched to become the tiniest it can be.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“A Mr. Chris Evans.”

Tom’s heart drops. That ache in his chest even bigger than before, and not only because he knows Y/N and Chris have a history but also because of the way she lights up. The smile that didn’t before reach her eyes, does now.

Y/N thanks David as he leads them in, says she’ll go to Chris as soon as they’re settled in their rooms. He helps them at the receptionist’s desk, but leaves as soon as he’s told the woman their names.

The woman smiles, her eyes lingering on Tom. He notices a small flutter of her eyelashes and the slightly flirtatious smile she sends him, but he ignores it. His heart belongs to someone else. He thought the feelings were gone, that they wouldn’t come back, and then… everything blossomed anew. His world went back into the misery it had been when he tried to get over her the first time around.

“Here you go, Mrs. Y/L/N. The key to your room.” The woman hands Y/N a key, but she doesn’t leave.

“Did you say Mrs. Y/L/N?” she asks, lips pressed tightly together in afterthought.

The woman nods. “Yes, are you two not married? We have you under the same room.” Her eyes flicker between Y/N and Tom, innocence the only visible thing in her eyes.

“No, we’re not. Can we get two rooms?”

The woman shakes her head. “Sorry, everything’s booked up. There should be two beds, though.”

Y/N nods, tries for a smile, but the anger has made a home on her face. The smile is more a half glare than anything else. But she thanks the woman, grabs her suitcase and walks to the elevator. As she walks, Tom can see that the knuckles are white on the hand holding the key.

He rushes after her, manages to get into the elevator before it closes and tries for a sympathetic smile her way. Yet, he doesn’t say anything. He’s kind of happy about it, as that makes him able to spend more time with her, maybe more easily talk to her about what’s been bugging him for the last week.

They don’t talk the whole elevator ride, and when they reach the floor their room is on, Y/N walks ahead. Even her walking is stomping. She reaches the room, unlocks it and walks inside. Tom follows after, and nearly bumps into her as she’s stopped in her tracks.

To no one’s particular surprise, there is only one bed.

Y/N turns around. “I’ll text Chris, ask him about his room situation and check if I can be with him instead.” It’s not a proposition, or a question. It’s a statement and her phone is in her hand, fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard.

The frustration and telling she’s not gonna stay in the room doesn’t keep her from lying down on the bed. Tom doesn’t mind (maybe the sheets will smell like her) and, now that he can, makes his way further inside to sit down on a chair by a mini desk.

After a few minutes in silence, there’s a knock on the open door. Tom looks up to find Chris. The man is cautiously looking into the room, and when he sees Y/N, his face lights up. Tom diverts his gaze to her, and sees that she’s regained her energy as she jumps off the bed and right into his open arms.

“You have a single room?” asks Y/N, looking up at the man, still in his embrace.

“Yeah. One room with a queen sized bed all to myself.” He says it teasingly, making Tom feel like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be. “But can’t say I’m bummed about getting to share with you.”

Tom’s whole body turns ice cold. It buzzes with nerves, as if a bee has taken up residence in his veins. His heart hammers, squeezes. It feels like he can’t breathe properly. His gut churns, not a good flutter or a warmth spreading from joy, but a churn that makes it feel like someone’s turning a knife around in his stomach. It feels like someone has stabbed him, again and again and again, and they’re sprinkling salt on the open wound.

Never before has Tom felt more like crap. Never before has Tom been this disappointed in his feelings. Never before has Tom wanted to take away someone else’s happiness like he wants to in that moment.

Relief washes over him when the two of them leave.

---

David had, during the dinner buffet that was free, told Tom that the lecture holders gathering would start at eight. Tom had eaten, gone up to his room and refined his and Y/N’s lecture for tomorrow (his part of course) a little and at exactly eight, he decided to go downstairs again.

He’s standing outside the elevator doors, having pressed the down button and waiting patiently. The numbers indicating the floors are on two floors above him and decreasing steadily. The doors open with a pling and a voice saying “fourth floor”.

In the open doors, he sees Y/N. She’s leaning against the wall with her eyes on her phone, not even looking at Tom. He steps inside, swallows his pride and checks what buttons she pressed.

Lobby.

Since she’s not with Chris, he suspects she’s going to the gathering herself. However, she might also be going out to eat with him but that one of them had to do something―he hadn’t seen either of them during his own dinner.

Tom keeps his mouth shut, deciding that a ride in silence will be for the best. He’s content to just be in Y/N’s presence, anyway. Considering that they’ve gone from being acquaintances to enemies to friends to coworkers who try to speak to each other as little as possible, he takes what he can get.

Of course, his prayers of the ride to go smoothly and that (no matter how much he wants to be in Y/N’s presence) they won’t have to be in the same space more than need be, are not answered.

The elevator makes a weird noise that has Y/N look up from her phone. She takes a glance at Tom and for once her look isn’t evading his but more a ‘what the hell is going on?’ and then the noise stops. But so does the elevator.

A red light starts to blink on the button panel. It’s of a bell, probably to signal an alarm. Great, the fucking elevator stopped.

“We are sorry for the inconvenience. The lift has stopped and we will try to be as quick as we can to help you out. How long this will take, we can’t say.”

The voice is a mockery in Tom’s head. He glares at the panel and lets out a groan.

Y/N does the same, but hers sounds a bit different. He chances a look her way. She has her eyes closed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, and Tom isn’t sure exactly what kind of reaction it is.

Until she slides down the wall, drops her phone to the floor and curls in on herself. Tom is almost certain what comes next are sobs, but he’s not sure. She rocks back and forth, making Tom’s heart break slowly in his chest.

He pulls himself together. There’s no way he can watch her sit there and cry and not do anything. So he walks slowly over and he sits down next to her. He drapes his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his embrace.

It’s definitely sobs. Now he can hear them and feel them. He doesn’t care that his shirt gets wet, all he cares about is the fact that her breathing is irregular, she’s sobbing and her whole body trembles. Tom strokes her hair, creates circles on her back and tries his best to whisper “it’s okay” soothingly.

There’s no saying how long they’ll be trapped, no saying how long she will take to get over it. Tom isn’t even sure why she reacted the way she did, but he isn’t going to hold it against her. Never.

Eventually, she pulls away. She wipes her eyes with her palms, and for once, gives Tom a grateful smile. It takes him back to when she said thank you over a month ago when he’d saved her from falling down the steps to the basement. It reminds him of the soft look she had, the tiny touch to his wrist.

The reminder has his heart hurt more. It was when they became better friends, when they did more to become closer and work together. And in a little over a month, Tom had probably ruined it again. Or, he isn’t sure if it’s his fault, but he thinks it might be.

It’s him that hasn’t asked Y/N about what she told him. She probably thinks he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t want anything to do with her because he hasn’t answered. But that’s not true.

He just doesn’t know what to answer.

But he knows what to say now, seeing Y/N’s bloodshot eyes and still slightly terrified expression. “Are you okay?” It sounds like a stupid question, but it seems to relieve some of the fear on her face.

“Yeah,” she replies. “I think so. Thanks.”

He shrugs. “My pleasure.” My pleasure? Really Tom? You could’ve done better than that. Tom tries not to make it obvious he hates himself for saying that.

Yet, Y/N only smiles. Her lips are graced with this almost laugh that makes Tom’s heart swell, because despite just having stopped crying, she looks content.

“I hope we’re not gonna be here long,” she says. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I hope we won’t either, and for the same reason.”

That creates another laugh, and Tom tries to not smile so proudly at being able to make her laugh. He tries to let it go, together with the somersault his gut takes, but it doesn’t seem to be the easiest thing to do.

Silence settles over them, and Tom ponders if he should break it many times. But it’s Y/N that does, and not quite how he thought she would.

“What did I tell you over a week ago? When you called Chris out of worry?”

Tom stares at her, blinking rapidly in confusion. “You don’t remember?”

She shakes her eyes. “Complete blackout. All I know is I alerted you to something, had a few missed calls from Benedict, texts from Chris and some snaps from some people I don’t know who are and that I instantly deleted.”

“Chris didn’t tell you anything?”

“He said he didn’t know anything. He said he’d just gotten a worried call from you or something and then he sent me texts asking if I was okay and such and when I asked him about it he said that I needed to ask you because he didn’t know.”

Tom sighs. First of all, he was hoping she knew. Second of all, he’d told Chris exactly what she’d told him. Why hadn’t he told her that? Why had he lied? It doesn’t matter. He won’t rip her happiness away from her. He couldn’t possibly live with himself if he did.

He leans his head back against the elevator wall. “If you don’t know, maybe it’s for the best.”

“Nope, never. I’m going to go crazy if someone doesn’t tell me and since you’re the only one who knows I have no choice but to ask you.” Y/N looks adamant at him. “Look, I know things have been awkward this past week but it’s because I didn’t know how to ask what I said and also don’t know what I said and I’m afraid of what it is. I’m sorry I’ve been kind of distant.”

Tom lets the smile tug on his lips. “Don’t be. I haven’t been any better.” He nods, swallows the lump in his throat and looks at her. “Okay, so for what you told me… I’m not sure if it really is going to let this become less awkward, but since you want to know so badly, I’ll tell you.”

“You know you can just say it outright? Not lead up to it as if a villain in a movie?”

Tom laughs. “I can? I didn’t know.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you want to know or not?”

Y/N hold up her arms in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Yes, I do want to know.”

“You told me, and I quote ‘I think you should read this story I wrote. It’s about a couple of teachers, like us, who go on dates and end up together and I think it’s really cute and I think you should find something like it’.”

Y/N raises both brows. “You can quote that? From me being drunk and calling you?”

“You have to admit that it was quite weird.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why you shouldn’t remember it word for word.” She gives him an exasperated look.

Tom stifles a laugh. “That’s what you take from it? That I shouldn’t remember it that well? That’s your outcome? Not the fact that you told me about a story you’d written and compared it to us? A story which included the two people you compared to us, dating?”

“To be honest, that is weird and much more like me and Chris than us.” She looks away from Tom, frown coloring her face. “And I don’t even remember writing that. I don’t think I have anything―”

A light goes off on her face.

“You don’t have anything, what?”

Y/N scrambles for her phone and seconds later, she’s reading something on it. “‘Honest Mistake - a story about two coworkers with pent up sexual energy’.” She looks away from it and takes a deep breath. “‘I looked at him. Looked at his charming smile, his long curly hair and his annoyingly hot beard. Looked at the stupid clothes he was wearing; a blue sweater he had to have more than one of and a blue pair of jeans that I hoped he washed. And sometimes, I hoped he would throw them all off and take me right there.’”

She looks up from her phone with an expression Tom is sure mirrors his own; horrified.

“You wanted me to read that?”

“No, absolutely not. I wrote it when I was drunk and forgot I wrote it. It’s not even good. But I can tell you that it gets rather… explicit.”

Tom smiles. “I do kind of want to read now.” And then thinking that over he stops his thoughts. “Wait, blue sweater, blue jeans. Are you talking about me? Am I the man in the story?”

Y/N looks away from him, her eyes flicker across the ceiling. When he doesn’t say anything, only patiently wait for her to reply, she glances at him. And, reluctantly, she nods. “Drunk me is not the me I like so don’t hold anything against me. And, can you blame me? You’re good looking.”

Excuse me while I go scream. Tom’s heart pounds so loudly he’s sure she can hear it because she called him good looking. She… has imagined them having sex. She wrote about them having sex.

“I am not sorry, but I am going to hold this against you.” He tries to press back the smile that wants to form, and not a mocking one but one of pure happiness because god, Y/N thinks he’s good looking. “Any chance I get, where it fits, I’ll use it against you.”

She nods. “I guess that’s fair, seeing as I would do the same to you. But… can you not in front of Chris. I would rather he didn’t know.”

“Is he the jealous type?”

“I don’t think so, and we haven’t really established anything, but… It might go somewhere and I don’t want to fuck it up because I was drunk one night and… yeah, did that. Also I’m going to tell him what I told you was something along freaking out about an assignment the students were supposed to hand in or something, ‘kay?”

Tom nods. He wants to tell her that Chris knows, but seeing as to what she said, maybe there’s a reason Chris isn’t telling her. Maybe he hopes it’s something she will just forget and then Chris can rest easier, but Tom doubts it.

He’s also starting to doubt them getting help out of the elevator.

“Thanks for calming me down, by the way. I know I said thanks earlier, but talking helped, too. Got my mind off the fact that the walls are closing in on us.” Y/N gives him a strained smile, which he returns.

“No worries.” He nods at her. “I’m really sorry to ask this first now, but do you have any reception?”

Y/N looks down at her phone. “Yeah, I do. I’ll call Chris, should’ve thought of that before. Let’s not mention how long we were stuck. How long have we been stuck?”

Tom glances down at his watch. “Looks to be about twenty minutes. Not a lot, but I guess enough.”

“Thank God. I hope it’s not gonna be much longer.”

Tom isn’t sure what he hopes. All he knows is that things might not be as awkward anymore, but he can’t be too sure either. That depends entirely on when he brings up the story. He prays for himself not to fuck up again.

And if they’re stuck longer, maybe he can pry out why she hated him in the first place.

---

After getting out of the elevator (and deciding not to go the the gathering), Tom doesn’t meet Y/N until breakfast the next day.

She’s standing with Chris, leaning into his side and smiling brightly. The two of them are standing with Sebastian, plates in hand but no food. The line doesn’t look like it’s moving.

Tom doesn’t walk over to them by want, but rather because he’s waved over by Sebastian who sees him―probably sick of third wheeling the lovely ‘couple’.

“Hi,” says Tom as he gets close. He smiles slightly, meets Y/N’s gaze and her slightly awkward smile. When they said bye after getting out of the elevator, it hadn’t been awkward. When they’d been stuck for another twenty minutes, it hadn’t been awkward. But, perhaps, has Tom taken his luck in advance?

“How are you? After yesterday?” Chris smiles at him, he nods to the side to you. “She was pretty shaken up.”

Tom shrugs. “It’s not something I’d like to repeat, no, but I think she took it harder than me.” He tries for a smile, which Chris returns.

“Based on what she told me, I think that’s true.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and lightly punches Chris in the side. He replies by letting out a little laugh and kissing the top of her head.

Tom wishes he wasn’t there to see it. Based on Sebastian’s roll of his eyes it’s safe to say he wishes he wasn’t there either. But Tom suspects it’s for entirely different reasons.

---

“I’m not so sure about this.” Y/N paces back and forth behind the little stage of the conference. It’s almost their turn to go on and, though Tom’s nervous himself, he clearly isn’t as nervous as Y/N.

He tries to shake his head, put on a smile that tells her it’ll be okay, but he can judge from her reaction that it doesn’t work.

“Really, Tom, this is, might, will… I don’t know but this will be a disaster.” She throws her hands up. “We haven’t really got a lecture or anything like that, we got a few notes and are relying on people asking questions. What if we get no questions? What if we can’t answer the questions? Do you think they’ll ask about anything not relating to this?”

Tom moves closer to her. He stops her pacing by standing in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, unsure whether that’s to soothe himself (and the burn his touch to Y/N’s shoulders bring) or if it’s to soothe her. “They will probably ask questions, seeing as we were asked to come here, albeit on short notice. But they probably want tips of some sort, and they probably won’t ask anything about anything else. What would they even ask about?”

Y/N nods. A deep breath comes from her lips and she closes her eyes for a moment. “Do you think I have the time to take a shot?”

“A shot? Of alcohol?”

She nods. “I don’t think I can go on without anything in my blood. I’m too nervous. This is like being at a bar and being asked to dance.”

Tom squints at her. “You need a shot to go to the dance floor when you’re out?”

“Oh, shut up. As if you don’t. I’ve seen you at Christmas parties, you always drink a lot.”

He shakes his head. “I usually drive so that is not true.”

Her brows crease together. “Wait? You’re kidding, right?” Her voice is surprisingly quizzical.

“No, haven’t Benedict told you? I usually drive him and Sophie.”

Y/N presses her lips together as she shakes her head. She twists out of his grip on her shoulders as well and staggers a step away. But the whisper that comes from her mouth is still easily caught, “so you weren’t drunk when you…?”

Seeing the look of horror on Y/N’s face, Tom decided he won’t question it. It might be for the best because sometimes, the revelation of someone not being drunk gives you more reason to blame them for something. Now, Tom doesn’t know what he’d be blamed for, but he’s not so sure he wants to know (and he’s not so sure he doesn’t already know).

When Tom shakes out of his thought, Y/N’s gone and David peeks through the little curtain. He raises a brow at seeing Y/N not there, and Tom shrug because he really doesn’t know where she went―though most likely to the bar.

“Yer on in a few minutes,” says David, and Tom nods. “She’ll be back to then, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I believe so. But even if she isn’t I think it’ll be okay. I can stall them,” replies Tom. He can hear the nervousness and haste in his voice. So much that he wonders how well David perceives it.

If he does, the man doesn’t comment on it. He only gives Tom a thumbs up and leaves again. Leaving Tom alone with his beating heart and thoughts because, even if he has a slight inkling as to what Y/N muttered about, he wishes he knew for sure.

At least, he doesn’t get to dwell too long on the dread, as Y/N reappears moments later. The shaking and the nerves visible on her face before are gone and instead, she’s plastered on a smile. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Tom wants to say something, and he’s about to open his mouth to do so, but in that moment, David calls their names and they’re cheered onto the stage. Both of them walk out and they smile at the little crowd that’s there.

To be honest, Tom’s been at conferences before, but this one’s been a trainwreck like no other. He wonders how he’s gotten to that point.

Only, he can’t wonder for long because Y/N has started talking and Tom has to know his cue and chime in. For having been somewhat enemies only a few months ago, you sure work well as a team.

And eventually (a good fifteen minutes later) they open for questions. Tom expected two or three, maybe a fourth, but all of the first row has their hands up. The whole ordeal has his heart pounding in his chest and he wishes to take off his shirt before he gets two giant sweat rings under his arms.

With a deep breath, he gets back to reality. Y/N’s already answered the first question and is moving on to the next. Tom tries to follow.

“What made you decide to do team teaching in the first place?” asks a woman at the front row.

Tom nods. “Well, we didn’t really decide ourselves. At the start of this we had our differences, we probably still have a lot of them, but we were forced to figure something out and agreed that the best for the students would be to have two teachers with different aspects on what’s important, thus enriching their experience as a class.”

That was not a practiced answer.

A man rises as Y/N points at him. “What had you be forced to work together? That seems like a rather stupid idea if you had that many differences.”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N smiles and nods, “we’ve kinda been enemies for a while and one of the reasons we decided this would be the best was because neither would give up the class and I found out later that it was HR’s plan to make us get along. We’ve been put in the same position yet again throughout the semester to make us become friends.”

“Are you friends now?”

“I’d say we are, yeah.” Y/N casts a glance over at Tom. A small smile colors her face. “Though I still have my annoyances, and he probably has his, we’re better at talking about them, and we would never do anything to make our students uncomfortable or lash out at them if we were to be mad at each other.”

Tom notices Chris has his hand up, and he nods to the man to answer. He stands up, eyes flickering between the two of them. “What’s the worst that has happened? A fight, any good insults you remember?”

“Now, Chris, that’s not really about team-teaching is it.” Y/N casts him an unamused look, but she shakes her head and opens her mouth again. “But, the worst that has happened is probably some of the insults we throw at each other from time to time. My quip is usually about his dick and how that’s his brain and he usually doesn't have any good ones.”

A laughter rises through the crowd and Tom shakes his head. “Are you sure? I thought we had agreed you were obsessed with me? I recall you saying it yourself, in fact.”

And that’s how the lecture takes a one-eighty and the two of them goes back and forth with insults at each other. The crowd laughs, someone shouting out that they should have their own comedy show or a comedy special.

Tom can’t say he agrees, but he enjoys being back in familiar territory of making Y/N feel a little smaller. He can see she doesn’t take anything he says very hard, seeing as she knows as well as him that it’s all a play.

Despite that, he’s grateful when David steps up on the stage and asks if anyone has any other questions. When no one has any, he asks for an applause and Y/N and Tom walk off the stage.

It’s surprising how fast her mood changed. From completely terrified before, to laughing and smiling and actually giving Tom a hug. He relishes in it, takes in the fresh smell of her perfume and tries to mirror her enthusiasm.

He leaves the job for Chris when he comes back, and lets his mind wander to the many possibilities of what can happen next.

There’s still two days left of the conference and Tom has a breaking heart at the thought of seeing her kiss Chris more than the few times than he’s seen it already.

He’d been happy when Y/N had said on Halloween they were friends, but he can’t say he’s happy with being her friend when the tapes over his heart falls off one by one and his lungs ache at the sight of her with someone else.

Tom hopes he won’t have to suffer long. He’s not sure he can take much more.

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan

tom tags: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert @satanskatze @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

suakm tags: @plooffairy @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck @dr-kayleigh-dh @inmyworstlies @twhgirl @maah-chan @florencia93c @i-am-a-mes @o-deya @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @cantaloupewatch @carpediem-spero @createdbyanintensenerd @beananacake @lysawayne @nightrose64 @bradfordbantams @feyre-thehighlady @thundermaximoff @lys-syl @beenthroughalot @xrainydazeteax @mautand @coldbookworm

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #twh #thomas william hiddleston #reader insert #enemies to lovers #college professors au #college au #professor hiddleston #professors au #tom hiddleston professor

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docholligay · 4 years ago

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MISCELLANEOUS SURVIVORS AND BEST ANSWERS

Here are the items that moved on to the NEXT ROUND for Miscellaneous!

But also, my favorite answers to the question:

What would an anime of my life be called, and, if you wish, what sort of things would be included/would I be a magical girl/do I get a cool gun etc etc etc

Mahou Kenju Holligay ("Magic Pistol Holligay") - This spring, Hideaki Anno, director of the esteemed Neon Genesis Evangelion, turns anime on its ear once again. Forget everything you knew about magical girls, because there are no more magical girls -- there are only magical guns, found and recruited by completely normal, non-cute human beings who convince them to fight for the causes of good and also liquor. (Also watch for pretentious random Judaic symbolism such as the Star of David connecting the six chambers of the pistol cylinder and the "Ark Shot" special attack! What does it all mean?! You'll have to wait for the movie to find out that it means nothing.) --- @ultrace

がみがみ！優雅な百姓ドックホリゲー "Gamigami! Yuugana hyakushou Doc Holligay" ("Lecture noises! Elegant Bumpkin Doc Holligay") an action / inverted harem slice of life anime where you teach manners to your country town & keep fighting off men who come to court you. -- @thepreciousthing (I need you to know translating into the ACTUAL characters pushed this over the top)

I think we got 2 options here, unless the anime industry changes real quick and wants a deeply poetic look on religion, what qualifies a person as "good", and sexuality.

1) A Lesbian in Doc Holliday's Dentistry - a la A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, a time traveler who will either learn or teach a lesson to Doc and go back to your proper time because I'm not leaving you stuck in 1878.

2) Doc and Friends! a slice of life, feel good comedy. Everybody is there Jill, and Jet, and Mike, toilets get broken, best buy employees get confused, there's a beach episode, and a fun comic called WatchOver that you write the story for (based on a video game, we've got Watson the ape, Jumper, Compassion the healer) also Mina and Witten can talk for some reason. --- @lookingforsarahjay (The “unless the anime industry changes real quick” slayed me)

Media Magica, where you are a magical girl with a cool gun who takes all the Unfortunate Implications of Card Captor Sakura and RUNS with them. Like, why the fuck is this sapient being bound to guard other sapient beings until the Special Human comes to bind them to their will? Why DID this dude decide to make intensely powerful beings, bind them to his will, and then pick some human to manipulate circumstances around so they would become the new master? Fuck puppet masters! Choose your own fate! For best results, you are NOT the Chosen One, but the one that the beings choose to ally with anyway, because you’ve made choices and proven yourself to be worth following. With magical girl powers and a cool gun. ---This one LEGIT interested me, not going to lie. You left a name that I think is probably an ACTUAL Japanese writer, starting with T. Let me know who you put down to get your entry, anon.

Doc's Holliday is the story of Doc, Extreme Danger Gay of the Future, journeying through the American Old West. (It is occasionally EXTREMELY accurate, at other times only marginally so, because it's more fun that way.) Along the way, she meets various historical/legendary figures and gives them A Talking To. She has a shooting contest with Annie Oakley, but no winner is ever declared as the two decide to go have a drink instead, after a rousing rendition of "Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better). In a small town in Oklahoma, she convinces Laurey Williams that she can do better than Curley, so Laurey runs off with Ado Annie. It is a musical episode, obviously. She teaches Davy Crockett to be the King of the Wild Frontier. She suggests that James Marshall check out Sutter's Mill. She often returns to spend time with Jill, a large animal veterinarian in a small Montana town. In the Tumblrverse, the Dills (who ship Doc/Jill) are always in fierce discourse with the Bread and Butters (who ship Doc/anybody but Jill). The Dills, of course, are vindicated in the finale, when Doc finds a way back home, but stays with Jill. There is kissing. It is implied that the couple will be taking in a young boy/girl with the same name as some appropriately awesome historical figure we haven't met yet. --- @incorrecttact

WHOEVER DID GUNSTAR JEW YOU DID NOT ENTERED BECAUSE YOU DID NOT LEAVE A NAME SO I ASSUMED YOU DIDN’T WANT IT BUT PLEASE KNOW THE TITLE MADE ME HOWL

All survivors are below the cut and as always FULLY RANDOMIZED, so this wont’t tell you who barely made it, who killed etc.

The Holligay Method of Worldbuilding

Doc reads Daredevil Comics and painstakingly rewrites them because there’s no way they will be what she wants (I laughed, I admit, IT IS PROBABLY TRUE)

Doc recommends novels with essays/passages/etc.

Holligay Liveblogs A Wild Jetwolf, in the style of a nature documentary

Holligay’s Opera Recommendations

X-men Comics (Voted on, I guess? Or I can have Jetty pick them? also there's no way I can asterisk this whole thing but I have read SOME, years ago)

School-Live (Manga)

Holligay does essays/recommendations on great horror movies

Watching anime ops

Holligay designs the perfect Jewlet Nursery (either showing off what you guys actually are doing or the most facetiously impractical thing you can think of, like, ‘it’s ocean themed so we’re putting in a full-wall aquarium’)

Liveblog the Harry Potter series*

A day of non-liveblogged tv. Watch episode 1 of a bunch of various series that people recommend that you're on the fence/leaning towards no on, give your opinion of it after the fact.

Thoughts/essay(s) on Haunting of Bly Manor*

Holligay reviews her favorite Stephen King novels*

#names for thing

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joshuahyslop · 4 years ago

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BOOKS

The last 10 books I’ve read:

1. Wolf - Jim Harrison I found this book in one of the little neighbourhood book exchanges that are all around Vancouver. They look like little log cabins and it’s a loose “take a book, leave a book” policy. I’ve liked some of Harrison’s other books as well as some of his poetry so I picked it up. It’s fairly well written but it’s one of the most depraved and depressed characters I’ve read in a long time. It’s like a darker more depraved version of “On The Road”. More misogynistic, more obsessed with sex and completely lacking of anything philosophic. One of the reviewers on the back cover said it was (paraphrasing) a poetic depiction of a joyful life. I guess I must have read a different book.

2. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon The first book of Pynchon’s I’d picked up. This was such an enjoyable read. I’ve steered clear of his books for fear of not being able to understand them. Every time I’ve talked about wanting to read his book “Gravity’s Rainbow”, I’ve been asked if I’ve read anything else by him. As if that’s a requirement. When I bought this book the teller asked me the same question. When I said no, he said “This is a good place to start.” I don’t know why that is, but now I’ve read one of his books and enjoyed it. I’ve eased into the Pynchon. I think I’m allowed to read another one now.

3. Joyland - Stephen King This was incredibly disappointing. I’ve read a lot of King’s books. They’re often hit or miss but they’re almost always enjoyable as brain candy. Books like, “The Shining”, “Carrie” or “Misery” are well written and suspenseful. It makes sense why he’s heralded as the King of Horror. But this one does not measure up. In fact, it falls very short of the rest of his work that I’ve read. I felt myself cringing at some of his dialogue. It was just so cheesy. Even though it was set in the 70′s, no one’s ever spoken like that. There’s very little suspense and the story itself isn’t very engaging. When you finally get to the action it’s only a couple of pages and then it’s done. It’s a very quick read, but definitely skippable.

4. The Truth About Stories - Thomas King A friend of mine who loves to read gave me a bag full of books to check out. This was one of them. It’s one of the CBC Massey Lectures and I love that series. I have a bunch of them already so I was excited to check this out. I also have King’s book, “The Inconvenient Indian” on my bookshelf in my “to read” pile. A pile that does nothing but seem to grow. But it’s still a ways down in the pile. So I thought I’d check out this little book because it’s only 5 essays and it would give me a sample of his writing. I’m very glad that I did. It’s so well written. It’s funny, it’s sad, it makes you think. If you care about stories, politics, religion, and the treatment of First Nations people by the US and Canadian governments, you should give this a read. I can’t wait to get to his book.

5. Deadeye Dick - Kurt Vonnegut In my last post I mentioned liking Vonnegut a lot and being surprised at how few of his books I’d read. It turns out I’m just very bad at using technology. I keep a Word document of all the books I’ve read to avoid reading the same book twice, accidentally. I’d tried using the “find” function and somehow did it wrong, so only a few Vonnegut titles showed up. As it turns out, this was the ninth book by Vonnegut that I’d read. That makes way more sense to me. I enjoyed this one a lot. It’s pretty funny and pretty sad. A good combination, if you ask me.

6. 69 - Ryu Murakami One of my favourite local used bookstores offers store credit if you bring in some books and they decide to buy them from you. You can either take cash or store credit. If you choose credit, you have to spend it all before you go. It’s fun. On this particular visit I had about $60 worth of credit. I’d picked the books I wanted and still had $14 left. They recommended this book. i’d never read anything by this Murakami (no relation to Haruki) so I had no idea what to expect but I was excited to check it out. I loved it. It takes place in 1969 and follows the path of some high school students looking to join or start some kind of counter-cultural movement. The two main characters actually reminded me a lot of my own experience in high school. I’ll be checking out more of his writing for sure.

7. Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace Good lord. This was a mountain I’d tried to climb once before and failed. To have finally finished this book is no small feat. Standing at the top, looking back down I’m actually amazed I made it all the way through. It’s not that it’s an unenjoyable read. On the contrary. It’s very well written and quite enjoyable. It’s just that it’s over 1100 pages and contains 388 footnotes, many of which are several pages long and some even have footnotes of their own. At times it can feel like you’re reading two or three books at once. Another challenge is that there are at least 3 plots taking place all at once. Each story can jump ahead or backwards in time which can be tricky to track, PLUS there are character’s plot-lines that are introduced in great detail (one that comes to mind takes 11 pages to describe a young man addicted to marijuana anxiously waiting for his dealer to arrive) that are never again revisited. The three main story lines are loosely connected but the book takes its sweet time revealing that fact. All of that, mind you, and we still haven’t even mentioned the deep themes of addiction, suicide and capitalism that run throughout the book. I’m very glad I’ve read it. I usually enjoyed doing so. But if you’re not committed, if you don’t have some serious time to lean in, or if you don’t like his style of writing then perhaps you should steer clear. It’s an uphill climb, for sure.

8. Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things - Lafcadio Hearn This book caught my eye while I was taking my son for a walk. It was in the window of another one of our local bookstores, so I stopped in and checked it out. It’s a book of Japanese ghost stories and myths from hundreds if not thousands of years ago. The stories themselves are sometimes scary, sometimes funny, sometimes very confusing, but always enjoyable. Although the last three chapters completely disregard all things Japanese and consist of the authors philosophical rumination regarding Butterflies and the afterlife, Mosquitoes and the taking of innocent life (even when it seems to serve no purpose), and Ants and their altruistic existence vs our individualistic societies. There are other books in this series and I plan to check out at lease one more. I’ve always wanted to go to Japan so I’ve got a definite bias here, but if you like myths or ghost stories there’s a good chance you’d enjoy this book.

9. Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer I know I’m late to the party on this one, but this is a fantastic book. It’s one that I’ll be recommending for years to come. Its subtitle is: “Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of Plants”. It is all of that and so much more. I truly loved reading this book. I took notes. I underlined. I had to stop to think and reflect. I’d definitely encourage you to do the same.

10. Masters of Atlantis - Charles Portis This book is hilarious. Very dry, very droll. It’s a tongue-in-cheek look at the people who organize and who believe in secret societies, cults and religion in general. I didn’t know what to expect when I started it. The only other book by Portis that I’ve read was True Grit. This book is absolutely nothing like that. It’s completely it’s own. The only thing it has in common is Portis’ sense of humour. I don’t know that I’ve ever read anything quite so dry as this before. Maybe something by S.J. Perelman or something like that. This book was recommended to me by M.C. Taylor from Hiss Golden Messenger so I was pretty confident it would be good. It’s safe to say I would never have picked it up without the recommendation but also, I’m glad that I did.

more soon, -joshua

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kissygrayson · 5 years ago

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LANDSLIDE: Chapter Three - The New Kid.

... in which Harry and Y/N fall in love at University.

series masterlist

A few days had passed since Y/N had last seen Harry. They had texted a lot since the party, a lot meaning whenever they weren't at class or studying, they where texting. Zayn and Amy had met up the day after the party to finish their art project. Amy had told her everything that happened the night of the party after she left with Zayn, he had took her to his flat showing her his art work while Amy stood amazed. They then talked for a while Zayn helped Amy come up for an inspiration for her homework. They may have kissed a little.

Y/N had just finished up with a two hour anatomy lecture and all she wanted to do what get home into her pjs, order pizza and binge watch friends with Amy, but god had other plans.

“Y/N!” She heard a familiar Irish voice call behind her. She turned to see Niall chasing after her, attempting to catch up while holding a million text books and his laptop.

“Whats up?” she asked confused. She had never really spoken to Niall before, other than the odd hi they’d give her each while she passed his seat in class.

“Are you busy tonight?” He asked while trying to catch his breath.

“Im not sure, why? Are you okay?” She questioned. Confused as to why Niall was asking her out.

“The boys and I are going out for food and a few drinks, nothing to exciting. But Zayn invited Amy, so im inviting you for Harry” He chuckled nervously.

“And why couldn't Harry ask me himself?” She asked with a smirk.

“Because he's a pussy and shit scared of Sophie, please come tonight!!” he paused while Sammie walked by giving them both a little wave. “And please invite Sammie, ill pay you”

Y/N watched as Niall’s eyes followed Sammie out of the building then turning his attention back to her.

“Okay fine, only because I wanna see Amy and Zayn” she laughed.

The pair exchanged numbers then going on their own ways, while walking towards her flat Y/N sent a quick message to Harry.

Y/N: why did niall just invite me to dinner tonight for you?

harry: i swear i’ll kill him one day. I was going to invite you anyways x

harry: are you coming?

Y/N: yeah, better be good bcos i was looking forward to watching friends all night

harry: i’ll be there, it'll be worth it. x see you soon!!

Y/N: nothing is better than friends but okay harry :)

Y/N: see you later!!! x

Y/N shook her head laughing, probably looking insane. After the party and the chats her and Harry had over the past few days she’d grown to really like the boy, he always texted to check up on her, make sure she was drinking enough water and eating, that she hadn't overstudied that day knowing she pushed herself to the limit. Then the few times he’d phoned her to make sure she was okay when walking home alone at night.

Harry had obviously fallen for the girl too, in a space of one week. He never thought he’d like anyone like that again after what had happened with Sophie. He had promised himself he wouldn't. But Y/N was different, there was something about her that Harry was obsessed with.

“When where you going to tell me you’re going out with Zayn tonight?” Y/N questioned Amy, both of them sat on Amy’s bed.

Amy looked at Y/N her eyebrows raised and a smile on her face “Harry finally grew some balls and asked you then?”

“No” She laughed “Niall did”

“Niall? Zayn said he had a crush on Sammie?” Amy replied confused.

“Oh, he definitely does. He invited me for Harry” Y/N said with a laugh.

Amy laughed shaking her head. Harry had told Zayn who told Amy that Harry may or may not have a crush on her best friend, but Sophie was stopping him from acting on his feelings. Mostly scared that Y/N would get hurt, not by him but by Sophie.

“Do you like him?” Amy asked like a little girl at a sleepover. Y/N shook her head trying not to show the smile on her face. Amy slapped her arm turning more from where she was sat. “You so do!!!”

“Okay maybe a little, but I don't know Amy” Y/N groaned falling back, her head hitting the pillow, Amy then doing the same thing.

“Im sure he likes you too Y/N/N” Amy said giving her best friend a small smile. She knew she couldn't tell her what Zayn had said, it wasn't her place to tell. Harry had to do that himself.

“Lets just get ready, i’m starving and I really wanna see Zayn” Amy laughed then getting up and going towards her wardrobe.

“You saw him an hour ago, obsessive already. I should warn him!” Y/N joked then speeding out of Amy’s bedroom before she could smack her with a boot.

“Love you!!” Y/N called out. Amy giving her the finger in return.

We’re inside was the message written across Amy’s screen, sent by Louis. Her and Y/N entered the restaurant, it was packed with uni students and families, clearly being a popular spot in the area. They noticed the group sitting at a large table in the corner, chatting among themselves until Zayn noticed them.

“Guys!” He called over waving his hands towards them.

“Hey!!” Amy said shuffling in to sit beside the dark haired boy. Y/N took the empty seat beside Liam saying a small hi to him.

“You must be Y/N” he smiled. Harry had told him a lot about her, like how they ended up in his room at his birthday party fangiriling over Stevie Nicks. Harry was sat to the right of Liam, who sat beside Sammie. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, move in towards Harry” He smiled.

Y/N gave him a smile whispering a small thank you as she got up letting Liam get by her.

“Hey love” Harry smiled widely pulling the girl into a side hug. Y/N smiled into the hug, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“How was class?” he questioned.

“Boring as usual, yours?”

“Same” he replied, his eyes skimming over the menu, then passing it to her to look over.

After deciding on their meals and ordering a few drinks the group all chatted among themselves. Niall, Sammie and Y/N complaining about how boring their lecture was, Amy and Zayn discussing their art projects, Louis was busy texting Abby who couldn't make it tonight due to studying and Liam and Harry chatted about Liams new obsession with pretty little liars, random he knows.

Their food arrived, more drinks also. Y/N promised herself she wasn't going to drink, but her she was 3 drinks in.

“I’m going to the bathroom, does anyone want anything else to drink?” She asked the group knowing she had to pass the bar on the way the back.

She got a chorus of im good or no thanks. Harry tugged on her wrist before she could stand up.

“Will you be okay?” He asked noticing the hundreds of young guys and older in the restaurant.

Y/N laughed “Im going for a pee Harry, i’ll be fine” Harry shook his head in response whispering i’ll miss you.

“You're obsessed mate” Niall laughed from across the table. Harry gave him the middle finger in response.

“Fuck you Niall” he groaned.

After finishing her business and reapplying her lipgloss Y/N left the bathroom. Taking the same route Liam had earlier she passed a table crowed with guys, a few girls too. She smiled at them, most of them returning it.

“Y/N? Or am I mixing you up for someone else?” A guy in the group suddenly asked. She stopped in her tracks confused, she didn't recognise any the faces.

“Yeah? Whats up?” she asked, the boy who asked the question getting up and making his way towards her. Now stood in front her Rosabella noticed him as the new guy in her class, Ian. He had recently joined - 3 days ago. David her old study buddy was kicked from the class for not attending his classes, being caught taking drugs on campus and selling. She was glad he had bailed on her the times he did not wanting to get caught up with that. Ian was his replacement in class.

“You’re new? Im sure I saw you earlier?” She laughed. Ian ran his hand through his black hair a smile playing on his face.

From the table across the room Niall had caught where Harrys eyed glared at. He chuckled realising what was happening.

“Don't be jealous H” Niall said. The group turned to him in confusion to which he pointed his head in Y/N and Ians direction.

“Thats the new kid Ian” Sammie said also noticing him from class. “He started a few days ago”

“You need to tell her Harry” Amy said. Harry leaned back in the seat, letting out a huff. The others nodded in agreement.

Y/N laughed at something Ian had said again causing Harry to groan in annoyance even more before muttering “I know”.

“You're gonna leave it too late bro” Louis said giving his best friend a sympathetic smile. Harry nodded, he knew. He was scared, shit scared. It had only been a week and he felt strongly about her. It scared him too much.

“Hey guys” Y/N smiled happily taking her seat beside Harry, then taking a sip of her drink. Harry watched her while a smile, she truly was something else.

“Who where you talking too?” Amy asked breaking the silence.

“Ian, he just started taking our classes” she said pointing to Niall and Sammie. “He was just asking me to help him catch up” She smiled unaware of the glare Harry was now sending in Ian’s direction.

taglist: @vinylhazza @cryinabtharvey

#landslide!harry #harrystyles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #niall horan #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #liam payne #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction

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