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11thsdoctress · 1 year

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I seen that you been asking for request for writing and I can't get out of my mind the idea of a one shot based of snap out of it by the artic monkeys. Where the doctor (ideally 10th but I don't really mind if you use any other) had a relationship with the reader in the past and they meet before a long time and reader is gonna get married and the doctor try to stop them. Sorry if was too long of request and thank you in advance! ✨

oK SO IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO WRITE THIS,,,, bUT,, I LOVE THE PLOT I WANNA TAKE TIME AND DO IT JUSTICE,, I wanted to stick with the prompt to it's exact originally, but I just went on and branched out tbh,,, I hope I did a decent job (after all I wrote this with one braincell) also,,, I love Ten (and David Tennant in general),, I've been meaning to write something with/about him,, he's sooo adorkable :(( ========================

Just Like Old Times (10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: 10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader

Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2276

It was a fickle feeling, knowing that the both of you had something going on, even though you knew the Doctor for just a few years, it felt like he was a childhood friend for more than a decade or two.

Now your world was back to its normal, dull, and mundane manners, leaving the TARDIS was the hardest decision you’ve made in your life, but who could blame you? Not even the Doctor could blame you for a time of some normalcy.

A few years had gone by, you met a man, and suddenly everything happened so quickly, from the first few small dates to outings, to him proposing, to which you said yes, After all, you were in love with him, right? Or the idea that he reminds you of the Doctor? Are you really in love with the man that you call the love of your life? Or was it just an infatuation?

You try to shake your head away from these thoughts since it was the day of the wedding ceremony, it was still really early, the sun barely touching the horizon, and the bridesmaids were still fast asleep, you decided to take a head start in preparing for your big day, you pass by your wedding dress on the mannequin, a nice white gown, with some blue accents to compliment with the dress, you took a moment to try to process the moment, but you went ahead to prepare.

—------

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

It was one of those nights when the Doctor reminisces about the two of you, he always had a feeling that something was missing every time he woke up, and starts a new adventure, hell, even sometimes see you in his peripheral, only to be his imagination playing with his brain and hearts,

The moment you walked out of the TARDIS was extremely difficult for the Doctor to move on from, He tried to forget everything for a bit, but it was no use, all he could think about was that it was his fault that you had left him with his time-traveling box,

He had blamed himself that he had put you at a distance, blamed himself that he knew that he was afraid for you to get closer to him, not only of putting you in danger, but afraid to allow himself to express how much he loves and adores you in all the ways he could imagine.

“Oi! Spaceman, where are you heading off to this time?” Donna had pulled him back to reality as she looked a bit worried before grabbing the keys to her home.

“Oh it’s nothing, just thinking of visiting some old friends.” he put on a smile before saying his goodbyes to Donna and heading back to the TARDIS’ console and sighing,

“Maybe I do need to relax.” he looks at the monitor, and his reflection on the monitor, “Alright, let’s pick this date then.”

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

The TARDIS had landed on in a sunny morning in London, next to a beautifully decorated garden, the door swung open, The Doctor cheerfully opened the door and looked around the place, he smiled bitterly as he recognized the familiar garden, stepping out and started to empty out his mind from the adventures.

He had wandered off in to the garden, the sights and scents of roses, orchids, and lavenders had filled him, bringing back all the memories of him and you in this very place, the time you had brought him ice cream from your favorite parlor, the time he had read you a book while having a picnic, and the countless times of afternoon to night strolls.

All of these bittersweet memories flooding his head filled his hearts with the familiar flutter and heaviness of the guilt that was lingering with him for a while, it was a momentary bittersweet bliss he felt until he saw a signage,

“Mr. & Mrs. Wellington Wedding Ceremony”

Intrigued and curious, The Doctor went around to sneak in and to look who were the lucky couple. Spotting the groom, he just mumbled to himself, “eh, could’ve been worse.” before trying to find out who was the lucky bride,

The Doctor snooped around more to satisfy his curious brain, as he got to a photo album of the couple, he slightly regretted feeding his curiosity by finding the album to see you in the photos.

He felt that the world around him froze, he didn’t want to believe the thing he was seeing, he looks around him, before running to the back of the venue. His hearts were racing as he was trying to calm down, He wanted to deny that he saw you in those photos, he was trying his very best to get you off of his mind.

He wandered around until he reached the park, little ways down the road, not that far from the wedding, settling on the bench near the river, he was trying to convince himself that you were happy with someone else, but there was a nagging feeling in him that he has to do something. It was truly an internal battle, his mind was now wandering into endless, ‘What if’s’ and hypotheticals, until he was interrupted by a voice he tried to forget and at the same time, longed to hear,

“Doctor?”

—------

The wedding was a disaster,

James, your supposed soon to be husband, was delaying the wedding hour by hour, since his business was on the edge of a international deal to make them skyrocket in the stocks. You felt stupid to let him tend to his business instead of pushing through with the wedding, and honestly now it felt like the wedding ceremony was skipped entirely.

You tried to keep yourself together, convincing yourself that it was better for the both of them, since, at least it’s going to help the both of you in the finances in the future, but hell, you couldn’t even live and experience the wedding ceremony itself. There was this feeling that bothered you, and to take a breather, you headed to the back of the venue to calm your nerves, to prevent yourself from snapping at the disaster.

As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, to lower the tension and stress of the situation, there was a figure at the corner of your eye, walking to the bench you once had great memories with a memory, the more you looked and analyzed the figure, you were in disbelief when you saw the familiar brown suit and the messy hair, you had to make sure in what you saw was not a hallucination, you were frozen there, you couldn’t believe it, he was there. The Doctor was there.

You had debated with yourself, thinking on which was going to be your next move, let him be or approach him,

Taking a gulp, you slowly approached the bench, mustering up all the courage you needed before letting out,

“Doctor?”

It felt that time had stopped, it was surreal for the both of you, for you, you’d never thought that you would say that word or name ever again,

For him, he’d thought he would never hear that voice calling for him ever again,

He quickly turned around, stumbled a bit as he was trying to come up with something to say,

“I-It’s been a while, huh?” you look down, “would’ve sent you an invite, but didn’t know how to…” You awkwardly say, just to avoid the the silence,

There was a pause, an unbearing one, before the both of you say at the same time,

“I’m sorry!”

Both of you were surprised on how the apologies came out at the same time,

“I should be the one saying sorry here.” The Doctor went a bit closer as he looked at you, “I was the one that was scared to say anything-”

“No, I should be the one apologizing since I was the one that walked away on what we could’ve fixed!” You insist as you looked at him,

“Seems like both of us have things to say sorry for.” He says, trying to make the atmosphere less intimidating,

As it became more comfortable and exchanging jokes and banter, the both of you sat on the bench next to the river, asking questions just to catch up, everything was easy going and breezy,

“Never thought I would land on your wedding day.” he says as he sighs, trying to hide the bitter thoughts that accompany with it,

Never thought I’d see you again after what I did.” You look away, regretting the harshness of the reply,

“Wouldn’t blame you.” There was a while of comfortable silence before the Doctor had to ask the question that was in his mind for a while,

“Do you still love me? Or do you resent me for everything?” He asked as his voice had a hint of sadness and nervousness as he was trying to brace for your answer,

“Doctor, I could never hate or resent you, honestly, for a while, I resented myself for walking out, not doing anything to get to you, or at the least-” you sigh, “said yes to this.” gesturing to the white gown you were wearing, “but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Then how were you so sure that this type of forever suits you?” He suddenly asked,

“What do you mean?” You looked at him,

“Well, you’re questioning a major choice that affects your life, why did you say yes to this?”

You thought about his question, it was something you really had to ponder, realizing alot of things, you met your soon to be husband at your lowest time, and he very much acted like the Doctor,

The more you thought about the reasons, the more you realized that you were still very much in love with the Doctor subconsciously. Slowly by slowly, you were regretting the choices you had made ever since walking out of the TARDIS,

The Doctor suddenly pulls you in an embrace, noting your habit of spacing out and shaking, as soon as you realized what he was doing, you snapped out of the state of overthinking and calmed down, “I can’t just back out of this, I have to push through with this, I signed up for this, I have to take that…”

“You can.”

“No I can’t.”

The Doctor was about to say something, until you heard your soon to be husband calling to you, “Baby, what are you doing with this guy?” He harshly grabs your wrist, causing you to whimper,

“What the hell you think you’re doing? Treating her like that?” The Doctor was not happy with that.

“So? She belongs to me.” He plainly and arrogantly says as he was dragging you away from the Doctor’s comfort,

You could feel the anger piling in the Doctor as he was trying his best not to punch this guy, “I’d be careful if I were you.”

He pushes you in his car, “As if.” He gets in the car and it speeds off, You were hopeless, you were comfortable and honest for once in a while. As the car was speeding off, it was the uncomfortable silence that stressed you out the most, James was about to say something but the driver of the car interrupted, “Is that a flying blue box?”

You looked through the window behind you, seeing the familiar TARDIS, you had hope in you for once,

James notices the flying blue box behind the car as well, “What the hell is that?!”

The doors of the TARDIS opened as The Doctor was now in sight with his sonic screwdriver in hand, he points it to the car door on your side. Noticing the plan, you were about to jump out of the 120mph car and into the blue box, but you felt a grip on your wrist,

“You’re not going anywhere.” James angrily says, The blue box is now next to the car, matching the speed,

“Yes I am!” You punched him square in the face,

As he winced in pain, he lets you go, in the window of opportunity, you hurriedly made an effort to grab the Doctor’s arm and jump to the TARDIS, in which you ended up landing on top of him and the doors shutting,

As the TARDIS flew up and into space, both of you took a moment to catch your breaths before both of you broke into laughter,

“I miss this!” you exclaimed as you both sat up,

“I miss you.” He says as his laugh turns into a smile,

You blushed at his sudden confession, not really expecting that he would still feel that way towards you, however, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I miss you too.” you say as you leaned your forehead against his, a usual thing that the both of you did, The Doctor’s smile grew wider and his hearts beat faster after hearing you say that,

He slowly held your face and leaned in closer for a kiss, and it felt that he was longing for this moment for a while, it lasted for a few minutes before he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style, as if he was the one you married.

“The next time I see you in a wedding gown, I better be the groom.” He says, making the both of you laugh as he carries you towards the TARDIS’ halls towards his bedroom, after all, the two of you needed to rest before going on more adventures, just like old times.

======== author's note: aaaaaaaaaaaaa I hope to write more since I really love doing this, and ofc requests are open, wait for announcements for it hdksjksdjfhkdsj hope ya'll enjoyed this-

#doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #dw fic #dw fanfic

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phantomram-b00 · 9 months

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I feel Aziraphale is not talk about as much as people would talk about Crowley (whether it about season 1/2), so as this show will have me on a chokehold for who know how long, I wanna talk about my favorite character, Aziraphale or Mr. Fell if you will. Now warning I will say stuff regarding season 1 or 2 (so spoiler warning ahead)

I not going to pretend, when I first watch the show all the way back in 2019/2020, my first favorite was Crowley, because his personality: he say it what it is, cunning and above all is very complexing to analyze between his deep love for earth by encouraging a eleven year old boy to say “fuck you dad” in order to save humanity to how he still doesn’t consider himself to be a morally good person, he very much fit in the realm of a grey hero or anti-hero if you will. I still very much love Crowley, I do say, David Tennant absolutely kills it for his range of being a sly cynical demon to an immortal who just willing to risk everything for the sake of humanity and for Aziraphale in a drop of a hat. However this isn’t about best boy, this is about the other best boy, the Angel with the heart of gold: Aziraphale. As now in retrospect, Aziraphale became my number one favorite character and he need his spotlight just as much Crowley.

When we first see him, you can see with the mannerism that he isn’t like any of the other archangels. You can see all the archangels are stiff and rigid whether that is their posture or their attitude towards everything and how blasé they are about armageddon. (Or even when they tell Job that they going to have seven more kids after their other three died for the sake of winning a bet against Satan.) with Aziraphale he more expressive, like he literally maybe the only Angel besides Muriel that smiles as much as he does. He still is rigid like them, but I feel that is him trying to blend right in with them and trying to mask himself for not trying to be the odd one out even thought no matter what, he still is shown to be different than the rest of him. The very first scene is when Gabriel comments on how Aziraphale eats despite angels not having the necessary to eat (Season 1 Ep 1) or even the biggest one: the garden of Eden. He gave away his own sword just to make sure Adam and Eve are safe, even Crowley didn’t see that coming as angels would even dare try to do so let alone interfere with whatever God’s planning in their agenda to fuck with humanity. Plus that, you can tell that as Crowley talk how “why is it so bad for mortals to know the difference between good and evil” you can see him question it before responding with “so they don’t get tempted into it”.

Aziraphale was rule-breaking everything since day one (on earth); yet still is trying to convince everyone plus the audience that he’s really is “the good guys” until he’s blue in the face. Buddy, Aziraphale, you’re quite literally the only morally good besides Muriel about everything. Hell him befriending Crowley is probably the biggest risk he toke, and he doesn’t regret a thing about it. Probably saying “But Phantom, why you say that even after what happen with season 2?”, Because my good ole Good omens enjoyer! It because Crowley treats Aziraphale like an person rather than his adversary even thought their hereditary enemies. Something that Aziraphale never even knew he needed until they had the conversation at the garden of Eden. Aziraphale just wanted someone who constantly remind him that he’s different, he already knows that, you can tell by his body language and expression.

Prime example, when they meet again was when the world was going to flood (season 1 episode 3) when Crowley meet with him again, he still is rigid but as Crowley asked about the flood, you can very much tell he’s against it. Especially when kids were mentioned. He absolutely hates this idea, but he can’t say anything about it since he’s an angel and giving the implications might have fear that if he show any disagreement with the Lords plan will ostracized more than he already is by his peers or “worse” he falls. He even tries to hide his feelings by telling Crowley that “oh don’t worry, God will make a rainbow and it’ll all be better” to then say “we can’t judge for it is ineffable” and there’s great hesitation as he say this. His face is readable like an open book but if that book had brightly colored words written on his forehead to tell how exactly he feel and he was just say “oh don’t worry it fine. It fine!”. He want to hold on to the fact that this all have some purpose for the greater good; despite that he looking at everything with rose color glasses. Hell he does this again when it come to Job (Season 2 episode 2) when the archangel said “oh yeah, Crowley have all rights to kill off his goats, house, and his three kids. But! We going to give him new goats, house, and kids. Did we mention seven more kids” which like….I don’t know about y’all, but them being all chill about replacing their three kids very much is telling. Aziraphale is mortified about this, and even try to speak out against but of course, the archangels told him to not worry about it and don’t question it. But Aziraphale just can’t do that, he have a plethora of question and even doubts of all this, he can tell that this is not right, he the type to follow his moral compass and heart, but also nearly cry when he think he going to Hell.

Which, speaking of that last part, the conversation might possible confirmed one or two things. One of them being that this might have been the first time, Aziraphale toke off his mask if you will and two, confirms just how alone he is at his own side. You see him in a way question everything that happen, and when Crowley come immediately jumps to say “I’m ready to go now.” only for Crowley to say “I’m not taking you anywhere because you wouldn’t like it there” and then, we got to see Aziraphale wall break; he think just because he saved kids was him disobeying God and you can see he want to desperately cry but is still holding on to his mask. Crowley then comfort him as to say “well I’m not going tell anyone, nothing going to change” and you can see his expression whilst still perplexed is relieved. He then asked the most heartbreaking question, “what am I” and ask Crowley said, “You’re just an Angel that goes along with heaven as far as he can” any Angel would’ve said “well that’s what the lord want me to do” but instead Aziraphale said “that sound lonely…” can you imagine just how agonizing that line is? The fact that he’s suppose to be “good” yet he following them despite his qualms which also that giving that this might be the first time Aziraphale not only was confront or even toke of his mask for this moment just confirmed the third thing, he’s a tragic character who I am just hoping he get hugs and therapy after all of this. He and Crowley both have their conscience but Aziraphale is pushing them down as it deemed as treasonous behavior. That how Crowley most likely fell, and he just doesn’t want to fall but he knows that he still have to do something. This conversation alone was clever to convey Aziraphale’s inner conflict with himself and Crowley is there being the voice of reason; Aziraphale truly never felt lonely until this and it just shows just how much he needed this conversation; because deep down, he knows that he doesn’t have anyone to talk to about this besides Crowley. Which broke down his wall, and a realization that no matter how much he tries will always be alone.

But I feel what is captivating about him is that, even after everything he still chooses to be ignorant and follow through. Even also showing kindness to the archangel despite the archangels expecting him to fail at everything, hell Gabriel insults Aziraphale tell him to “lost the gut” back in season 1 episode 4. Hell Gabriel literally tell “Aziraphale” (air quotes because it was Crowley during episode 6 for the bodyswap) to “shut your stupid mouth and die already” which while show just how much restraint Crowley got in him to not absolutely punch the shit out of Gabriel also shows just how good of heart he must be to still smile in their face and play nice despite them not caring about him. While sure, if this was Crowley, he would not hesitate to tell them to go kick rocks but with Aziraphale, he rather swallow his pride. He truly the most humble character I’ve ever seen in the history of television; his willpower and patient is what make him almost the bigger person in a way, since while I think he should’ve told them to go kindly kick rocks, he can’t. He rather be the bigger person rather then give them the satisfaction that they got under his skin. Which if that not the best definition of killing them with kindness, then shit I don’t know what it is. This is one of the reason he’s my favorite, he’s still acting like an angel and frankly they don’t deserve him, because if anyone had to be kind to you despite you still acting like a dick just tell you how much of a dick you are.

But then when he’s with Crowley, he can be his own person. He much happier and more comfortable to express himself, I mean look at season 2 episode 4, how happy he got after nearly getting his head blown off from an magic show, you can tell this is truly Aziraphale. Not the one that is rigid or pretending to be; aziraphale the expressive and bubbly angel that just need to express this and Crowley is the person he could do so and you can tell just how much Aziraphale and Crowley loves this. Crowley never judged him for his interest/hyperfixation but instead he in support of it and even indulges with him. Crowley can say how much aziraphale sucks at magic but because it makes Aziraphale happy; he happily accepts this part of him. And I absolutely love this about aziraphale and how free he is with Crowley, Aziraphale can go in depth about what book he read today and Crowley would just smile and listen to his favorite angel enjoying something. Hell, Episode 3 of season 1, Crowley went inside a FUCKING CHURCH to save him and even save his book because Aziraphale was devastated that his books was gone. Aziraphale just want to be his own character, himself, not the image that heaven model for him which you can say is another example of him being a rebel/rule breaker. Plus that I love all the moment where he’s a bitch (as in him being unapologetically sassy), because while yes, he sweet and kind hearted but he can and will through that energy right back at you while still killing you with kindness at the same time. He’s an adorable sassy theatre nerdy person and that is the true aziraphale. Which the fact he was almost willing to give it up (season 1) just to please the lord make him once again tragic as you can tell he doesn’t want to lose his autonomy, the first episode show that as he cringe of the very idea of God’s favorite musical being Sound of Music and Even when his face lit up when Crowley mention Alpha Centauri, he want to run away with Crowley just as much as Crowley want to run away with him but given Archangel and Heaven’s influence and just how much trauma he have, he decline it due to the overwhelming stress that his side put him through.

Now what make me love Aziraphale the most other than his characteristic is his flaws, and now you’re gonna ask “what flaws specifically Phantom?” Oh don’t worry, imma say it right now: his selflessness. Let me explain:

As the definition states, it typically means to care for other’s well-being and needs over your own. Which fits Aziraphale to the T as he is shown to put others, prime example(s): Aziraphale giving away his sword despite God giving it to him (S1 episode 1), helping Anathema get home despite needing to look after the Antichrist (S1 episode 2), Aziraphale giving Crowley the holy water despite that he could get in serious trouble (Season 1 episode 3) and you know there more but those are the highlights, but the biggest one, is Season 2 episodes 1, helping Gabriel (or Jim). Now when I first watch season 2, I was bewildered of the fact that he was willing to help him out even after all the thing Gabriel have either said or done. I know Gabriel had zero memories buttttttttt it’s still intriguing as he still willing to help him, but he also not ignoring the fact that Gabriel used to be awful, he even said it in episode 2 of season 2. Even Crowley was shocked, and give Gabriel the most terrifying speech of all of seasons about how horrible he was to aziraphale. Aziraphale still, being the courteous angel he is still helps him, which while this isn’t the most tragic thing, still shows just how damaged he is. “but phantom? Why damaged?”, because this shows that he will still put everyone needs above himself even if it’ll bite him in the ass. Just like how he trusted Greta in episode 3 thinking she was on his side when really she was working with Glozier and Harmony. And I feel in season 3, it going to bite him in the ass again given how season 2 went down. And now imma make this very clear, being selfless is not a bad thing, it an honorable trait you can have, however there a point where you have to put yourself first, and that something Aziraphale have to learn as sure he changed from season 1 to 2, he still is concern about others than himself.

Now I can talk about so much of season 2 and how it ended, but given a family member is watching it, I will have to restraint from spoiling it any further, but I would have to say, as much as the theory’s (if you know you know) are fascinating to dive into and maybe make things less sad; the theories does diminish aspect of character. As the purpose of the character was to show that even if you try to be free, the trauma is still there, and most of Aziraphale’s action is because of his religious trauma and guilt. He want to make thing better and be free yet he facing his own demons of his own. And it only a matter of time before he loses it, since unlike Michael, Uriel, and even Metatron, he have a conscience, a conscience that is very integral to him and what make his gear going, what make aziraphale well aziraphale. He’s a flawed character, he may be “the good” guy, he still have his flaws. He a tragic angel that just want to be loved for who is us instead of complying with the norm; and I love that about aziraphale and I’m hopping season 3 will give him (and hopefully plus Crowley) the happy ending and healing he needs. Michael sheen does a fantastic job as Aziraphael, and the fact he almost played Crowley truly is astonishing, and frankly while it would be cool to see how he would’ve played Crowley I think he’s the perfect actor for aziraphale and I can’t see anyone else playing this character, he absolutely killing it with David Tennant with their characters.

Now I’ve talk probably long enough, I just love this character so much and I see myself in aziraphale, you can I guess at I kin aziraphale lmao. So I just wanted to find any excuse to hyperfixate on my favorite character and talk about him. He’s my favorite flawed character and I can’t wait to see where his character goes. You have all rights to disagree with what I have to say, or if you agree, that cool I mean hey, both are valid. 😊 here a picture of smiling Aziraphale to maybe help heal you after a bad day or the aftermath of season 2. I love smiles.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens season 2 #good omens season 3 #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #aziraphale good omens #renew good omens #crowley good omens #i love this character so much #michael sheen #Spotify

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sylvanfreckles · 7 months

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"I think I've translated another page," Marinette explained. She gestured to the monitor as she explained, indicating one of the pages of the ancient book. "It talks about the guardian meeting with someone who...controls other worlds? I think? Controls the connections between worlds, maybe?"

"You're losing me," Alya replied. "So this book says, what, there are parallel dimensions? And this is the person who controls them?"

"Maybe. His name is a little harder to figure out. Crest-oh-man-see, I think. Chrestomanci."

Alya stared at her eyebrows raised.

"Chrestomanci," Marinette repeated, the syllables strange on her tongue. "I think that's how you--"

Her words were interrupted by a sudden presence in the room. She whirled around, trying to hide the monitor with her body, eyes wide at the sight of a strange man standing in the middle of her floor.

He was dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, and had one hand in the air as though he was reaching for something on a bookcase. His head swiveled to take in the sight of the girls, his eyes glittering like dark beetles in his austere face.

The man said something. Marinette thought he was speaking English, but she hadn't been keeping up with her lessons. "Alya?"

"Who is he?" Alya hissed back.

The man's expression brightened. "Oh, you're French," he said, in flawless French. "Well, with that difficulty out of the way, let us move on to another. You called for me?"

"We...we did?" Marinette stammered. At least he looked kind. The stern set of his features had faded into a sort of bland pleasantness when he caught sight of the two girls.

"Are you a demon?" Alya demanded. She'd grabbed Marinette's hand and was squeezing it hard enough to make her fingers go numb.

"I should hope not," the man replied with a hint of disdain. "I am Chrestomanci, and I am here because you called me."

"I see," Marinette whispered. "And, uh, who is Chrestomanci?"

"Ah. That would be a very long story," Chrestomanci replied. His eyes took on a sudden twinkle as a smile twitched across his stern features. "You could say it's a story that would take nine lifetimes to tell."

----

If you know who Chrestomanci is I will love you forever. This is a crossover idea that started rattling around in my skull (a marble rolled from Miraculous all the way over to Chronicles of Chrestomanci and I haven't been able to separate it).

Picture a younger David Tennant who's kind of an endearing asshole, because even though he's (unfortunately) usually right about everything he's still kind enough to help those in need. And he absolutely refuses to remember the names of people he doesn't like, so he'd constantly be calling Gabriel any other name that popped into his head at that moment.

(Chrestomanci is the title for a specialized enchanter who tries to stop the misuse of magic. For example, traveling to parallel worlds to hunt down sentient creatures for potion ingredients, or using spellcraft to pit two powerful families against each other to leave their province vulnerable for invasion.)

#miraculous ladybug #chronicles of chrestomanci #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #chrestomanci #christopher chant #crossover idea #fic idea #ficlet

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butchviking · 9 months

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prime numbers

thats a lot of fucking questions anon jesus christ

2. what would you name your future kids?

answered

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

this photo of ray toro it's my emergency ray and even when literally suicidal it has never filed to rouse a smile out of me

7. what was your life like last year?

amazing. last year was the best year of my life so far. i did so much cool shit i never imagined i would do i felt so free and full of life i felt like the whole world was at my fingertips

11. are you listening to music right now?

yes! this morning we're doing please catch for us the foxes mewithoutyou. i'm on tie me up! untie me! rn on my second repeat of the album. thinking about maybe throwing in an rtl or even a bullets after this playthru tho 🤔

13. how do you feel right now?

pretty good! well mostly neutral i suppose but i'm up early for work i'm already showered i don't have much to do and i've still got over an hour before i gotta go so this is a rare W for me im pleased w myself. i'm usually always up late and in a mad rush

17. opinion on insecurities.

bizarre question. um they're not good and when they're overwhelming in someone they're off-putting but we all have them and i am in many ways a simpering wad of insecurity so im hardly gonna throw stones about it. i think what is very frustrating tho is when ppl can't admit to them.

19. have you ever been to New York?

nope!

23. fear(s)

needles, unexpected spiders

29. favourite film(s)

the crow!!!

31. 3 random facts

about me or in general? umm 1. you can dissolve ping-pong balls in acetone to make a very strong glue 2. im allergic to the cold but no-one ever believes me until they see it for themselves because that sounds absolutely ridiculous 3. many viking houses were built in the shape of an inverted ship, with curved roofs and sometimes curved walls.

37. favourite actor/actress

huh. i don't think i really have one. i mean i have actors and actresses who are in things i like and who i think are good but i don't think i could point to one as a favourite. maybe david tennant but that's just sort of because he's everywhere in everything and he was(/is) doctor who

41. relationship status

single who want me

43. favourite song ever

no. we're not doing that. that doesn't exist

47. turn ons

um. nothing good. well, love. but mostly mean weird stuff. shhhhhh its fine im normal i am normal

53. 5 things that make me happy

music/concerts/moshpits

images of whoever my latest Guy (gender-neutral) is

exactly 3 glasses of wine. no more no less

talking 2 friends hanging out with friends having positive social interaction

the sense of achievement when i actually get some shit done i needed to do

59. why i joined tumblr

when i was 14 all my friends were into the whole Tumblr Aesthetic and kept referring to ppls outfits as 'so tumblr' and i wanted 2 figure out what that meant. i bet they're all long gone i bet they don't even think about this website anymore

#this took forever cause i kept getting distracted lol sry #also some of these were hard 🤔#ask #anonymous

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capybaraonabicycle · 1 year

Note

11, 5, 10 from the music asks?

Thank you for the ask! These are fun :)

5: A song that needs to be played LOUD

Candy Store ❤️

youtube

Ultimate LOUD song. Although there are a few more on the Heathers album that would qualify, too.

10: A song that makes you sad

Ich bin leider schuld (I'm unfortunatly guilty/it's unfortunately my fault) by Dota

youtube

This one is filled with a bitter kind of sadness which I think you can feel radiating from the singer. Especially when she smiles. It's about personal responsibility especially vis-a-vis climate change and that feeling of guilt associated with it. And then about how people are trying to handle it by acknowledging the guilt but also by arguing it away while it always lingers. It's about performative activism. It's about helplessness. It's about just living your life in a western country and hence living a life stolen from the rest of the world and future generations. It is really depressing.

Lines that live in my mind now and won't leave:

Unfortunately, I'm guilty: I wished the mosquitoes would die and so would the wasps.

Unfortunately, I'm guilty: I wished it would be warmer, warm enough to go swimming.

Unfortunately, I'm guilty: I went shopping and ate. Everything I liked, I'm unfortunately guilty, I forgot about my researches in the process.

Now I have to behave and I don't know how. I want to do the right thing, in practice and theory.

Now I have to behave and it has to be scientifically based. So I do the right thing, the absolutely right thing.

I'm not the only one who's guilty. That doesn't make things better even though it is true, just easier to handle. But it mustn't be too easy for anyone.

11: A song that you never get tired of

Difficult. I reckon I would get tired of any song. But there are two that come to mind:

The Cavetown cover of Paul. This one comes to mind because when I first heard it I got absolutely obsessed and told my sister to stop me from listening too often so I wouldn't start to hate it. And she failed in the regard of stopping me (not that she tried very hard tbh) but I haven't grown tired of the song yet and I've known it for at least 2 years.

youtube

I'm gonna be (500 miles) by The Proclaimers. Just because whenever I hear the song I have to think of Sue from Catering and David Tennant beaming at his friends and I don't think I could ever get tired of those images.

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#tw: climate change

0 notes

moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Don’t Go - [Reid x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: After being tortured by Tobias Hankel, Dr. Spencer Reid is struggling and everyone can see it. Reader can’t bear his pain and tries to comfort him...only to be heartbroken when he says their night meant nothing.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.6k

Genre: Angst. Angst. Angst. But fluff at the end cause I’m not a monster.

Content Warning: Talk of drug use, language, penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), and just angst. All the angst. Get tissue.

A/n: This is set over the arc of episodes 2x16 - 2x18. A special thank you to @imjusthereformggcontent and @catsadams for reading through the beginning of this in its first form. You’re both angels. I hope this is everything y’all wanted it to be, my doves. Thank you for sticking with me.

Request prompt: Can you write a fic where Spencer is high on dilaudid and tells you that your night together was nothing and that you're nothing to him. Then the next day he can't rember telling you and and he can't figure out why you are avoiding him.

-- Don’t Go --

The first indication I got that today wasn’t going to be normal came when Special Agent Grant Anderson shuffled into my office just after 9:30 am. He didn’t knock before he entered and then shut the door quickly behind him.

I glanced up from the paperwork in front of me, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Something on your mind, Special Agent?” I teased.

Ever since Anderson made a mistake that led to SSA Elle Greenaway being shot a few months ago, a lot of people on this floor had been giving him the cold shoulder, despite the fact that Greenaway had forgiven him before she left the BAU.

When I first joined the bureau and was assigned to this unit, Anderson had been my first friend. He was there for me when I felt nervous and like I was a complete imposter. He’s the reason I was still a member of this team; I’d never turn my back on him.

“Something’s up with Reid.”

I propped both of my elbows on the desk, my chin resting on my folded hands. “Well, he was just abducted and tortured. That’s gonna have an effect on someone.”

Anderson was already shaking his head before I got done speaking. “This is different. I just tried to talk to him while he was getting some coffee. I asked him about David Tennant taking over as The Doctor and he…he snapped at me, y/l/n.”

Okay, that’s odd. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking,” I defended. “He was tortured, Grant.”

“I’ve known him since I started here. He’s…something is wrong.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “It can’t be anything too bad. I mean, he’s surrounded by profilers. His mentor is Jason Gideon for god’s sake. If something was wrong, they’d know.”

Anderson walked forward and braced his palms on my desk, his eyes boring into mine.

“Dr. Spencer Reid is also one of the best profilers in the world. I’m telling you, y/n, something is wrong.”

I conceded with a sigh. “What do we do?”

“I think you should talk to him.”

My spine stiffened. “Me? Why?” But I knew why.

Anderson scoffed. “You know how he looks at you. And I know how you look at him.”

Dr. Spencer Reid’s nervousness around me could have been blamed on many things, Anderson insisted it meant he liked me. I wasn’t convinced…because I saw how he looked at JJ.

How I looked at Reid was obvious. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met, he was kind, sweet, and his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. My heart fluttered when he realized he was rambling and he blushed, and my day was made whenever he would seek me out to talk to me.

I had a crush on Spencer Reid.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

He shot me a relieved smile and backed away from the desk. “Sooner than later, please.”

Such a sassy bitch, I thought as he shut the door.

It was well after 6 pm when I gathered my things to leave the office that day. I had been hired as one of the many, many agents that worked under JJ. Media liaison wasn't her only role; she also fielded hundreds of requests for FBI assistance every week. It was my job to go through those requests, make initial judgments, and then send out responses.

I had always been happier working behind the scenes, so a job filled with paperwork suited me just fine. All I wanted to do was help catch bad guys, and with the BAU I felt like I was making a difference.

Speaking to Reid had been on my mind all day, but I had expected that I'd have the night to think up a plan of attack then talk to him first thing in the morning, but when I walked past the bullpen I saw him at his desk.

The entire floor appeared to be empty apart from him. His shoulders were hunched, his head resting in his hands.

I was opening the doors before I realized what was happening. I had crossed the distance until I was standing in front of him before I even knew what I was going to say.

“Reid,” I said softly. I almost touched him, but I didn’t think he’d like that. He didn’t seem to like to be touched.

His head snapped up; the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, his hair was messier than usual, and his clothing was in disarray. He cleared his throat, his tongue running over his dry lips.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," I began, standing at the end of his desk. "I don't even know how to begin to think about it. So, I won't ask you to talk about it. I won't ask you to talk at all. I just…I just want you to know that I'm here if you just want a friend. If you want to grab some coffee and talk about nothing…whatever."

Those warm brown eyes were duller than I’d ever seen them, but they ran over my entire body quizzically, like he wasn’t sure I was even there.

After a beat, I decided it was best to leave him to it. I couldn't force him to accept my offer…not that I would force him even if I could. "Goodnight, Reid."

I turned and made my way back to the double glass doors of the bullpen. I hadn’t heard him move, so I was completely thrown off guard when his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes looked up to meet his, confusion plain on my face.

His eyes weren't dull anymore, they were shimmering but not in any way I ever wanted to see. He swiped at his cheek angrily when the first tear fell. "Don't go," he rasped.

I won’t.

We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to the lobby. It was only when we reached the front doors of the building that I spoke. “Where do you want to go?”

He scratched at his forearm, his eyes moving over the room behind us like he was expecting someone to run out from any direction. I wasn't a profiler, but I recognized hypervigilance when I saw it.

“I don’t know. Not here.”

I nodded. “Alright. Do you want to go…get food? Coffee?” He shook his head, his hands now picking at the threads of the cardigan he wore. “We could go for a walk?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes rising to meet mine. “I don’t want to be around a lot of people right now.”

“Okay, we can-“

“But,” he interrupted. “I…I’m afraid to be alone, y/n. I’m…I’m so fucking afraid.”

I reached for him only to still my hand at the last second, millimeters away from touching him. “I won’t leave you alone, Reid.” My teeth dug into my lower lip as I thought. “We could go to your apartment. Or mine.” I quickly added when I saw how his eyes widened at the mention of his place.

“I…I don’t want to go home.” He licked his lips again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Then you don’t have to go home right now. We’ll go to my place. We can order dinner, watch a movie, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”

The look of relief on his face, combined with the smile he sent me warmed up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was cold.

The ride to my apartment was mostly silent; I had turned the radio on for background noise. Spencer’s eyes kept staring out of my passenger side window while his hands twisted in his lap.

He followed behind me quietly when we entered my building, then took the elevator up to my apartment. Spencer’s eyes glided over my apartment, taking in the photos of my friends and family on the walls, the throw pillows on my couch, and the titles on my bookshelf.

I went into the kitchen to get us both a bottle of water only to find him standing in the same spot when I returned.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, do you want to sit down?”

He nodded, following me over to my couch. I curled my feet up under myself, my hands folded in my lap. “Spencer…I know I said you don’t have to talk, and you don’t. But…I want to help. I just…I want to do anything I can to help you.” I let out a breath, embarrassed that my voice was already thick with tears. “If that means sitting here beside you and just staring at the wall that’s fine. I…I just want to help.”

Reid’s head swiveled over to face me, those beautiful brown eyes were frightened. “Tobias…he…he hurt me. And I can still feel it,” he whispered, his voice raw even in that hushed volume. “It’s all I feel. I just…I don’t want to hurt anymore, y/n. I can’t stand it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from rising up on my knees and moving towards him. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”

The words weren’t out of my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my middle, laying his head against my chest. When the first sob wracked through his body, I felt something inside of me crack. The second sob triggered my own.

I didn't know what had happened to him, and if I did know, I don't think I would ever truly understand. But the agony he was in affected me more than any pain I had ever felt myself.

My fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the soft tangles. His hair is curly, I thought absentmindedly. He always wore it slicked down…but it was curly.

Spencer finally quieted after a few moments, his sobs turning into sniffles. “Thank you.”

I gave a broken chuckle. “Don’t thank me for caring about you, Spencer.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, his eyes moving over my cheeks. “You cried for me.”

I nodded.

“Why?”

The question was so unexpected that I wasn’t prepared to do anything but tell the truth. “It hurts me to see you hurt.”

Spencer looked at me for a moment longer, absorbing my words before his palm came up and cupped my jaw, his thumb wiping my left-over tears away. He gentled pulled my head down until my lips pressed against his. Our first kiss was tender, his lips were slightly chapped but still unbelievably soft. Something about this kiss broke my heart more than his tears did.

My hands had come up to cup his face, my actions a mirror of his own. “I…I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spencer,” I mumbled out when we had pulled apart.

He chuckled softly. “You’re worried about that?” His mood became somber when I nodded. “Y/n…you know how I look at you. Everyone does. I don’t…I don’t want this if you don’t. I don’t want you to do this out of pity-“

“Spencer,” I gasped. “I would never…I’d never touch you out of pity. I-I want to touch you. I have for a long time.”

you. I have for a long time.”

Tears started to shine in his eyes again at my words. “Then please touch me, y/n. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I just…I just want to feel how I feel when you hold me. It-It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”

Our lips came together the second time in understanding and hope. My mouth brushed against his with a promise that I was touching him because I wanted to. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it while his hands wove into my hair.

I moved to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of him, while my hands started working on the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer’s tongue ghosted against my lips; the groan he gave when I immediately let him inside made my core throb.

He froze when I started to push his shirt off his shoulders. “What is it?”

“It’s…I don’t want you to see…what he did to me. Please?”

I moved off of him quickly, extending my hand to pull him from the couch. I led him down the hall to my bedroom, not turning on the overhead light when we entered; the only source of light was a sliver of moonlight through the curtains.

“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to,” I whispered. “Do you…”

His lips crushed against mine, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me against his body. Those long fingers started working my shirt up my body, breaking away momentarily to pull it over my head.

Once my pants were down my thighs, he pushed me back onto the bed. He had removed his cardigan but left his button-up shirt on. I reached behind myself to unhook my bra, feeling a sudden nervousness rise up in my chest.

His fingers were warm when they brushed over my collarbones, drifting down over my breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I pulled him on top of me when I leaned back on the bed, our lips meeting in a heated frenzy. He palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, causing me to arch up against him.

Spencer’s lips moved down until he was mouthing my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, all the while his hand ghosted down my body until his fingers hooked on the top of my panties.

His head lifted, his eyes searching mine. “Can I touch you?”

I nodded, my hand moving atop his, guiding him inside my panties; I couldn’t control my gasp when his fingers parted my folds to brush against me.

My hands went to his belt. “I-is this okay?”

He nodded, his mouth coming down to cover the tip of my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple to a point. Those long fingers gathered wetness from my opening to bring it up to circle my clit. Ever the scientist, Spencer paid attention to every reaction I had, he wanted to learn how to touch me.

When his middle and ring finger entered me, his palm grinding against my clit, I finally got his pants open. My hand snacked inside to palm his cock, pulling a grown from him.

“Can I push these down a bit?”

“Please,” he breathed, his lips coming over mine.

His pants were down to his mid-thighs before I wrapped my hand around him. He was bigger than I expected, not overly thick, but longer than anyone I had been with before.

“Y/n,” he whimpered against my lips, his fingers speeding up inside of me.

I gave a few pumps, my movements uncoordinated. “I want to feel you inside me, Spence. Please?”

Reid groaned, removing his fingers from my heat. “Do you have a condom?”

I turned to my bedside table, fumbling in the darkness. When I turned back to face him, I saw two of his fingers in his mouth. The same two fingers that had just been inside of me.

“Jesus,” I breathed out, finding the sight of him sucking my arousal off his fingers incredibly erotic.

He took the condom from me, his lips quirking up in a smile. "I've…I've never done that before." His eyes moved down to my still covered pussy. "I want to…but I-I don't want this time to be worse for you than it has to be," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Hey," I muttered, my hands cupping that well-defined jaw. "This isn't going to be bad for me, Spencer. Just being with you is wonderful."

My words felt heavy in the air. Because they were true.

Spencer swallowed thickly, rolling the condom down over his length. I tugged my panties off, leaving me totally bare to him, while he still had most of his clothing on.

Even with that weird detail, this was still wonderful; being with Spencer like this was…everything.

I gripped him, lining him up at my entrance. His forehead dropped against mine when he started to push inside of me.

“Spence,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his hips.

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Better than okay. You feel so good.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think anything could feel better than…fuck.” His slim hips pressed against mine when he was fully sheathed inside of me.

I felt my pussy flutter at his words. I’d never heard Spencer curse like that before.

We started a steady pace; his thrusts were even, and my hips rose to meet them. His arms were braced on either side of my head, his lips brushing against mine while he fucked me.

Calling it fucking seemed wrong. It was so much more.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

My hand squeezed down between our bodies to rub my clit. “Hold on. I’m almost there.” I whined out.

His moan seemed to tingle across my skin when he dropped his head against my shoulder. “I want to feel you cum, baby.”

I whimpered at his words. “Spencer, harder. I need it harder.”

His hips snapped against mine as he slammed into me, I felt his teeth on the tender skin where my neck and shoulder met for a second before he bit down.

The mix of pain with pleasure sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on him as I found my own orgasm, pulling him over the edge with me.

My fingers ran over his back, scratching at the material of his shirt. I breathed his name out over and over while I floated back down from my high.

I felt his tongue soothe over the bite mark he had just given me as he gave a few more jerks inside of me before pulling out. He placed the sweetest kiss against my lips and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but not with tears this time.

After we cleaned up, we ordered take out and watched some sci-fi movie that was on cable. I couldn’t tell you a thing about it; I was too busy watching Spencer’s face when he told me all about it. I was enraptured by his voice, the way his hands moved.

He was so beautiful.

Before I was ready, I realized that it was already approaching midnight. “It’s late,” I said.

He nodded. “I should go.”

It was childish, but I couldn’t stop my lip from jutting out in a pout, causing him to laugh.

“What is it, beautiful?” he questioned, his voice teasing.

I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ‘beautiful’ me, Spencer Reid,” I scolded, delighted when he laughed. “I just…I’m not ready for you to go.”

Something in Spencer’s eyes changed. He seemed almost relieved at my words. “I’m not ready to go either.”

I leaned over, placing a soft kiss in the center of his lips. “Then don’t go.”

Spending the night with Spence was worth how early I had to wake up the following morning to drive him by his apartment before work. I had offered to wait and give him a ride to work, but he had gotten a text from Garcia. They had gotten called to Houston for a case; Morgan was going to swing by and get him.

“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised, cupping my face when he kissed me goodbye.

The circles under his eyes this morning weren’t as dark as they had been before.

I could barely contain my excitement when we got the notification that the team was headed back. Part of me felt silly for being so excited. I mean, it was just one night; but it hadn’t felt like just one night.

Spencer hadn’t called me during the few days he’d been in Texas, but I hadn’t really expected him to. If anyone understood his job, it was someone who worked with his team. The BAU was such an elite unit within the FBI for a reason; they would stop at nothing to solve a case.

When the glass doors of the bullpen opened and I saw Hotch stride in, heading for his office, I couldn’t contain my smile.

“I saw that,” Anderson muttered.

I reached out and smack his arm. “You wanted me to talk to Reid.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “And judging by that mark on your neck you did more than talk.”

I scowled at him. “See if I’m on your side the next time you fuck up,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t take my words to heart.

He just offered me a wide smile. That’s how Anderson had lasted so long here, he never really held onto anything.

“Your man doesn’t look so good,” he said suddenly.

I turned, my eyes seeking out Spencer. He was right, the dark circles were back under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction.

He never turned his head in my direction.

I had wanted to give Spencer some space when he first arrived back. What if something about this case had affected him? I thought that maybe that was the reason he had been avoiding me.

My department always had more paperwork than usual when the team came back from a case, so I wasn’t able to leave until after 7. While I gathered up my things I debated about calling Reid, thinking he was already gone. When I went to take Hotch some files about 20 minutes earlier Spencer was rushing out of the bullpen with his bag clutched in his hands.

Even though I wasn’t expecting to see him, I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the glass doors when I passed by out of habit.

He was sitting at his desk. His head was tilted back, and it looked like his eyes were closed. Even in a position that most people would appear relaxed in, he still seemed incredibly tense.

I can just pop in and tell him hi, I reasoned. Let him know I’m not expecting anything, but I’m here for him.

I had given a lot of thought to my relationship with Spencer over the days he was gone. He was still healing from what happened with Tobias, it wasn’t fair of me to put unreasonable expectations on him right now. I was his friend before anything else. I could put my personal feelings aside if I needed to.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open and headed towards his desk. The only person still at their desk was the newest member of the team, SSA Prentiss.

“Hey, y/n,” she greeted.

I had intended to return her greeting, but Spencer’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. The look in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like my presence in this space was annoying to him.

Reid stood abruptly, pulling the strap of his messenger back up on his shoulder before he brushed past me. I had barely processed his actions before he was already leaving the bullpen.

“Spence!” I called. “Hang on!”

He just kept walking. I all but sprinted in my attempt to catch up to him. “Spencer, what the fuck,” I whispered. I knew he had seen me. Once I was closer to him, I reached out and gripped his elbow in an attempt to get his attention.

His entire body jerked as he spun around to face me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words.

My body recoiled from him like he’d slapped me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought…I just…”

Just then a pair of agents walked past us and they did not bother hiding the curiosity in their eyes.

Spencer’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm, pulling me along behind him. The hold he had on my arm was almost painful, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My brain was still playing his words over and over again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He didn’t stop until we reached the copy room; he jerked the door open and shoved me inside.

“Spencer!” I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing the skin with my other hand. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“You thought what?” he snarled taking a step closer to me. “You thought that because I fucked you that means you’re my girlfriend now or something?”

My eyes widened at his words. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach while some unnamable feeling made me throat constrict. “N-no, I didn’t think that. I just-“

I had heard Spencer’s laugh so many times before, it used to make me smile every time I heard it. People who hadn’t heard him laugh before might have thought the sound that he made when he heard my words was a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was harsh and brittle. His face was pulled into a smile that was condescending.

“Are you sure, y/l/n? Because you’ve sure been fucking acting like it all day. I feel your pathetic little looks everywhere I turn. Like I kicked your dog or something.”

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes because…this wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t my Spencer. My Spencer couldn’t use chopsticks and held my face when he kissed me.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned in disgust. “Are you going to cry, y/n? Are you kidding me right now?”

People always say terrible things happen so fast, it’s what I read in witness statements all the time. This was a terrible thing, but time seemed to slow down for it. I saw everything in perfect detail, I heard every single syllable that came out of this mouth.

When the first tear slid down my cheek that dark, brittle laugh left his mouth again. “If you weren’t being so pathetic, I might feel bad for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks.

“Why am I doing what, y/n?” His voice was so much louder than it was before. It didn’t make sense that he brought me to a more private place to avoid attention but now he was…yelling at me. “We fucked, do you get that? That is all! I don’t know what sad little schoolgirl fantasy you built up in your mind, but that night wasn’t special to me.”

Oh. I swallowed down my emotion, my eyes moving away from him to stare down at the floor. I wished I was the sort of person that could lash out whenever I was hurt, to hurt that person back as badly as they hurt me; but it’s just not who I was.

Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, Spencer moved closer to me. His fingers brushed over the strands of hair that hung near my shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, y/n. You’re not special. You were just a desperate girl that wanted attention. You were a pussy to use.”

I jerked back violently at his words, putting as much distance as I could between us. My entire body felt so cold, my face frozen in a mask of confusion.

Reid scoffed once more before he turned and left the room.

He never looked back at me.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in the copy room after he’d left. It may have been seconds; it could have been hours. I think I was in some sort of shock; my body just autopiloted to a place I felt safe.

I don’t remember unlocking my office door. I don’t remember collapsing in my chair and burying my head in my hands while sobs tore out of my chest.

All I remember is hearing my name a moment before I felt someone standing beside me.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called softly. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

I lifted my head and looked into the worried face of one of my best friends.

Anderson didn’t say anything further, he just pulled me up from my chair and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.

Pain is a universal experience, but everyone feels it differently. Everyone heals differently.

My grandmother used to say, “Everything will be different in the morning.” I was never sure if that was true or not, but today I chose to believe it was. The pain and humiliation that burned in my gut when I remembered Spencer’s words yesterday wouldn’t last forever.

I had made a mistake. I had let someone use my body only to find out that person wasn’t who I thought they were. I wasn’t the first person to make that mistake, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the last.

Anderson had stayed with me in my office last night while I pulled myself together enough to go home. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he wasn’t stupid, I’m sure he suspected what had broken my heart.

In a perfect world, I would have fallen for someone like Grant Anderson. He was kind, funny, and a constant source of comfort when I felt my world breaking apart.

I had always tried to think of each painful moment as a lesson in some way, and lessons can teach you both good and bad things. Even my worst moments of pain, I couldn’t regret the choices that lead me to them. Every single experience shapes us into who we grow to be.

One day, when this pain in my heart wasn't so sharp, I think I might be able to look back on my night with Spencer Reid without feeling regret. He had been my friend, he was hurting. How I tried to help his suffering was a mark of who I was.

How he caused me pain was a mark of who he was.

Grant had sent me a text around 6 am, asking me if I was going to take some personal time. The BAU wasn't assigned to an active case today, but I had sent some files over to JJ that looked promising. My money was they'd be headed out to New Orleans tomorrow to catch a serial killer once she had reviewed those files.

A very large part of myself wanted to stay home; I wanted to hide from my pain and tend to my wounded heart in private. But no matter how big that part of me was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let this pain consume me.

I wouldn’t let it.

With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked into the headquarters of the FBI.

The hardest moments after a tragedy are the moments after; after the first wave of pain has passed and you’re expected to go back to your normal life. The world never slowed down just because you were in agony.

JJ came by and told me she thought New Orleans looked promising and asked if I could contact the lead detective for any updates then forward those to her.

She wasn’t a profiler but even she knew something was wrong. Right before she walked out of my office she said, “Hey, are you okay?”

It's always so much worse when they ask you if you're okay because they never want an honest answer. So, on top of all the agony, you feel you have to pull off a convincing lie.

“Just tired, JJ.”

I don’t think she quite believed me, but she was kind enough not to push me any further.

A few hours later JJ was on the phone the detective heading up the investigation into the murders happening in the French Quarter. It looked like the team was heading out to New Orleans sometime tomorrow morning.

My job mostly had me working with JJ, but SSA Hotchner was the unit chief. It wasn’t uncommon that I had to get his signature of approval on something JJ needed. So, when it was time to stop by Hotch’s office, I made my way there with no outward reluctance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spencer standing around the cluster of desks that housed his teammates. They all called out in greeting after I dropped the files off, but I had only waved over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.

Anderson had been popping in and out of my office all morning. First, he had made excuses for coming by, but much to my amusement he had dropped the façade after he came to ask me if he could borrow a pen…while he was holding a pen.

The biggest dilemma of my day was over coffee. Of course, I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and I was dragging. Caffeine was obviously the answer.

But if you knew Spencer Reid, you know he was always at the coffee machine in the BAU bullpen.

I could just go downstairs to counterterrorism, I thought idly. But if I’m already in the elevator I could just run down the block and get coffee. JJ wouldn’t mind.

I was still debating my options when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

I am not proud of my actions, I’m truly not. But there is only one person in this whole building who would knock on a door that hesitantly.

The blinds in my office were closed…but I had left the door unlocked.

On instinct, I slid out of my chair, knees hitting the floor, and hid under my desk.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n? I mentally scolded myself. This is a new low, even for you.

It turned out to be pointless anyway.

He didn’t open the door.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Anderson began. “But…”

“I have to tell you?” I supplied after a beat.

He flopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Exactly.”

The small smile that curled up on my face was the first real smile I’d had in almost 24 hours.

How had it only been 24 hours?

“Listen,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “I know it’s about Reid. I’m not a profiler, but it’s all that makes sense.”

“How’s that?”

One of his dark brown eyebrows raised at the question. “I mean, even if we ignored everything else, the fact that he keeps walking past your office door is a dead giveaway.”

I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Grant, I can’t right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” I whispered out. “I don’t…I need to hold it together. Just for a while longer.”

Grant reclined his back against the chair, his eyes surveying me. “Fine. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I don’t like feeling like this.

“Alright,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I have to go run some sort of errand for Garcia.”

I didn’t bother asking, he’d say it was “classified.”

All the air seemed to leave the room when he opened the door.

Spencer was standing on the other side, his hand up like he had been about to knock.

Grant’s entire body jerked while Spencer’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” my friend demanded.

The most startling thing was how surprised Spencer looked at Grant’s tone; like it was some oddity that one of my closest friends would have been angry on my behalf.

“C-can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.

I licked my lips, weighing my options. How could he hurt me any worse? I gave Grant a nod, signaling that I was okay. He moved out of the way, granting Spencer entry, but I knew my friend; he wouldn’t be far.

The man in front of me waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “Did I do something?”

My eyes had dropped down to my hands only to shoot up to his face at those words. What?

“To make you upset?” he clarified. “I…you’ve been avoiding me all day. And I know you were in here earlier when I knocked.”

His words tore at the bandages I had wrapped my heart in, ripping my wound open again. All I could do was wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt to physically hold myself together. “W-why would I want to talk to you?”

If possible, he looked even more confused than I felt. “What is going on?” He took a step towards me. “Baby-“

My reaction to hearing that word come out of his mouth was visceral. I shot to my feet, almost stumbling over my chair in an attempt to put more distance between us.

Spencer froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Please, y/n, you have to talk to me. It…it hurts me to see you hurt.”

Any work I had done to repair my heart was destroyed at his words. I never should have let him inside. The look on his face twisted a knife in my stomach. He had the audacity to look distraught over my tears like he wasn’t the cause of them.

“I know I said I’d call but I was just so busy with the case…I thought…you’d understand.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth while my eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears that were clouding my vision. If I couldn’t remember everything about yesterday so clearly, I would doubt that the man standing before me now was the same monster that spewed venom at me yesterday.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

He flinched at my use of his last name. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why?” I rasped out. “Do you want it to hurt more? Why are you doing this to me?”

Spencer took another step towards me, his hands were outstretched. "I don't-"

"Don't fucking touch me." I tried to fill my words with the same venom his words had yesterday when he told me the same thing, but my words came out as a broken plea.

He blinked and dropped his hands to his sides. “I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this.”

A sad sort of laugh came out of my mouth at his words.

Somehow the non-acknowledgment of my pain hurt worse than anything. “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot our conversation yesterday?”

Spencer shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “No, I didn’t talk to you yesterday.”

What? “Yes, you did.” My voice shook but my words still tumbled out of my mouth. “You pulled me into the copy room and told me…you told me that our night together was nothing…you told me that I was nothing.”

His brows knit together, his mouth popping open. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re everything, y/n.”

“Reid, please…I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t take this. I can’t…” My shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t make me feel this again.”

“Pathetic?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? Is this…is this some sort of game? You don’t want to be with me…so you do this? Did Anderson tell you about my mom?”

“What?”

“My mom has schizophrenia. Is that why you’re trying to make me feel crazy?”

My brows knitted together. “I…Nobody told me about your mom. I’m not trying to make you feel crazy. And I wanted to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want to be with me.”

He still denied my words. “No, I haven’t talked to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You avoided me all day yesterday. When I finally came to talk to you in the bullpen you walked past me like I wasn't there. Then I went after you." I held up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to show him the finger-shaped bruises. "You dragged me into the copy room. You told me I was pathetic. You mocked me. You told me I was just some girl…some pussy for you to use."

He kept flinching at my words like they were whips leaving lashes all over his body.

“You told me I was nothing. You told me our night together was nothing.”

“No.” He continued to shake his head. “I…I wouldn’t say that. But I especially wouldn’t say that to you. You’re wrong.”

I just shrugged. “Ask Prentiss. She saw me follow you out of the bullpen yesterday. Ask Garcia to pull the security footage. There’s probably a recording of you breaking my heart.”

“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over again.

“I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t remember, Spencer.”

He didn’t say anything else; he just turned and left my office, slamming the door behind him.

JJ was suspicious when I called her from my office phone instead of just walking over to see her, but she didn’t ask any questions about the mysterious illness I told her had hit me. She just told me that she hoped I felt better and to take all the time I needed.

I knew that the team was set to fly out after JJ presented the case at 10 am in the morning, meaning that going back to work tomorrow wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how badly I hurt now, I couldn’t lay down and cry about it.

Part of me was afraid if I laid down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

With that in mind, I would give myself today to feel the full force of my heartbreak. I would cry when I wanted to, I’d watch sad movies and make myself cry more, I’d eat junk food that ultimately only made me feel worse. I would feel this pain for one day.

I told myself Spencer Reid didn’t deserve more of my tears than that. I told myself that over and over again until I almost believed it.

Anderson had been texting me all day to check-in, I had even gotten a nice call from Penelope Garcia asking me if I needed anything.

The most unexpected call came at 8 pm that night from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Y/n?” the voice asked. “This is Prentiss.”

Oh. “Oh. Hi, Emily.”

“Listen, I called for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to check in on you, and the second is…the second is a bit more personal.”

Oh. I cleared my throat. “I’m as good as I can be, Emily.”

She sighed. "I figured. Which brings me to my second question. Did something happen between you and Reid?" After a few moments of my silence, Prentiss hurried on. "You don't have to tell me. It's just that…Reid came up to me this afternoon and demanded to know if I had seen you come into the bullpen to talk to him yesterday."

“What did you say?”

“Um, I told him yes. Because I did. What is going on?”

My fingers picked at the edges of the blanket in my lap. “I don’t know. Anderson thinks something is up with him.”

“We all think something is up with him.”

Her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.

I arrived to work the following morning at 9 am, a full thirty minutes later than usual. JJ had stopped by my office to see how I was doing, followed by a visit from Prentiss. Garcia had teetered into the room about 15 minutes after Emily left, giving me a frosted cookie that was bigger than my hand.

“Cookies help,” she had said confidently.

I hoped she was right.

Anderson popped in last. "Hey, ooh." He skidded to a stop. "You look terrible."

I shot him a withering look. “Thank you so much, Grant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“…That I look terrible?”

He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Anyway, Hotch needs the mileage forms for the SUVs. I can run it over to him.”

My teasing tone vanished. “I’ve got it, Grant.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I had to believe it was. Or at the very least it would be soon.

It took every ounce of will power I had not to let my eyes wander over to his desk when I entered the bullpen. I could almost feel him looking at me. It went against every natural instinct I had to ignore him…but what else could I do?

Hotch wasn’t in his office when I knocked but the door was unlocked. He never minded if we walked in when he was out if we just had something to drop off. I tried to find an open space on his desk to set the forms when I heard the door squeak on its hinges behind me.

I spun around, my startled eyes connecting with a pair of sharp brown eyes.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Agent Gideon. I didn’t see you there.”

He gave me a small smile, but that sharp look didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would have,” he said simply. “It’s hard to notice anyone else when you’re trying so hard to not notice someone.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gideon just nodded. “I’m going to tell you something. Now, you can take these words to heart, and I hope you do, or you can take them as the ramblings of…a sentimental old man.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Okay.”

"A lot of people think that the most important thing you can have in a relationship is love," he began, his eyes never wavering from mine. "In my not so humble opinion, they are incorrect. You see, y/l/n, love fades. Love isn't a thing that can stay in one form forever. It's always changing… its fluid."

“Sir, I don’t-“

“You know what the most important thing is?” he asked as if I hadn’t spoken. “Mercy.”

I just blinked at him. “I…I don’t think I understand.”

He just smiled at me, his hands moving into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe not yet, but I think you will.” Gideon’s gaze broke from mine, looking through the windows of Hotch’s office to settle on Reid. His head was bent over his desk while his fingers ran over the pages in front of him. “He’ll need mercy, y/n. More than anything else.”

Agent Gideon turned back to look at me. “He’ll need it from all of us, but I don’t think he’ll need it from anyone more than you.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I truly didn’t understand what he was talking about.

With one final smile, he turned and left the office, leaving me with my thoughts.

Agent Gideon’s words were still swirling through my mind the following afternoon when I got another odd call from Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, y/l/n,” she began, her tone annoyed. “Listen, have you heard from Reid?”

My entire body stilled. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“He was supposed to meet us at the plane. Morgan and I are waiting for him but he isn’t answering his cell.”

I hated the worry that wormed its way through my heart at her words. “I’m sorry, Em. I haven’t talked to him.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It was a long shot. Thanks, y/n.”

For several minutes after she hung up, I just stared at my phone. Don’t, I told myself firmly. He’s not your problem.

Spencer Reid wasn't my problem…but I couldn't just stop caring about him overnight. That's not the sort of person I was.

I kept telling myself I was calling to check on him for me, because I was the sort of person who checked on their friends.

It didn’t make it easier when he didn’t answer my calls either.

The need to silence the shrill ringing of my phone pulled me from my sleep the following night. I still hadn't heard from Spencer, but Prentiss had called me this morning to tell me Reid had gone to see one of his friends and "didn't have a signal." Her tone indicated she thought he was full of shit.

My eyes cracked open to look at the caller ID. When I read the name of the person calling me, my fingers frantically pushed “accept.”

“Spencer?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

I sat up in my bed, my eyes looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s after 3 am. Did something happen with the case?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. The unsub is a woman. We tried to catch her tonight…but we can try again tomorrow.”

“You’ll get her.”

The only sound I heard was his uneven breathing. “That’s not why I called.”

My tongue ran over my lips while I pulled the blankets further up my chest like they would be able to protect me in some way. "Why did you call?"

“Do you think people deserve forgiveness?”

“I…I think it depends.”

“On what?” he asked desperately.

“On what they did…on if they’re sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did you do something, Spencer?”

“I made a mistake.”

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t just talking about what had happened between us. He sounded just like I remembered him sounding when I wrapped my arms around him that night he came to my house.

His voice broke when he spoke again. “I’m so lost, y/n,” he sobbed. “I’m so lost and I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

I fought to control my own emotions when he spoke. No matter what happened my heart still ached at the pain in his voice. “You might be lost, Spencer. But you’re not alone. Your team…your family found you. They brought you home. They’re still here for you. They’ll bring you home again.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own dark sea of pain.

“I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me,” he said at last. “So, I won’t ask. I don’t even…I don’t even remember what I said.”

I think my subconscious mind had been connecting these pieces together for a while because in the darkness of my bedroom at almost 4 am, things finally began to take shape. The darkness that hung over Spencer was finally starting to take form.

“Just focus on the case, Spencer. We can talk when you get home.”

“Wait,” he called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

I don’t think I ever will.

The clock on my wall said it was just after 7 pm the following night when there was a knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way across the room, pressing my eye to the peephole, slightly surprised at who I saw.

I had figured he would come for me at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to be the very moment he got back into town.

…but it isn’t the very moment, I reminded myself. JJ had texted saying their plane was landing at 5 pm this afternoon.

He didn’t knock again but he didn’t move away from the door either. I think he knew I was there, just out of his reach, debating my options.

Opening yourself up to something that might hurt you is one of the most foolish and brave things a person can do. When someone you cared about broke your trust, how could you put your heart back into those very same hands?

I remembered Gideon’s words from that afternoon before they had left for New Orleans.

Over the past several days I had realized that that day in the copy room it wasn’t actually my Spencer that said those things. Something dark and painful had clawed its way into him and was trying to hollow him out.

That dark thing didn’t deserve my mercy…but I think Spencer did.

With a deep breath, I started to unlock my front door, grateful he couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. He looked tired but a different sort of tired than I was used to seeing. Weariness had crawled underneath his skin and was draining him slowly, but he didn’t look as defeated as he did the last time I saw him.

No matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still wasn’t sure what to say

“I came…I came to explain.” He said at last.

I was still frozen in place watching him shift uncomfortably. I knew he wanted me to invite him in…but, how could I? Trusting him enough to talk to him was one thing but how could I allow him into the only place I felt safe?

Gideon’s words played through my mind again. Mercy.

Taking a step back from the door, I waved him inside. I moved to sit on the couch, but Spencer just stood in front of me.

"When Tobias abducted me…" he trailed off, balling his hands into fists. "He had dissociative identity disorder. It's much more rare than people think. Whenever it's been observed under clinical settings, the most that has been observed is 2. Tobias had three.

The first was him, the next was his father, and the last was the Archangel, Raphael. Tobias’s father abused him horribly… Charles broke something inside of him, he fractured him. The only way he could survive was to start abusing drugs. He took them intravenously.”

Gideon's words had started to weave the pieces together, but it was actually Spencer's words from our night together that cemented everything in place. “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”

"He thought he was being kind when he injected me." Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his tongue against his upper lip. "You hear about addiction; I could tell you the statistics on people who suffer from opioid addiction. But I never in a million years thought it would be me.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell from my face and hit the back of my hand.

“I’m not the person who gets addicted to things. I’m not the stereotypical picture of an addict…but that’s what I am, y/n. I’m an addict.” He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a small coin. “This is a newcomer’s chip…from narcotics anonymous. You get it at your very first meeting. I got this an hour ago.”

“Spencer,” I rasped out. “I’m so sorry.”

He came to sit beside me on the couch then, his hand covering one of mine. "I thought I could handle it. I convinced myself it wasn't that bad, but it was. What I did to you was reprehensible, y/n. And I am so sorry." Spencer's voice broke, his shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. "I will be sorry about that day for the rest of my life. I don't deserve any sort of second chance."

I turned completely towards him, throwing my arms around him. “Yes, you do, Spencer,” I whispered into his hair. “You do.”

This night felt so much different than the first night I held him like this while he cried. I didn't know the cause of his pain that night, but it broke my heart nevertheless; now that I knew the pain inside this beautiful man…I think the pain I had been feeling was tearing at my soul.

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. It’s a disease that will sink its hooks into anyone and refuse to let go. Spencer had made a mistake; his actions had gutted me. But…was it really him? Or was it the monster that has hold of him? It was in these thoughts that I finally began to understand the weight of Agent Gideon's words. "He’ll need mercy from everyone…but from no one more than you.”

I wasn’t in love with Spencer…at least not yet, but I did love him. In those moments when loving someone felt impossible mercy was the most important thing you could offer. I had to show him my mercy while he moved through this…because I knew love would come later.

“I’m here for you, Spencer. I want to help you in any way I can.”

He pulled back, his wide brown eyes meeting mine. “I can’t ask you to battle my addiction for me, y/n. I wouldn’t even if I could.” His voice was earnest when he spoke, his hands coming up to cup my face with a touch that seemed so familiar. “I promise that I’m going to try. I’m going to mess up at some point, some moments will be harder than others. I can’t…I can’t be perfect at this. But I promise I will never stop trying.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Spencer. You’re not worthy because you’re perfect. You’re worthy because you’re…you.”

His eyes were soft when they ran over my face, his hands coming up to cup my jaw again. “I can leave, if you want…I know you’ll need time…I can’t expect-“

I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just be with me. Be here with me, Spence.”

I'm not sure who moved first. It was like all the pain in my body gave way to such a burning need that it almost consumed me. Our lips barely broke apart when I pulled him from the couch, guiding him to my bedroom; our actions were so similar to what they had been on that first night that felt like a lifetime ago.

But everything was different.

My bedroom was lit only by the dusky orange glow from the setting sun. I didn’t get to question Spencer about anything. His hands moved urgently against my body, ridding me of my shirt and bra. I unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to push it off of his shoulders. My nails scored his chest while his mouth moved down to kiss the column of my throat.

Spencer’s knee was wedged between my thighs when his mouth closed over my nipple. My hands tried to move down to undo his pants but when his teeth tugged at the tip of my breast all I could do was whimper.

“Spencer. Please.”

His eyes opened and lifted to meet mine. He looked nervous for a moment before he started to kiss down my body. I lifted my hips to help him remove my pants. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, I realized he had never seen me in the light before.

I felt his index finger trace down my slit, spreading me open under his gaze. He swallowed thickly when one of his fingers entered me, pulling a moan from my throat.

“Can I?”

“Yes. Yes.” I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I would have given him anything in that moment.

I wasn’t ready when I felt his tongue tentatively lick my pussy. My hips bucked off the bed causing him to chuckle.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he spread me wider. He inserted another finger into my heat while his tongue fluttered around my clit.

“I’m trying,” I whined. “Fuck. I thought you said you hadn’t done this before.”

Spencer lifted his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. “I haven’t,” he replied, his voice needlessly smug. Before I could comment his lips closed around my clit again.

My fingers were tangled in his soft brown hair while my hips rocked against his mouth. “Spencer, I’m close. I want-fuck! I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

He rose up on his knees, his hands moving to his belt. He had looked reluctant to leave his current position, but I needed him now. "You can eat my pussy to your heart's content later."

Spencer’s hand froze, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just…you said later.” The confusion must have been plain on my face because he clarified, “I can have you later too.”

My arousal was still pulsing in my body but now something else was too. I knew he didn’t mean sex when he said he could have me; Spencer meant he could have me, he could be with me.

With that thought, I urged him up my body so I could press my lips to his again. We were still kissing when I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against me before he slowly pushed inside of me.

“You…I didn’t know something could feel like this,” he said when his hips settled against mine,

I didn’t either.

I think he must have felt the same frantic need I did. His thrusts were forceful as he drove into me. I was already so close that I could feel myself approaching my peak.

“Spence,” I whimpered out.

“I know, I feel you. You’re right there.” He reached between our bodies and rubbed his thumb across my clit.

My back arched as my orgasm washed over me, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. After a few more thrusts, I felt Spencer find his release too. He whispered my name against my hair while he slowly came down, pressing soft kisses all over any part of my skin he could reach.

The frantic mood from before had lifted, but something still felt urgent. Spencer had gotten up a few moments ago to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He hadn’t removed his clothes again, and something about the energy in the room made me put my clothes back on too.

I was sitting at the end of my bed when he came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked resigned and…almost defeated.

“Spence,” I started but he just shook his head.

He came to stand in front of me before he spoke. “I have to…I can’t hide from you.”

I stood up before he could move. “You’re not hiding anything, Spencer. Not anymore.”

He pressed his lips against mine again. I think he understood the gravity of my words and what revealing his body meant. He knew I’d see him; I’d see all of him. But whenever I looked into his eyes when he started to open his shirt, I felt like I saw more of him than I ever had.

Everything he felt was floating through his amber-colored eyes. His hands shook and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he pulled his shirt from his body.

The bend of his left elbow was covered in bruises in all different phases of healing. It looked like one of his veins might even have blown.

When I brought my eyes back up to his, I found them shut tight.

“Hey,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle, careful of his arm. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he breathed out.

I only held him tighter. “It will be. One day it will be.” I let out a shaky breath of my own before I spoke again. “You know I’m going to fall in love with you one day, right?”

His body jerked at my words, a tiny sob leaving his mouth.

“It’s true, Spencer. You have to know that. You’re worthy of love. You’re worthy of my love.”

He pulled back from me, his hands cradling my face while his eyes searched mine. “I’m not. I’m not worthy…but I’m going to try to be.”

The slashes and cracks in my heart didn’t feel so painful when I kissed him again. It wasn’t my job to fix him. It wasn’t his job to fix me.

But I could show him mercy while he fought his battle. He deserved that.

Everyone deserves that.

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#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid Angst #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y.n #Dr. Spencer Reid #Dr. Spencer Reid Angst #Dr. Spencer Reid Fluff #Dr. Spencer Reid Smut #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid Smut #Criminal minds imagine #Spencer Reid imagine #Criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid fan fiction #criminal minds fan fiction

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

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randomfandomsstufff · 8 months

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The bracelet 🥹🤏

I don’t know why but this is so cute pls I love him so much

#David Tennant #david tennants smile is everything i need in this world #david tennant is my life #david tennant is so pretty #david tennant freckles #nycc 2023 #nycc23 #nyc comic con #david tennant nycc

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unmaskedagain · 5 years

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Happy Birthday, Miss Bustier

Every year, Bustier looked forward to her birthday. All the teachers got together for drinks after school, and Bustier go show off all the wonderful presents her students got her. One gift in particular always was sure to wow.

However, the school year had been different than the previous ones. It had been a difficult year. The class seemed to be in a civil war. Marinette’s side versus everyone else. Caline was forced to expel Marinette after she was caught cheating. Only for it be revealed that she never cheated and Lila had a terrible disease that caused her to lie. The explosion was reversed and Bustier chalked it up to the students as terrible mistake.

Though the look Marinette had given her when she returned to class sent shivers up her spine.

Marinette resign as class president not long after. Lila took over but the sweet girl was so busy that the Alya and a few others were volunteered to step up and help out. Everything the class seemed to do or planned turn into a catastrophe.

An embarrassing one.

Caline started to avoid the teacher’s lounge after a bake sale ended up poisoning several of the students. Two of her students accidently started fires at another fundraiser. And the dance the class planned ended up with several students and two chaperones in the hospital because Lila ordered the gym floor to be waxed just before the dance.

She couldn’t take the snickering.

Plus, the other teachers had frequently needed to step in to sort out some of her students’ behavioral problems. Alya erupt in anger whenever she thought anyone had done anything wrong to her or her friends, got told off and given detentions many times before she finally learned her lesson. Alix had been caught tripping Marinette multiple times and had got suspended after the third incident. Lila had be verbally ordered by Mendeleiev to stop touching a clearly uncomfortable Adrien without his consent several times before she finally got the message. Mostly because Mendeleiev contact Adrien’s father and got a restraining order officially issued. Lila had to stay at least ten feet away from Adrien at all time when in class; fifty feet outside of it.

Which Caline thought was a bit harsh. She remembered what it was like to be a young girl in love. Emotions just overcome you at that age.

Normally, she would count on Marinette to rein the rest of the students in but girl had taken a step back from the other students. Or maybe they had taken a step back from her.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose seemed at odds with the rest of the students in class. And for the life of Caline’s she couldn’t figure out why. The small group never went to any fundraiser, vocally letting the class know they would not being going on any trips with them. They didn’t go to the dance, and Marinette made it clear she wouldn’t be helping decorate it. The costumes for the school play had been abysmal and not the usually quality they were; then Mylene informed Bustier that they couldn’t get their last costume designer to help out. Their last costume designer was Marinette.

The year had been rough but Bustier still looked forward to her birthday. Last year, she got a gorgeous cashmere scarf, the year before that an entire assortment of different chocolate pastries; every year, every all the gifts were amazing. She come on the morning of her birthday and find her entire classroom amazingly decorated, her students’ adoring faces looking at her, and a pile of presents on her desk.

This year was no different… technically.

The classroom was decorated but not nearly as well as it had been the previous years. It looked like the cheap decorations the other teachers were used to; not her. A majority of the students were smiling at her; but a few, Marinette and her team, just looked bored. There were presents on her desk but they all looked… basic.

Still Caline smiled happily and thanked her wonderful students for their thoughtful surprise and gifts. Only when they left for lunch, did she finally take time to examine them.

There were the usually gift cards, a box or two of cheap chocolates, some flowers, lovely handmade cards, some perfumes, and a gift basket full of amazing smelling various bath products, which was by far the best gift by far. But nothing outstanding like she usually got. Nothing she could show off to the other teachers as proof that her student adored her. It was the same type of gifts all the teachers got. Nothing extraordinary.

And it soured Caline’s cheerful mood a bit. She couldn’t understand it.

She still went out for drinks that night with the other teachers, still showed off her gift basket but saw none of the envious looks she was used to. When she got home, she looked over the presents again.

Bustier saw that each gift had was from a different student. Chloe and Adrien got her perfume. Rose got her gift card for a mani-pedi. Alya got her chocolates. She saw Marinette got her the gift basket and nodded, unsurprised; the girl always got her the best presents…

Caline paused. Marinette? Marinette got her the scarf from the year before; she made it. She also remember that Marinette was the one who gave her the delicious assortment of chocolate pastries from her parents’ bakery, the teacher supposed. In fact, as Caline thought back, Marinette always was one to get her the best gifts; whether it was for her birthday, Christmas, or teacher’s appreciation day.

Marinette was also one who always decorated the classroom, she recalled.

Marinette who had claimed to be too busy to be class president, to be on the decorating committee, to help fund raise, to make costumes for the school play, to be the good example for the class Caline needed her to be, and apparently too busy to get the fabulous gifts for her teacher like she used to.

Clearly, her student needed to be talked to. Caline would have to stress the importance of being an active presence in the class. Marinette needed to be a good leader so the other students could model after her. Her friends counted on her for help, no one should be too busy for that.

The following Monday, Caline Bustier finally got around to asking Marinette to stay after class.

“Marinette,” Caline started. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather… distant lately with the other students in class.”

Marinette fought the urge not to roll her eyes, “We’ve had a falling out,” she said innocently. Not bothering to mention that it was Lila’s doing. “It’s fine. Things change. Friends go apart.”

“They don’t have to,” Bustier smiled. “You were such a wonderful class president; the entire class counted on you. Don’t you think you were a bit hasty in resigning… in that regard.”

“There was no avoiding it,” Marinette stated. Most of the class at that point at turned against her. And every time she tried to make plans or come up with ideas to fund raise she was shut down. “I’m interning with Wilhelmina Slater. She’s currently editor and chief for Mode Paris. I couldn’t turn that down. On top of that I’m overflowing with commission request; some come in by the website I launched, others from recommendations from my other clients. Also Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, if you remember, both announced three months ago that I was their personal stylist. I’ve been getting swamped with work ever since.”

Caline did remember. She had been shocked when she saw her student’s face on the news announcing her as up-and-coming Fashion design MDC. A number of celebrities tweeted that they had commissioned work from the teen; a dress here, a suit there, costumes. The announcement had only caused more derision in class towards Marinette, “But don’t you think helping your friends is more important than making money?”

Marinette blinked. “I am helping my friends.”

“Alya needed your help with the fundraising,” Bustier said. “Lila needed help with the dance. Mylene needed costumes for the play. Nino needed someone to design his set for a gig of his. You were too busy. How do you think that made them feel?”

“First of all, they never asked me for help,” Marinette quickly said. “Second-”

Caline cut her off, “Maybe they didn’t ask because they knew you’d be too busy.”

Marinette looked the teacher up and down and continued what she was saying, “Secondly, I have very few friends in class; and you didn’t name any of them. Lila is not my friend. Alya is not my friend. Neither is Nino, Mylene, Ivan, Max, Kim, or Alix for the record.”

Bustier reared back; shocked at the unexpected tone from Marinette.

Marinette crossed her arms. “I am helping my friends. Chloe is my PR manager, which is giving her amazing experience. Juleka and Rose model for me, and frequently get poached to model for other designers. Adrien gets to sit back and relax for once. Claude meets all the directors and actors I work with. He ended up getting an internship at WB. Nathaniel and Marc’s Ladybug comic got exposer after I used some of his designs of her on my clothing line. Images comics is picking up their comic to turn it into an entire series. Aurore is my personal assistant but that’s only to give her a clear reason to be there so she can interview any celebrities, I’m working with, that are willing to talk with her. She posted an interview with David Tennant about a cameo in Doctor; with him, Rose, and their kid. An hour later the website: Tumblr crashed. I do help my friends.”

Bustier sighed, “You’re having an argument. You didn’t stop being friends.” Honestly kids could be so dramatic sometimes. “Once you apologize everything will go back to normal.”

“And why should I apologize,” Marinette asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We talked about the Marinettes of the world, remember?” Caline smiled. “You have to be the bigger person; be an example for the other students. Show them the right way to act.”

“No.”

It was said so firmly but so quickly that the teacher nearly missed it as she opened her mouth to continue her speech but closed it as she processed what Marinette said, “No? What do you mean no.”

Marinette picked up her school bag and walked to the classroom door, “I mean, I won’t do it. I’m no one’s shining example. And in this situation, I refuse to be the bigger person. I have no intention of apologizing whatsoever.” She opened the door about to walk out. “Especially to people who you allowed to verbally harass me in class, trip me right in front of you, and disinvite me and my friends on class trips. I don’t care how it made them feel. I don’t care about them at all.” “Marinette,” Bustier started.

Marinette cut her off, “It is not responsibility to teach my classmates the right way to behave; it’s their parents’, it’s yours.” She said fiercely.

Bustier straighten herself up to her full height. She refused to allow any student of hers to speak to her like that. “I see. I will have to contact your parents to discuss your lack of participation in class.”

Marinette snorted, “Okay. You should do it soon, though. I and a number of other students sent in complaints to the school board about my wrongful expulsion, this class, the way you run it, and Damocles; with video evidence. Bourgeois and Agreste lawyers are leading the charge. Chloe out of sheer spite. Gabriel because of the clear case of sexual harassment you allowed Adrien to deal with from Lila. He’s out for blood.”

Caline Bustier paled. She couldn’t feel her legs. The school board? “Nothing is as bad as you say. You are overdramatizing everything.”

“My lawyer say different,” The bluenette shrugged. “If anything, they think I’m not understating things. Much like when I tell them, you’re a bad teacher.”

“I will not be spoke to like that!”

“What are you going to do?” Marinette asked with a single eyebrow raised, “Expel me?”

There was only silence to answer her question. Marinette just shook her head and left.

Leaving Caline Bustier wondering just how she let things get so out of hand. And more importantly, if she would even have a job come the new school year.

#ml fic #ml salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois

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long-cosmos-overhead · 4 years

Text

Prompt: And since I saw you write for Barty Crouch Jr too (and I have a soft spot for him because.. David Tennant) could you write something with him in which he falls for Reader whos kind, gentle and affectionate towards him even though they barely know each other bcs shes part of a death eater family and he tries to protect her? And I would be eternally grateful for a kissing scene :3

Ugh David Tennant I love that man 👌

(I do not own Harry Potter or its characters/ gif not mine)

Sorry for the time this took

I promise those who have requested I haven’t forgotten about you I’m on it xx

Y/n. Such a simple thing was a name yet it made his stomach turn and his heart quench in desire. Barty had undoubtedly fallen for you he didn’t know when or even how all his life he never cared much for anyone yet here he was pawning after you. Each day he would become more and more consumed in his desire his mind always racing full of scenarios about you, having you, holding you, sometimes even simple things like talking to you. He wondered how your hand would feel in his, how your lips would feel upon his he was mad for you.

In truth he barely knew you but you were different anyone could see that. Unlike the savage Greyback, the twisted Bellatrix, the narcissistic Lucius you were kind and gentle you knew of the horrible things people had done yet you treated them as if they were normal. In fact Barty had never seen you treat anyone wrong. It was also well known that everyone liked you they trusted you even seeking comfort in you and you never faltered in your ways.

However what made Barty grind his teeth and growl in frustration was how you treated everyone equally. He was madly in love with you so much that he was loosing his mind. He did everything he could to go out of his way to be kind scrambling for your favouritism yet you flashed him a charming genuine smile that made his knees weak and thanked him sincerely. He loved it so much that he even put you in a position where he could assist you just to see you smile at him and him alone but he wanted more. Barty craved for you to see him as more than just a death eater.

You were scared to the point of salty tears sliding down your face and dripping off your chin. You barely made a sound aside from a few stray sobs, staring from your position on the bed at the shelf in front of you. The cracked spines of the books that lay heavy on the shelf stared back at your shaking body. Most had gone unread for years some even pushing far past decades. They weren’t anything special, an assortment of greys and browns. Once they had been someone’s treasure their pages turned eagerly, their spines cracked with use until they had nothing left to give. Stored away never looked at the same again just gathering dust and withering in age.

You glanced away squeezing your eyes shut feeling the moisture welling up in your eyes run down your cheeks. You felt completely helpless waves carrying huge quantities of insecurities crashed into your body seeping into any corner it could probe into. You were scared not of any monster but the world. It seemed so surprising, you served directly under the most feared wizard since Grindelwald and with that came dangerous people but God forbid anyone know you’d be mocked, ridiculed, humiliated and dropped from your services.

That’s when you thought of him. The man that captivated you trapping you in a steel grip that you yourself held but by god he was perfect. His brown eyes practically tormenting you. They held such unfathomable depth seeping with underlying torment and wrath yet they were the most perfect thing you’d ever seen. They drew you in like a drug making your heart flutter wildly at the simplest glance and your mind stray ever so far from reality. It may be covered up under layers upon layers but he had a heart.

Barty wanted love, he wanted praise, he wanted someone to love him to feel the world stop and melt away, stripped of sin. For breathless moments of otherworldly affections, to feel continents collide within the very essence of life, to watch the colours explode yet it all happen within one human body at the very look of another. He wanted you.

You needed his comfort so desperately. You only knew him a little, before your heart fell for another you’d have thought it an impossibility to desire someone you knew little about so much but here you were running through the empty halls towards that very man. You noticed almost nothing. Not the clothes creasing and moulding around your skin at every step you took, not the stray portion of the hallway that illuminated like stardust under the moonlight split by the window, you barely noticed you were running at all. Your heart carrying your body blinded by love.

Silver tear tracks were still evident on your cheeks as you came to a halt at his door. Your breath slightly quickened from running and your chest visibly rising and falling. Your mind barely processed knocking on the wooden door that stood a few inches from your face. For a short amount of time you understood none of your actions - some state of ignorant bliss heightened on the thought of love but that high had since dimmed and you were suddenly aware. All too aware. You noticed that what you could not moments previous. Everything.

You saw the dents and scratches that forever marred the door, the long looming corridor that seemed a lot more imposing than when you had been gliding though it freely. A heavy weight lay upon your shoulders, an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness. What had you done? You were too scared to think of any outcome your head dipping to stare at your feet as you were seemingly paralysed, even your clothes felt heavy.

You flinched as you heard the the latch click. The door swung open yet you could not find the power in any quantity to face the man that made your heart flutter. The silence that followed was filled with anxiety and dread. A deafening abstract concept.

“Y/n?” To any other his voice would inflict terror or authority but standing in front of him at night in baggy clothes cheeks covered by tear tracks he was gentle, soothing almost. Still you couldn’t face him.

“Barty I-,”

The words you tried to speak held less confidence than you quickly disappearing as though they wanted no part in your humiliation.

Two fingers slipped beneath your chin gently pressing your head up allowing your eyes to meet with his. Gentleness did not come easy to Barty but he’d rather cut off his hand before hurting you in any way. His eyes shifted from confusion to shock almost sympathy when he saw the silver lines down your cheeks.

“You’re upset.”

He said it as more of a statement than a question. Truely Barty had never seen you upset. The words he said were useless you and him both knew you were upset and his mind skipped to an answer as to why he stated such an obvious deduction perhaps to solidify the fact that you weren’t bulletproof. To realise you broke and needed fixing.

The words were so simple, so hideously obvious yet they reduced you to tears in front of him. You were expecting Barty to discard you, send you away after all what deatheater cried at two simple words yet you were quickly wrapped into his arms and pulled into his room. His hold was exhilarating your heart pounded inside your chest. He was clearly foreign to affection yet he was trying for you. He didn’t know what came over him when he held you in his arms but it felt right.

The fact you were sobbing into his chest shifted his mood considerably yet being able to finally hold you in his arms was the most complex feeling he’d ever been riddled with. It was a prefect feeling having your body pressed tightly up to his, you fit like two pieces of a puzzle. Your height made it so you were slotted up to him just tall enough for his chin to rest against your head and for his hands to weave through your hair. You allowed naturally for your body to be encased in his easily allowing him to curl around you and protect you from the world. A feeling he’d lusted and longed for for the moment he laid eyes on you.

You began to shift slowly removing yourself from his embrace. You didn’t want to by any means but you felt as if you’d overstayed your welcome the moment he opened the door. Barty had finally had you in his arms right where he wanted you he wasn’t willing to let you go anytime soon. He almost feared the loss of contact would destroy his very being. His hands tightened round your waist forbidding you leave his embrace.

“No, let me hold you.”

Your heart flipped quenching with love. Your body tingled in euphoria and you obeyed sinking into his chest once more. A few minutes passed yet they felt like a blissful eternity. You were still partially in shock that he even let you in and he was drunk on happiness of having finally got you.

He couldn’t hold back he wanted, needed you to be his. He didn’t know much of love but nothing in his life had felt more right. He twisted his neck a few inches to the side and pressed his lips to yours. It was exactly how he thought it would be and more. Like all the worlds colliding and time stopping a breathless exchange of pure love, no feeling in the world brought him closer to immortality than this. He was needy and rough expressing each desire within an exchange he hoped he’d have far many more times.

“I’ll protect you.”

@softheartedsnake

#barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr imagine #harry potter imagine #barty crouch jr x reader fluff #fluff #angst #ask #request #harry potter #barty crouch jr

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midnightactual · 3 years

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@mysteriousshopkeeper submitted:

“Yoruichi-san! I’m glad I caught you. I… thought you might be on a beach somewhere by now, since you just hosted a significant holiday party. In any case…” His fingers were idly tapping on something clasped between them as a subtle change came over his demeanor, like curtains being drawn open. “There are some… things I’ve been meaning to say. And considering my track record… I thought it best to let someone else say them.” His hands moved forward, and before she could object, he’d captured one of hers and pressed his gift into it.

Once she’d unwrapped it, she’d find herself holding a vintage, authentic Sony Walkman WM-D6C, in perfect working order, pre-loaded with a cassette – not just any commercial label, no, no – but a genuine, bona fide, old-fashioned mixtape. He’d invested considerable time and effort in selecting songs that suited his sentiments, first building a playlist on Spotify. He hadn’t even known all of them before he started searching, but he certainly did know them when he heard them. A tentative smile encroached on his lips. “At first it didn’t have tangible form, but as you can imagine, it proved difficult to wrap, so… I made this.”

The exercise had presented him with a delicate balance to maintain. His relationship with Yoruichi was… complicated. Lately, he’d come to the reluctant realization that what he’d been giving her was not what she needed from him, at least not here, not now. But disillusionment had proven a sticky, time-consuming process. Would-have-beens and could-yet-bes clung like lint to an old sweater; every time he looked, he found more, and some were nearly indistinguishable from the knit. He’d begun the process at the outset of what had become an unexpectedly eventful couple of weeks, but it had been time well-spent; the effort had had a clarifying — and surprisingly calming — effect. Each day was a process of refining and crafting, loosely following a rubric laid out in a movie he’d seen once. As a finishing touch, he’d even added liner notes, just to arrange specific lyrics into a unified narrative. The result was a musical, emotional journey that moved through a spectrum of humor, introspection and encouragement.

Because there was still, at the base of it all, that deep and abiding foundation of their friendship. The pedestals and shrines he’d erected in her honor weren’t serving either of them; it was time for a little iconoclasm, a little restructuring. Perhaps they could begin afresh and he would, again, be dependably her friend. He was aware that this playlist may not reflect her musical tastes, but it wasn’t so much about winning her heart as revealing his —she’d long deserved that much from him. Besides — at this point, what had he to lose? He’d quit castles in the sky for solid ground.

“Happy birthday, Yoruichi.” His face met hers with a soft, bright smile. “If you go, you’ll have something to take with you. And if my company would be welcome…” And here, the smile grew a bit dubious. “—I’d offer to go with you. I’d even make the arrangements; I could use a change of scene myself. You’d get good massages given on good behavior, with no lip service—” He smirked grimly, realizing how difficult it was for him to suggest without selling. “That is to say, I’d enjoy giving them. Quietly. But should you choose to stay, and celebrate your birthday here with us this year, I wouldn’t min—" Again, he caught himself; his face clouded for an instant, then cleared, transparent and a bit wistful, as he half-turned to make his graceful exit. “Rather, I would very much like that.”

Liner Notes

Listen on Spotify!

We Go Together / David Tennant & Catherine Tate - Lyrics We go together like the news and the weather / We fit like hand in glove! It’s All Been Done / Barenaked Ladies - Lyrics And if I put my fingers here, and if I say / “I love you, dear” / And if I play the same three chords, / Will you just yawn and say ‘I’m bored’ / It’s all been done Partners in Crime / Arkarna - Lyrics As I feel, we are, we must go on, I will stand, with you, forever / Ever more / But without you it’s a bore, It’s no fun breaking the law / Anymore, anymore, my partner in crime True Colors / Justin Timberlake & Anna Kendrick - Lyrics Show me a smile then / Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember / When I last saw you laughing / If this world makes you crazy / And you’ve taken all you can bear / You call me up / Because you know I’ll be there Paradise Valley / Honey and the Sting - Lyrics Take what you want from me / I bring it willingly / The paradise valley Got Your Back / Mike Taylor - Lyrics If you need a friend to party - I got your back / If you wanna get naughty - I got your back / Just tell me where to hide the body - I got your back

Somewhere Only We Know / Keane - Lyrics And if you have a minute why don’t we go / Talk about it somewhere only we know? / This could be the end of everything / So why don’t we go / Somewhere only we know? We Belong / Pat Benatar - Lyrics We belong to the light / We belong to the thunder / We belong to the sound of the words / We’ve both fallen under / Whatever we deny or embrace / For worse or for better / We belong, we belong / We belong together

I Won’t Give Up / Jason Mraz - Lyrics And in the end, you’re still my friend at least we did intend / For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn / We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in / I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not / And who I am Clear the Area / Imogen Heap - Lyrics You find your way back down. / And I’ll keep the area clear…please clear the area. / When you find your way back down…in one piece / Then I’ll just be waiting here…right here. / Slowly…darling…nobody means any more to me than you. Fortress Around Your Heart / Sting - Lyrics And if I’ve built this fortress around your heart / Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire / Then let me build a bridge / For I cannot fill the chasm / And let me set the battlements on fire

Undercover / Pete Yorn - Lyrics And we held and we tried / There was hardly lust between us / I will love you / I won’t let go / ‘Cause we are one inside these walls / Undercover

Black Heart Inertia / Incubus - Lyrics You’re a mountain that I’d like to climb / Not to conquer, but to share in the view / You’re a bonfire and I’m gathered ‘round you / Set this old black heart inertia aflame Invincible / Muse - Lyrics ‘Cause there’s no one like you in the universe / Don’t be afraid / What your mind conceives / You should make a stand / Stand up for what you believe / And tonight / We can truly say / Together we’re invincible

Yoruichi was actually a bit surprised when her hand was taken and the classic piece of audio kit was pressed into it, not having expected such a forward approach. For want of any other recourse—it was her birthday, and it was a gift, apparently given very sincerely considering his affect… what else could she do but take it?—she willingly grasped the Walkman and heard him out.

She was in for another surprise at how little he had to say, comparatively. Sure, some of the usual banter and salesmanship eventually filtered in, but the facade was cracked and the underlying sincerity streamed through the act like sunlight through mist, burning it off right before her very eyes. It was striking, and she stared at the spectacle of it, growing increasingly uncertain.

And then, just like that he… left? She was sufficiently taken aback by what he’d said—and how he’d said it—that she hadn’t yet had time to formulate a reply when he was turning and departing. Her mouth opened, but no sounds came out of it, and by the time she thought of something to say—even just, ‘Wait’—he was gone.

She stared after him for long seconds before shutting her mouth and looking at the Walkman that’d been handed to her. She considered it for several moments more before going to a closet drawer. She already owned a pair of vintage Walkman headphones with orange foam earpieces; they seemed the most appropriate thing to use to listen, and listening seemed to be the only thing to do.

Considering both components, she put the headset on, plugged it in, and clicked play. There was a delightfully mechanistic moment as the button sank in, giving that chunky, electromechanical experience you simply couldn’t get with fully digital electronics. It made her nostalgic as the first song began, and she listened, at first just standing where she was. The first song was a bit cornball, and she wondered if the whole mixtape would be that way, eventually sitting on the edge of her bed. But by the third song she was up and pacing about as she listened, a pit growing in her stomach.

By the seventh, she had retreated from her bedroom entirely, going to her bathroom almost on autopilot. Some part of her knew it was even farther away from scrutiny—harder to reach, harder to be heard from, even if her rooms and the building itself were very well soundproofed. Some other part of her felt almost ill. And then there were her eyes.

Crying had never been acceptable. That had been made abundantly clear to her from the very beginning. She didn’t cry. She hadn’t since she’d been a toddler. She’d watched her kōhai have a breakdown without crying. She’d torn off her own arm without crying. She’d cradled her little brother after he’d been shot through the heart three times without crying. As she leaned on the wall beside the tub, she almost didn’t recognize the pressure around her eyes. Her motions were automatic, and she clambered into the dry basin while she fought to keep herself under control. Things started getting blurry as a titanic clash raged within her.

Yet the music kept going, and she refused to stop it. Trembling with held in sounds, she finally punched the stone tiles before her. The strike wasn’t very hard by her standards, although it pushed her gigai—but it wasn’t enough to even chip the rock. Her arm stayed extended and she ground her knuckles into the rough surface, before retracting and striking again. And again. And again and again and again, until the stone was smeared with her blood and her hand throbbed and ached in protest.

The pain wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to compete with what was already filling her, and she gasped as it became overwhelming, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she lost and it became entirely impossible to see. Her sobs were silent at first, wracking her whole body, before she smacked the bottoms of both fists against the wall, leaning forward to put her forehead on it as she finally let out a noise, something between a growl and a low wail.

She beat against that wall ineffectually, clenching her jaw as she still tried to keep it all in, trying to refuse this, but it was no use. ‘Volatile’ was wholly inadequate to describe the mixture of emotions flowing through her—it was a hypergolic cocktail that was already ablaze and demanded venting. And so, finally, she tipped her head back and screamed. Agony. Frustration. Despair. Self-loathing. Rage. Sorrow. Regret. It had all built and built, not just lately but for far, far longer, and she had no choice but to let out all the fruits of her failures at once now, like some kind of ravening nuclear death beam rendered in sound.

What her reiatsu did in response, she had no idea and no care to know. Presumably the gigai kicked in to contain it, but she was caught up in the maelstrom, a billion light years away from such concerns. She cried out and pounded at the wall until there was nothing left, until she was hoarse, until she was empty, until she was panting from the intensity of the chemicals unleashed, until her tears carried away enough of their torrent that she could breathe.

Spent and dazed, she slumped back, then outright toppled back against an edge of the tub, sinking down and shivering. Still, the music played, and it drew her back to the moment. She could think of doing nothing but flopping onto one side and curling up in a fetal position, desperately hugging herself and simply trying to be small, wishing to just disappear entirely. She stayed that way for a long time.

#In Character #Long Post #Music #submission #mysteriousshopkeeper #Identifier: MERCURY GREEN #Verse: BLEACH MAIN #Era: IMPERIAL

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years

Text

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.

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Part Thirteen

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.

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