#i have not ONCE set an alarm to the buzz one because i dont like waking up and having a fucking panic attack
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Levi Ackerman, the big shot singer. His melody is too soothing and his all songs are hit. Hanji Zoe, the energetic model.Her beauty and energy is beyond measure.But when they collab for a music video what will happened.Will they become thirsty for each other blood or something will happen 👀👀
ANON omg... oh no I did not expect to fall in love with a famous!AU
oh no oh no oh no oh no i loved this way too much, it straight killed me. I hope you like what i came up with!!
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It Started with a Spilled Coffee
Levi sat in his dressing room, flipping through a magazine until he reached the page he was looking for. Multiple pictures of Hanji Zoe’s stared back at him, wearing elegant dresses to suits and ties—she had quite the range, he thought. She looked oddly attractive in everything she wore. And most importantly, her serious expressions behind her trendy glasses meant business, and that’s all he needed. The famous model was hired to act for his newest music video, all thanks to his agent, the guy who could make anything happen, Erwin Smith.
Erwin said he’d get along fine with Hanji, as she was an old friend of his. The clock on his dresser sounded an alarm, signaling 5 minutes to his call time. Levi took another look at the magazine, content that he’d get to work with someone who looked quite professional and put-together, and turned off the alarm. All the actors he had been working with recently had been quite drama-filled and needy, and all he wanted was to have a nice, quiet week of filming and recording. He walked out onto the set.
There she was, camera on her and shooting the part just as he imagined, the perfect way to convey what his song was trying to get at. He turned to walk over to the recording studio, ready to get the vocals done. When it was time for his break, Levi quietly walked out towards the refreshment table, ready for his lunchtime tea. Before he could reach the food, he suddenly felt hot liquid soaking up his shirt and he jumped at the sudden heat, quickly unbuttoning his shirt to keep it from literally burning his skin.
“Oh I’m so so so so so sorry, I didn’t see you there! Oh no!” Levi felt a frantic pair of hands trying to dab the coffee from his bare abdomen with napkins. Once the coffee was all dried, he sighed in relief. Before he could look up to see who the culprit was, he felt two fingers playfully pinch at the little bit of fat around his stomach and heard the words, “Awwww, so cute!”
Levi’s eyes widened and he immediately pushed the hand away and covered up his stomach—okay he had been slacking off on the ab workouts recently, but he didn’t need to be outed like that. He looked up, ready to scowl at the complete moron who just assaulted him with hot coffee and made fun of the tiny, loose area of fat he had neglected, and met the eyes of the person he least expected.
“Hanji Zoe?”
“That’s me! Sorry about that, Levi is it?”
Levi was completely dumbfounded—the elegant, serious, world famous model, Hanji Zoe, was a complete—
“Hanji!” A stressed-looking man called out and ran towards them. “Mr. Ackerman, I’m so sorry, can I get you anything? I’m so sorry!” Still dumbfounded, Levi wordlessly shook his head. The man turned towards Hanji. “Hanji I swear to God I turned around for 2 seconds and you already managed to do this??”
“Moblit, dont worry, Levi said he’s fine! No worries! And nice to meet you, Levi!” she exclaimed, as if this happened all the time.
“Did this happen all the time??” Levi thought. “Seems she even has a goddamn babysitter, Erwin, what were you thinking? We sure as hell are not about to get along...”
She waved and smiled happily at him as Moblit steered her back to the dressing rooms.
——
Most of the week passed and Hanji irritated every single nerve Levi had in his body. She was completely smooth and professional whenever the camera was rolling, but every single second that camera was on standby, she was tripping over equipment, spilling her drinks, getting rips in her outfits, and worst of all, humming his songs off-tune. Levi thought his brain would blow a fuse—but at least the week was almost over. He would kill Erwin--he was on leave for the whole week Hanji would be here. Levi was absolutely sure that he did this on purpose to play a prank on him, trying to lift his spirits or something stupid like that.
Well his spirits did not need lifting, but apparently he needed to be lifting—weights that is. If Hanji teasingly squeezed at his godforsaken baby fat once more, he’d lose it.
—-
“Just two days more,” Levi thought. Then he could give Erwin a piece of his mind. He walked down the hallway during their long break before their evening shooting. Suddenly, he heard a piano playing, and a really pretty voice behind it—it was quite muffled, though. As if the person was trying to actively hide the sound of their music. He quietly stepped towards the practice room, curious to see who it was. He felt himself humming along, which was rare for him to do. The music wrapped around him like a blanket—he felt warm... at peace. The sound stopped, and then began playing one of his old songs. One he really loved, but it wasn’t very popular—it was always the creations you didn’t really care about that would get hits, but the ones you did love wouldn’t get the attention it deserved. He pushed the door open a bit, and peeked in. His jaw dropped.
A tangled mess of brown hair, pulled out from the neat up-do, wearing an oversized green t-shirt: Hanji Zoe sat at the piano singing and playing the song that meant the most to him. He stared, mesmerized—she looked beautiful this way, to him at least. Raw, no make-up, no gimmicks--she was so pretty, he thought. He took a few steps forward and joined her singing the harmony, their voice types strangely compatible, blending together in a way that made your ears buzz when it hit the correct frequency. She wasn’t even startled as he walked into the room to join her--it was as if she knew he’d join her. He sat next to her continuing to sing, and started playing the piano with her. She eyed him and smiled as she sang until they reached the end.
Levi paused, very much shocked at the whole ordeal. “Um, when did you learn how to sing? Why were you humming everything off tune all week—“
“Hm, because I don’t want anyone to know!”
“Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know?? Your voice is ridiculous...”
“Oh,” she blushed, “Well, this is the one thing I have, for me? My life is always plastered on billboards and magazines and TV interviews, I just wanted one thing for myself, yknow?”
Levi hesitated—he understood, but he wanted nothing more than to make more music with her.
“But,” she lifted her hand towards his face, Levi shutting his eyes in preparation for her to squeeze his goddamn cheek for the thousandth time this week, but was instead met with her fingers combing his hair over and back behind his ear. “I wouldn’t mind sharing this little secret of mine with you, once in awhile.”
She smiled brightly at him. “Oh and you look cuter when you push your bangs out of the way, it’s nice to see your face more clearly.”
She pulled a napkin out of her pocket, and picked up a pen. She wrote her personal phone number down, folded the napkin, and slid it into the chest pocket of his button-up, right over his heart.
“When we’re done shooting this video, call me sometime. I’d love to sing with you again, alright?” She stood up and scurried away, of course knocking down her empty cup of coffee on the bench beside her on the way out.
Levi stared at the doorway, and put his hand over his pocket—he felt himself...smiling?
“Goddammit, Erwin. I’m gonna punch you straight into the next life for playing matchmaker.”
He impatiently pulled out his phone and saved Hanji’s number under the name “Four-Eyes”.
#levihan#levi ackerman#hange zoe#hanji zoe#erwin smith#moblit#levihan fanfiction#levihan fanfic#snk#aot#ask#anon
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Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two
Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2921
Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff
A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics
DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission
You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.
Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?
How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.
The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.
He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.
You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.
Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”
Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?
Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.
You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.
You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home
James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?
You yes dad yeesh
James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.
You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care
James I know from experience.
You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?
James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.
You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie
James Did you ever send your sister a text?
You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her
James Only good things, I hope.
You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.
James My ma raised me right.
You id say
James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._
You i dont want to agree but ur probably right
You whats ur name btw?
James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?
You duh ur fun to talk to
James Oh.
You or not its cool if u dont want to
James It’s James.
You nice to meet u james im (y/n)
James Nice to meet you as well.
You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go
You goodnite james
James Goodnight, (Y/N).
Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.
You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.
What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.
A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.
With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.
You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.
You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.
You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐
You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.
You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.
You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.
Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.
Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.
James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.
You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.
You Cease our correspondence too much?
James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.
You Stop!
James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.
A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.
You You’re incorrigible.
James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.
You Ha!
You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.
James We all have our flaws.
Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.
You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?
You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.
James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.
You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.
You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?
James_ Maybe. Someday._
How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?
You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?
James 😈
You There you go again--being all mysterious.
James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.
You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?
James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?
You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.
You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.
And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.
James Oh.
The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.
You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.
You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.
You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?
James Hook. Line. Sinker.
Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.
You You’re an ass. I take everything back.
James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.
James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.
James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.
James Because of you, (Y/N).
A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.
You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.
James Doll, you have no idea.
The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.
You Favorite color?
James Black. You?
You Blue.
You Favorite ice cream flavor?
James Chocolate. Yours?
You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.
James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.
You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.
You Favorite movie?
James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.
You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.
You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.
James Where are you going again?
You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.
You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?
James Don’t think I have.
You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.
James Sounds right up my alley.
You Cats or dogs?
James I’m gone too much, so cats.
The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.
You Socks on or off for sleeping?
James Off.
You Silver or gold?
James Silver.
You Morning, noon, or night?
James Night.
You How do you take your coffee?
James Room for sugar and creamer.
You Boxers or briefs?
James Boxer briefs.
You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.
You Touché.
As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.
The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.
Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.
Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.
You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?
The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.
“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.
You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.
James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??
“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.
With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:
You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.
Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.
“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”
“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”
You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.
James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??
You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”
Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.
With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.
When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.
She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”
Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”
“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”
You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.
“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.
“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”
Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”
“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”
“He could look you up on Facebook.”
“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.
“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”
“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”
Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.
“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”
Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”
Chapter One | Chapter Three
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#drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health#dtibfyh#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fanfiction#bucky fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic
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Just a little spit
Musical beetlejuice x reader
Nsft
Reader falls asleep during movie night and drools on beej, things get messy
It's been a long week, work was running you left, right and center, 8 hour shifts, 7 days in a row, so it was no surprised you were low energy, but tonight was movie night and tomorrow was a day off.
Movie night was a weekly occurrence in you little apartment, you've been looking forward to this night all week, exhausted as you were, you were powered by the idea of soon you'll be in comfy clothes and hanging out with you best friend. Changing into your pajamas, a baggy tshirt and boxers you feel as though a weight has been lifted.
"Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice" you say plainly, you've summoned the undead bastard more times then you can remember, so at this point it felt like second nature.
Your bedroom fills with a thick smoke, amazing how he never sets off any fire alarms, waving the smoke away from your face, trying not to cough, you're caught off guard by a multitude of hands grabbing you and pulling you into the soft stomach of the demon in question, 2 sets of arms hold you tight to his midsection as he spins you around with glee.
"Bought time I saw my sweet little breather~ babes did you miss me?"
You stumble about when he places you down, dizzy and trying to find your balance while the ghoul chuckles at you.
"Oh ho, look at you, all casual and comfy for me? Looking like a snack babes" he coos eyeing you up and down, you can feel a shiver run up your spine, his flirting always got to you, wither it was legit or not, it was incredibly easy for the demon to make you blush.
You catch beetlejuice staring, following his eyes you notice hes staring at your legs, before you say anything beetlejuice cuts in
"Didn't think you were wearing any pants there sugar, your shirt hid those cute little boxers from me, kinda bummed you're not just in a shirt and panties for your old pal mr beebleboose" he snorts out an awful cackle
"Are we gonna watch a movie or are you just gonna be an ass all night?" You huff out
"I can do both" the ghoul shrugs, following you to the living room
Beetlejuice flops down on the couch "so besides you, what's on tonight's menu?"
"I was thinking final destination?" You ask waving the dvd case around
"YES! A bunch of breathers getting torn apart for cheating death, an excellent choice my dear Y/n"
You couldnt help but smile at his reaction,
"Oh! What about-"
Ding dong
Beetlejuice just stares at you, you smile "one step ahead of you my friend"
The ghoul gives you a smug grin, grabbing your hand and leading you to the door "got me without a plan sweet stuff, but your pal is the king of improv, I got a trick I've been saving that's really gonna get your knees weak, watch and be amazed" the ghoul then drops his coat around your shoulders, you weren't quite sure why, was it because you were in your pajamas? That you look alittle exposed? Was it a pride thing for him? To have you wrapped in his coat in front of a complete stranger? Who knows with beetlejuice, if it wasnt one thing it was another. The coat didn't exactly help cover much past your baggy shirt, in fact it emphasized the idea you weren't wearing any pants, oh well.
The ghoul swings open the door with glee, practically buzzing with excitement, you couldnt help but feel excited, it was always contagious when beetlejuice was in this type of mood.
It was a miracle that you were still able to get take out, with the amount of times beetlejuice has scared the piss out of the delivery guys, it was a surprise you havent been blocked. But it wasnt like anyone would believe the stories they would tell.
"Pizza for l/n"
"That's me, Thanks man" beetlejuice took the pizza from the guy and handed it to you,
"Hey, sweet stuff, what you order?" The ghoul asks without turning to face you, before you could respond beetlejuice snapped his fingers, your body goes ridged
"Pepperoni, bacon, and snakes" you rattle off nonchalantly, with beetlejuice puppeting you.
"Snakes?" The delivery man responds
Coming back to your senses, you eagerly await what's next.
"Snakes" with that beetlejuice collapses into a pile of black and white striped snakes, you jump at the sight, they begin to slither towards the delivery man, who straight up screeches and blots away.
You hear Beetlejuice's awful laugh, not sure where, as the snakes pile back into the demon you knew.
"Such a beautiful sound, right babes?so, What do ya think sweets? Dont think I didnt see you jump" he snorts out an awful cackle, while you shrink with embarrassment.
Beetlejuice wraps an arm around your shoulders "I'll let it slide sugar, cuz you look so sweet in my jacket, keep it on for the rest of the night and give me a 10 on my performance, and I wont tease ya about being scared" he chuckles squishing his cheek against yours, his scruffy beard scratching your face, he could probably hear your heart hammering away in your chest, you sigh trying to regain what little dignity you had left.
"I have to say bj, that was amazing, you really outdid yourself, a perfect 10"
The moment the words left your mouth you felt the ghoul's grip tighten around you,
"You're too kind, and correct about me being a perfect 10" he flashes you his big fangs, you couldnt help but laugh.
...
You really enjoyed these nights with beetlejuice, unfortunately you're second wind of energy was about to run out, you could barely keep your eyes open, it was bad enough you're already leaning against the ghoul in question, which you were teased with.
"My jacket not enough sweets? You want to get into my pants next?" He snickers, you were really too tired to counter that comment, instead you just mumble something unintelligible and refuse to make eye contact.
The ghoul drapes an arm around you out of habbit, how you would lean against him in the summer to cool off, streaks of pink flashes through his hair as he enjoyed your warmth, your scent, you. He adored your movie nights, just you and him, he would never admit it, but simple things like this, the whole domestic thing, with you, was almost enough to get his undead heart pumping. His perfect little breather, no idea what he did to deserve you, nice, funny, and hot, now if he could get you to confess you love him first then he'd be set, but just like him you are a coward when it came to such things, but beetlejuice can wait, for now.
Snapped from his thoughts, when he clues back into what was happening in the film, he smiles.
"Oh sugar, this is the best part- oh" turning to you, he huffs out a small laugh, you were out cold.
"I'm I that boring sweetheart? Or is it the film?" He chuckles
This wasnt the first time you've done this, beej constantly complained about how hard you worked and how tired it made you, but yet would never complain when youd pass out on him, but teasing was a different ball game, he adored seeing your face scrunch up in embarrassment, how funny you sounded as you try to babble out an excuse, the demon knew you liked him, but still adored messing with you due to how funny your reactions were.
The demon was brought back from his musings with the feeling of a unfamiliar warmth on his shoulder and arm where your head rested. Closer inspection, you were drooling in your sleep, beej couldnt help but smile at this, you are NOT gonna hear the end of that, he chuckles.
You shift in your sleep, and let out a soft groan, the ghoul let's out a desperate sigh, such a beautiful sound, just enough to get his motor running.
Yes beetlejuice had a soft spot for you, but he was a very sexual being, the amount of times the ghoul has spied on you during private times were more then he could remember, the amount of times he's jerked it to the thought of you were also more then he could count, god slash satan he wanted to pound you into the mattress so bad, have you yell out praises on how good a lover he was. It's been awhile since he cleaned his pipes, with your soft warm form pressed up against him, now seems like a pretty good time, the idea of being caught was always a nice thrill, to have you catch him, may be youd be flattered and join in, as impossible as that fantasy was, it was a nice thought.
Without much further convincing, beetlejuice had already pulled his cock from his trousers, and lazily began stroking it with a third hand, the others were busy with you, on draped around you shoulders, the other absentmindedly circling the spot of drool you had made on his shoulders. Every soft noise you made, every sigh, every groan, every mumble you uttered in your sleep was fuel to the fire of the ghoul's arousal.
Stifling a groan he utters "you have no idea what you do to me sweets" still circling the drool spot you made on his shoulder, shifting a bit in you sleep, his finger slips into your mouth, the demon was quick to retreat his hand in fear youd wake up, you only scrunch up you face in response. Beetlejuice let's out a breath he didnt know he was holding, not that he needed to breath, yes he liked the idea of being caught, but in reality youd be sick to your stomach at the sight, you'd probably banish him.
Once beetlejuice realized you were out cold, he returned to his strokes, until it clicks, the hand he was circling the drool you left behind, his finger was now coded in a nice thick layer of your spit. A ghoulish grin spreads across his face, hair fully electric pink, how he dreamed of that beautiful mouth around his cock, how lovely your moans would sound with your lips around his shaft. He couldnt let this opportunity go by, the ghoul slowly begins covering his dick with your salvia, he shivers at the sensation, still warm from your mouth, the ghoul utters a muffled groan "just like that sweetheart, you're so good to me"
Beetlejuice couldnt help but imagine you, mouth hovering over his lap, drool dripping from you mouth onto his cock. He groans softly "lubing me up babes? Such a considerate breather"
Once his cock was as covered as it was gonna be with the slavia you graced him with, he once again began with his strokes, starting off at a slow gentle pace, soft moans escaping his lips, you were asleep next to him, so the ghoul couldnt be as loud as he'd like to. When you were away the ghoul would treat himself to long loud sessions of alone time using your delicate laundry items, he could be as loud as his undead heart desires, not caring about your neighbors, but now, not so much.
"God I wanna slip into that pretty mouth of yours, feel how wet and warm it is, have you lube up my cock with your salvia before I shove it in that cute pussy of yours" he stifles a groan as his strokes begin picking up pace, his eyes were glued to you sleeping face, the arm the demon had around your shoulders slowly began to draw hearts with his fingers on your back.
You mumble and shift a bit in your sleep, your hand finds it's way to his thigh, gripping on to his pants, beetlejuice nearly jumps out of his skin, he was so lost in his fantasy of you, you completely catch him off guard, but hed be lying if he didnt enjoy the scare. It felt real good to have your hand resting on his thigh while he jerked off.
"Naughty little minx, you do want to get into my pants huh?" He chuckled softly.
The thought always crossed his mind during your weekly movie night, he fantasized about how you would grow bored of the film, lean into him, and have those pretty hands of yours find their way into him pants. Having his cute breather lazily jerk him off while watching a horror film easily had to be in the top five of his fantasies of you, simple but still delicious.
"Naughty thing" the ghoul stifles a groan as his pace picks up, the thought of your hand replacing his quickly taking over his mind.
Beetlejuice was using every ounce of strength he possessed to not start bucking up into his hand, not wanting to jostle you awake since you were leaning on the ghoul. Chasing his own orgasm, his pace becomes quite harsh, to the point where the ghoul summoned an extra hand just to bite and muffle his moans.
It felt so good, having you so close to him, hand on his thigh, salvia on his cock, god slash satan he wanted to scream out in bliss, he was so close, so focused on your sleeping face, his sweet breather, so kind and considerate, using their spit as lube for a hand job, he couldnt have asked for a better breather.
"Your so good to me sugar, you know just how to treat a guy, I'm gonna pay you back, anything you want, upstairs, downstairs, butt stuff, just say the word doll~" he groans out.
"...bee.." you mumble, shifting in your sleep, ever so gently sliding your hand up his thigh, that was enough to get the ghoul to the finish line.
"F-fuck y/n" and with that the ghoul shoots his load, into his hand and his lap, thank god slash satan it missed your hand, as hot as itd be to have those pretty hands of yours covered in his cum, now was not that time.
A smug grin plastered across his face as he gazes at you a soft "thank you" is whispered your way, as he slides his now soft cock back into his pants, snapping his fingers to clean himself up as of nothing happened.
The electricity of bright pink slowly leaves his hair, being replaced with a much softer mix of pink and green, the hand around your shoulders now lazily rubbing circles on your back, the film long over, beetlejuice snaps his fingers once again and the tv turns off leaving the two of you in gentle darkness.
"Nigh sweet stuff"
Bonus
Waking up to the buzzing sound of your phone you groan, ot was your day off and yet you forgot to turn your alarm off.
"Morning babes"
No, you feel asleep on the couch again, leaving against that bastard "morning" you grumble
As you try to get up to start your day beej pulls you back down into him lap
"Oh no sugar, you're not getting away that easy~ was I so boring last night you fell asleep? After my amazing performance too, such a cruel little breather you are" he teases "not to mention you were drooling on too" he cackles pointing at the spot.
"Doll if you wanted to spit on me, I can name some better places then my arm" he hollers with his awful laugh.
You're never gonna hear the end of this.
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Pink Chains
Pt 8. Ending
Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.
Nsfw. Virgin reader. Vanilla
Tags. @galagcica @haikyuu-but-low-iq @kozushiki @mocha-babes @kayisweird @lunebabie @zopzoop @derpeedoo
You were sitting on Kyos lap facing him holding his cheeks kissing him all over his face. Kyo had his hands on your rear trying his best not to tug at your panties and just kiss you . He was still thinking about what happened earlier , and you could tell. His kissing was getting sloppy .
You pulled away to sit on his fingers and lap giving him a shy pouty look. “Kyo…”
“Im sorry sweetie.. its just.”
You kissed him on the lips. “Just nothing. Wanna feel good… wanna feel good with Kyo..”
He sighed kissing you back giving you the ‘ok’. You could feel his fingers along your slit travelign up and down lightly in slow strokes. He chuckled at the little whimpers you made no matter how hard you tried to hide them from him.
“Can i have my hand back sweetie?”
“No..”
He smiled, kissing you again and again while his fingers worked on getting you wet for him. You leaned into him sighing lightly at the feeling, holding his sleeve, kissing it and rubbing against his fingers whining every time they slipped over your clit. Kyo kissed at your neck pulling you closer to him.
“Sweetie.. Lift up for a second”
You held him tight moving up so he could help you out of your panties and sit you on his lap again. You just had his old jersey on now but he quickly got rid of that too, tossing it with the other garments.
“K-kyo.”
“My pretty girl” he pulled you to him, slipping another hand under you again to slip a finger in you just to be stopped short. “Sweetie? Are you a virgin?”
“Yes i uhm..i still want to , just be gentle please..”
Kyotani did not know how to process this for a minute, every girl who threw themselves at him was always some slut. He's never been asked to take it slow before. “Okay sweetie, if at any point you wanna stop, tell me.” he kissed you and slipped another finger in you. The rings hit your flesh creating goosebumps.
You squeezed him tight getting used to the new feeling, eventually he got you to slowly grind against his fingers and helped you reach your first orgasm helping you through it. You pawed at his lap watching his erection get bigger each time.
“ i think.. Im ready”
“Your sure?” he asked , removing his fingers from you to see your juices dripping off of them. He bit his lip and before he could say anything you were taking his erection out and rubbing it.
“Swee!!..-”
You leaned into him giving him big eyes. “Im sure Kyo..”
He kissed you as he gripped your rear lifting you up. “Okay sweetie. Tell me if you want to stop okay?”
“I will Kyo..”
Kyotnai had nails dug into his sleeves while he lowered you down on him. He was hurting you , he stopped a couple times to ask if you were okay and you always nodded between shaking breaths assuring him you were fine and to keep going. It took him a few minutes to sit you back down on his lap. You cried when he broke through. Biting his shoulder drawing blood. He held your body close coaching you through it just like he did for the tattoo. It helped.. It really really helped.
It started out with you on his lap and ended with you on his bed and Kyo on top of you finishing on your stomach. He squeezed you panting hard trying not to put his weight on you too much. You giggled kissing his head and he laughed too. He never wanted to leave you, not ever.
Kyo helped you clean up and asked if he could get you anything to help make you more comfortable. You jokingly asked for a stuffed animal expecting him to not have one but he did in fact have one. A old wolf plush and a Sendai Frogs plush he pulled outta his closet. Kyotani helped you get dressed in his boxers and one of his shirts before putting you to bed. He kissed your head watching you drift off.
“Night sweetie”
“Night kyo..”
Kyotani left to get dressed and to throw your clothes in the wash. He sat on the dryer just listening to the washer for a minute. So much has happened over a few days for him. Multiple times he thought he was going to lose you , he still had no idea how you stayed with him. He was grateful to have you, grateful Yahaba made up with him, grateful his business was working and was hopeful for the future. He returned to you soon after the clothes finished to place them next to the bed, he got in behind you wrapping his arms around you trying to fall asleep. He was not looking forward to the morning,
*
You woke up first because of your alarm and the sound of excited dogs. Your body was sore but you did not mind too much. Kyo squeezed you in his sleep and you giggled kissing his arm all over.
“Kyooo…gotta get up..”
“Skip sweetie..” he nuzzled his face into your neck sighing heavy
“I gotta.. Draw my entry for the Gallery though, and what will i do if i skip?”
“Hang out at my job with me of course. “ he teased nipping your neck.
You sighed turning over and kissed his chest.
“What gallery?”
“My school is participating in this gallery at the local art building in town. My teacher asked if i would join in, im hoping.. I get picked up.”
“Picked up?” he asked you, moving your hair from your face.
“I want to graduate with a job already lined up, im hoping someone will like my designs enough to want to partner with me to sell them on clothes.” you nuzzled into his chest. “But im nervous too cuz.. Business people just see money”
“Where is this gallery again Sweetie?”
“Up the street from Mattsuns shop” you rubbed your eyes and Kyo got a grin on his face.
“Can i come?”
“Of course!” you hugged him tight and he kissed your head.
“Dress code?”
“I think so but.. I dont think its mandatory”
Ho ho ho…
Your phone buzzed again and you whined loud. “Kyoooo let em up…”
He just laid down on top of you . “five more minutes”
*
You played with the dogs for a bit petting each one and giving them kisses on the nose, you even shared your breakfast with them when Iwaizumi was not looking. Kyo had washed your clothes but you wanted to wear his, the pants were too long so you made them into shorts and picked out a random band tee you tied under your chest and found your shoes in the living room. God you were so cute in hi clothes what the fuck.
He couldn't stay long though. Kyotani was greeted with several texts and calls from Yahaba ordering him to get to his place immediately. He gave you a kiss and promised he would be at the show for you and left. Iwaizumi brought you to school and he left for work to see Oikawa had opened with no problems.
Kyotani made it too Yahabas house to be greeted by him in the door, arms folded and foot tapping. Kyotani rolled his eyes, noticing the extra car parked out front. Bokuto was already here. He walked into the house past Yahaba to see Bokuoto sitting at the table trying not to look at Kyotani. He sat down across from him and Yahaba met in the middle between them.
“So explain… what happened.” he said, rubbing the irritation in his face.
“Well., i was out getting somethings and i saw Mad Dog, and i just i dont know. Got upset, all i could think about what the Tourney and the accident.” Bokuto rubbed his eyes and ran hid hands through his hair. “I hit him first Yahaba”
“And you?” Yahaba looked over to Kyo.
“I hit him back” he took in a deep breath sitting back in the chair to rub his sleeve.
Yahaba rubbed between his eyes. “At least no one saw it…”
“y/n was with me”
“.....what?”
“Its true…” Bokuto added
“SO YOU JUST FOUGHT IN FRONT OF HER!”
“I almost punched her Yahab jesus christ, i still feel awful about it”
“She stayed with you?”
“Yes, she did, i dont know how but can we please fix this . i need to go to work and catch y/n’s art show”
“Is she okay Kyotani”
“She is now.” he looked away rubbIng his head. “I fucking hate myself.”
“Kyotani…” Bokuto said. “Im sorry, i let my emotions get the better of me and i should have more control than that. Akaashi gave me one hell of a lecture when i got home. I don't want to fight again.”
“I dont either”
Yahaba was still hung up on you putting yourself between these two and coming out without a scratch. Fuck you really were special.
“So can we agree to move on.” he finally asked them.
“Yes”
“Mhm”
“Good. shake hands and get out of my house.”
The two got up shaking hands and they both felt a wave of relief wash over them. Finally.
*
Back at the college everyone was eyeing your outfit but you did not give one fuck. Yuki and Kii paid you no mind and you spent most of the day in the art room with a towel of crumbled up sketches in a trash bag neck to you. Why was this so hard? You signed in to your arm looking at the empty canvas, lightly tracing over your red panda tattoo.
“Mmm……”You traced some more getting an idea. It was different, new, and stood out. Two opposites.
At The Dog House Kyotani had finally gotten there to see Oikawa running the front and Iwaizumi putting clothes out. He told them everything was fine now and about the gallery show you were in. both men were excited to go and Kyo even texted Mattsun about it.
“Are you gonna wear a suit for once ?” Kawa asked Kyo
“Uhm no, no im not.”
“Why not!!!”
“Because i want to stand out when i tell y/n i want her to partner with me at the shop”
Iwaizumi and Oikawa both got very big smiles and Kyo rolled his eyes, he couldn't help but smile too . he was so ready for tonight, to see your face and your reaction. He was going to tell you he loved you too.
*
It was time for the Gallery and you were already inside setting up your space. You had to change clothes and put on a black dress with boots. Kyotanis clothes neatly tucked away in your bag. You were so happy with the finished sketch you loved it so much, you hoped Kyo did too , you also hoped someone would want to buy it ..
People were starting to come in and you quickly set everything up when your teacher came over.
“y/n, its going to be lovely, this is such a fancy high established place i have no doubt someone will want to pick you up”
“Thank you.. Heh.. i hope soo….”
Things were going good. People loved your piece and you got compliments on it, not many people understood its meaning or how you came to the conclusion to draw these two things together but you loved it. No one made offers though, unfortunately. You just wanted to see Kyo .. where was he?
“You look ridiculous Kawa” Mattsun said.
“The invite said SUITS!” he yelled at them as he parked his car.
“It also said not mandatory” Iwaizumi said getting out with his friends
Kyo got out stretching giving all these fancy people a smirk as they passed, hands on their chest gasping at the sight of him and his friends.
Everyone had regular clothes on, Oikawa was in a suit.
Kyotani was in ripped jeans, black boots and his shops shirt.
Oikawa was in a fancy black suit.
Mattsun was in skater clothes showing off his many tattoos
Iwaizumi was in jeans and a punk rock shirt.
“Ready ?” he asked his friends as he cracked his knuckles.
Everyone said yes and Kyotani could not wait to get inside this fancy place.
You were sitting by your art staring at all the people, everyone had stopped coming over to ask about it. No one was interested. You wanted to leave but you were required to stay till the night was done. You sighed checking your phone when you heard a very loud gasp.
“Oh my god…”
“You must have the wrong place…”
“This place is not for you lot”
“Ouch, im just here to see my girlfriend”
You got the biggest smile jumping out of your seat. “Kyoooo!!!”
People looked back and you waved. Kyotani pushed his way through and Oikawa apologized awkwardly to everyone as him and his friends past through. Kyo picked you up hugging you tight kissing your chest and setting you back down.
“Hows my happy girl”
“Super good now!” you squeezed him and said hello to everyone.
Mattsun checked on his tattoo on you and Iwai and Kawa said hello.
“Sweetie anybody pick you up yet?”
“No.. i .. i dont think people like it”
“Where is it ?”
You took his hand taking him and his friends back over to your space. His heart thumped when he saw it. Holy fuck. It was a very large drawing of a wolf and a happy red panda. The wolf was standing and looking straight on and the red panda was between its front legs with its front paws up looking very happy.
You leaned on Kyo hugging his sleeve waiting for him to say something. Mattsun knew instantly you were inspired by his style, he even saw his name next to yours for credits/ inspiration. Oikawa was speechless for once in his life and Iwaizumi was watching his friend with a big smile. Good for you Mad Dog.
“Sweetie…. “
“Do you like it ? its … it us heh.”
“I fuckin love it”
“Really?!”
“Sweetie” he picked you up again and kissed your lips not caring who was staring. “ i love you y/n. I want you to partner with me in my shop. I want to spend my life with you.”
“KYO!!!” you wiggled in his grip till he put you down. You whined grabbing his face to kiss him all over. “ i love you too!! Yes yes!!!”
“And ill buy this art y/n” Mattsun told you.
You looked over and he smiled taking out his checkbook. “Thank you for putting my name on it, im touched.”
Everything was working out for you, nothing could be better.
The years went on, you agreed to move in with Kyo after you finished up school and used Mattsuns money to start up your designs with Kyo in his shop. He put your name on the brand making it yours as well. You made cute hoodies with ears and dresses along with cute animal bags. Kyotani still made his punk clothes and he still had his friends working with him. Mattsun had your art up in his shop and Bokuto visited regularly to ask how you were and so did Yahaba. Everything was perfect. Well. almost perfect.
Kyo was at his register going over inventory. It was after hours and no one was there but him and you. You skipped over sitting on the register giggling.
“Im almost done sweetie”
“It will only take a second!!!!”
He sighed looking up to see you holding a sketch book with three tiny garments on them, two looked to be boys clothes and the last one a girl.
“So you wanna sell kids clothes?” he asked, taking the book and standing up looking it over.
“Well … i was hoping we could use them for our kids”
“Sweetie we dont ha-........................................” he dropped the sketchbook looking at you,
You giggled, rubbing your stomach. “We do now!!!!”
*
Stick around for the sequel!!! 
Thank you for enjoying this story with me ❤️ i love this fic the very most it has a special place in my heart. Thank you for reading .
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magic.
Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Hard of Hearing Reader
request from @icantswimhalp: Hi hun! I was hoping you could do a reid fic with a reader who is hard of hearing? It would be really awesome if you did. ❤
a/n: quick disclaimer - i am not d/Deaf or hard of hearing myself, but i do work closely with the d/Deaf community. if anyone has any notes, please send them my way! any errors are my own, and i have done my best to be as accurate and inclusive as possible.
rating/words: g / ~1500
no warnings apply!
AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!
italics are signs, and anything in “quotes” is spoken aloud.
+++
Your alarm woke you, the flashing light just as offensive as it was every morning. You smacked it until it turned off and sat up, checking your phone. Two text messages from Spencer.
6:18am Got a call into work. Didn’t wanted to wake you. Sleep tight and I’ll update when I can.
10:23am Case is local. We’re still in the office.
You texted him back right away.
10:31am Want me to bring lunch? I can order for the team.
When you stood, you put on your smartwatch. It was a Christmas gift from Spencer, and he had Penelope set it up so it would flash with your alarms. It had an app that could transcribe speech in case you didn’t want to read lips, and you couldn’t deny the convenience of the buzzing feature for your texts.
Slipping your sweats on, you padded to the bathroom and brushed your teeth. Your watch buzzed, and you checked it.
10:33am I’ll send you orders for JJ, Garcia, and Hotch.
The orders that followed were pretty simple – their favorite sandwiches from their favorite sandwich shop on the way to Quantico. The owners knew you by then, as you always tried to feed the BAU when they were working local cases or stuck in the office with piles of paperwork a mile high.
For convenience and time, you slipped your hearing aids on to make the phone call. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but anything was better than nothing. They needed to hear you more than the other way around, anyways.
+++
You waved at the owner and her son as you picked up your box. She signed her thanks, and you grinned back at her. She had been exposed to a few signs on the rare occasion that you and Spencer had the opportunity to sit in the little deli and eat at one of the checkered tables.
+++
The security guards on the first floor were more than happy to help you shuffle lunch through the checkpoint, and they may have stolen a few fries from JJ’s meal.
By the time you finally made it up the elevator to the BAU, you’d yanked your hearing aid out and threw it in your purse. The building was far too loud, too busy, and it never failed to give you a headache.
You went to shoulder the glass door open, only to find it held open for you. You smiled at Hotch. With your hands full, you couldn’t sign. You spoke instead.
“Hey, Hotch.”
Hey! How are you? He looked happy to see you, but you knew him well enough to see the strain behind his eyes.
“Good,” you said. “Busy morning. Your lunch is in here. How’s Jack?”
Thank you, he signed, gesturing toward the box. Want help?
You shook your head, and he let you lead the way into the office. When you settled in the kitchen area, he propped himself against the counter and started to sign. You unpacked the box, keeping your eyes on Hotch as he signed.
Jack is good. Doing well in school. He passed his math test last week and will probably be ahead of his classmates next year.
Wonderful, you signed back. Tell him I’m proud of him.
Of course. Come to Dave’s next time we’re all there together. The boys love your stories.
I will, but you’ll need to keep Spencer honest for me so he doesn’t forget. You grinned at him, and he offered a small smile back. Other than Spencer, Hotch was the only confident signer in the unit. You’d become fast friends because of it. Emily was picking it up rather quickly, though she stumbled and got nervous often. Derek was getting better. Last week, he proudly informed you (in adorably broken sign) that he practices with Spencer on the jet on the way home from every case.
Hotch’s gaze tracked up over your shoulder and he raised his eyebrows. You whirled around. Spencer stood in the doorway, a smile on his face and hands in his pockets. You bounced toward him and he brought you into his arms, keeping one of your hands pressed to his chest. You spelled “Hi” into his hand and felt him laugh.
He leaned back and met your eyes. Thank you for bringing lunch. This case is crazy.
Aren’t they all?
Spencer laughed. True.
He taught you a few industry specific signs, but serial killer and family annihilator were your favorites because of the faces Spencer made with them. He walked backwards as he told you a few details about the case – ones he could share, anyways. His sandwich was tucked under his arms so his hands were free, and Hotch trailed behind you with his sandwich and JJ’s.
You sat on his desk and he sat in his chair, your legs hanging over his lap as you ate your lunch. You both had grown out of your aversion to PDA long ago, and were happy to be among your friends for a quick respite. The team always made an effort to regale you with tales of Spencer’s antics in the field whenever possible, and today was no exception.
“And then he looked at me and said ‘I gave the profile to this one woman and she asked me if I was the unsub.’ I just about died,” Derek said, laughing. They all made sure they were facing you when they spoke, so you could read their lips. Without your hearing aids, they were just a dull thrumming. The direction was easy to pick up, but the content was almost lost entirely.
JJ said something, and you knew you missed it before she was finished talking.
You glanced down at Spencer, who was watching JJ. He interpreted.
Spencer did great on that case, Derek. Give him a break.
You reached out and squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. He looked up at you.
Thanks. You leaned over and signed at JJ. Hotch voiced your signs. He better be on his best behavior for all cases. Hotch’s glares look tame compared to mine.
At that, they all laughed and you winked at Spencer. His eyes were more than a little distracting, and you got lost in them for a minute.
Hotch waved his hand at you to get your attention, and you looked up at him. He signed as he spoke, and you relaxed a little, taking a bite of your sandwich. “That was the same case Spencer used magic to find the unsub.”
You barked a laugh around your bite, absolutely delighted. Really? Magic magic or physics magic?
“Magic magic,” Hotch replied.
“Okay that’s not,” Spencer looked up at you, continuing to sign. “That’s not what happened. I had to deliver the profile and –“
“The way he was doing it definitely didn’t work,” Derek said.
So what did you do, really?
You saw Hotch relay your question to the rest of the team.
“Well,” Spencer started, signing as he spoke, “I managed to deliver the profile using a trick that kept the bartender’s attention while I outlined the key features of the unsub. It wasn’t –“ he huffed, “it wasn’t that ridiculous, all things considered.”
“In fairness,” JJ said, making sure to face you more directly so you could see her mouth as she spoke. “Spence has used magic more than once to help with a case. Remember the train?”
Spencer rolled his eyes and dove into the refuge of your arms. You scooted to the edge of the desk and held him to you, brushing his hair back. It was getting longer, and would probably need a cut soon.
You felt him say something against you, the vibration of his voice against your hand drawing your attention. Looking up at Hotch with a frown, he helped you out.
It’s a useful skill, okay?
You laughed, and Spencer held onto you a little tighter.
The team looked up suddenly in response to something. You watched as Hotch pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hotchner,” you saw him say. After a few seconds, his mouth fell into a grim line.
All at once, the team was in motion. They wrapped their sandwiches and organized their desks, picking up their keys and backpacks on their way. Spencer stood and kissed your forehead, and you took his sandwich off his hands, wrapping it tightly and putting it in your purse.
Spencer stood in front of you as he clipped his gun to his belt. He took your hand and signed with the other.
Sorry.
That’s okay, you replied. Duty calls. Go get the bad guy.
He kissed you, and you leaned into him.
“I love you,” you said quietly against his mouth.
He leaned back and met your eyes. I love you too.
Please be careful.
Spencer grinned at you. Always. He kissed you once more and bolted out of the bullpen behind Derek, who held the door for him. He threw another smile at you over his shoulder, and you waved at the team as the elevator doors closed.
tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @icantswimhalp @octothorpetopus @hurricanejjareau (i dont have a reid tagging list, so i tagged anyone i thought might like it! let me know if you’d like to be added or subtracted!)
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#tali writes fanfiction
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The Case of the Blue Sweater | Tom Hiddleston
Pairing: Mob!Tom Hiddleston x cop!reader
Style: one shot
WC: 10.7k
Warnings: crime, alcohol, drinking, implied sexual content (very much so), uhh, theres no blood, also NB: THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE AND I WONT BE THE ONE TO FINISH IT! (story is also unedited to please dont hate me for any mistakes)
Summary: Hey so I read your Mob!Tom x reader and it got me thinking.. Could you write a Fic where Tom is in the mob but the reader is a cop? And like they’re secretly dating but technically the reader has to make it look like they’re hunting him down but they really aren’t? (If that makes sense) Idk I feel like I just need this in my life rn 😂😂
A/N: i got this ask back in january i think and i jumped on it right away, but at some point tumblr deleted it so i cant tag who asked (and i know this wasnt anonymous bc i remember but i never put it in the doc annoyingly). anyways, i started writing it, got to 10k words and lost motivation and never finished it. i really like the AU but nothing ever really happened.... im so sorry. I hope you enjoy what i have ^_^
A loud ringing paired with the loudest on and off buzzing from your phone vibrating on the nightstand is what pulls you out of your slumber. The sounds screech in your ears and you reach over to stop it, to just slide the button over so that your ears can stop bleeding. However, as you lean out of the arms wrapped around you, their grip strengthens and you’re dragged back into the chest of the man sharing your bed.
“Tom,” you say. A smile plays on your lips, the set of events not unusual for an early morning.
He nuzzles into your hair, places a wet kiss at the base of your neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbles into your skin.
You shake your head slightly, as much as you can with the limited space. “Can I at least turn the sound off?”
His grip slackens, making you able to reach the little way over to turn off the blaring alarm. The silence that comes with is welcome in every way, but the relief isn’t long-lasting when Tom drags you back into his chest, his nose quickly nuzzling back to where it was.
Two seconds is what it takes before he’s pressing kisses to your neck. Rough, slender fingers graze up the side of your body until they reach your neck, where they brush away your hair. With Tom’s easy access, the soft kisses slowly turn into something more, something rougher, and the use of his tongue causes a slight tickle to trail through your body.
“Tom.” You shift a little where you lay, taking away his access as you turn your head. In the shift, the man easily moves to trail kisses up your jaw, and as you whisper his name again, his lips connect with yours.
It’s a hungry kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip and his hand grabs your jaw, holding your head in place. You lean into him, kissing him back with equal fervor, however, you’re quickly dragged out of the bliss, when your phone goes off again.
There is no mistaking the death glare Tom sends the mini-computer. You chuckle slightly and push him off you to reach it. This time, it’s not an alarm, but a phone call.
Your boss’s call ID lights up the screen, and you give Tom a stern look as you press to accept the call. With the phone to your ear, Tom shrugs and moves under the covers. His hands trail down your body, teasing you as his fingers trace up your inner thighs.
“Y/L/N,” you say.
A grunt is heard from the other side first, then, “I need you to come in ASAP.” Your boss’s voice sounds urgent, desperate.
You check the clock. “I’m not supposed to come in in another hour,” you reply. “Is it that important?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” It’s like you can hear him nod and roll his eyes at the same time. “We got a lead in the case.”
“What kind of lead? And which case?”
As your boss answers, you can feel Tom’s tongue on the inside of your thigh. In surprise at the feeling you barely manage to suppress the squeal that works up in your throat, and you miss your boss’s reply. (You don’t miss Tom’s smug laugh from under the duvet, nor how he continues to work his way closer to your clit.)
“Y/L/N?” comes from the other end of the line when you gain back… well, really some of your dignity, but mostly your mind.
“I’m here, sir.” You sigh. “Just something that happened that caught my attention. Cat nearly knocked down something made of glass.”
(You don’t have a cat, why was that the first excuse you could come up with? Your boss doesn’t know that, though, so it’s safe.)
“Didn’t know you had a cat, but that could happen to the best of us.” Your boss clears his throat. “The lead’s pretty good, but can’t say it over the phone so you gotta come in. It’s on the case about the Blue Sweater.”
You roll your eyes at the nickname of the case. One of the major criminals you were trying to take down is often seen wearing blue sweaters, and at a briefing you’d offered it as a code name; who knows who listens in on phone calls―they do seem to have a knack for being one step ahead of you, too.
But you don’t mention that to your boss. “Alright, sir, I’ll be on my way as fast as I can.”
“Make it less than half an hour and we’re good.”
“No problem, sir.”
Your boss is the one to hang up, and as you throw your phone down on the bed, Tom peeks his head up from under the covers. You send him a glare. “You should be happy you didn’t get started whilst I was on the phone.”
Your boyfriend smirks up at you. “Oh, you wouldn’t have liked that?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it.”
Tom shrugs. “You got time, right?” Though before you can answer he slides back under the cover, uses his hands to steady your hips and dips his head low. God, if only you had more time.
--
The moment the elevator door opens and you step out into the crowded office space of the police station, you hear your name being called. You wish you weren’t the head detective on the, currently, biggest case pertaining to crime bosses. Just once you wish you could come to work and not have at least five people at a time want to ask you a question or pepper you with information you already have.
You kind of wish you weren’t the head detective for another reason, too, but that’s a minor detail. Actually, that might be the reason you need to be the head detective; way easier to steer an investigation when you’re leading it.
Nonetheless, you have no choice in which cases you lead or not. And that’s usually the reason why there’s three people cluttering your desk as you sit down. You’re not entirely sure that’s the reason today.
You plop down in your chair and stare up at the talking men in front of you. The three of them notice you quickly (after all, it was them that yelled your name) and the chatter dies out.
“I’m here half an hour early and I would love to know what made me skip my morning shower.” (It would have been morning shower sex, and you are a little very annoyed that you had to skip it.)
Your boss coughs, gaining your attention. “Briefing room. Five minutes.” The man looks slightly uncomfortable, but that’s not a big surprise. You’ve been told many times that you have that kind of face that makes people squirm; just something about you is, apparently, intimidating.
“Okay.”
And he walks away.
“You two doing at my desk then?” you ask your coworkers. The two men are your right and left hand in most cases, but this one especially. You wouldn’t even be half the way you are now if you didn’t have them. (Though how much that says, you’re not sure, because you really have nothing.)
“Well…,” starts Mackie. His hand goes up to scratch his neck. “...really we just naturally gravitate here.”
You squint at him, and divert your gaze to Evans (who you know is a shitty liar). Even though you’re not opening your mouth to say anything and he isn’t looking at you, you can see the big man trying to make himself smaller.
“We were gonna try and see if you’d left a hint to who you’re sleeping with,” he says, and despite the way he doesn’t meet your gaze, he says it so casually you’re actually taken aback.
“Excuse me?” You let out a huff, and shake your head. “My sex life is my sex life. You two” ―you point at both of them― “have no business with it.” You stand up from your chair and shake your head yet again. “And if you really think I’d leave evidence lying around, I gotta figure out how to let you know that’s not something I’d do.”
(And if you had, well, your career would for sure be over. If not worse.)
But with that out of the way, you make your way to the briefing room. Captain Cheadle, your boss, stands at the head of the table. In his hand, he holds a wireless presenter, and a few papers are scattered on the table in front of him. You take your place at the table, and as you do, your phone buzzes to signal a new message.
The captain gives you a shrug and that’s all the permission you need to fish your phone from your pocket and check the text.
[08.38] twh
darling, you left something at your flat
[08.38] you
you talking about yourself? that doesnt count
[08.39] twh
that too but no, you left your keys
[08.39] you
you doing anything today??
[08.39] twh
you know i am, but i can get them to you
[08.40] you
gtg but yes please
or there are other solutions…
You let out a slight groan knowing you’ll have to figure out how to get your keys without actually meeting Tom. You can’t meet in public, and there are few places where you can meet without being discovered; there’s a reason you’re always at your apartment and never at his house. (well, you’ve been there once, but that was with work and it doesn’t count.)
Whatever his reply is to the latest text you sent, you don’t get to read (though you do feel the vibration on your thigh). Captain Cheadle has called for your attention, Mackie and Evans having seated themselves in the room as well, and you can’t do anything but pay attention to your boss.
“The tip we got is an inside tip.” The captain steps aside to let the projector show a photo of the biggest crime boss currently in New York City, Tom Hiddleston. As with every other photo he’s in, he’s wearing a fucking blue sweater. “The source is reliable, as we know of their work with Hiddleston, but we’re not sure if the tip is.”
He clicks to another photo, which is of the same man getting into a car. Only, he’s getting into the driver’s seat, something that is unusual for someone that has his own driver. “We can’t know if the tip is true or not, but we’re guessing there’s some truth to it.”
You roll your eyes slightly (not enough for the captain to notice). “Can you tell us what it is yet?”
Captain Cheadle nods. “There’s been a mystery woman in his life. None of his men know, but based on a lift in spirits and an increase in nights gone from his own house, they believe he has to be seeing someone. Rumor amidst his men, according to our tip, is that it's been going on for a few months.”
A knot tightens in your gut. A few months is a little less than correct, but yeah… It’s been six months since you started dating Tom Hiddleston. Off work, on a weekend, you met him in a bar, you got drunk and your mind didn’t work in any other way than tell you how hot he was and how good he made you feel. There was little persuasion needed for Tom to get you in a bed, naked, and screaming out his name. And so far, he’s managed to do it most nights since.
(The case had been assigned to you a month after your first encounter. You’d known his name well before you met him, but that hadn’t stopped you. And, even as his girlfriend, you had no evidence on him whatsoever.)
Yet, after six months of no one knowing anything, you’d been fairly certain you’d get away with it. At least until either one of you got enough of pretending. Tom has enough money for you to quit your job should it come to it, the only problem being that you don’t want to because you love your job.
“Did your source say anything about who the woman could be? Where to find her?” asks Evans.
You wait patiently for the reply. Your gut stirs with the thought that they’d know, that just your face (usually a poker-face no one could read no matter how much you panicked on the inside) would reveal you. But you aren’t revealing anything but being deep in thought, as you can feel Mackie’s eyes on you as your own flicker across the room and a frown has pronounced itself on your face.
“The tip was slight, but the source believes that there might be something to check at a bar. It’s one Hiddleston frequents, High Rise.”
Oh, if only the name didn’t chime with recognition at the back of your mind. There isn’t much to do but accept your fate and follow up on the lead, only try your best to avoid being recognized as the girl who left with Tom Hiddleston half a year ago. That could be rather easy, seeing as the bar was dark and you’d been wearing more make-up than usual and the dress you wore hadn’t stood out in any way, and it being six months ago.
You nod at captain Cheadle. “Anything else we should know?”
He nods slightly. “There came one more thing with the tip, but this wasn’t a written message.” He roams around his papers for something and eventually fishes out an evidence bag. Inside is an envelope and something small you can’t see from far away. He slides it across the table to you.
Your heart skips a beat at the sight of what lies in the bag. The envelope easily recognizable as one you’d written yourself (though you’d used a typewriter―fancy―so there isn’t any handwriting to check), and the content a barely visible silver and gold wristband inscribed with a phrase Tom has whispered time and time again in your ear (the most intimate you’ve been outside of sex); my safe spot is with you in my arms.
Your fingers graze over it as you look at the inscription. “That’s pretty intimate,” you say, and an agreed murmur comes from your captain.
“You traced it?” asks Mackie.
“Untraceable. Paid in cash, no receipt, and might even have been done illegally.”
At least you know that that’s not true, and if they’d tried just a little bit harder, it wouldn’t be that hard.
“Fingerprints?” you ask, though not sure exactly where it comes from. (Or, well, it comes from the fact that you’ve touched the wristband on several occasions and that, unless wiped, there should be fingerprints all over it.)
You look up from the evidence bag to see captain Cheadle shake his head. “A few around the clasp, but none enough to make a full print, and any other we could find are only Hiddleston’s. The envelope’s the same”
“The question is whether Hiddleston sent it to someone or if someone sent it to him.” Evans motions for you to slide the evidence over to him, and you do.
“He’s the biggest crime lord in New York, he’s gotta be real smitten if he’d make that to send to someone.” Mackie shrugs, not sold on the idea that Tom Hiddleston, crime boss extreme, could be sappy enough to send it apparently.
Well, if only you knew what Tom would do for the one he loves, if only you knew.
“Well,” you say and clap your hands together, “seems we have more to do today than reports.”
A slight chuckle comes from the three men in the room with you.
“I want you, Mackie, with me on a trip down to High Rise. Captain, is it possible to talk to our source other than written communication?”
A nod.
“Then I want you, Evans, to have a little chat with Hiddleston’s ex-buddy. Let’s see if he doesn’t have more information, and if you can’t get much, try a little harder on the wristband. There’s gotta be something to look for there, maybe mention it to our source?”
“On it.” Evans gives you a thumbs up, grabs the evidence and walks out the door. You and Mackie move to do the same, and on your way there, you fish your phone out from your pocket.
[08.41] twh
i’ll have to get back to you on that, but you can probably count me in
have a good day, darling
[09.27] you
sounds great
but, on some not so good news, you got a snitch amidst you
and i have smth that belongs to you in evidence
You don’t wait for a reply, certain he’s busy and also because Mackie is a nosy asshole and you’re not gonna get caught on a text message.
“You know where High Rise is?” asks Mackie as you make your way to your desk.
“GPS exists, but I have a hunch,” you say as you grab your jacket. Unfortunately, that hunch is more a hunch that your relationship is getting threatened by your work.
(“A hunch. Yeah, right, you’ve probably been there.”
“Careful what you say there, kiddo.”
“I’m older than you!”
“And yet, I’m driving.”)
--
[09.53] twh
name?
and what might that be?
[11.16] you
i didnt get one but one of my guys is questioning him
smth i bought you
[11.17] twh
ill figure it out, and that has to be my wristband. how?
[11.17] you
you tell me
Mackie nudges your arm with his elbow as you make it inside the bar. It’s mostly deserted, highly unlike the life that was there the last time you set foot in the place. A man sits in the booth in the back sipping what looks like whiskey based on the glass and the brown liquid inside. By the entrance, a woman and a man sit across each other at a table. Each of them have a beer, though only the man looks to have touched his, and the woman doesn’t look too happy with him.
However, you turn your attention to the bar, and the bartender behind the counter. Fortunately, he’s not the same one that was here when you were. Making your way over, you note the exits (the one you came in through, a backdoor in the kitchen, and―one you noted the first time you were there―the window in the ladies’ room). You also note the man sitting at the edge of the bar counter, back hunched over and an old fashioned placed in front of him. Untouched.
“How can I help you?” asks the man behind the counter. A bushy beard covers his chin, ruffled brown hair the top of his head, and tattoos cover his upper arm, visible where his t-shirt sleeve ends. In his hands he holds a cleaning towel and a glass, but as you sit down, he slings the towel over his shoulder and puts the glass down. “Guessing beer for you, sir, and maybe a scotch on the rocks for the lady?”
You shake your head, and roll your eyes at Mackie’s almost nod. You’re at work, you’re not gonna drink. “Sorry, mister, but we’re here on other business.” You pull out your badge and give him a peek.
The bartender’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t know. You could've fooled me.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Tom Hardy, co-owner of this shithole.”
“Shithole?” Mackie eyes the man.
“Can’t say there’s a lot of good going on in here, really. Nothin’ illegal, though.” Hardy winks at Mackie and you roll your eyes. The last thing you care about is the tiny illegal things going on at the bar. “What can I help you with? There’s not been any complaints, right?”
Mackie shakes his head. “Relax, man, it’s got nothing to do with you. We’re looking for information on a man, also named Tom, but with a different last name. Hiddleston, heard of him?”
The scoff Tom Hardy comes with is barely audible, but you catch it and cock your head to the side.
“Who hasn’t heard of Tom Hiddleston? Supposedly a big mafia boss, but the police has got nothing on him.”
“We got word he frequents this bar. That true?”
Hardy nods. “He’s by at least once a week, sometimes more.”
You try to drown the ache that falls over your heart knowing he still comes by. “You know what he’s here for?”
The bartender shrugs. “Don’t get into that shit, but I know he has a deal with my co-owner, Luke Evans.”
Mackie pulls out a pad and a pen and writes down the name. “Hiddleston ever leave here with a girl in the last few months?”
Hardy shakes his head. “Nah, leaves with the same men, though he has gotten different. Before he used to indulge a little more with the women, but now he seems to not want to. They want him, though.”
The ache fades a little at that. He’s loyal, he’s trustworthy, he’s yours. “Did he use to leave with girls before?” you ask.
“Dunno. He’s usually here when Luke works, only some shifts we got together.” Hardy shrugs. “Though the times I have been here, he’s never left with a girl. He’s followed some into the bathroom, but never left with one. Gotta be some special girl for him to leave with her.”
You suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, mister Hardy. Could you get us in touch with your co-owner? We wanna have a little chat with him, too.”
“He works tonight. Sorry, can’t give you anymore.” The man picks up a glass again. “But if we’re done here, you’re gonna have me excused. I have a job to do.”
“Thanks for the cooperation,” says Mackie and pushes away from the counter. “We might come back for more.”
You say a small goodbye as you follow after your coworker. On the way to the door, your eyes stray to the man in the back of the bar. Something about him seems off, and even more so when he holds up his glass and tips it your way with a slight hint of a ‘cheers’. The creepy smirk that places itself on his face sparks no comfort, and you let out a sigh as you walk through the door Mackie holds open for you.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Got a weird feeling from one of the dudes in the bar. Might be nothing, might be something.” You shake your head, slowly, as your thoughts whirr around in your head. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s here tonight, I might check into it, but it’s probably nothing.”
Mackie shrugs. “We didn’t really get that much here either, though. Hope Evans got better luck.”
“Yeah, gotta hope. But I have a feeling our source might’ve changed his mind on talking.” You open the car door and get in, Mackie following your lead. “I have a feeling Evans might not have been very lucky.”
“You thinkin’ we might end up with… homicide?”
You shrug. “Can’t be sure, but wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t believe we’re gonna be able to connect it to Hiddelston, though.” You start the engine and pull out on the road. “Don’t believe we’re gonna have any connection other than the guy’s snitching.”
“Good enough to talk to him.”
“Good enough to blow what we have if we do.”
--
The police station became a place of chaos in a matter of seconds. One moment, you’re talking to Evans on what he could find (the source had disappeared without a trace), and the next, it’s like the station is on fire.
Evans, Mackie and yourself are out of the loop. You lean against your desk, your coworkers leaning against the neighboring ones, and look at the chaos erupted around you. People run from one place to another, screaming for help or otherwise.
Then silence consumes the crowd as someone turns up the sound of the TV in the background. You turn to see the screen. On it, there’s a picture of a fire and countless dead bodies, burnt crisps until there is nothing recognizable left to see.
“In just a few minutes the house, that belongs to the infamous crime boss Tom Hiddleston, went up in flames. Whether the man himself was in the house or not, we do not know. Police have yet to arrive at the scene, and the firemen are doing their best to put out the blazing fire. So far, we have no witnesses and no way of knowing what caused it. We’ll be back soon with more updates.”
You lock eyes with Evans and Mackie.
“Our source was in that fire, wasn’t he?” Mackie makes a grimace, and then shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air. “You called it. You fucking called it.”
“I didn’t want to call it.” You shake your head. “And we’re not the force to go out there either, so we’re gonna need someone to talk to Hiddleston about this, about his source, without it being suspicious.”
Evans gets up from his place. “I’ll ask Sebastian.”
“That buddy of yours?” you ask.
“This is the kind of case he gets called out on.”
“Go ahe―”
“Y/L/N!” You’re cut off by the sound of your captain yelling your name. “You’re going out with the team. Take one of the boys. Don’t alert Hiddleston, but he’ll know why you’re there.”
“You got it, sir.” You turn to Mackie and Evans. “Looks like we got some luck after all. Which one of you wanna join me?”
--
When you pull up to the scene, the fire has been put out. But the fire that is the press and the countless people that’ve decided this is something they need to see live, that has yet to be handled.
You and Evans walk up to the police barricade tape and shove it aside. An office tries to stop you, but you easily walk past after a flash of your badge. The head officer on the case is easily recognizable where he commands what looks like some junior officers.
“What’s the deal?” you ask.
He turns to you, and there you find Evans’s and Mackie’s friend, Sebastian Stan. He smiles at the two of you. “Got five casualties, one critically hurt on his way to the hospital. Medics think his fate’s been sealed. Other than that the fire’s been put out, and the owner of the house arrived about five minutes ago.” Sebastian points to a male figure pacing up and down the sidewalk. “Don’t know if I’d wanna talk to him though.”
You swallow a lump in your throat. “We haven’t got much choice.” You’re about to walk from the officer, but you have one last question. “You got any identities on who died?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, and so far it seems the fire was an accident. No fuel used of any kind, nothing weird about the source, and the six that were in the house weren’t close to it. Three of them were asleep.”
“Didn’t the house have a smoke alarm?” asks Evans.
Sebastian shakes his head. “Nope. And you’re not gonna believe what they, as of now, believe to be the source.”
“What?”
“A hair dryer. Wasn’t turned off.”
You frown. “A hair dryer? Nothing else? It’s a pretty big house. Seems like a long shot.”
Sebastian shrugs. “So far we’ve ruled out arson, and seeing how annoyed the owner is over there, safe to say he wasn’t planning on burning his house down.”
Don’t say that. He wouldn’t care, seeing as that isn’t the house he uses mostly―that’s just the public one.
Even Evans knows that, and you give him a look as you move away from Sebastian and towards said owner of the house.
“Hiddleston,” you say as you near him.
The man turns around. His expression is curious rather than angry, but something tugs at his lips as his gaze flickers over to Evans. “Miss Y/L/N, what do I owe the lovely pleasure?”
“Your house burned down. Five of your men dead, and a sixth one just holding on. We’re thinking he’ll die, too, medics said it was critical.” You shrug. “But you already knew that, right?”
Tom smiles, and takes a step closer to you. You have to hold out a hand to stop Evans from coming in between, knowing you have somewhat of a bodyguard in the man. “Darling.” Tom’s hand comes up to cup your cheek and you have to fight the urge to lean into his touch. “How could I know that? No one wants to tell me a bloody thing.” His voice changes fast at the last sentence, the annoyance creeping in.
“Did you set the fire?” asks Evans.
You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t mean to ask that. But we would like to know if there are any of your acquaintances missing?”
Tom nods. “There’s one I wanted to talk to. Name’s Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Haven’t been able to contact him since last night, and that’s unusual.”
“You think he was in the fire?”
The male shakes his head. “I don’t believe he was there at all, but I do believe he would do this. I got the impression he isn’t quite happy with me, or my decisions lately.”
He’s the snitch.
“We’ll let you know if he was in the fire.” You use your hand to push Tom’s hand away from your face, his touch lingering a little too long to be a play (but you weren’t going to complain.) “I have one other inquiry.”
“Go on.”
You take a deep breath before the words leave your mouth. He should be prepared, considering you told him what was in the evidence bag, but you can’t be sure. “Any girlfriends or women in your life we should know about?”
He smiles (god, that smile). “Other than you, love?”
Smooth. You can practically hear Evans roll his eyes behind you.
“Yes, other than me.”
“Then no. I have a far too busy life to deal with girlfriends,” he says, and winks, “though you shouldn’t hesitate to contact me.” Tom leans in close, his lips grazing your ear and his hand taking yours―something cold grazes your fingers. “I can give you a night you won’t forget.”
You don’t let the hitch in your breath show, and when he places a kiss to your cheek, you only stare at him as he pulls away (and let your hand find comfort in your jacket pocket where you let go of your keys).. “Don’t leave town, Mister Hiddleston.”
“I won’t, darling.”
And then you walk away together with Evans. He keeps glancing behind him, and the confusion is written on his face.
“Just ask,” you say as you reach the car.
Evans opens the door. “How are you not fazed by that?” he asks.
You get into the car and shrug. “Because I don’t let it. He thinks it’s fun to play with me because I don’t have a reaction―” (ehehe, yeah right) “―I think it’s fun to let him. Eventually, something has to slip and we’ll be able to catch him on the spot.”
“But you gotta allow yourself to be harassed to do so?”
You chuckle. “I wouldn’t call it harassment, hon. I call it work.”
Evans frowns as you start the engine and pull out of the parking spot. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you noticed? When it comes to sexual harassment, Tom Hiddleston is the least of my worries.”
--
It’s supposed to be a brief stop; get into your apartment, change into something that doesn’t drag attention at a bar on a Thursday night (probably not going to be too crowded anyways), and get out.
But when you walk in through the door, you see a pair of shoes kicked off in the entrance hall. A coat lies draped over your living-room armchair―a coat easily recognizable.
You hurry to close the door, and kick off your own shoes. The trail of clothes leads you further into the apartment. A dress shirt folded together and placed on the cupboard in your living room. Pants lie discarded on the floor in the doorway to your bedroom. And the man who it belongs to, you find tangled in your sheets, buck naked with the exception of the tie around his neck.
“What do you want?” you ask him, an amused smile plastered on your face as you shake your head.
Tom lifts his head a little. A smirk colors his face and he shrugs. “Thought I could surprise you a little, before I have to get going.” He checks the wristwatch on his arm (which you first now noticed he hasn’t taken off either). “But you’ve used quite a lot of time to get here, and now we barely have time for anything.”
You shake your head, smile gone. “Sorry, babe, but I haven’t got the time.”
“What? You have plans for the evening?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but it still slightly hurts seeing as you barely get out of the apartment when you get time off. Really, six months ago was a chance meeting unlike any other.
“I have work.” You move to open your wardrobe. “But if you want, you can help me figure out what to wear.” You turn your head to cast Tom a glance, eyebrow raised.
He turns a little, enough for the sheet that had covered him to fall off and leave him fully exposed. And with just the tie as a piece of clothing, you have to turn back around. God, what that man can do. You grit your teeth as you open the door and file through the few dresses you own, patiently waiting for his response.
“What is it for?” he asks, and his velvet smooth voice does nothing to ease the growing arousal in your gut, not with the image of him and that tie the only thing on your mind.
You swallow before you reply, but you don’t dare turn around. “Gotta talk to the owner of a bar, and don’t wanna drag attention with people there so we agreed to act less like police. Might have to have a drink or two.” You sigh, and close your eyes. “You should have waited with this until then.”
“What?” His voice is in your ear, warm breath fanning your neck. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “You don’t like it? You’re not enjoying it?” His hands find the hem of your shirt. Fingers graze up along your skin and you find yourself complying when he makes a move to drag it off.
“Tom,” you whisper. You lean into him, into the fingers tracing along your bra and the way his lips ghost over the skin on your shoulder, up your neck. “I don’t―” You shudder as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Ba― Babe, I don’t have―”
He tips your head back and his lips find yours. Barely touching, you close your eyes, and the image of Tom in bed and you using the tie to drag him to you has you swallow, almost succumbing to the pleasure you know you’ll get. His voice is low when he speaks. “Don’t have what?”
You don’t answer as your hand shoots up to press his head closer to yours, to push your lips together. Everything you can think about is him, your boyfriend, and in a matter of seconds your clothes are off as well, and you sink into the mattress as Tom throws you down on your bed. Your eyes open briefly, to see him study the contours of your body and, even as you do give into Tom and your desire, the haste is still on your mind.
With determination etched into you, you drag him to you with the tie and capture his lips in yours. There is no limit to what this man does to you, and there is no limit to what you let him.
--
With the already extra time you used with Tom, you didn’t have the time to shower. You’d tried your best to fix your hair and do something extra with your make-up, but Tom didn’t have it in him to let you dress and time was wasted.
Evans and Mackie pick you up outside your apartment complex in Evans’s car. As you approach, the two of them lean against it, deep in conversation. They barely notice you coming, but when they do, both give appreciative looks.
“Looking good,” says Mackie, eyes travelling up and down your body. Evans remains quiet, the way his eyes dance over you the only comment you get (and you have to admit, you’re not really complaining.)
You’d opted for something nice, but nothing too much. A skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee high boots with a thick heel, and a slightly revealing shirt. (You’d also opted for a thigh holster so that you could still bring your gun.
“You’re wearing that.” It’s more a statement than a question from the naked man resting on your bed.
You nod, and glance his way. “Problem?”
Tom’s eyes graze over you, hunger evident in them. “I would certainly like to take it off.”
You lift the hem of your skirt, revealing the thigh holster with your gun. “This too?”
“Yes, and right now.”)
In your hand, you have a clutch and you’re also wearing a coat to keep some warmth in the cool evening air. “Shall we go?” you ask.
And the two men both get off from where they’re leaning against the car. Mackie easily offers up the passenger’s seat to you, even though whenever it's him and Evans fighting over it, it’s first come first serve. You smile a thanks and then you’re on your way.
Evans parks a few blocks away from the bar (his expensive Audi with tinted windows certainly drags some attention), and you use the walk there to go through the course of action.
“Mackie’s the cop-cop. He’ll talk to Luke Evans, try something else. We try to talk to some of the people there. Whether that’s as a cop or not, I don’t really care. All we really need is a lead. If anyone sees any of Hiddleston’s associates, please alert the others.”
The two nod. “Sure, but before we go in there, you have to fix your hair.”
You raise your brow at Mackie. “Excuse me?”
“You got sex hair.” He gives you a ‘sorry’ smile and a shrug. “Like, we’re not judging you for having it, but if you’d told us you had a visitor we would’ve waited to come to give you more time.”
“Fuck.” You shake your head and stop. “One, help me fix my hair. Two, I wasn’t planning on it. I was ambushed.” Something that isn’t really that far fetched, it’s not like you knew Tom would be there when you came home.
Evans stops in front of you and asks with his face if he can help, and you nod. His hands move to brush a little through your hair, and fix a little on what probably stands out.
“How could you get ambushed?” asks Mackie.
You roll your eyes. “I got home, there were some clothes lying around, I followed the trail to a naked man in my bed and seeing as it’s the guy I’m currently seeing it wasn’t a bad sight. I tried to tell him I didn’t have the time, but he can be quite persuasive.”
As you talk, Evans tugs a little harshly on your hair and you let out a pained sound. He apologizes, but continues to try and fix your hair.
Mackie shrugs. “How long have you been seeing him?”
You shrug. “Few months.”
“How many months are a few?” asks Evans, his hands letting go of your hair and an approving smile on his face. He steps away to get Mackie’s blessing and the man nods affirmative.
“Uhh, six.”
Both Mackie and Evans stare wide-eyed at you.
“You’ve been dating a dude for six months and not told anyone?!” If you didn’t know better (and you’re not always sure you do), you’d think there was a layer of accusation in Mackie’s voice, but you don’t believe there is.
You shrug and begin to walk again. “What does it matter? It’s not like there’s a need to know about those things.”
“I thought we were friends.” Mackie shakes his head, a small friendly glare sent your way.
“What made you think that?” you ask, but the same friendly feel to your words as there was to his glare. “But can we let it go? I don’t want to talk about my private life.”
Evans nods. “We’re here anyways.”
And you sure are. You look up to see the blinking neon sign of the bar. The bass from the music drifts to where you stand by the door, and with a quick glance inside, you can see it’s fuller than you expected for there to be another work day of the week left. Though you do notice the age of the people; it's possible the college kids don't have class tomorrow, or don’t care.
The three of you make your way inside, gaining a few glances as you step in, but everyone quickly turns back to their own lives. You give a small sign to the two men you came with and move away from them.
It’s easy to step up to the bar, and you easily recognize the bartender as the one who was there when you met Tom. You’re guessing he’s Luke Evans, and you take a breath before you signal him for a drink. Hopefully, you won’t be recognized.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“A whiskey, thanks.”
He pushes away from the counter, and easily grabs a glass and a bottle and pours. When he puts it down in front of you, his gaze lingers. “Have I seen you before?”
You shake your head. “Has to be somewhere else than here in that case.”
“First time?”
You nod.
“Recommend not drinking a lot. We get some sleazy people in here.”
“I hear you also get crime bosses. This the place to meet the Tom Hiddleston?”
Luke chuckles. “Hon, if you want to meet Tom Hiddleston, I suggest you start being careful what you wish.” He nods to the back of the bar. “Best luck is sitting down in that reserved booth. It’s his usual.”
You cock your head. “He’s coming here today?”
The bartender nods.
“Ain’t I lucky,” you whisper and smile at him. You easily get away from the counter and make your way to the empty booth in the back.
Sure enough, a sign reading reserved is placed on the table. Who it’s reserved for doesn’t say, nor is there a time stamp. You make for sliding into it, but a hand grasps your wrist and pulls you away.
As you fall into the chest of the stranger, you turn your head. The man who you’d seen earlier today is the one holding you back. Up close, you notice bags under his eyes and he reeks of alcohol. You pull away from his grip and raise a brow his way.
“I wouldn’t sit down there if I were you,” he says, and slides into the same booth he had earlier.
“Why?”
He shakes his head. “Tom Hiddleston isn’t a man to mess with.”
“And how do you know so much about Tom Hiddleston?”
The man pats the seat next to him. “Sit and I’ll tell you.”
You hesitate, but eventually slide in. You leave room between yourself and the stranger. If anything were to happen, you do have a gun.
“You got any relation to Hiddleston?” you ask (you have to admit, no matter how much you want your boyfriend not to be caught, you wish you knew more about what he did do).
“Name’s Aaron.” The snitch.
You motion for him to go on.
“I was hired by him three months ago. He felt the cops were gaining and wanted something, or someone to try and put a stopper to it.”
“So, Tom Hiddleston hired you to snitch on the cops?” You want to laugh, seeing as you snitch enough for Tom to never know exactly what you know, but enough to cover his tracks.
Aaron shakes his head. “He hired me to snitch on a cop. A specific one.”
You frown, sure if he was hired to snitch on you you’d know and he would have recognized you. Perhaps he had.
“The cop’s here today.” Aaron’s gaze travels into the crowd of people in the bar. You see where he looks. Evans. “His name is Chris Evans.”
“Why did he want you to spy on him?”
Aaron shrugs. “He never said. And eventually, I got sick of it. The guy’s obviously not a threat to Hiddleston and his business. Y/N Y/L/N is, but it’s impossible to find out anything about her. Don’t even know what she looks like.”
You try not to let it show that you flinched at the mention of your own name. And you find it weird that he can’t find anything on you. Tom did so, easily. But there’s no need to dwell on that. You glance at Aaron again, unsure how to ask.
“You say you got sick of it. What did you do? Just stop doing his bidding, or something else?”
A smile colors Aaron’s face. “Snitched to the cops. Left a message. Anonymous, but I gave them a way to contact me for more information.” He shakes his head. “Got contacted today, but never replied. But I saw you here this morning, talking to the bartender.”
You cock your head. That could be an easy way to draw the connection to you as a cop, not necessarily as Y/N Y/L/N, but you had been seen with Mackie, and usually Mackie and Evans were seen with each other.
“I have a proposition for you,” he says. “One that means getting close to Hiddleston, and that includes spying on him. Mics, cameras, whatever. I need him in jail.”
“I’m gonna have to say no. I was just hoping for a night, a friend of mine told me he was real good in bed.” You shrug. “But if you have angered him, I got told by the bartender that Hiddleston comes in today.”
Aaron smiles. “You’ll have to excuse me, then. I hope you don’t anger him with only the intention of a one night stand. Based on how you look, I’m pretty sure you’re his type.” The male slides out of the booth, downs his drink in one go, and waves goodbye. You watch as he moves to the restrooms, and you roll your eyes when he winks.
[10.47] you
snitch is alive, in the restrooms
hiddlestons supposed to come in today
[10.48] evans
no snitch in the restrooms, window’s open tho
guessing it was the guy that slipped past me just now
[10.48] you
guess so
mackie u got anything from the bartender
[10.50] mackie
that hiddlestons coming in
that their deal is just renting of the venue from time to time
[10.50] you
well just have to do the best of it then
im sitting in his booth so if he comes hell notice
[10.51] evans
sure thats a good idea??
[10.51] you
would very much like to know why he put someone to spy on you evans
snitch was hired to keep tabs, got annoyed he wasnt keeping tabs on me
[10.51] mackie
dam i wanna know that too
be careful
You look up and meet the gazes of your coworkers. Evans looks uncomfortable, worried almost, judging by the crease between his brows. Mackie gives you a look of understanding and a pair of thumbs up.
You down your drink, try to cover the hiss as pain sears down your throat, and make to sit down in Tom’s booth. On the way in, you knock over the reserved sign, making it fall to the floor. Now, it’ll look like you didn’t know.
[10.57] mackie
Incoming
The front door opens slowly. Heads turn to look who comes through, and unlike when you arrived with Mackie and Evans, everyone’s eyes stay on the man who weaves his way through the crowd.
Tom stops by the bar, has a small chat with the bartender and turns his head to look your way. A smirk grazes his lips as your eyes lock, but he quickly turns back to the man he was talking to.
You swallow. You have to steady your beating heart, have to shove the thought of the night’s previous events to the back of your mind, and kill the deep swirling feeling in your gut at the sight of Tom in that blue fucking suit. God, if there was something Tom Hiddleston was made to do it’s wearing suits.
The blue color suits his very being. It’s tailored to fit him perfectly; long legs encased in blue fabric that shows off his bum, suit jacket that fits his shoulders and back in a way that has you swallow. You can see his broad shoulders and some of the tightness that drags at his muscled arms. What you can’t wait to see, is how well the shirt underneath fits him. You simply can’t wait for him to pull off the jacket.
Thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long. With two drinks in hand he makes his way up to where you sit. He doesn’t say anything as he places them on the table, nor does he say anything when he pulls up the reserved sign from where it lies on the floor. He places it back on the table, eyes you warily, and sides into the booth.
Long arms grasp for the drinks. He pulls them in and pushes one to you. “Can you drink, darling? You’re working, right?”
You take the glass and swirl the liquid around inside it. “I can, actually.” And you take a sip. “But I won’t drink a lot.”
Tom moves closer to you, knocking his thigh against yours. You take a deep breath at the touch, the only one you can return―Tom flirting with you whilst you work is no news, but it would be quite different if you did the same. “Have you been waiting long, darling?”
“No, I haven’t. I managed to preoccupy myself.”
“Oh, can I hear?”
You shake your head. “What good would you have of that?” you ask. When you get a shrug in return, you roll your eyes and take another sip of the whiskey. “I have a question for you, though.”
Tom cocks a brow.
“Why did you need someone to spy on Evans?”
Your heart beats fast as Tom moves even closer, lips coming up to ghost across your cheek. You can see that the two in the crowd of people keeping a close eye on you flinch, but you don’t make a gesture to show any discomfort. “Have you not noticed, love?”
You push him away by placing a hand on his chest. “Noticed what?” You try to pull your hand back but Tom places his over yours and keeps your touch on him. A small hint of the love he usually offers you shows through the blue of his eyes.
“The man likes you, darling. A little too much. Can’t have another man try anything with my woman.” Tom’s gaze flickers out to the crowd, and as you follow it, you see how it lands on Evans and how your coworker squirms. “Now, if only I could show him.”
“Tom,” you say, voice bordering on affectionate. His eyes flicker to you in surprise; he’s only ever been Hiddleston in public. “There’s nothing to worry about, and if you try anything, anything at all, you will have a gun to your head.”
Tom chuckles. “Are you threatening me?”
“You know where the gun is.” And the hand that travels up and under your skirt, grazing by the thigh holster, has you swallow. You take a deep breath as his hand travels a little further, and the only way to stop him is to grab his hand. “I didn’t say you could check.” You push at him a little, creating more distance between you two (even though you would like to sit close to him).
“I didn’t think I needed permission, love.” He smirks and you shake your head.
You smile innocently at him. “Usually you don’t.” You go to slide out of the booth. “Bye, Hiddleston.”
Tom grabs your arm and pulls you back to his chest. “Have you really made that big a dent in the case of the Blue Sweater?” he whispers in your ear. You writhe in his grasp, but a firm hand turns your head to him and his face draws closer to yours. “Tell me what I need to do to have the lead again, darling. I’ll do anything.”
And you can’t stop the sound of surprise that escapes you when Tom presses a chaste kiss to your lips. The surprise is so big you only stare wide-eyed at him, not able to kiss him back (and good is that seeing as you’re in public), and when he pulls back, you push away from him and shake your head.
“You’re an idiot,” you say (no teasing or play in your voice), and then you walk away. You rush out of the bar, feel Evans’s and Mackie’s eyes on you, and when you get out of the front door you lean against the wall. Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re panting, and you can feel the rush of adrenaline making its way through your body.
You may like to play with fire, letting him flirt and show affection in public, but you wouldn’t ever go this far. You wouldn’t ever think he’d even risk it.
“Are you okay?” comes a voice from next to you. Evans and Mackie have made it outside, and you push off the wall to start walking to the car.
“We’re not talking about it,” you say.
Neither of them make a move to say more, and you can hear them follow after you. Tom might be the worst person in history to be in a secret relationship with. Or maybe the best. You haven’t decided yet.
--
It’s no surprise to see the people surrounding your desk when you get to work. Your two usual pests sit at their own, and though not a part of the group waiting for you, they shoot you glances as you sit down.
You try not to glare at the group, but when they all just quietly stare at you, the anger bubbles. “What?” you ask.
A small murmur goes through them, until your impatient glare becomes too much and one voice squeaks out, “did Tom Hiddleston kiss you?”
He has more than once, you think.
You don’t reply, only giving them an unamused look in return. They quickly scatter, and you can hear the chatter that bubbles up amongst them.
Not only do you not have the patience for stupid pestering (and annoyance at Evans and Mackie for spreading the word), but your morning was the worst in a while. It’s almost become a usual for Tom to sleep over, whether because he falls asleep after sex or if he just wants to cuddle, but when you came home yesterday, there was no Tom.
And no Tom means no morning cuddles, or a goodbye kiss as you leave out the door. On top of that, he hasn’t texted either. No saying why he didn’t show. No explaining why he risked a kiss in public.
A text you did get in the morning, was a journalist asking for an interview. Especially interesting was the lack of respect for an ongoing investigation, and the bold way to ask whether or not you were secretly helping Tom not get caught (you want to know how they would even guess it. That’s a pretty bold assumption to make about the lead detective on a case).
Tired, you rest your elbow on the desk and lay your head in your hand. You massage your forehead slightly, and there’s no mistaking the groan that leaves your lips as your thoughts swirl.
A knock on your desk pulls you out of it. You look up to see Mackie leaning against it. “You okay?” he asks.
You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. We gotta talk about what information we got, though. But I don’t trust… I don’t want to talk out here, so, briefing room in five minutes. I don’t know if Evans heard, but make sure he did.”
Mackie scrunches his nose slightly and presses his lips together.
“What’s wrong?”
“Briefing room’s occupied.”
You curse under your breath and shake your head. “We got a meeting room, that occupied?”
Mackie shakes his head. “Not that I know.”
“We’ll meet there.” And as he gives you a thumbs up, you get up from your desk and move to the captain’s office. With a knock and a mumbled ‘come in’ you walk into the room and close the door behind you.
Cheadle looks up at you. “I heard what happened.”
You nod. “Yeah, but there’s something else I’m here about.”
He quirks a brow. “Oh? Important?”
You pull out your phone, ignore the new message you’ve gotten and find the text from the journalist. You hand the captain your phone. “Got this this morning. I want to know how they got my number, what made them think I’m colluding with the guy I’m trying to catch, and what the hell made them believe I’d ever talk to a news source about an open investigation.”
“That is weird.” Captain Cheadle hands you back your phone (just in time, too, because a message chimes in from twh). “When you have time, come back in here. I know you’re gonna talk to the guys now, but I’d like for it to be soon. And check if they haven’t gotten the same one.”
“Yes, sir.” You sigh and walk out again. You head for the meeting room and on your way you pull open your text thread with Tom.
[08.18] twh
darling we need to talk
i think i have some information you’d like to have
[08.23] you
gonna talk about smth else too or just your problem??
[08.23] twh
im sorry, darling, i got caught up in work
we can talk about both
tell me when you have time and ill show up at your flat
[08.23] you
tonight, 8
The reply goes by you as you open the door to the meeting room. Evans and Mackie already sit down, Evans with papers in front of him and Mackie with his phone out on the table. You frown, but sit down across from them.
“I don’t know who wants to start.” You look between the two men, and when neither say anything, you shrug. “Guess I’ll go then.” You take a deep breath. “Our snitch’s name is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the man Hiddleston mentioned yesterday when we questioned him about the fire. He isn’t dead because he was in the bar. He says he was hired a few months ago to keep tabs on Evans, but he got sick of it because, according to him, you’re not the threat. On the other hand, I am, but he didn’t know he was talking to me.”
“Did you find out why Hiddleston got him to spy on Evans?” asks Mackie.
You shake your head. “Hiddleston didn’t answer that. Snitch didn’t know himself, but he said he tried to keep tabs on me, too, only he couldn’t. He didn’t have anything to go on, no information, no way to know what I look like. And I find that interesting. Why would Hiddleston go out of his way to make sure they couldn’t do anything to make me a culprit or anything?”
“Maybe because Hiddleston has the biggest crush on you?” asks Evans, and there’s no mistaking the hint of spite in his voice as he says so. “Or, he finds you that big enough a threat he can’t have his guys going around doing stuff to hinder you because you’re smart enough to be able to connect it to him?”
“I hope the last,” you mumble. “But there was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. He seemed to know more than he let on, but I couldn’t push like I usually do because then he’d know. I want to see if we can contact him again, because he knew we tried yesterday without luck.”
“We’ll try, but I don’t think we’re gonna get much either.” Evans nods, and all three of you let out sighs.
You motion for them to start talking instead. Evans slides you a piece of paper. Not much is on it, but the words are clear. You look up at him.
“There were some regulars there that have witnessed Hiddleston many times. The man I talked to said that.” Evans coughs. “‘He’s always alone, at least when he sits, but he leaves with men. Never has a girl around him unless they come up to him, hasn’t had one in a long time. Only once did he leave with one. She was pretty, looked rather intimidating, actually. Don’t think it lasted.’ The man also went on to ramble about how after that, Hiddleston hasn’t been seen with a girl. Well, before you.”
“So he has left with a girl once.” Mackie confirms. “Luke Evans said the same thing. A pretty little thing that edged in on the man unlike no one he’d seen before, and that surprisingly got to leave with him. He’s never seen the woman again, and he found that odd. He doesn’t believe Hiddleston’s got someone in his life, though.”
You bite your lower lip. “Well, that is something. Any descriptions?”
Both shake their heads.
“There is one thing I noted, though,” says Mackie. “If Hiddleston does have someone he likes, is with, whatever. He so openly flirts with you that that woman has got to be furious, and he probably wouldn’t have kissed you either. I think the wristband was sent to him, not from him.”
You nod. “I believe you’re right there.” You know he’s right, but that’s details you’re not sharing. “But I have something more interesting.” You fish your phone out of your pocket (ignore the new messages from Tom) and open up the one you got this morning.
“What’s going on?” asks Evans as you place your phone in front of them on the table. They read over the text and cast eyes up to you. Something in the look both send, they’ve seen something similar before.
“Got it this morning.” You snatch your phone back, seeing the almost pop-up about a new text and not risking who it’s from. “I need to know who believes I’m colluding with the enemy.”
Mackie nods as he opens up his own phone and slides it across to you. “We got the same text, though slightly altered. They’re asking if we know anything about you colluding with Hiddleston.”
[06.53] unkown
Hi, I’m a reporter from New York Times.
I was wondering if there would be released more information pertaining to the Hiddleston case, and what you know about Hiddleston and Detective Y/L/N’s relationship to the man. I heard last night that they kissed, and maybe the reason you haven’t caught him yet is something entirely else than him being good at what he does.
“Fucking hell,” you mutter. You slide Mackie’s phone back to him and let out a loud sigh.
Things are not looking very bright.
--
A/N: thats what i have. if you want to, reblog this with a continuation, but please dont steal any of this and act like it’s your own. i worked a lot on this when i still had motivaton but i wanted to at least share it even if i wont finish it, to which im deeply sorry
would always want to know what you guys think...
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#twh#thomas william hiddleston#reader insert#x reader#unfinished#tom hiddleston imagine#imagine
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Day 3: “Don’t you dare, don’t walk away from this!”
masterlist
Canon-compliant
The camp is particularly quiet and that sets off alarm bells in Piper’s brain that make up for the silence surrounding her. Grabbing her trusted Katoptris she slowly, cautiously makes her way out of the cabin. The ever-green fields spread out before her, looking undisturbed, but the quiet seems to get louder. Where is everybody? She checks the ridiculous Barbie watch Leo had bought her as a gag gift and frowns. It’s not meal time. The camp should be abuzz with activity, with people going to their various assigned camp duties. The panic increases, buzzes behind her skull, and all of a sudden she is sprinting towards the center of camp, the campfire, the dining hall, the great house. There is no-one.
Her breathing is hard as she stands in front of the great house doors and knocks frantically.
“Chiron? Mr D? Anyone?”
No reply.
She pulls Katoptris from her side and examines the shining blade, begging for something, anything that will show her what is going on. The only thing it reflects is the crease between her eyebrows and the grim line of her lips. Shit. She stumbles to the front steps of the house and collapses, head in her arms and shoulders shaking with fear. What is she going to do? How is she going to fix this? What is she even supposed to fix? Her panic borders on hysteria and it blocks out everything. All she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. Her eyes refuse to open. She’s only half aware she’s hyperventilating. It is not a mystery then, when she doesn’t notice a being materialise before her.
“Why are you weeping daughter?” A voice like harps, and pianos sings at her.
Piper whips her head up to see the faces of her mother, changing every few seconds. Famous actors, iconic women, Jason, Annabeth, another lady Piper had seen at a mall and instantly fell in love with. The faces continue to shift and change but she is in too much shock to care.
“Mom?” She rubs her eyes, hoping she’s seeing something. It is never a good sign when any god shows up, especially her mother. “What are you doing here?”
“You summoned me, daughter,” The goddess smiles and Piper winces as it physically brightens the world.
“Where is everyone? Why am I alone? What happened?” A dam inside her breaks, hot tears streaking down her face.
“You’re not alone Piper.” That infernal smile is still on her face, “You have never been alone.”
She looks up, confused, incredulous, lost. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you planning daughter? Why do you feel so heartbroken?”
She glares at the goddess, “I’m heartbroken, Mother, because for some reason the entire camp has disappeared, all my friends have disappeared.”
Aphrodite considers her, head tilted, eyes calculating, and then she smiles again and it gives Piper a headache.”No little one that’s not it. There’s something else.”
The demigod growls in frustration and covers her face with her hands. “Please go away if you’re not going to be of any help.”
Her mother ignores her. How surprising. Possibilities run through her head at lightning speed, trying to figure out reasons and angles for this mass extinction. Every single one comes up blank. There is no way a monster killed everyone. This camp survived not one but two wars. Not even an army of monsters could wipe them out. Maybe someone was playing a trick on her. She pinches her arm. Nope she’s still here. Very much real. There is just nothing, and no-one and it is never-ending.
“OH MY!” Aphrodite squeals, clapping her hands as if she’s just won a trip to the stars. “You’re going to do it aren't you? Well, I never Piper McLean.” She grins, “You’ve really surprised me with this.”
“Mom,” She growls, fed up with the goddess’ rambling, “What are you talking about.”
And completely on brand the goddess simply gives another of her neon smiles and says, “You best wake up now daughter. I think i’d like my week’s entertainment to begin.”
And then the demigod is screaming down a tunnel and jerking awake with her heart in her feet and her lungs in a knot. The faint smell of roses hits her and she knows whatever just happened it was not a dream. Quickly she scrambles out of bed, grabbing Katoptris from underneath and sprinting outside. The camp is a live and well and full of rushing demigods, harpies, and nymphs. She takes a deep breath and lets the sound of activity settle her panicked core.
“Pipes?” A familiar voice calls from somewhere. It takes everything in her not to cringe. Instead she takes another breath, this time for courage, and opens her eyes to see Jason Grace jogging towards her.
“You okay?” His brows knit in concern, and the little scar on his lip whitens as his mouth forms a hard line of worry.
“I- I’m good.”
“You sure? You seemed really scared. You burst out of the cabin like something was attacking you… or us.”
She puts on a pretty smile, one that most people fall over, “Promise, i’m all good. Do you want to take a walk to the strawberry fields?”
Jason stares at her for a second longer before nodding, almost to himself. “Shall we?” He holds out an elbow, like the gentleman he has always been.
She almost reaches out to take it, habit pulling at her muscles, but at the last second she steps away. “Uh, no don’t worry. I think i’m coming down with something and i dont want to pass it to you.” It is a flimsy excuse but her mind is still frazzled and she doesn’t have anything better.
They walk in silence for a while, taking in the world around them. The silence has never needed to be filled when they were together and although there are a million thoughts racing through every crevice of her mind, she is still comfortable. It’s a blessing. It’s going to make this a thousand times harder.
“Jase,” She says softly, and there must be something in her voice because his blue eyes flash and he stops in his tracks, turning to her.
“What’s wrong?”
So they’re doing this right here, right now. Okay, she had been preparing for weeks. Pulling an Annabeth with drawn out complicated plans and multiple backup plans just in case.
She takes a deep breath and looks directly at his golden face and lightning eyes. “I think we should break up.”
He blinks at her, blinks again. Stumbles back. “You want to what?”
“This isn’t working anymore Jason. Neither of us are happy.”
“No.” His voice is hard, “No. Do not speak for me. I thought this was working. I thought we were happy.”
She winces, “Jase we don't even know each other. Not really. Our whole relationship is built on-” She is cut off abruptly as he looks at her, and she sees the soul behind his eyes cracking. It is a struggle to keep herself from splitting in half.
“I spent so long trying to figure out who I was and where I belonged, and the one place I felt myself was by your side.” And then he’s walking away, stumbling like his body is struggling to hold him up.
“Don’t you dare,” Piper starts, her voice soft; he freezes on the spot. “Don’t walk away from this.”
He whips around like she slapped him. “I am not the one walking away.”
It shoves a knife in her heart.
“And you know what the worst part about this is? It came out of nowhere. You didn’t even talk to me about it. We don’t even know if we could have tried to make it work.”
She doesn’t have anything to say, she has too much to say, nothing is coming out. He nods once. She makes a strangled noise. He walks away. She doesn’t say goodbye.
Piper Mclean sinks to the earthy ground of the strawberry fields and feels like her heart has a canyon sprinting through it. But there, rolling down the cracking walls is relief. And for this she cries harder.
‘I’m sorry Jase.”
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Tags:
@nishlicious-01
@leydiangelo
@spoopylucy
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Unknown Relationship pt.1
This is that Felix x reader that my friend asked for.
Here you go lily I hope you enjoy
“He’s just so sweet.” Wendy had been talking for twenty minutes straight and I had yet to type even a single word for my book. I’m just sitting there in my plaid widow outfit looking bored out of my mind. then my phone chimed. Thank the gods. It was from Felix. I smiled. “who is it, Y/n?” She asks. “Felix.” I say. “Ooooooo.” She whoops while raising her eyebrows up and down. I laugh and hit her with a pillow. “shut up.” I say. I pick up my phone and read. “Hey, Y/n” I read. “Hey, Felix. What’s up” I replied. Then Wendy starts laughing. “I ship it.” She says. I make a face. “what! Eww! I don’t think of him like that.” I protest. She laughs. “sure,sure.” She answers. Then my phone chimes again. “I’m good. How’s the book coming along so far” he asks. I roll my eyes. “It would be if Wendy would get off my back for two seconds. It Pan this, and Pan that. Pan, Pan, Pan, Pan. I’m sick and tired for hearing how sweet Pan is. If only she actually knew him.” I start venting. I’m about to put my phone down when it chimes again. “That was fast.” Wendy says playfully. “oh shut up.” I say. Then I read his text. “You could come over to my place and we’ll work on the book together.” He suggested. My eyes light up. “really, that would be great. Thanks Felix I’ll be there in five.” I answer. then I get an immediate response. “no prob. Kay I’ll wait for you.” I read. I smile. “I’m going over to Felix’s place to work on my book so you can spend the rest of your night texting Pan.” I say. She giggled. I get up and grab a backpack and stuff my, phone, laptop, and some cloths in case it gets cold at Felix’s and I can change, and strap my skateboard onto it. Then I point at her with an apple in my hand. “Stay out of my room and behave.” I say. She salutes me. “mam yes mam!” She says. I laugh once and we head out of my room. I close the door and lock it with a key and put the key in my pocket. Then I wave my hand over the door knob and lock it with magic so that she can’t brake in. Then I grab my boots and head out. I get on my black and red motocross bike, and I drive off, and soon I make it to Pan, and Felix’s apartment. I grab my stuff and I chain up my bike. And use magic so no one can steal it. Then I walk over to the huge steel door and press the buzzer for apartment B9. I hear a returning buzz that tells me that I’m being let in, and I open the door and walk in. I go up thirty nine flights of stairs. Luckily I’m on the track team so it doesn’t really bother me. I knock on the door and Peter opens it. “Oh, hey y/n come on in.” He says. “Felix! Y/n is here.” He shouts. “ok!” Felix shouts back. “he’s in his room.” He says. I nod once and head down the hall. I knock on the door. “come in.” I hear Felix say. I open the door and lean against the door frame. He’s sitting in a gaming chair and playing. Game of thrones, with Baelfire, Nibs, and Devin. “Devin to your left.” Felix says. I laugh once and the whole game stops. Devin, Nibs, Baelfire, and Felix’s characters all go still. They all have their cameras on so I can see them. Felix turns and sees me. I wave with my fingers. “so I see you guys have been playing Game Of Thrones without me.” I say. They all look guilty. I smile. “its fine I have a lot to do anyways.” I say. They all look relieved and I go sit with Felix. “we’ll work on the book later.” I say. He nods once. “want to join us?” He asks. I smile. “sure.” I get up and grab a controller and head set. Then I turn on his other game system and login. Then I wait for an invite. Devin sends it, and I join. I take some time to edit my character. Then I click join and I spawn in the world. I turn on my camera and headset. They all unpause their game. And we get back to it. I see an orc about to kill Felix and I know that if I warn him it will only take up more time so I use my bow and one shot him in the head. Then I attack the dark elf that goes at me for killing the Orc. Soon we get rid of most of the enemies, and we move out. We split up into teams. Then Henry logs on and Devin invites him. We all split up into teams of three. Devin, Nibs, and Baelfire are one team and Felix, Henry, and I are on the other team. After a few hours of playing I realized how dark it was outside now. “Crap!” I say. “What is it?” Henry asks. “It’s 10:30 PM. I need to work on my book the last time I took so long to update the story all my followers banned together and started a mob that literally found out where I lived to demanded that I work on the next chapter.” I say. Felix laughs. “ok guys me and Y/n are gonna log off so we can work on her book together.” He says. “Mmhmm... sure.” I flip Nibs off before logging off. They all wish us a good night and then he log off too. I get up and pull out my laptop and in less time than it takes me to get up and walk across the room. I logged into my story account and and get to my recent books. then I get comfortable and Felix sits with me on a large beanbag. He pulls me into his lap so he can see the screen too. Then I immediately type on my forum page. “Sorry guys for making you wait so long but I’m writing the next chapter right now.” I hit send and then I begin typing something else. “you guy remember me talking about my best friend Felix. He is here with me today to help write my story.” I send it and take a picture of us he has his arms around me and I hit the ten second countdown button and right before it takes the picture he starts tickling me and I struggle to get out of his arms, and then it takes a picture of both of us laughing, him tickling me and me trying to escape. “noooooo!” I shout. He laughs and stops. The picture automatically sends instead of making me send it because when I take a picture with the app it automatically sends the message with the picture in it. He laughs as I watch the comments roll in like a flood. “you ass! You knew that was going to happen.” I accuse him. He laughs. “maybe I did maybe I didnt. The world will never know.” He says. I laugh and look at the comments. “@Bagellover65- awwww you guys look so cute together.” I read. “@bookworm39- I ship It.” I read next. “@batcat33- I will dedicate my time to this Ship and together the Y/s/n (your ship name) Fan club with make this ship sail.” I read the last one and laughed. I then type. “how the hell is there already a fan club for me and Felix, and sorry but we are not together he is just an adorable little demon boy that the gods have cursed me with.” I say. Felix shouts. “hay!!” He shouts but its a playful scolding. “That is for vengeance.” I say then I get to work on the book. Felix helps out a lot and sometimes we have to act out scenes so that we can describe them right. Then it gets to an action scene in the book and I focus mainly on picturing the scene playing out in my head so that I can describe them. At the end of the action scene katie’s (the main character) best friend billy dies and then I end the book on a cliffhanger. I smile and write at the bottom of the page in an authors note. “Mwahahahaha thats the end of the story folks your gonna have to wait for the next book in the series.” I write then I publish the story and mark it as a finished story. “wow I did not see that coming.” Felix says. I laugh and stretch. I look outside and see how dark it is. “You could stay here for the night if you want.” He says. “no. Its okay Felix, I’ll can find my way home in the dark.” I say. “wait you didnt bring a car.” He says. “no, I came on my motocross bike, and the lights haven’t been working lately.” I say. “well in that case your staying here tonight there is no way in hell that I’m letting you outside in the dark in this part of town.” He says. I start to protest but he shushes me and I know that I’m not gonna win this argument. “Fine.” I mumble. Then I head down the hall to the bathroom with my clothes and change. I walk back out, and I head back to Felix’s room and flop down on the beanbag. “your a jerk.” I say into the beanbag. “yes, yes I am.” He reply’s. We head into the living room and then I hear my motocross bikes alarm going off. I look out the window. “hay thats my bike!” I shout then I run out of the apartment the boys following Pan with his keys to the apartment so we dont get locked out. I throw myself over the stairwell railing and drop the rest of the way down. Then I land skillfully on my feet and Felix jumps over the railing too landing by my side. I get to the door and open it then I sprint down the side walk with the boys following after me. I see a man trying to use his magic to take down my spell so he can steal my bike. “HAY!! GET AWAY FROM MY BIKE!!!” I yell at him. He looks my way and keeps trying to get at my bike. I get to him and I punch him across the face. He jack knives to his feet and throws a punch at me. I dodge it and he throws another punch I catch it and twist his arm behind his back and slam him against the wall. “stay the hell away from my bike!” I yell. He teleports out of my hold and punches me in the back of my head. I spin around and throw a punch but he dodges this time and punches me so hard across the face that I fall the the floor. Felix and Peter both brake into a sprint and beat the dude senseless. Then I get up and stummble almost loosing my footing due to how dissy I was. Felix rushes to my side and helps me. I use my magic to take the spell off of the bike and unchain it then I wheel it back to the apartment. Felix helping me the whole way there. We head into the cellar of the apartment and put my bike in their storage compartment and we lock it up. Then we head back upstairs. I almost fall again so Felix picks me up bridal style. “Felix put me down. I’m fine.” I protest. “Shut up, Y/n. If I put you down and let you walk up these stairs your gonna fall over the railing and brake your neck.” He says. I huff and cross my arms grumpily. we get back to the apartment and Peter opens the door and lets Felix in first so he can put me down. Felix walks over to the couch and sets me down. He crouches down and looks at my head. “your fine but I suggest that you stay off your feet for a little while. I’ll go get you an ice pack for your head.” He says he says. I nod once. And he goes to get me an ice pack. Peter walks in and places a hand on my head and uses his magic to heal me but even though that its healed it still hurts a bit. When Felix gets back he hands it to me and sits with me. Later that night I end up sleeping on the couch and even though I had told him that it wasn’t nessary Felix had committed to staying with me in case I needed him I was snuggled up against his side his arm around me a blanket over us to keep us warm. I woke up with Felix’s arms around me protectively. Both of them wrapped around my waist. I blushed a little at the fact that he was shirtless and in just a pair of black jeans. I managed to get out of his grasp. I took the blanket and covered him with it. For once in his life he looked at peace. Not grumpy or angry or irritated or even bored just peaceful. I smile at this and go to the kitchen. I make myself some breakfast. Bacon and eggs with some sausage as well I made enough for all three of us. Then I make three mugs of coffee. As soon as I pour the first cup Felix walks in sleepily sniffing around. He sees me making pouring coffee and I walk up to him and hand him the mug. “thanks.” He says in a sleepy voice. I nod and try not to look at him because he’s still shirtless. However I did happen notice just how extremely toned his body was. I blush deeply with the thought. Then I turn and make more coffee he sits at the table. Then Peter walks in.... shirtless. “Damn it. Does no one wear clothes around here.” I complain. Both of them burst into laughter. I roll my eyes. Then I remember that I dont have anything to wear today. “DAMN IT!! Plus I have nothing to wear. And peter before you make a comment on that I would think about weather or not I will strangle you for it.” I say. He closes his mouth instantly. “thats what I thought.” I say. “you can barrow one of my shirts and just where the same pants.” He says. I thank him and he goes to go get me a shirt. He comes back with a white button down shirt and tosses it to me. I catch it and head over to the bathroom. I take a shower and clean up then I change back into my under clothes and shorts and pull on Felix’s shirt and button it up leaving the last button undone because it was broken. I roll up the sleeves and and head out. The shirt is so long that’s it covers up my shorts making it look like the shirt is all I’m wearing, but I dont get self conscious easily. I walk out and grab my bag. “I’ll see you guys later at Wendys party!” I shout. Felix walks me out and I hug him goodbye. Then I climb onto my bike and start it. Me and Felix do our hand shake and then I drive off. ...to be continued
A/n: I apologize for how horrible this was i just edited it so that it at least makes sense. I will be making a part 2 and posting it today thank you
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I: Meetings and Photos
Word Count: 3,025
A/N: Hello you lovely people of the Queendom on Tumblr. I’m Kit, and... well, you’ve seen me around enough. I wrote Silence is Never Better, The Tower of London, and maybe a few other things you might have seen around. Anyways...
Welcome to the first chapter of Out of a Book! I’m very excited to share this with you all. I truly hope with heart and soul that you all enjoy this. If you ever want to leave any feedback, feel free to message me, or contact me at one of these profiles:
Instagram: @/Reinapuff
Twitter: @/Reinapuff
If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know! I’m always happy to share my work with others!
Tag List: @boombiotch | @silverpetals97 | @watercolored-lemonade | @aveasorae | @parrlyndreams | @dont-lose-your-queerhead | @mindless-pidgeon
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A rather early Thursday morning in the city of Syracuse, New York. The time’s about 7:15 in the morning.
The sun was over the horizon, but there was little to no noise inside of the apartment. The birds sang their graces and none of this seemed to be the thing to wake up the sleeping woman. In fact, a little snore escaped from her while she slept. Had her roommate not needed to go to work, she would've turned that against the woman in a heartbeat. But of course, this was not out of malice; the two would see the situation being out of fun. Getting up this early in the morning, however, never came easy for the woman that was still in bed. There were two things able to get her to wake up: the sun hitting her eyes, or an alarm of sorts, whether from a phone or a clock.
On this Thursday morning? It was both of those things that would wake her up.
An aggravated Catherine Parr turned to face away from the sunlight, and to reach for her phone. Forcing herself to sit up to turn the alarm off, Parr set the phone down before stretching her arms up and yawning. She noticed the quiet of the apartment about a few minutes from initially waking up. This meant that she was half asleep for a good little bit. “Ah, Lina went to work. Right, I almost forget she’s a teacher sometimes,” she finishes her sentence with a hum. Catalina Aragón, someone she affectionately called Lina, or even just Aragon. She found it fun to have a Spanish roommate, if she was being honest with herself. Made for a more entertaining time some days.
Parr’s never-resting mind began to try to think as to why she had set an alarm so early in the morning. Was it due to the fact she kept waking up too late? Was it a meeting with her publicist? The woman, for the life of her, could not remember. A hand came up to her forehead, rubbing it a few times before pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is bollocks. I can’t remember why I set my alarms so early,” a groan of frustration comes out under her breath. If she hadn’t turned her alarm off so quickly, she might’ve read the reminder that she had put for it. That didn’t matter much. It would come back to smack her in the face later.
Letting her legs swing over the edge of the bed, Parr pushed herself up and on her feet she landed.
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7:45 am.
For Catherine to admit she was ready for the day, she needed one thing, and that one thing was in her hands as she walked back to the small table. Sitting down, the ceramic mug came up to her lips. Coffee. That was the one thing she needed. Her shoulders came up for a moment before they eased up, a smile helping her expression soften up from grumpy-seeming to amused. Opening up her laptop, Catherine softly hummed. A buzz makes her gaze shift from the laptop screen to her phone’s screen, seeing the notification on it. Tapping on it, she allows her phone to open up the email.
From: Cleves, Anna
To: Parr, Catherine
Subject: Planning for next release
Parr,
Writing a short email to remind you about our 8:00 am meeting for the first steps of getting the announcement of your upcoming book release. If you have any ideas post-conference, be sure to write them down and send me an email with them. We can further discuss those at a later date.
Anna Cleves
Media Agent/Public Relations
Bringing her free hand up to her mouth, Catherine Parr forced herself to swallow the mouthful of coffee and then hissed under her breath. “That’s today?! It’s 7:55, I have barely any time to get ready!” Gold star for Cathy Parr. Standing up, the author gave a sigh and quickly disappeared off to the space that was her room in the apartment to at least make herself presentable from the torso up. It did not matter that she was wearing black joggers, so long as she looked like she was ready for a business meeting.
Adjusting her curls so they wouldn’t fall over her face, Catherine paced over to the chair, and sat back down. Now that she had her headset on, and got ready in the nick of time, she patiently waited for the call. There it was. Taking a brief moment to look at herself and adjust her blouse, she answers. “Good morning, Anna.”
“Good morning to you too, Cathy. Glad to see you’re awake at an early time. And you got all dressed up, too! You didn’t have to,” a chuckle. Cleves ran a hand through her hair and gave a smile. “So, we’re looking at what kind of a timeline for the release, exactly?” A slight roll of the eyes, and a shake of the head. “Would’ve been nice to know before I spent the last five minutes panicking over being dressed decently. Anyways, to the main topic. My editor is getting ready to give me the list of revisions made to the draft and then I’m going to once again, go in and edit whatever needs to be changed per her advice. We’re... aiming for maybe... three to six months from now.”
A nod from Anna. Catherine could see the woman looking at a second screen and typing something. Probably notes about all of this. This conversation carried on past 8:30, until it was Anna herself who decided to conclude it. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll be in touch, as per usual. But now that this is over, we can talk about something else, if you’d like.” Although they saw each other maybe once or twice a month in person, Anna and Catherine were quite the close friends–– about as close as Catherine and Catalina, since the two have been roommates since their university days. “Look, I woke up this morning thinking I had nothing to do, and I was just going to text Lina for the grocery list but then your email popped up,” a laugh. The German woman simply shook her head.
“So you got dressed up in a panic, Cathy? I’m shocked.” There was another bout of laughter that interrupted them. Parr found herself nodding. “Of course I did. I’m not going to just answer a conference call from you in a crop top and joggers, and with a messy bun.” The thought of Parr actually having a messy bun made Cleves laugh. “You and messy buns? You’ve got to be kidding me. But good job admitting you’re still halfway in your pajamas.”
Now she rolled her eyes. She rolled them so hard, they could've rolled right off her face.
Catherine shook her head, not being able to help the smile. “Hush. As if you weren't in your own. You’re at home, I know you are!” Her hands went to grab the cup of coffee, and she brought it back up to her lips. She was a bit proud of herself for not having touched it the whole time during the meeting, but now she was craving it. So, she began to drink it, allowing Anna to talk. “Where’s Lina? I’m surprised the woman isn’t around there. Wait, no... never mind, don’t answer that. She’s at work, isn’t she?” A nod. “Yeah, she’s a teacher, Anna. She leaves early. Comes back by dinner time normally.”
It was a safe assumption to say the two were having a fairly good time speaking to each other.
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11:11 am.
“Perfect. That’s the shot,” a southern English voice rang out in the studio apartment. That was the voice of the beauty that took the world by storm: Anne Boleyn. “Tu as un bon oeil avec une caméra, Maggie! Ça a l'air super, vraiment. Go on and head on home, you’re good to go. Have fun with the pictures,” the ruby-lipped woman gave a kiss on both cheeks to her photographer friend, who packed up soon after and headed on out. Sitting down on the loveseat, Boleyn ended up getting herself to lay down and hold her phone right above her face.
“Lame.” She scrolls past one post.
“Seen it.” Another.
“What’s this?” A new post from her favorite author. She’d never admit it, but deep down inside, she was a huge nerd. Anne skimmed over the post, her thumb double tapping the screen. Parr’s posts were always inspirational quotes, or some snippets from her works. This one was just an appreciation post. A smile began to form, with it eventually becoming a light laugh. “She’s so kind! It’s amazing how someone so famous has a golden heart. And I’m sure she knows she’s got the fame.”
Most of the remainder of the morning for Anne was spent laying down, on Instagram, with no care in the world. Truly, the woman was one of a rather mellow personality. And in her spare time, she loved a good book. Deciding she’d had enough of Instagram for the time being, she closed out of the app and opened up another one. Probably delivery or something, considering it was approaching the afternoon and she felt her stomach rumble just a little. “Good thing I decided to get food. Has it really been almost five hours since I ate?”
An early riser, she was. On most days, Boleyn woke herself up at around three in the morning to go work out from maybe 3:30 to 4:45 in the morning. Sometimes she’d extend that work out to 5:45 in the morning. Then it was off to come back home, shower and get comfortable to be in the kitchen and cooking food for herself by around the 6:45 mark. She was always eating by seven in the morning, if not ten minutes later. But she was feeling particularly lazy today, so she’d take advantage of the day to just lounge around.
Standing up, Anne left her phone face down on the loveseat. She didn’t need it to get comfortable. And to be fair, it took her maybe about ten minutes, because the majority of it was her washing her face and making sure to take good care of that. She did however, come out of her bedroom with her glasses on. Now that she was alone for the day, she could just be Anne. No contacts, no sunglasses. Just plain Anne Boleyn. She was a huge nerd growing up, and she knew this to be quite true. She loved herself, and she truly did love her modeling career, but she found it odd to be both a nerd and a super famous model at the same time.
So, she’d keep her personal life to herself. Just like that.
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1:00 pm.
Having finished her lunch around fifteen minutes ago, and having cleaned everything up, Anne found herself at a crossroads during the day. She could take her glasses off, grab a blanket, and take a nice nap. She could go out to the local shops and peruse their inventories. She could get into the kitchen, and do some meal prepping. She had options, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what she wanted to do. Shrugging it off, the woman reached for the bookshelf. One of Parr’s books was in her hands.
Anne couldn’t quite tell what drew her into Catherine’s writings. Her books were not quite memoirs, but not quite fully opinionated pieces either. However, they did fall into the non-fiction category. Think of it as a discourse, kind of–– but one full of opinion, experience, and even proven fact. She was a strong woman, and had morals. Anne Boleyn was drawn to that from the first day she picked up a book by Catherine Parr. Laying back down on the loveseat, she opened up the book with a smile.
“A well deserved following,” she’d softly mutter. Her smile became less and less of one until her face was deadpan; a sign she was focused on reading. Word by word and page by page. Killer looks in front of the camera and the world, but a calm and soft appearance in private. This was something Anne showed maybe once or twice, since she has occasionally posted on her Instagram stories a picture or a video with her in her glasses.
One page became another as the time passed. Page to page, eventually book to book. Anne was in one of her reading holes, humming to herself to add a little more entertainment to her already uplifted mood. What broke her out of the daze was her phone ringing. A phone call. Pulling the phone out from underneath her, Anne answered after reading the caller ID. Maggie. Probably an update about the pictures or something.
“Anne! Bonne nouvelle, mon ami! I’ll have these edited by tonight or tomorrow at best. You’ll be right back on a runway soon enough with these,” Maggie sounded excited. A smile came across Anne’s lips. “Besides, you now have an updated picture for events instead of having to use the one from three years ago! Isn’t that great?” Sitting up, Boleyn set the book down and nodded to herself. “Oui. Merci à vous, comme d'habitude, Maggie. You work miracles,” she chuckles. “We’ll talk later. I might just take a nap or binge some Netflix.”
The conversation carried on for maybe five more minutes before Maggie hung up. Quite literally Anne’s best friend from childhood. Put the two together nowadays, and if Maggie had her camera or Anne’s phone in her hand, it was a photoshoot wherever they went. Safe to say that Maggie was responsible for the solid 90% of Anne’s feed that wasn’t selfies and food posts. Count your blessings, they always say. And despite the overwhelming following, Boleyn truly was grateful for what she had. Every single bit of fame that came her way? She was thankful she managed to get that far.
––––––––––
6:30 pm.
“Cathy? Estoy aquí y traje comida!”
Catalina had shut the door to the apartment as she finished that statement. Catherine peeked from behind the wall, before stepping out into view and smiling. “How was work, Lina?” Setting the food down on the table, one could see Catalina’s eyes roll to the back of her head for a moment. Looks like she had a troublesome day, considering she wasn't too cheery coming in the door. “Don’t get me started on it, Cathy. They were so unruly today for no reason. Part of me wonders if it’s the fact that they’re teenagers or not, but... it was unreal. The few that sit by my desk in the back of the classroom? They kept their cool, and I was glad about that.”
Catalina and Catherine both opened up their respective take out containers.
“Pero, gran y poderoso Señor... it was a nightmare today.”
A snicker came from Parr. “That’s why I don’t teach English. Could you imagine it? I’d be being told I’m spelling stuff like colour and favourite, or honour wrong! I’m English, we spell it differently than the Americans!” That snicker became a laugh. Catalina couldn’t help but laugh herself. “But truly, I’m so sorry you had to deal with a rowdy bunch today. Maybe they will be more mellow tomorrow. One day is just one day, and you have had one bad day... what... once every few months normally?”
“Yeah, it does happen every few months. So, I guess I won’t worry too much.” Catalina just shrugged it off, stuffing a spoonful of rice into her mouth.
––––––––––
A bite of chicken found itself on Anne’s fork. She was staring at her food, debating whether she should, or should not, post the dinner she so graciously decided to make. One could see the questioning glimmer in her eyes. The voice across the room made her attention snap from the plate to the source of the voice. “Je sais que c'est joli, mais allez, Anne. You haven’t touched your own food!” A bit of a laugh from Maggie. “I know, I know. Look, I just... wonder sometimes, if there’s anything else I can add to it. I always do that after I finish something.”
“I can tell. Just like when we were kids. You ALWAYS wanted to experiment more with your food. It’s almost like you live to be chaos.”
“Well, I mean... have you seen how I look? I’m chaos disguised as a babe. I like to think I’m pretty fit, after all,” there was the laugh from Boleyn. Shrugging it off, she just started to eat. Maggie was the one to continue the conversation. “Speaking of things you like, Anne... has that favorite author of yours posted anything? You always had a bit of a love for books. I saw that appreciation post earlier, and thought that was sweet. Even with the fame she has to her name, she remains humble. D’you know what, Anne? It reminds me of you a little.”
“How so?”
“Because you are the exact same way! Even with this huge following, you... you take the time to reach out and say thank you! You’re quite humble, despite what your looks say about you. I guess that whole don’t judge a book by its cover thing is real. Also, how do you just know how to make chicken taste good? This is amazing! I’m surprised you didn't go to culinary school,” Maggie practically shoved her food into her mouth, knowing that it would make Anne Boleyn laugh.
––––––––––
At the end of the night, both women could be found doing the exact same thing before they made themselves fall asleep:
Scrolling through their social media pages. One admiring the other’s confidence, and one admiring the other’s intelligence. A fair trade off to it all.
And despite the surprisingly good chaos from earlier on in the day, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Parr both could agree on one thing:
That there would be one day that their paths cross.
#Out of a Book#Catherine Parr#Anne Boleyn#six the musical#six the musical fanfiction#six the musical fanfic#Parrlyn#six ff#six fanfiction
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Really been loving your fics, we needed more Amelink writers! Thought I'd ask for one if that's alright? So I'd love to see Link proposing to Amelia in a really rushed and imperfect way after he spent the week talking to people like Meredith, Jo, Owen, Webber, etc about hiw they got engaged. He tries to plan something perfect but messes it up somehow and Amelia obviously just laughs and says yes, idk I just wanna see stressed Link, hope this is enough to go off :)
We Find Love
“How did Derek propose?” Link found himself blurting out. Meredith peered over at him. He could see the confusion in her face, despite the surgical mask covering most of it.
“Are you thinking of proposing?” She asked turning back to her sutures.
“Maybe...yes. I think so,” he waved his instrument filled hands awkwardly, obviously flustered.
“Derek proposed in an elevator,” she put simply.
“Why an elevator?” Link asked.
Meredith shrugged. “It was just kind of a special place for us,” he tell she was smiling from her eyes. “It seems so silly now but honestly I was so in love with him that he could’ve done anything. It was perfect.”
“I know me and Amelia haven’t been together for that long, just with the baby on its way...not that that’s a reason. I just—”
“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Meredith interrupted. “When you know, you know.”
“Exactly,” Hayes’ chimed in. Link looked up to the peds surgeon, who he wasn’t aware was following the conversation.
Link placed his lab coat and scrubs in his locker before turning to leave the attending’s lounge.
“Hey,” Owen greeted him as he entered the room.
“Hi,” Link responded.
“You waiting for Amelia?” He asked as he went to open his own locker. Link nodded. “I just saw her get pulled into a surgery. Might be awhile.”
“Oh,” Link responded, as if on cue his phone buzzed with a message from her. “Great.”
Owen chuckled. “The life of two surgeons in a relationship.”
“Hey, how did you propose?” He asked. Owen raised his eyebrows, not expecting the question.
“Uh, which time?” He answered awkwardly. Link shrugged, hoping he hadn’t hit a sensitive spot. “Well my first proposal I just proposed to Cristina on the couch in our living room. It just seemed right and she wasn’t really into the romantic stuff,” he chuckled as if recalling an old memory. “Uh, with Amelia, well she actually proposed to me.” Link shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not aware of this story. “We’d both had past relationships and didn’t really want anything big. With Teddy, it was an on call room. I guess I’m not really the romantic type.” He shrugged. Link recalled Amelia’s story about their honeymoon troubles and believed it. “Are you thinking of proposing?”
“I guess so.” Link grinned.
“Well you’ll be the forth guy to propose to her.” Link tried to hide his surprise. “Weren’t aware of that one? She’s a handle that’s for sure and definitely a runner. That’s why she came to Seattle in the first place.” Owen clapped a hand on Link’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
“What’s up, you look stressed.” Jo slid into the cafeteria seat beside him. “What you got there?” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of it. “Atticus Lincoln, is that a ring box?”
“Jo, shut up,” he shushed her frantically.
“Wow, Shepherd did a number on you. It’s like we’re back in high school,” Jo teased, shoving a spoonful of jello into her mouth. “Yeah, I know it’s nasty. I forgot my lunch,” she explained, replying to his confused look. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he answered defensively, not exactly sure why he was being defensive. “I’ve been trying to get advice.”
“Well it’s not like this is you or Amelia’s first marriage. She probably isn’t expecting anything.”
“I know,” he sighed. “What did Alex do?”
Jo grinned. “He’d set up this whole little romantic dinner and I was going to break up with him.”
“What?” Link exclaimed.
“Yeah, I was all about ultimatums back then. Me or Meredith, all that shit. Anyways, it was sweet and small and perfect.”
“So you didn’t break up with him?”
“No, I figured that once I was his wife he’d have to choose me over Meredith.” She shrugged. “Turns out I like her more than I was expecting to. If you want to talk to the big romantic people you could talk to Jackson. Maybe not the best way but he called of April’s whole wedding to confess his love to her. Arizona proposed to Callie and then they got in a car accident. Less romantic, more catastrophic.
“Who are—”
“And then Teddy proposed to her first husband because he was her patient and didn’t have good health insurance.”
“What?”
“Crazy times happened at this hospital before you came around,” Jo patted his arm. “Look, I know you want to do something nice but she’ll love anything you end up doing.” And with that she headed out of the cafeteria, jello cup in hand.
The next night Link raced to Meredith’s, knowing that Amelia’s shift ended only an hour after his. Maggie had told him to set up at Meredith’s and that he could tell Amelia that they were having a girls night to throw her off. Link was pretty sure Amelia didn’t need ‘throwing off’ but he agreed knowing that Maggie most likely wanted to see Amelia’s reaction.
“What do you mean you aren’t already married, aren’t you having a baby?” Zola asked as Link was frantically setting the table for two. “Mom says that you get married first and then the baby comes after.”
“Well in most cases.” Link answered, glancing over at her. “Hey, Zola stop picking at those flowers.” Referring to the bouquet he’d bought on their way home.
“Sorry,” Zola shrugged. “You’re just making her dinner? What else?”
“I don’t know,” Link mumbled guiltily. “What do you think I should do?”
“I dunno,” Zola answered. “That’s your job.”
“Right,” Link sighed as he tossed the salad and placed the bowl on the table. Suddenly, he heard the front door open. “Do I kneel now?” He asked Zola.
“How am I supposed to know, do I look married to you?” Zola replied. Link decided to kneel, his heart thumping in his chest. His shaky hands reached into his pocket.
“False alarm,” Zola giggled as Meredith entered the room.
“Oh wow,” Meredith laughed. “I’m so flattered.” She mocked fanning her face.
“Shut up,” Link grumbled. “I’ve been trying to get this right all week and I can’t figure out anything to do justice to how much she means to me. I wanted to plan out this big romantic gesture but that just seems dumb and I don’t want to wait any longer. I would marry her right now if I could. I’ve been carrying around this stupid ring all week trying to find a time to give it to her that seemed right but I’m so worried that I’ll screw it up that I back out every time. Like how do I ask her to marry me and sum up all the million things I love about her into such a short amount of time?” He ran a pathetically shaky hand through his hair.
“That’ll do,” Amelia’s soft voice enters the room, her hands circling the swollen bump that recently formed on her abdomen.
“I was about to tell you,” Meredith grinned.
“Are you kidding me?” Link balled his hands in frustration. Meredith grabbed Zola by the hand, the little girl’s eyes wide as if she were watching a special on tv, and dragged her out of the room to give the couple some space. “Amelia, I wanted—”
“Link, this is perfect.” Her eyes scanned the room, softy lit by a couple of candles on the table. A bottle of sparkling water was sitting in a small bath of ice and she smiled as she saw that he’d made all her favourite pregnancy cravings. A sharp aroma drifted through the room and Link seemed to noticed it too.
“I burnt the chicken,” he nodded in disappointment, not even bothering to run to the kitchen in an attempt to salvage it. “This is a nightmare.”
“This is not a nightmare.” Amelia shook her head, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You are absolutely perfect in every way, Atticus Lincoln.” He tried to conceal the blush that was overwhelming his cheeks, feeling like an idiot. “Now do you have a question to ask me or...” she bit her lip with a smile.
“Oh. Yeah!” He knelt down on one knee and glanced up into her deep blue eyes before removing the lid to the little velvet box in her hand. “Amelia Shepherd, from the moment I met you I haven’t spent a day without the thought of you entering my mind. You amaze and inspire me to be a better person and a better surgeon.” He paused as he saw tears begin to build at the edges of her eyes. “You make me so excited to be a father. I mean very scared...but also very excited and I would love to spend the rest of my life raising this child, and maybe other children,” he tried to hide his excitement, “with you. I wan’t to wake up beside you every morning and fall sleep with you in my arms every night. Amelia, will you marry me?”
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “And I would reply with the same answer if you’d asked me on our car ride to work or in the middle of surgery.”
“Would that have been better?”
“No, you loser,” she rolled her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Now come here and give your fiancée some kisses.”
“Do you say that to all of us?” He teased as he fulfilled her request.
sorry this is super shitty but I feel the need to write any prompt im given haha (that makes it sound like i dont like writing prompts but i do!!!) plz keep sending them bc they keep me motivated<3 and thx sm for all the support on my recent fics.
#amelia shepherd#greys abc#amelinkfanfiction#amelinkfanfic#amelinkfic#amelink#atticus lincoln#greys anatomy#jo wilson#meredith grey#owen hunt#teddy altman#maggie pierce#zola shepherd#derek shepherd#merder
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Before This Dance Is Through IV
Chapter: 4/16
Rating: U
Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.
Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn
Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here
Once Ringo had managed to compose himself, which took far longer than he'd care to admit, he ventured back out into the chaos of the club in search of John. He wasn't difficult to find, standing at the front of the stage cheering - practically screaming - and waving money around to get the dancer's attention. Unsurprisingly, the dancer was Paul. He was currently spinning around the pole with one hand, his ankles entwined to give him support. It was quite a beautiful sight, Ringo thought, watching his gentle movements. The club was considerably more empty by this point and the remainder of the customers had circled around the stage. Ringo slinked past a few drunken layabouts as he made his way over to John, he had to shout in his ear just to get his attention.
"Oh, Ringo!" John grinned, his breath stank of whiskey "How'd it go?"
"A little too well." Ringo chuckled, he coaxed John to sit down.
"Did he almost kill you this time?" John only passed Ringo a few glances, mostly his attention was on Paul.
"I think he did kill me. Then brought me back. Then killed me again." Ringo picked up John's drink and took a sip "Are they supposed to touch you?"
John paused his shouting for a moment "Touch you how?"
"Just... Y'know, touching. Getting me to touch him, him touching my chest." Ringo decided to leave out the crotch contact, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.
"Oh yeah, that's fine. As long as you're both consenting o'course. And as long as he's not dropping on his knees and sucking you off." John laughed and Ringo almost choked on the drink, the image those words conjured up was a surprising one.
"How much longer are you planning on staying?" Ringo settled back in his seat and turned his attention to Paul.
"Why? You in a hurry to get home and bash one out?" John nudged him without pulling his eyes away from the stage.
"Speak for yourself." Ringo scoffed, he didn't see the point in denying it.
"We can head out after Paulie's done." John nodded to gesture towards the man in question.
"Fine." Ringo stretched his legs out in front of him.
If he hadn't been so exhausted from Spike, Ringo probably would've gotten a little excited watching Paul but he was completely worn out. John had a shine in his eyes that Ringo didn't see very often, and his happiness was definitely contagious. They sat watching Paul for another two songs, during which he exhibited a ridiculous amount of core strength that Ringo could only dream of ever achieving. It was obvious that John was hoping to catch Paul before they headed back home, as much as he was trying to hide it, and Ringo probably would've hung around with him had he not been so exhausted or so sure that John was probably going to be back here within the week. In truth the main reason Ringo wanted to get out of there so quickly was because he didn't want to risk seeing Spike again, or rather Spike seeing him again; Ringo happily could've watched him from a safe distance all night but as soon as Spike was looking right back at him, knowing what Ringo was thinking, that was too much.
The cold night air stung Ringo's face and hands as they stepped back out into the street. Luckily his car wasn't too far away and while he was perhaps a little too tipsy to be driving he made sure he stayed off the main roads and never went over the speed limit - he could drive recklessly when he was sober but he'd never risk that when he was drunk. John was the only one talking on the drive back to his place, mostly rambling about things Ringo couldn't understand so he just nodded along and made affirming noises.
John leaned on Ringo for support as they walked up to his front door, Ringo knew he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk but he tended to do this when he was feeling a little lonely. Ringo had gotten more than used to it by now, he'd had to carry John to bed bridal style many times over the years so this was nothing. John fell face first down onto his bed which was still unmade and either fell asleep immediately or wanted Ringo to think he had. It had almost become a routine by this point: Ringo drove them home, carried John up to his room, left a glass of water by his bed and tidied up a few bits and pieces on his way out. Occasionally he'd check in John's fridge to see if he had any food in and if it was empty, which it often was, he'd offer to buy or cook the two of them dinner the next day. Ringo wasn't the subtlest about it sometimes, once or twice he'd even shown up with bags filled with groceries and left after handing them over without much of an explanation. John never acknowledged any of these things Ringo did, at least not verbally, but Ringo knew he appreciated them and he was sure John repaid the favour in some ways he wasn't aware of, or very aware of in the case of tonight.
Exhaustion hit like a strong wave once Ringo finally got back to his own place. He kicked off his shoes carelessly in the hallway and staggered into his bedroom; he didn't dare look at the time before he slid into bed, just chucked his phone into the furthest corner hoping that he'd remembered to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he expected to fall asleep almost instantly but his brain had other ideas. His body was definitely ready for sleep, his eyes were stinging and his muscles ached a little yet his mind was racing. This didn't happen a lot. Ringo was notoriously known for how well he slept and how loudly he snored but tonight that wasn't the case. He couldn't shake the images of the night from his mind or how warm Spike's skin had felt beneath his fingertips or the inviting smell of him. Ringo let out a groan as he tossed and turned, as though vigorous movement would throw the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was give into the urge but the first thing he wanted to do was sleep, and it was a pretty strong urge. Was there any better way to get to sleep than a quick orgasm? Probably. Ringo just had to tell himself that he was doing this purely for that purpose, as he wanked himself off under the covers with his eyes scrunched tightly and his brain filled with thoughts of Spike.
The following day was fairly uneventful, Ringo was up on time to sit eating breakfast in front of the television for an hour before he had to head out for work. It was his weekly lesson with a kid called Peter, he was nice enough and his parents were more than pleasant if not a little stupid. He'd been working with Peter for almost a year and while he'd made a great deal of progress since their first lesson he wasn't showing a massive amount of promise, but at least he was trying. Sometimes Ringo felt like speaking to his parents privately and breaking the news that their son wasn't going to become a world famous drummer, probably not even a locally famous one, but he needed the money too much. Peter was better than a lot of Ringo's students, most of which had watched Whiplash a few too many times and decided they wanted to be the next John Bonham only to give up in two months because it was 'too hard'.
After their lesson ended Ringo decided to walk around town for a little while, usually he'd be out in search of lunch by now but Peter's parents always prepared him some food which he was never too polite to refuse - after all smoked salmon was considerably more appetising than a tepid sausage roll from Greggs. He decided to pop into his favourite record shop, although it wasn't like there were many others to choose from. Despite the accessibility to music his phone provided, Ringo always had a deep love for vinyl records; they were nostalgic somehow, even if they had no significance to his own childhood. Like most record shops, this one sold a fair bit of vintage clothing too although Ringo was never too interested in that. He didn't really have any particular record in mind as he walked in so ended up browsing through the plethora of options. There was only one other person in the shop, excluding the owner who sat behind the counter and gave Ringo a welcoming smile, but it sounded like there were a couple of people downstairs in the clothing section. As Ringo began to flick through some of the records his phone buzzed in his pocket.
can you bring me coffee???
It was John, which was a little surprising considering he usually didn't wake up until far later in the afternoon if he'd been drinking heavily the night before.
hello to you too
i dont have time for formalities i need COFFEE
why dont you have any coffee in your house
i dont have time for questions either
any coffee in particular my liege?
ha ha
just get me one from maccies pleaseeee
fine im just in town atm can you wait like 10 mins
suppose ill have to
suddenly im too busy
shut up just bring me coffee ill love you forever and all that
i should bloody think so too
Ringo chuckled to himself quietly as he put his phone back into his pocket, he took a final quick look at the stack of records then began making his way outside. Before he could make it to the door he suddenly collided with someone who had been turning up from the staircase, which resulted in a few pieces of clothing flying upwards and landing on the ground. Ringo began apologising immediately, crouching down to pick up the clothes to hand them back over. As he straightened back up to apologise for perhaps the fourth time he froze upon seeing exactly who he'd bumped into.
"Spike." Ringo blurted out, his brain had decided to throw the name out as soon as it crossed his mind.
"Only after 9." He responded instantaneously, it must've been a frequent line he used "Do I... Oh! It's you."
"The very same." Ringo chuckled nervously, he wondered whether he'd actually recognised him or was just being polite - Ringo couldn't decide which one he'd prefer.
It was very strange seeing him like this, so normal that it was abnormal. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck which framed his sharp jaw and hugged his slim body nicely. Over that lay a yellow beaded necklace and his trousers were a dark suede material; he looked good, somehow more alluring when he was fully clothed. Ringo noticed he was staring, he only hoped that Spike hadn't noticed but it was impossible to tell with the unreadable darkness of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if he couldn't get any more obvious, then held out the patterned shirt he'd picked up so Spike could take it from him. Their hands brushed slightly at the exchange and Ringo felt the hairs on his arm standing up.
"They're nice, er- Nice clothes." Ringo stammered, yanking his hand back to his side.
"Suppose I should be thanking you for them." Spike replied, there was a faint smile on his lips.
"Oh?" Ringo heard the pitch of his voice rising slightly.
"You helped pay for them." Spike explained, the smile grew.
"Well John paid, really. But he does owe me money so I guess I did pay in a way. Glad to see the money's going somewhere good either way." Ringo rambled, once again his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.
"Right." Spike said, his tone was very final yet he didn't move to leave.
"I best be getting out of your way so you can actually pay for those." Ringo shuffled sideways towards the door, expecting Spike to step backwards to give him some room but he just stood there looking at him - was it not enough to make him suffer at the club, did he have to punish him now too?
"Are you always this nervous?" Spike grinned.
"No I- You just caught me by surprise is all." Ringo forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Okay." Spike squinted his eyes slightly then turned to head towards the counter.
Ringo was surprised he was able to get back to his car without collapsing, all the tension leaving his body as soon as Spike's eyes were off him made him feel practically boneless. Spike didn't look back at him but Ringo supposed he didn't have to, he would've known he was staring at him. Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, somehow managing to make it to the drive-through without consciously driving there. He ordered a coffee for John and a milkshake for himself, he figured he could do with a pick-me-up after that atrocious encounter. Not once in all the times he'd gone to that shop had he seen Spike there, and it couldn't have been a case of merely not noticing him before because Ringo definitely would've noticed someone looking like that walking around. It felt like God was playing some cruel trick on him, but in reality it was nothing more than a coincidence married with Spike's cruelty which produced that painful exchange. Ringo tried not to think about it as he drove over to John's but his brain had apparently decided to betray him, just as his mouth had done earlier.
John had took a while to answer the door and Ringo began to worry that he'd fallen back asleep - it was times like this that he figured he may as well have a key to his place. When the door swung open, Ringo burst in a little too aggressively and knocked John backwards slightly.
"Jesus, what's crawled up your arse?" John chuckled as he closed the door "Don't tell me the ice cream machine was broken again."
John's presence calmed Ringo significantly but he couldn't shake the tension in his body completely "Guess who I just bumped into." He set the drinks down on John's kitchen table and took a seat.
"Ooh was it that guy from the train station? Or how about-" John took a seat opposite him and gripped the coffee eagerly.
"You're not actually meant to guess." Ringo interrupted, he tried to sound commanding but it was a little difficult when he was holding a strawberry milkshake.
"Then don't say 'guess' you git. The English language is wasted on you." John put his feet up on the table "Who was it then?"
"Spike." Ringo widened his eyes.
"No shit. Really?" John cackled "What happened?"
"I was at that record shop and he was coming up from the basement and I walked straight into him." Ringo explained.
"Nothing straight about it." John mumbled behind his coffee.
"Funny." Ringo glared "It was so fucking embarrassing, I could hardly speak."
"What did he say?" John asked.
"Nothing really. He probably said about three words so I figured he didn't want to talk to me but he just stood there. I didn't want to be rude and just rush out but looking back I probably should've." Ringo sighed.
"Yeah, you probably should've." John snickered.
"Not helping."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I dunno... I'm sure it wasn't that bad or something."
"Well, was it that bad?"
"He asked me if I was always so nervous."
John burst into laughter "Jesus, Ringo. That's pretty bad."
"Guess that's the last time I'll be going to the strip club, or the record shop for that matter."
"Don't be so dramatic. So you were a little awkward in front of him, who cares?"
"I care."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want him thinking I'm some sort of loser."
"Why do you give a shit what he thinks?"
Ringo didn't say anything, he just held his cup tightly and looked at John straight in the eye.
"Look, you've got nothing to get so worked up about. If he thought you were so pathetic he wouldn't have even spoken to you." John lifted his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat "He's just messing with you, probably thinks it's funny."
"He was smiling." Ringo mumbled.
"Well there you go." John reached his hand forward and poked at Ringo's arm "You're being ridiculous. Chances are you won't bump into him again, you've gone your whole life without doing it before."
"But-" Ringo began.
"No buts! Unless they're butts on the stage covered in leather I don't wanna hear it." John interrupted "Bottom line is you like watching this guy strip right?"
"Well, yeah-" Ringo tried again.
"So what's the problem? It's not like you found out he's your cousin or one of your students, is it?" John smiled warmly.
"Suppose not." Ringo couldn't help smiling too.
"We really need to get you laid, it's making you crazy. I'm supposed to be the crazy one, don't try and take that away from me." John leaned back in his chair again.
"I don't intend to." Ringo chuckled looking down at his feet.
"So... Same time next week?" John raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"You really hate me, don't you?"
"On the contrary! I love you very much, my dear Ringo. That's exactly why I'm gonna take you back there so you can prove you're not some pathetic weirdo."
"How exactly?"
"Just be yourself, you can manage that can't you?"
"Not quite sure I want to."
"Oh hush. Leave the self-deprecation to me if you don't mind." John paused to sip his coffee "This time next week you'll have forgotten all about this, and I'm sure he will too."
"I guess you're right."
But John hadn't been right. Ringo had thought about that small exchange for days. He found himself picking apart every small moment and trying to rationalise it in his mind: had Spike actually recognised him? Why did he just stand there while Ringo tried to squeeze past? Why had been smiling so strangely the whole time? No matter how many answers Ringo tried to give to himself, the whole situation only became more confusing. He felt like a teenager again, stumbling over his words and blushing at the tiniest bit of contact. It was pathetic, shameful really. Maybe if he just took John's advice and actually went and slept with someone all these weird feelings would just be gone. But he didn't want just someone, he wanted him.
#the beatles#beatles#beatles fanfic#the beatles fanfic#beatles fanfiction#george harrison/ringo starr#ringo starr/george harrison#ringo starrxgeorge harrison#george harrisonxringo starr#starrison
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Academic Misgivings (Part Ten) - Peter Parker
You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you.
He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own.
But can you?
Things are looking up! The truth is out there and Y/N and Peter finally know where they stand with each other. But will this relationship last? Or will outside forces bring it crumbling down?
/ PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR/PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE
It felt like there was pure electricity in your veins. Every inch of you buzzed and hummed with a new sense of life. After Saturday, after you told Peter how you felt about him, your whole body thrummed in some Spring-like symphony. You barely registered Sunday when the Sun knocked on your windowsill.
You only got out of bed when your phone chirped with a text alert. In a flash, your covers were thrown to the side and your cold feet hit the floor in a matter of seconds. Your phone was charging on your dresser, it’s screen illuminated and reflected in the small mirror of your vanity. The sight of yourself, oddly, made you smile. Your lips were stuck in a smile, as they had been the moment Peter grabbed your hand. Silently you hoped that you would see yourself smile more.
Your phone chimed once more, ever impatient when it came to your attention. Although, you the alert that greeted you sent a flurry of all sorts of insects a buzz inside your stomach.
PETER: mornin :)
YOU: good morning
PETER: i told May about shopping
PETER: but she has a shift tonight so she cant
YOU: Oh, okay.
PETER: she can do Monday after school but we dont have to wait
You bit the inside of your cheek in a poor attempt at suppressing a grin. Eager to reply, your thumbs hovered over the keyboard of the texting app as you thought of your answer. Peter added to his last message both you could reply.
PETER: i mean it we would be getting to it late so the dresses and stuff might not be cool
PETER: but you would make any dress look cool
PETER: pretty, i mean.
PETER: sorry
PETER: i’m screwing this up
You beamed at the series of texts and shook your head. As you typed out a reply, you rocked back on forth on the heels, too happy to keep still.
YOU: You’re not screwing anything up, Pete. You’re being endearing
You waited for a beat and when Peter didn’t reply you wrote out another message.
YOU: It’s sweet and very cute
PETER: cute?
YOU: Yes, cute. :)
PETER: your cute too
YOU: You mean *you’re and thanks Pete
A laugh slipped past your lips. Loud giggling was a sound so foreign to you it sounded fake as your laugh echoed within the walls of your room.
PETER: wow ok i see how it is
PETER: call me cute then insult my grammar
YOU: Maybe…. :) and I don’t mind waiting until Monday. I could use May’s help with finding a dress.
PETER: your mom still isn’t home?
You felt your smile fall flat, but not entirely give into a frown. You had been so consumed with what had happened the night before you hadn’t been paying attention. During the night, you thought you heard a door slam but your mind was so lost in some fantasy you felt you had imagined it. Even if your mother was home, dress shopping would not be on top of her to-do list.
YOU: No. But May is more fashionable anyway.
PETER: ok, she’ll be happy to hear that
PETER: i gotta run, see you tomorrow?
YOU: Yes, you’ll see me tomorrow. We have school.
PETER: oh yeah :)
YOU: Go you goof
You set your phone back on the top of the dresser and left it to charge as you padded out of your bedroom. The apartment held a chill trapped in the air. One so strong you shivered and wished you had snagged your sweatshirt for the trip to the kitchen. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, some bowls tucked in on the top looked freshly used. The next step you took creaked and a shuffling sound to your left made you jump.
On the couch, the crumpled form of your father laid on his side. One arm was completely extended, flailing off the edge of the cushions entirely. His mouth was pressed in a line and even in sleep, his jaw moved, tensed, working through some stress that haunted his dreams. Your mother was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t been for three years.
The euphoria that Peter’s texts had given curved down, off the high. You had been pitched off a cliff and back into reality. A reality where brilliant boys like Peter Parker did not mix with girls like you. Bravely, with Peter’s words repeated in your mind like a mantra, you pushed the doubt away. He wouldn’t care about your family, about their flaws; Peter accepted everyone, helped everyone. He would stick by you.
Quietly, you back over to the couch and plucked the blanket from off the back of it. With a tenderness you remembered from your childhood, you rested the thick blanket over your father's sleeping form.
“Sorr-ry…” he whispered, his body shuddering as he spoke. You pressed your lips together to keep from making a sound. Whatever dream he was having was not a good one. It felt more and more like worst fears and nightmares ran in the family.
You remembered times of his smiling face. Trips to the zoo to marvel at dozing lions and laugh at funny the penguins looked when they waddled. His smile had faded, alongside his presence after aliens fell from the sky and destroyed the home he had built for you and your mother. Now he worked day in and day out, with Sunday and Monday mornings off every other month to make sure you both had enough to eat. When you mother had left, he barely spoke. He wouldn’t smile anymore, ask you how your day was and that was all. It was like living with a ghost sometimes, a haunted, weary soul.
Tiptoeing, you crept back down the hall and into your room. It was best to leave him to rest. Plus, you had studying to do. Your books laid on your small oak desk with book covers taunting you as you took a seat in your rickety desk chair. A sigh passed over your lips as you grabbed The Great Gatsby. Hopefully, you could stay focused and keep your thoughts about Monday at the side.
As you ducked into the books’ pages you realized, that would simply be impossible.
Sunday had dragged with little excitement. You had spent the day studying or trying to study at the very least. Too many ideas and hypothetical scenarios about Monday swirled about you, pestered you as you moved through the day. Your father had left for work soon after you had seen him. An all-day shift at a grocery store outside of Queens took him away and left you to your own devices. Although your mind was too lost in thought too much of anything productive.
Even as you eagerly tucked yourself into bed as the Sunday sunset, your brain still worked. You thought of Peter as you and May studied fictitious dresses. His lazy smile when he would see you in a dress for the first time. Would May be able to tell that you were both something more? Had Peter already told her?
The steady flow of worrying questions turned into a somewhat tumultuous lullaby as you drifted in and out of sleep. A hybrid of dream and nightmare gave you what you wanted only to take it away. Peter’s face with a smile then a frown as his figure faded from your sleep-vision. Needless to say, sleep did not come easy. If it did, it didn’t stay long as you woke up a few times during the night.
When you woke for the last time, with the sound of your alarm ringing in your ears. Like a ghost, the shrill haunted you as you got ready for the day. Your walk to school was one of belly aching excitements. You were going to see Peter after you told him that you liked him. He liked you too. It all felt like a dream, some horrible trick; but it was real.
It was as real as Peter as he leaned against the lockers near your own. His lips were pressed in a line, brown eyes searching the faces of all who passed by. Peter was looking for you. The smile that spread across your features must have acted as some sort of beacon or maybe your heart was hammering louder than you thought because Peter met your gaze in an instant. A soft smile and the scent of Peter’s cologne greeted you as you walked to your locker.
“Hi,” he breathed out as if the word had been waiting for its appearance as well as your own. You felt heat rush up your neck and curl like wisps of smoke in your cheeks.
“Hi,” you returned, “you waited?” Peter’s expression shifted from relaxed to shuffling and stuttering. His arms crossed and uncrossed in record time.
“I did but I...if you don’t like it...I thought it would be nice.” Pink kissed the tips of his ears and you smiled at the sight.
“It is nice.” You lifted a hand and brushed it against his arm. The touch shocked you, literally and metaphorically. A zap of static zipped up your fingers and you felt your heart melted into a puddle of a surprise when Peter leaned into the touch.
“Ok, I’ll do it again then,” Peter said with a calm smile on his face. You nodded before you turned your attention to the lock. As you entered your combination, Peter pressed the side of his head against the neighboring locker. When you snuck a glance at him, you saw that he was already staring at you.
“Hi,” you murmured again in the hopes of deterring your growing bashfulness
“Hi,” he repeated and you let out a shy giggle. “Oh, and should we meet here after school?”
“We can, yeah,” you said as you opened your locker. You plucked your math textbook from the dark depths before you shut the metal door with a clang. Peter’s brown eyes studied your face and you gave him a soft smile. “What?”
“Is it weird now?”
“What is it?”
“Us,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I like you and you like me so it’s not weird but it kind of feels that way, right? Maybe it’s just ‘cause I haven’t-”
“Pete,” you rested a hand on his cheek, something you had wanted to do since you realized you had feelings for him. “It’s not weird, you’re being weird.”
He let out a laugh and you grinned at the sound. “Am I?”
“No, but I get what you’re saying,” you let your hand fall from his cheek. While the action was new, it felt right; it felt natural. “But the circumstances were weird. It’s not every day a tutor and a tutee gets together.”
“Tutee?” Peter raised a brow at you with a grin splayed out on his features.
“The person being tutored,” you explained. You paused before sighing, “you think it’s a funny word.”
“I don’t think it is a word,” Peter said through a laugh.
“Well...it is now,” you took a step away from your locker and out into the current of the hallway. Students marched to and fro, getting ready for first period as the clock ticked down the seconds.
“Y/N, what about proper grammar conventions?” Peter teased as he fell into step at your side. You let out a huff but your amusement was clear on your face.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” you pondered aloud and you heard Peter stifle a laugh.
“Our mistake, though. A good mistake.” As Peter spoke, his knuckles brushed against yours. The entire world melted away until all that remained was you and Peter. Your fingers splayed and reached for his. When you pinkie knocked against his, you curled yours around it.
You heard Peter hum something but you were too lost in this new reality to totally hear it. Mindlessly, your feet carried you through the hall with Peter at your side. He spoke up again but your world was still so fuzzy. You kept walking until you saw a figure sulking towards you and Peter, headed straight towards you.
“Y/N? Why is MJ looking at you like that?” Peter’s questions finally broke through as the rose-colored lenses lifted from your eyes. MJ’s dark eyes were glued on you as she pushed her way through the hallway. It didn’t look as if she were angry but slightly panicked. The mild annoyance in her face was always there.
“I-I-”
“Y/N,” MJ stopped right in front of you and Peter.
“Hi, MJ,” Peter chirped. She sent a look his way, something entirely unreadable.
“Peter,” she turned her gaze back to you, “I ran into Flash.”
“Oh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. However, your befuddlement did nothing to quell the sudden and furious storm of dread brewing in your stomach. Flash.
“He asked if I had seen you or if we had a class together.” You untangled Peter’s pinkie from your own and you felt the air drop around you.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I just told him to shut up and he told me he had a surprise for you.”
“What does that mean?” Peter asked, cutting through the conversation. You looked at him and saw his jaw was tensed. Was he jealous? He turned his gaze to you and, instead of anger, you saw concern. “What does he mean?”
“I don’t kno-”
A high pitched whine pierced through the air, out from the intercoms that lines the walls of the hallway. Students stopped shuffling at the sound, waiting for whatever early-morning announcement couldn’t wait until school had actually begun. Crackling on the end of the microphone broke the whine and someone cleared their throat.
“Midtown High, I have a special announcement from our very own Y/N L/N. You may think that aliens are the true villains or maybe that Spiderman is the true menace, but it seems Y/N has been the darkness in our midst all along.”
“Who is that?” Someone asked but you knew. It was Flash. Whatever voice modulator he was using could not hide the goblin quality of his voice from you. You glanced in the direction of the voice that asked the question and saw a few people from your history class. With widened eyes, they stared at you, waiting for whatever villainous message Flash had planned to share.
“What does that mean?” Peter’s voice pulled you back to yourself. You grabbed his hand and his brown eyes met your gaze. It hit you all at once. Flash was going to tell them about Peter, about how you both had schemed to ruin him.
“Peter, I have to tell you something,” you gushed. You had to beat Flash to it, tell your side of the story before he got the chance. “Before this, before I got to-”
“I..want Peter off the team ...I'm...using Peter. ...leave me alone...Peter ...entitled piece of shit.” Your voice with gravel quality rang out over the speaker, but it wasn’t your voice. It was too low, too edited and pieced together. It almost sounded mechanic but the words spoken were your own. Your stomach dropped. The phone call on Saturday, Flash’s threat….
A profound silence filled the hallway as the speaker cut off. An echo, your own heartbeat pounded in your ears. With a simple audio trick, Flash had ripped a hole in the hope you had built for yourself. You felt your limbs grow cold and numb with the realization. The whole school had heard.
“Y/N, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Peter’s voice broke the glass that had gathered around you and the vacuum of silence stopped whirring in your ears. The happiness you had held, in the shape of Peter’s hand, slipped from your grasp. His brown eyes were squinted but it didn’t stop the welling tears as they threatened to spill over. “Y/N?”
“I…” You took a step back away from Peter. His brows were knitted together in confusion and you felt bile rise up in your throat.
“Y/N, is this...did you...a lie?”
“N-No, Peter, it’s not...it’s not like that.”
“But it was? This whole time?” His voice cracked and you imagined it was nothing compared to the shattered pieces of his heart.
“No…” you whimpered, your voice failing you. “No, Pete it…” Eyes. All the eyes in the vicinity were glued on you and Peter. The Shakespearean drama unfolding in the middle of the hallway had captured everyone’s attention. Your throat was closing with panic, making so you could only choke out the next few words. “I-I’m sorry.”
You turned around and ran down the hall, as far away as you could from Peter Parker.
Your feet carried you out of the school, wove through the crowd amassing at the entrance as the bell rang. By the time you made it down the block, your chest was heaving. You hadn’t run that fast in a long time and it didn’t help that a series of silent sobs racked your form. To catch your breath, you slumped against a brick wall of a storefront for support. People, much too busy to wonder what you were doing out of school, passed you by with cups of coffee clutched tightly in their hands.
You looked up from the passersby and across the street. The slightly yellowed lights of the coffee shop’s interior shown through the front window. The tables lining the windowsill were empty, letting the glow shine out in the still brightening sky. Golden edges of the horizon stood out against the dark blue of morning.
A sudden hunger overwhelmed with sharp stomach pain. You hadn’t eaten breakfast, too eager to see Peter to spend a minute longer in your apartment. Now, you felt too nauseous to eat despite the pang of hunger. What you wanted was a place to be alone.
You crossed the way, barely caring to look either way down the street. A car honked as you darted along the road but you were too consumed with wiping the evidence of tears off of your face. When you felt satisfied with your effort, you pulled open the door of the coffee shop. The heat of brewing javas and the smell of freshly baked cookies welcomed you with a warmth that, in the present moment, you felt you didn’t deserve.
“Hey, you! My favorite customer!” A soft voice greeted you from behind the counter although, at first glance, you didn’t recognize the face accompanying it. At least not the hair. “Oh, yeah, changed it up a little,” the perky barista explained as she pinched a few strands of her now blue hair between her fingers. “Got tired of the pink.”
“It looks nice,” you sniffle as you speak, eyes glancing over the menu. “Any new teas?”
“We have a cinnamon apple tea,” she said with a smile, “it’s like apple cider but not as tart, ya know.” You nodded and gave her a half-hearted smile. She returned the expression, mirrored the sadness that you knew was much too readable in your red-rimmed eyes.
“I’ll take one of those then.” You sniffled again as you pulled out a few dollar bills to pay. The brightly colored barista hit a few buttons on the cash register and recited the order.
“So one apple cinnamon tea and one fresh snickerdoodle cookie,” she said pleased. She looked up at you with a smile, even as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I didn’t order a-”
“You look like you need one,” she said and tipped her head at your eyes. She handed you a tissue from the counter, “and it’s on the house. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you, I don’t know what to say,” you gushed, overwhelmed by the kindness. You were only used to Peter being so kind. When the rest of your life had been lonely it felt like every good thing someone did for you was a treasure.
“You don’t have to say a thing. It’ll be right out.”
It felt like a mere few minutes had passed before a warm cup of tea and baked cookie were in your hands. With another series of ‘thank yous’ said to the barista, you made your way to the table tucked in the far corner. As you waited for your tea to cool down enough to drink, you picked at the snickerdoodle. You broke off pieces of it to eat, weary that if you ate it too fast it might not stay down.
When you had worked through half of the delicious snack, you looked up. The empty seat across from you seemed to echo. If you listened hard enough, strained your ears to the point of lightheadedness, you could almost hear Peter’s laugh. It was the same laugh that he showed whenever you made an inadvertent joke or mocked the sentence structure of a decathlon practice question. That laugh was not the same as the little chuckle Peter gave you when you teased him.
Part of you cringed at the thought. There had been a point where you had meant the words you teased him with. At some point, you had told yourself you hated Peter. How could you have done that without knowing him? Had you jealousy been that deep?
Obviously it had been, you thought to yourself bitterly. You had willing teamed up with Flash, that was how deeply your envy had been. Now, through some twisted sense of fate and Peter’s charm, all you felt was shame. Shame and sadness seemed to come hand-in-hand. With the regret came tears, tears that cascaded down your cheeks and on the napkin placed before you.
You wanted to blame it all on Flash. He had turned green with envy whereas you had grown. Grown to like Peter, more than you ever thought was possible. Flash had ruined it, manipulated words, the only tool you had and made sure he was right in the end: Peter wouldn’t sick with you now. Only the pain in his face as your voice, but not truly yourself, spoke over the speakers and told a stale truth.
Your heart began to pound as reality set in fully. Nothing would be the same now. Whatever you and Peter had started, shared with each other, would flatline. There was no longer a pulse left in that relationship and it was your fault. All you could do was apologize, try to tell him how things had changed when you got to know him better.
Deep in your heart, you felt like you need Peter. Through him, through learning about him you learned more about yourself. Through liking him, you learned to like yourself. Now it felt like you were free-falling. The foothold Peter had made for you both had broken under the weight of past mistakes. You couldn’t fix it, so you would have to learn to be okay on your own.
And the coffee shop didn’t feel like the right place to start. Too many memories of Peter haunted the place, times when you felt like the best person you could be. You needed to tap into that person, that version of you, without the ghost of Peter helping you. You needed to be with yourself.
So, after you finished your cookie and tea, you thanked the barista one last time. It was noon by the time you had felt, time seemed to have sped up in your panicked state. With traffic somewhat calmed, you were able to cross the street without cars honking in distress this time. The path your house was peppered with browned leaves carried in on the breeze. Autumn’s end was near, sharp and sudden as the end of bare branches.
It would have surprised you if snow were to fall as you unlocked the gate to your apartment building. Instead of thinking about how you and Peter had said a heartfelt ‘goodbye’ in the spot you stood in just a few days ago, you thought about the impending Winter. Maybe you could convince your parents to go to your cousin’s place for the holiday season so you weren’t locked away in your room like last Winter break. It would be an unexpected trip but you couldn’t stand the thought of being home alone for two weeks.
What was also unexpected was the sight of your father when you opened the door to the apartment. He looked just as tired as he did Sunday, but he was cleaning the kitchen. Cleared plates and shining utensils were sat out on the drying rack. When you the door closed behind you, your father looked up.
“School?”
“I-I…” your stomach twisted, “I wasn’t feeling well. Can you...you call me in sick?” Your father’s brows scrunched together but he nodded nonetheless.
“Y-Yeah, you...you alright?” There was a softness in his voice, the type of concern a father should have for his daughter. How long had it been since you had heard him speak like that? He had been gone off on work trips, struggling to make ends meet and all the while hoping that your mother would come back. Yet, it seemed, he had a bit of softness saved for you. And that broke your heart.
“N-No….” Tears fell from your eyes before you had the chance to stop them. They blurred your vision until the home you had known for the past seven years was turned into muddled shapes. You relied solely on sound. So when, instead of asking about what had happened, you heard the footsteps of your father’s work boots against the floorboards, you were shocked. More so when two warm arms wrapped around you and your backpack to pull you to his chest.
Sobs racked your frame, so loud that your cries seemed to echo through the apartment. Despite the sound, you heard your father’s voice. “I wish I could fix it.”
“Y-you can’t,” you hiccuped. You felt his arms tighten around you as if holding you together was all he could do. In that moment, it was all you needed.
You didn’t remember falling asleep or how you got in bed in the first place. The note on your nightstand scrawled out in rough script from your father told you what you needed to know.
Called into the school. You should get some rest, honey. Feel better.
-Dad
You set the note back down and sat back up against your headboard. Fresh from sleep, your eyes were still clouded lost in the haze of slumber that called out to you to return. The moment the darkness behind your eyelids welcomed you back, an image of Peter smiling entered your mind’s eye. Crinkles by his eyes and the wide grin made your heartache.
Your eyes flew open and you scrambled to your nightstand again. In a mad, groggy search, you looked for your phone. Your fingertips traced the smoothed wood of the side table and found no trace of it. With a sudden rush of mild panic, you got up from your bed. The fabric of your worn, blue backpack poked out from under your desk chair.
With the knowledge it was the last place you had it and pure hope, you kneeled in front of your bag and rummaged through the pockets. Your hands brushed against folders and paper in your quest. The familiar feeling of earbud wires tangled between your fingers gave you a rush of relief. Pulling gently on the wires, you lifted it out of your backpack. Still plugged into the port, your earbuds suspended your phone before your eyes.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you unplugged your earbuds. The screen of your phone illuminated with text notifications. One from MJ asked where you had gone while the message from her gave you details on what you missed during English class. You had even received a message from Ned who, after telling you that it was him, told you that he hadn’t seen Peter and that he had heard about what had happened. There was nothing from Peter himself.
You finally unlocked your phone and scrolled through your contacts. It didn’t take long until you found Peter’s name littered among those of people you no longer spoke to. His contact picture was an open book, a picture you had taken during a tutoring session instead of asking for one from him. Now, looking at it, you wished you had.
Without wasting another moment on regret you hit the dial button and pressed your phone to your ear. The dull, repetitive ringing had you biting on the inside of your cheek nervously. Pick up, please, please pick up.
“Hi, it’s Peter….” His voice, animated, almost happy, answered a twisted sense of happiness flooded through you, even if it was short-lived. You had to tell him you were sorry.
“Pete, it’s me. I-I-”
“And I can’t get to the phone right now because uh...I’m busy? I guess? You can leave a message though. I don’t really know what else to-” A loud ‘beep’ stopped the automated message. Tears welled in your eyes at the sound before you found the courage to speak up.
“I know I’m the last person you want to hear from but I need to talk to you. I need to explain so you don’t think…” you paused and sighed. You should have written it down, planned out what you were going to say. It was too late now. “I’m sorry, Pete. You know I’m not...I’m not the best person, I sure wasn’t before we started talking. But with you, I feel like I can be a better person. I hope...I hope you can see that. I’m sorry.”
Your phone fell away from your ear as you pressed the ‘hang up’ button displayed on the screen. As you did, another text alert popped up. The number matched Ned’s and you tapped the notification.
NED: um, I don’t want to worry you or stress you out more than you probably already are but I still can’t find Peter.
NED: he normally tells me when he’s gonna go out but he didn’t and May doesn’t know where he is either. have you heard from him?
YOU: I gave him a call. He didn’t answer.
NED: okay, thanks.
NED: and, Y/N, don’t worry, he’ll come around.
You didn’t have the strength to thank Ned or ask how he even got your number. Instead, you peeked into your backpack again to find a notebook and a pen. Peter was gone, probably angry and upset. The thought filled you with worry.
Your eyelids grew heavy at you wrote out four simple words. On shaking legs, you stood from your spot and strode over to the window of your bedroom. Carefully, you leaned the notebook against the glass so it could easily be seen:
Spiderman, I need you.
Bitterly pleased with your handy work, you strode over to you bed and collapsed once more.
The light tapping of rain against your window slowly coaxed you from your slumber. Slowly, you sat up from your bed and hit the button on your phone to catch the time. It was ten o'clock at night meaning the dance tomorrow was merely sixteen hours away. The calculations in your head made you feel sick with dread and sleep.
The steady tap against your window pulled you out of your own mind. In the small second of peace, you let your thoughts drift again. That was, until, the pattering at your wind intensified. You shot up from your bed and you feet hit the floor. Blindly, you swung your hand towards the lamp on your nightstand and flicked it on.
Two white eyes of a familiar red mask came into the light. A gloved hand waved on the other side of the glass as you threw yourself off of your bed. Your bare feet padded against the carpet of your bedroom floor as you neared the window. You weren’t entirely sure if your lack of pure shock was from the lingering haze of sleep or the fact you had seen Spiderman before. There wasn’t much thought to give it before you opened the window.
“You got my message,” you whisper as you poke you head out of your window. Your teeth clattered as a gust of night air swirled into your room. “Are you cold?”
“I, no, I’m okay. You’re lucky I was swinging around.” He said, his voice not as low as the last time you saw him. Something about the pitch was familiar, so familiar in fact it gave you goosebumps. Or was that just the cold?
Now was not the time to dwell. “I….I need help...”
The blank eyes of the mask stared at you in wait. Quiet oozed between you and you remember Spiderman being more talkative before. More confident, even. Perhaps it had been an off day for him too.
“His name is Peter, Peter Parker, you might know him. He works with Iron Man and he...I messed up. I don’t know where he is he won’t answer his calls and his friends can’t reach him either. Can you...do you find people?”
“That’s more of a Jessica Jones’ thing.” Your brows furrowed at the snappy tone and you opened your mouth slightly in shock.
“But can you help?”
“Why do you want to find him?”
“Because he’s missing!” You yell in a whisper. You threw your arms up in the air but Spiderman only cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. Or perhaps a dog too wise for his own good.
“Just because of that?” Angry bubbled up inside you, spread flames from your stomach up to your chest; but your resolve turned to ash in your mouth. All you wanted was to know Peter was okay.
“I...I need to tell him that I’m sorry, that I-I...” The words got caught in your throat. Why were you telling a total stranger about this? A masked stranger at that. You were desperate...that was why.
“Tell him what?”
“That what I did, what I wanted, it’s different now.” Spiderman fell quiet and you felt it was due to the lack of context. But you were too tired to explain so you continued. “ I need to tell him that...well the voicemail I left him already covers most of it…”
“So he’ll call you back when he’s ready.” The superhero’s curtness was not something you had expected. Yet, despite the tone, you knew he was right. Peter would speak up when he was ready. There was no point in worrying until then. If he truly went missing, you were sure you would have felt it. With all that had happened, Peter probably ran off as you had.
“Yeah, sorry for bothering you. You’re probably busy.” Spiderman only nodded in reply and got up from his crouched position. As quiet as a shadow, you watched as he leaped on the fire escape railing and readied to jump off. When he lingered, you quirked a brow at him. Almost as if he sensed your change in expression, he craned his neck to look back at you.
“Do you...do you care about him?”
“Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “More than anything. He’s my closest friend and I….” The words teetered on the tip of your tongue but you bit them back. If you went too far you could never make it back. Spiderman nodded; sometimes there was no need for words to explain the most complex of feelings. All you had to do was look at someone’s face and just know.
“Then you can trust him to come around, Y/N.” With that, Spiderman lept and webbed away in a matter of a few seconds. You watched as the bright reds and blues of his suit faded into the haze of the light-polluted city. With your chin balanced on your elbow, you rested your head against the frame of the window. The white paint of its surface was chipped and had flaked off due to weathering over the years.
You too had lost parts of yourself as you had gotten older. Childhood memories felt more like an old movie now, one that you used to know the lines to but had since forgotten. When Peter asked you to tutor him, unknowingly, he had given you a chance at a starring role in a movie that promised a happy ending. So why did it feel like the reel had been cut short?
#AMfic#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fanfic#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x oc#spiderman#spiderman imagine#spiderman imagines#spiderman x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman x y/n#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman fanfic#marvel#marvel mcu#mcu#tom holland#zendaya#mj#michelle jones#ned leeds#spiderman homecoming#spiderman far from home#flash thompson#aunt my
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dont know if you want this to be a prompt but im watching love alarm on netflix and now i cant stop thinking of andrew refusing to believe in the love alarm system but when he comes back from winter break his love alarm goes off when hes near the monsters and he secretly starts hoping its neil
okay IM NOT THAT GOOD WITH THE DETAILS OF LOVE ALARM BUT I LOVE THIS TOO MUCH - i changed things around from the series’ canon e.g. how the love alarm works but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless!
(headcanons because im procrastinating on study again and i shouldn’t be responding to all these amazing asks but i gotta i just gotta)
*
- i’m envisioning a sort of near-future, alternate future ordeal. everyone’s phones have this ‘self’ component, and you enter your social security like it’s an Apple ID or a google account, and it unlocks various things
(think the credit scores in china attached to everyone’s identity)
- so i think the love alarm would be a permanent fixture on everyone’s phones, in an attempt to help people find good matches for close friendships and meaningful relationships
- picture this: Neil Josten, with a fake social security number, would never alert anyone else’s alarm because whilst yeah he’s demi he also hasn’t been ‘alive’ long enough for love alarm to interpret his ideal partner. mary and neil used this to their advantage whenever they were in america, where love alarms are mandatory rather than recreational like they are in europe.
- now picture this: andrew, a conspirator, a skeptic, hyped up on his drugs, would think the alarm was an absolute joke. it would never read andrew properly. he ignored it and anyone who told him that their alarm went off around them was rejected immediately. it was the government setting him up for harm once more, like they had in the foster system. andrew tries repeatedly to get rid of it, but its attached to his social security number as much as he, himself, is.
- just imagine, neil being given an old phone because andrew already suspects he’s interested in neil and doesn’t want neil’s love alarm to reveal andrew
- (andrew almost does it himself anyway at exites)
- imagine that nicky insists neil downloads the love alarm onto his phone after he comes back from the nest because “I’m not kidding, Neil, Exy can’t love you back.” Neil plays along to soothe nicky’s nerves, seeing as he’s come back with red hair and blue eyes, a cheek tattoo and more bruises than he could count. he downloads it but never looks at it, and knows it’ll never ring.
- his phone is dead half the time anyway. anytime he and andrew are together, the phone is outside of the ten-metre radius necessary for the alarm to ring.
- then they go to eden’s. neil goes up to the counter and takes drinks from roland, and roland asks if andrew cuffs him up. neil is #confused and returns to the table, but before he can ask andrew why roland thinks andrew is tying him up, what is above wymack’s paygrade, etc, his phone begins to buzz in his back pocket.
- he thinks someone is calling him. its not. its the love alarm, flashing andrew’s security number up at him
- “So this is what’s above coach’s paygrade”
- and then, of course, the iconic, gayest exchange of information: “I thought you hated me.” “Every inch of you. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”
- neil is Shook
- like the book nothing happens until neil freaks over the key and andrew kisses him to shut him up
- but andrew’s alarm hasn’t rung because neil’s not real. neil knows its just physical attraction between them and that’s why its safe. he lets it happen.
- andrew is not waiting for his alarm to ring. he’s not. absolutely not.
- the countdown happens. neil convinces andrew to relax his protection, to let neil guard his back. they exchange stories and kisses and intimate moments and cigarettes and secrets but still, andrew’s alarm never rings.
- then neil vanishes. andrew has neil’s phone. it goes off like crazy because he’s holding it right there with him, and his heart is racing, and he needs neil alive, he needs neil to come back and curl against his side and trade truths with him and tell him he’s fine and look at him like that and give him that stupid fucking salute
- then he’s throwing himself into a hotel room in baltimore with wymack cuffed to his wrist. he’s left their phones on the bus in his frantic return to the hotel room. it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t fucking matter. neil’s there and he’s alive and he’s gone all the way to hell but he came all the way back.
- andrew comes with neil to the FBI and hears everything.
- they’re on the way back when andrew fishes their phones out of his bag, and they turn them on for the first time in two days. andrew turned them off because the one-sided ringing sickened him in a way he’d never felt before.
- as they gather enough battery to turn on, neil asks ‘can i be neil josten again?’
- andrew gives him the answer he needs, the answer he deserves.
- the phone screens come alive, and the love alarms awaken.
- for the first time, andrew’s phone begins to buzz. there was someone for andrew within the ten metre radius, and he was looking at andrew with his ice-blue eyes, wearing his new-found honesty in the scars across his cheeks.
- neil didn’t know when it’d changed between them, and he’d been apprehensive as to how he’d tell andrew something had changed, but he hadn’t needed to worry about it.
- neil was real now: the alarm had finally caught up with him. it had probably been weeks too late. but it was final:
- there were no secrets between them no more, and there would never be secrets between them again.
#andreil#love alarm au#andrew minyard#neil josten#all for the game#fusion#this was interesting to think about!#jem writes
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16 and 25 w fluffy au college calum ♥️
16. “Oh my god, the sun is rising,”, 25. “I never want to let you go,”
Let me know what you think!
Request something or use this Prompt List
If you don’t like it ask again and I would be more than happy to re-write it for you!
You stood in the rows of shelves in the library looking around for a certain textbook you needed, when your phone began buzzing in your pocket, looking around you to make sure you were alone and weren’t about to be shushed, once determining that the coast was clear you slipped it out of your pocket, sliding your finger across the screen to answer the phone. Bringing the device to your ear and whispering a greeting.
“Hello,”
“Hi Babe,” your boyfriend enthusiastically spoke through the phone, making you hold the phone away from your ear.
“Hi, Cal,” you responded in a hushed tone
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I am in the library,” your tone laced with the laughter you were trying to hide.
“Oh, okay,” he spoke in the same whisper you did causing you to giggle at how cute he was.
“What did you need, my love?” you asked him
“Oh right, I was just calling to see if you are coming tonight and to tell you I love you,”
“Of course I am coming tonight, don’t get to drunk before I get there though, promise?”
“Fine,” he groaned resulting in you barking out a laugh a immediately covering your mouth with your hand at the sudden loud noise in such a quiet place.
“See you then baby,” you spoke.
“Love you,” you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling.
“Bye Cal,”
“No, you have to say I love you,” he demanded.
“I love you Cal, you happy now?”
“Very, see you later?”
“Yup,” you pulled the phone away from your ear and set back to search for the textbook.
The time you spent studying was dredged out, your knee shaking under the table the whole time, desperately looking forward to your boyfriend holding you in his arms. your mind was clouded with these thoughts as your dragged yourself through the chemistry text book in front of you. The music in your headphones was cut off by the reminder that you had set in your phone, pulling the device out of your pocket and checking the time, the sudden realization that you had set the alarm for the wrong time, this meaning that you were late for the party and this fact was proved by the fact that you had numerous annoyed texts from Cal, you quickly packed up your stuff and rushed out of the library, hurrying to Cal’s frat. The house was packed, people were stumbling out onto the lawn, you hurried inside and looked around, finding Cal to be nowhere in sight you hurried up to Cal’s room, putting your stuff where you usually do and peeling off your sweatshirt, leaving you in your tank top, rushing out of the room, intent on finding Cal and apologizing for being late.
You were wandering through the house, looking for the boy you loved, venturing through the kitchen to see if he was manning the bar like he sometimes does but before you could see if he was you felt a hand on your wrist, pulling you into a crowd around a table, you looked at the man who had grabbed one, finding it to be a drunk fool you had never met before.
“I got another one,” the boy slurred, you looked up seeing what he was talking about, finding your answer, body shots
“Actually I-,”
“They can’t,” a voice you recognized, spoke from behind you, familiar arms wrapping around your waist, you melted into the touch as he guided you away from the table and up the stairs to the room you had left moments before.
“Hi baby,” you broke the silence, turning around in his arms.
“Don’t you ‘hi baby’ me, you were late and I was worried,” Calum huffed as he held you tightly against him. You looked him in the eye, placing a soft kiss on his pouty lips.
“I’m sorry baby boy,”
“You should be, now I never want to let you go,” he groaned, flopping onto the bed and taking you with him.
“Well in that case, I’m not sorry, please, never let me go,” you sighed, looking at him from your place on his chest.
“You know, your never allowed to pull what you pulled earlier again, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“The not saying I love you thing, not allowed,” you chuckled at his return to being like a huffy child. The two of you talked for hours, that was until you looked back up at him, seeing a orange glow peeking from the curtains behind you.
“Oh my god, the sun is rising, we talked all night,” the two of you stayed up all night wrapped in each others embrace.
“I love you Cal,” you placed a kiss on his lips before dozing off, your head nestled into his chest.
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@mylilbreadstick @cthoodsthetic @isabella10028 @dont-drop-that-lunchable @moancurly @numberonepoetryexpert @heartbreak-5sos@neonsgravestone @calumsbitch4ever @lukethecalumstan @caswinchester2000 @damselindistressanu
#calum#calum hood#calumhood#calum 5sos#calum5sos#calum hood one shot#calum hood x reader#calum hood oneshot#calum hood smut#5 seconds of summer#5 secs of summer#calum 5 seconds of summer#5 sos#5sos#5sos calum#writing prompts#dialogue prompt#my prompts#story prompt#prompt#request#send requests#5 seconds of summer requests#requests#send request
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Cupid’s Texts
Happy (early) Valentine’s from your secret admirer @umbrella-kun <3 We both have mutual fav boys and it made it SO easy to write for you, so I hope you like your gift of a nervous, blushy Saeran (✿◠‿◠) (p.s. I googled ‘expensive wines’ so the Chateau mentioned in this is worth $3,500 sorry jumin)
Thank you @mysmevalentinesdayexchange for hosting!
Pairing: Saeran/MC (though I did try to fit some details of your CMC)
Word count: 2,816
Summary: Sometimes, cupid isn’t a baby in a diaper shooting arrows. Sometimes cupid is a red-headed hacker who uses his friend’s money.
Saeran really couldn’t take his eyes off you. While you had everyone’s attention as you spoke, you captivated him in an entirely different sense. The beating in his chest rapid, palms sweaty, and completely entranced with the kind look on your face as you went on. The blush on his cheeks deepening as he let his mind wander, unrealistic scenarios of you two together running through his mind. He wasn’t entirely focused on your words, but he found himself eyeing your lips, curious as to how they would feel against his.
“Saeran?” you asked, bringing him out of his thoughts as he looked around to see all eyes on him. For a whole minute there, it really felt like it was just you two in the room and he completely forgot he was at an RFA meeting, planning for the next party.
“I-I’m sorry, what, um, what were we talking about?” he stammered, his face turning beet red at the attention directed at him. Before you said anything, you’re hand went to his forehead, feeling the radiating heat that seemed to double at your touch. Even with how embarrassed he was, he still found himself focused on the concerned look on your face.
“You’re burning up, are you feeling okay?”
“I’ve never been better,” he replied, averting his gaze and letting out a puff of air he didn’t realize he was holding onto. Though he looked somewhat collected, his mind was racing a million miles a second. Wondering just why, out of all the responses he could come up with, did he say that. Why did the entire RFA have to witness that and what exactly are they thinking behind their judging eyes. And why on earth couldn’t he couldn’t just evaporate in this moment.
One he finally met your gaze again, he was surprised to see you still look worried. You took a step back, still examining his face before taking a seat.
“Alright, well if you need to step out for any reason, don’t hesitate to,” you said, attention back on the stack of papers from which you were presenting to the group.
“Smooth,” the voice next to him whispered for only Saeran to hear. It was met with a jab of the elbow to Saeyoung’s rib
As the meeting went on, Saeran’s eyes trailed back to you every once in a while, even when you weren’t talking. To him, you looked so cute with the absolute thoughtful look on your face. How someone could look so perfect without doing much was beyond him. After a while, his thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket, checking his phone under the table so no one would notice.
‘You know what next week is, right?’ sent by the red-head next to him. Saeran looked over to see his eyes focused on Jumin as he spoke, but hands tapping away at the phone hiding under the table.
‘Why are you asking me this in the middle of the meeting?’ Saeran typed out and sent, met with an almost immediate response.
‘Because I’m trying to look out for you here. Now do you know or do I have to remind you?’
“I know it’s Valentine’s day next week, I don’t understand why you’re telling me this now, but get to your point before Jumin sees.’
‘Because I think you should ask MC on a date before you leave today.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ he simply wrote, giving his twin a roll of the eyes.
‘Why not? Don’t you like her??’
‘No,’ Saeyoung let out a loud laugh at that, startling the rest of the group. Once he collected himself, he noticed Jumin staring daggers in their direction.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?” he asked, obviously irritated by the interruption.
“Actually yes,” Saeyoung said, getting up from his seat to address the room. A small flash of panic in Saeran’s eyes, not knowing exactly what he was going to say or where this would lead.
“It has been a while since we’ve had a get-together outside of these meetings. I feel a real distance between myself and you all. It’s like I don’t even know you guys anymore,” he continued, “A real wedge has been driven between me and my fellow members and I won’t stand for it any longer.”
“Your point?” Jumin piped up.
“My point is that we should all have dinner together next week, spend some time together, get to know MC since she is our newest member. We can go out to a nice restaurant, have some drinks and just talk. It’s about time we take the ‘i’ out of ‘team’ and put the ‘friendship’ right back in it,” he said, looking around the room for a reaction only to see some pensive looks. After a moment of utter silence, Zen finally spoke up.
“I think that would be great, actually.”
“Yeah,” Yoosung agreed.
“I’m all for it,” you smiled eagerly, “Saeran, what do you think?”
“Yeah, um, t-that sounds great,” Saeran’s face deepened in color, averting his gaze to the floor.
Saeyoung eyed the remaining two, Jaehee and Jumin, for approval. They looked at each other, having a silent conversation with glances before Jaehee finally looked to Saeyoung.
“We can make time for it in our schedule,” Jaehee answered, Jumin nodding in agreement, “We’ll make the accommodations and-“
“Actually,” Saeyoung intervened, “let me take care of that. I suggested it so it’s only fair that I take care of the arrangements. Let’s say Thursday the 14th?”
“On Valentine’s day? Some of us could be busy that day,” Jumin said.
“Look around the room and tell me who honestly could have plans here. Do you need me to pull up the track record for everyone’s dating life?” Saeyoung said, earning a collective and defensive ‘hey’ from the other members.
“Am I wrong? Show of hands, who would be too busy with a date that day,” he spoke once again, a silence through the room at the lack of hands that went up, “Thought so. I’ll text everyone the details later. Jumin, proceed.”
He took his seat again, a small, devious smirk on his face as he looked at his brother. It was a look that alarmed Saeran, knowing it meant he had something up his sleeve. Whatever it is he had in store, he could at least be comforted by the fact that the rest of the RFA would be there.
~
The tie around Saeran’s neck felt uncomfortable, not used to having to dress so formal. Why Saeyoung chose such a sophisticated place to get together was beyond him, but he agreed to it nonetheless. Though, he only really agreed to it for the sole purpose of seeing you on Valentine’s day. Even if it wasn’t truly a date, the idea of spending this time with you, today of all days, was enough for him.
His hands instinctively went to loosen the tie as he rounded the corner of the restaurant, though he didn’t expect to see you right outside, alone, and waiting. His jaw practically slacked at the sight of you dressed so formally. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed all the small details that truly captured his heart. And the smile you flashed once you noticed him took his breath away.
“Thank god you didn’t cancel on me like the rest did,” you said, only gaining a quizzical look from him.
“Did you not read the messenger?”
“No, I just-“ though the words died in his throat once he looked at his phone to find a single text.
‘Reservation’s under my name. Good luck on your date~’ sent 3 minutes ago by his brother. He should have known that he’d pull this kind of stunt, wondering just where exactly he was holding the rest of the RFA captive. The idea of being alone with you almost terrified him, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy for this.
“I guess it’s just us two then,” he said, pocketing his phone and biting back the wide smile that threatened to spread.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” you paused, meeting his gaze, “though I have to be honest, I’m kinda glad it’s just us.”
His eyes widened at your words, curious if he heard you right. The sincere look in your eyes, the soft smile as you looked at him confirmed just that. And for a split second, he almost wanted to thank his brother for setting this up.
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. I enjoy your company and any opportunity I have to spend time with you is one I will gladly take,” you said, smiling as you signaled towards the door, “now come on, there’s an empty table of seven and a dinner I’ll have Jumin reimburse waiting in there.”
He could only laugh as he followed, holding the door open for you. The restaurant was much nicer on the inside than you two expected, making your way through the crowded lobby to find where he needed to check in.
“Hi, reservation for Saeyoung Choi,” Saeran said to the hostess. They scanned the list in front of them, meeting his gaze once they found the name.
“Right this way mister and missus Choi,” they chimed, ushering you two to the dining room. He couldn’t help but flush at the implication, seeing you equally as red. He could almost hear Saeyoung cackling about this. Though he had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.
The table you two were brought to practically screamed ‘romance.’ It was secluded, covered in a seemingly expensive sheet with just as pricey silverware sitting atop, and by candlelight to contrast the dimly lit ambiance. The string music in the background carried the lovey-dovey feeling in the air, only adding to how absolutely flustered he was getting. Looking around, you two noticed the place was filled almost entirely of couples, obviously celebrating their love on this holiday.
He pulled out one of the seats for you, tucking it in once you settled in. You offered him a sincere smile, a silent ‘thank you’ at his mannerism as he took his own seat across from you. Once he looked at you, he felt his breath catch in his throat, stunned and overwhelmed by how truly beautiful you looked in this moment.
The way your eyes reflected by the candlelight passed your glasses had him awestruck, mouth hanging slightly as he took in every detail. The freckles on your face were like constellations he’d never tire of counting, a clear night sky he could easily get lost in. Your hair falling perfectly, almost serving as a halo that perfectly framed your face. His hand wanted so badly to reach for your own across the table, but he refrained.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the hostess said, leaving you two and bringing Saeran out of his thoughts to realize he had just been staring at you.
“I, um, I’m sorry,” he stammered, eyes falling to his own hands that sat clasped on the table.
“For what?” you asked, a small laugh escaping as your hand found his, giving him a comforting touch. If it was humanly possible, he would have melted into a puddle from that, blush intensifying as he met your eyes once again. The sincere curiosity in them made his heart do leaps, trying to find some sort of reply.
“For starters, I’m sorry everyone seemed to have cancelled last minute.”
“What can you do?” you shrugged before continuing, “Though now that you mention it, it is odd that Saeyoung chose a place with this setting for a get together, what’s that about?”
“I think I have a hunch,” he sighed, gaining a tilt of the head in an unspoken question from you. There were few moments in his life he felt as nervous as he did in this moment, swallowing hard as he decided whether he would tell you his true feelings or not. He could never truly deny you of what you wanted, be it a favor or, in this instance, an answer. And especially not when you looked at him like that.
“The thing is-“
“Good evening mister and missus Choi, I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” a voice intervened with a bottle of wine in hand, “I have a Chateau Petrus courtesy of a ‘Cupid Choi.’”
“Cupid Choi?” you asked, seeing Saeran bury his face in his hands.
“Saeyoung, you son a-“
“Thank you for the wine, you can just leave it. We’ll still need a minute,” you smiled up at the waiter as they turned on their heel.
“As you were saying,” you said, regaining his attention as you went to pour the wine in the glasses. He reached for his own glass, meeting your attentive gaze once again. Whatever shred of confidence he had faltered in the last few seconds.
“The thing is,” he trailed, pausing to think his next words carefully, “Saeyoung couldn’t come because he was sick. He’s wanted to come here for a while and used this outing as an excuse to get Jumin to pay for it.”
“That’s really your hunch?” you asked, Saeran nodding in assurance.
“Yeah, that’s the thing,” he said simply, though he didn’t notice the dubious expression on your face, eyeing him as he took a long swig of his glass.
He put his feelings on the back of his mind, settling on just enjoying this evening with you. You two talked and laughed the entire time. To him, this felt natural. It felt like everything he had been looking for in his life, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you that. To him, you were a dream come true, but could never be his reality.
A few hours of you two drinking and talking came and went, The check that was brought was already paid for by ‘Cupid Choi,’ along with bouquet of flowers sent to the table as the final touch to this entire scheme. You two made your way out, idle chitchat along the way until you two were outside.
Alright, so the thing is?” you asked, stopping in front of him. He gave you a quizzical look, wondering just what you were asking.
“Oh come on, don’t try to tell me that what you wanted to say in there was that Saeyoung couldn’t come because he was sick. That doesn’t explain why everyone cancelled at the last minute. What’s really going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said passively.
“Saeran, I can see right through this act. Now tell me what the thing is, what you were going to say?”
“The thing is,” he paused, biting his cheek before he continued, “Saeyoung set this up. I didn’t know about it until I got here, but his original intent was to get us alone. The table, the wine, and the flowers were his small touches.”
“Why would he have to set this up?”
“Because he knows that I have feelings for you,” he finally said, looking to see the stunned expression on your face, though that didn’t diminish his train of thought.
“Everything about you captivates me so wholly and I find myself wanting to know more about you. When I’m around you, my throat closes up, the beating in my chest races, and I sweat more than usual. But that never seems to matter if only it means that I’m with you. You’ve made my world seem much lighter since you’ve come into it and I only ever want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”
The air in-between you two felt thick, silence taking it’s place. For a few seconds, though it felt like an eternity, you two only looked at each other, processing the words that had just been spoken. The beating in his chest felt like it was pounding in his ears, trying to decipher just what the look you were giving him meant. Were you angry? Were you sad? Did he just make an ass out of himself? Why aren’t you saying anything??
Though all those thoughts were thrown out as soon as you leaned in, tip-toeing to press your lips to his. Your hand tangled into his hair, pulling him down as his found the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. You could feel the small smile that tugged on his lips, wrapping an arm around to pull you closer to him. He felt like he was on air, elated as he pulled away.
“In case that didn’t say it, I feel the same way,” you said, hands toying with his collar as he still held you. He laughed, leaning back down, inches from your lips.
“Happy Valentines Day,” he whispered, claiming your lips as his once again.
#mystic messenger#saeran choi#mystic messenger saeran#saeran x mc#saeran x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction#cheritz
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