In season 5, episode 1 of The Office (U.S.) Jim makes a comment about how he’s going to go “put up some shelves” when visiting his girlfriend Pam at her apartment, Michael then throws a condom at him, refers to the date as a “booty call”.
Aaaaand when Molly asked Sherlock in series 3 about how he knew some random guy, he said he helped him “put up some shelves”.
[Poison Ivy and Scarecrow, crouching outside a medical lab that specialises in plant research]
Poison Ivy[to Scarecrow]: So, we break in very carefully, only take what we came for, turn ourselves into the police, and then… [smashes window] Just kidding!
[both laugh as they enter the lab]
Scarecrow: We don’t play by your rules, motherfucker!
[Red Robin swings in behind them, looking somewhat worse for wear]
Tim [wearily]: Hey guys…
Scarecrow: You okay, Red Robin? You look a little–
Tim: –Tired? I am, I got no sleep last night.
Poison Ivy [half-heartedly]: …Sorry?
Tim[pouring himself a cup of coffee from the lab’s coffee-maker]: THANK YOU. Ugh. I mean it’s like, I’m gonna to need this whole pot to get through patrol.
Scarecrow [firmly]: We can’t listen to you tell a story about how you didn’t get any sleep. You don’t deserve anything for that.
Poison Ivy: It’s like the most boring conversation imaginable.
Tim[putting a lid on his paper cup]: No, but listen, okay? I’m starting my bedtime routine, nothing crazy, brushing my teeth et cetera and I get into bed. It’s just before midnight and I cannot get comfortable.
Scarecrow [getting angry]: That’s enough!
Tim: I don’t know what it is…
Poison Ivy: If you don’t shut up, I’m going to beat your ass.
Tim[getting passionate and waving his arms]: The thing is, its not like cramps or like muscle stuff. It’s just uncomfortable? Does that make any sense?
Poison Ivy[stands, red-faced and stalks towards Tim]: That’s it!
[Tim continues, unperturbed and dodges Poison Ivy’s kicks and punches while holding his coffee]
Tim: Eventually I’m like, okay, let’s just try the right side. And as I’m finally relaxing, boom. Text message.
[bones crunch as Tim holds Poison Ivy in a one-handed wristlock. She cries out in pain and Tim keeps talking over her]
Tim: I forgot to put my phone on Do Not Disturb!
[Scarecrow yells and attacks Tim, throwing punches that are easily dodged]
Tim: It’s a group thread. [Scarecrow tries choking him] It’s like Nightwing trying to get us all to hang out on a Wednesday night. [Tim manoeuvres his coffee out of the way without spilling it and pushes Scarecrow away] Sorry guys, you know. [punches Scarecrow in the throat] I have school in the morning.
Poison Ivy [grabs a broom and swings it at him]: You know, a lot of people don’t get a full night’s sleep, Red Robin, they just fucking DEAL WITH IT!
Tim [takes the broom and hands Pam his coffee]: And the worst part is, [jabs Scarecrow in the stomach] when I saw my phone I see what time it is.
[jabs Pam in the stomach with the broom and catches the coffee that flies out of her hand, getting worked up]
Tim: It’s 12:45. I’m full of dread at this point!
[Scarecrow smashes a bottle against a table and attacks Tim with it]
Tim: I get up and I get a warm glass of milk, [whacks Scarecrow with the broom] a melatonin, [spins around and takes out Poison Ivy] and I say to myself– oh, this is yours by the way [tosses the broom on top of Ivy on the floor]– I say to myself: [stabs Scarecrow in the leg with his own bottle, he screams in agony] Just chill! You know, sleep will come to you.
Poison Ivy: Everyone, Red Robin’s recounting how he didn’t get enough sleep last night.
Tim: So, I’m back in bed. I put on Bones, a show that I have zero investment in… and you know I’m almost sure it’ll put me to sleep.
Harley Quinn [suddenly shows up wielding a baseball bat]: Get him!
[Tim sets down his coffee, yawning as a host of Rogues and their lackeys suddenly break into the building, shouting.]
Tim [takes out one of the thugs and continues to monologue as they surround him]: Something’s going on with patrol tonight. You know, it feels like these villains are popping. It’s like if CSI were a little more charming, and a little more fun, does that make any sense? Anyway…”
[Tim starts taking them out with his bo staff as he rolls around the floor]
Tim: Two hours in, and I’m like to myself, what are you doing? You’ve gotta be up in like, four hours.
Tim [jumps up brandishing his staff]: And at that point, I’m up.
[groans from injured rogues that lay splayed about on the ground. Tim lets out a small scoff as he surveys them, picking up his cup of coffee]
Tim: Geez, wish I could sleep at work. [slurps coffee]
I’m sorry it’s taking forever to update, but thank you for being patient and sticking around!
If you haven’t, this follows the Whipped Friends series which you can read here.
And then this came to be. You can read part1 and part2 first if you’d like.
Every tear that slipped, every muffled cry that got caught in his throat, every heart breaking sigh made Y/N break just a little more. Her Harry’s breaking down right before her eyes and she doesn’t know what to do, what to say, to make him feel better.
It’s never been this bad either. On days when he didn’t feel like himself, whether it was because he was feeling under the weather or just having a bad work day, a bath and a cuddle normally did the trick.
He would get home from a particularly bad day, body slumped and feet practically dragging on the floor. And Y/N would be sat on the couch in one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts, feet propped on the coffee table, flipping through channels, the rim of a glass of red wine between her lips. She’d glance his way when a soft ‘hey, love’ escaped his lips, and she’d look at the way his tall frame would walk over to where she was, and knowing what was to come, she’d sit up straight and plant both feet on the white carpet, wine glass sat on the table. He’d offer her a small smile before toeing off his shoes and plopping down at the edge of the couch, giving himself enough room that when he lies down, his head would rest on her lap, eyes meeting hers. Only then would she ask what was wrong, and feeling safe, Harry would tell her about how his day went from bad to worse. She would let his fingers play with hers, his other hand resting on top of his chest, sometimes mindlessly fiddling with his necklace. She’d hear him out and nod accordingly, speaking when necessary while the fingers on her free hand worked to pull at his hair in twists. And Harry would feel better after, he always did. Just having his Y/N listen to him and empathise is all he needed sometimes, Harry just felt like he needed to be heard.
And that’s what she did. No matter the situation, even before they started dating. Y/N always made time for Harry, as did he for her.
She would listen and give him advice. When they were best friends she would gladly take on Harry’s problems, and she would console him the best she could by doing things Harry enjoyed, to get his mind off things until they came up with a solution together.
She still listens, and gives advice, now that they’re dating. She still takes on his problems, and she’ll console him the best she can by still doing things Harry enjoys. They’ll go out for late dinners, Harry still choosing to sit next to her, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder, arms crossed as they think up a solution to his problem. They’ll go for walks around town, popping by their favourite little cafe for coffee on a nice chilly day, and stay for a bit to chat to their favourite waitress. She’ll gladly watch rom-coms until the next day, too, and pepper him with kisses when she gets the chance.
But now, she’s not so sure that would even help.
What can she do? Other than let him get it out, let him sulk as she stays kneeled in between his thighs. The room’s fallen into a heart breaking silence, and no matter how many times Y/N’s pleaded with him, begged him to tell her what’s wrong, Harry hasn’t budged, hasn’t muttered a single word other than the phrase ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ It’s the only thing he’s said since he wrapped his arms around her, grip tight like if he was scared that if he let go she wouldn’t be there. His sobs rack his body uncontrollably, she can feel the heaving of chest against her own in attempts to gain control, failed attempts to stop crying. She feels his hot breath on her neck every time he whispers those words, and it’s starting to scare her, not knowing exactly what he’s sorry for.
All she knows, all she sees when she finally pulls away from his tight embrace is red bitten lips. His cheeks blotched a dark tint of pink, and damp from the tears that’ve finally stopped. His eyes are red and puffy, eyelashes wet. Nose red from when he’d rubbed at it with the back of his hand to rid it of any snot.
“Need t'take a shower,” is all he says.
He’s not meeting her gaze.
“Harry-” she begins. She needs to know what’s wrong. She needs to know what he’s sorry for.
“G'na take a shower.” His head is pounding, the pulsing on his temples sending him into a daze the second he makes any effort to push himself up off the chair. He can’t remember the last time he cried this much.
But his head hurts, his eyes hurt, his throat hurts…his heart hurts.
And he can’t bear to look at the woman he’s hurt.
Heart heavy, he makes his way to the bathroom, heel of his hand pressing into his eyes.
He strips down, movements too weak that it seems he’s taking longer just to remove his shirt. When his feet hit the cold tiles of the walk in shower and the hot water begins to trickle down his back, he lets himself break down for the second time since he’s stepped foot in the house. He stands under the shower head, hoping the steam that’s building up mixed with the sensation of water washing over his body would relax him in the slightest, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.
Now, he’s gotta decide. Does he tell her now, or does he wait.
“You’d think Netflix would stop asking if we’re still watching after the tenth time of clickin’ yes,” Harry laughs, pressing the button to assure the telly that yes, they’re still wide awake.
They’ve been binging on the US version of The Office ever since Harry mischievously woke her from a nap.
She’d seemed spent when she got to his, instantly letting her body fall on his comfy white sofa. Harry had stepped away for no more than five minutes to fetch a blanket, only to find her asleep when he walked back into the sitting area. He’d taken off her shoes for her, leaving her to rest for about two hours, until he got bored of course. He’d finished the book he was reading, and had even taken some time to jot down ideas on his brown leather journal. When he had nothing else to write, he’d tiptoed back into the room, undoing the bun his hair was in and slipping the hair tie on his wrist. He had admired the way she looked, so serene, lips parted slightly to allow her lungs to fill with air. He thought maybe, if he pressed his lips to hers and she didn’t wake up, he’d finally find out what she tastes like. He’d always wondered. But no, he couldn’t. Not his best friend. Not like that and definitely not if it might ruin things. So he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead grinned cheekily, taking a few strands of his hair in between his fingers and bringing the edges of it to the apples of her cheek. He choked back laughs as he tickled at her temples, then just behind her exposed ear, and to the top of her lip. Harry’s eyes smiled at the way her brows knitted, and she’d brought the pads of her fingers to scratch where his hair lingered. It’d taken a good five minutes until she’d finally gotten up in disgruntlement, knuckled at her still tired eyes, and lightly pulled at Harry’s hair only for him to over dramatise the gesture and tumble forward, over the back of the sofa, and on top of her still laying body.
Harry had laughed at Y/N’s incapability to push him up and off her, his body clearly much stronger. And she’d only settled when Harry sat up, wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and pulled her up and into him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They’d talked about her day for a bit until Y/N insisted they watch the telly, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he obliged none the less.
So now here they are, arguing over how Jim hasn’t said anything about his crush to Pam.
“What was that??” Y/N’s so involved in the show that Harry thinks she thinks if she screams loud enough at the telly, somehow the characters will be able to hear her.
“Harry, did you see that??” She moves to sit up, taking Harry’s arm with her.
“Paper, love. They do work at a paper company y'know.” She scolds him, stare kept no more than a second before she’s turning back to the telly.
“But why’d he take it? Didn’t he put it there for her to read!” She wasn’t questioning the fact that Pam was meant to see it, rather stated that Jim meant to give it to her for a reason.
“Maybe he changed his mind.” Harry knew what that would set off.
“Ugh-” she grunts, plopping back into his chest with force, but not enough to really bother him any, “why can’t he just tell her! Would save a lot of trouble.”
“S'not as easy as it seems, kitten.”
It never is.
“But-” she chokes out, “why?” Her voice small, hurt.
“Hey,” he whispers, like you would to get the attention of a sad toddler, “hey. Wha’s wrong, kitten?” He feels like there might be more to it than just Jim discouragement to tell Pam he likes her.
The light emitting from the TV allows him to see the single tear that’s making its way down her cheek, and he reaches out to wipe it with his thumb.
She laughs half-heartedly, “nothing, nothing. M'fine.”
But all it takes is that look. All Harry has to do is stare at her long and enough, and right into his arms she goes, sobbing and shaking.
It isn’t long until his white tee is soaked at the shoulder, his best friend clenching by where it’s ripped in a hole.
Harry rubs at her back when he moves her to sit on his lap. He sighs into her hair, eyes closed and chest heavy just at the thought of her hurting. His large hand strokes her hair as he rocks her back and forth. And when she seems calm enough, he detaches himself to look at her face, his hands reaching out, removing the strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, thumbs caressing at the flushed skin.
“Who did this to ye’, pet?” He’s pleading for her to tell him.
But she doesn’t say anything, just nods her head no and wipes harshly at her eyes to dry them.
“C'mon then.” He pats at her thighs once, and Y/N tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as gets up off his lap.
Harry kisses her forehead and whispers “be right back” before clicking the telly off and disappearing into the hallway in the direction of his room.
“Here.” He reappears with his long black coat on, his beige jumper in hand, handing it to her with a small smile. And yes it’s much too big for her, but it smells like Harry. And that’s okay.
She might not want to tell him exactly what she’s got going on, but he’ll be damned if he’s just gonna sit around not doing anything to lift her spirits up.
“Harry,” she whines. She really doesn’t feel like going out, not for the next year at least.
“Please, kitten. Jus’ put m'jumper on.”
She doesn’t question him after that. He hands her her shoes from where he’d placed them, and slips on his own.
They walk down the streets in silence with their hands in their pockets, Harry occasionally glancing to make sure she was okay.
“Know ye’ too well, kitten,” he says, hoping to get her to talk to him.
“M'fine, H.” And again, a weak smile he’d come to know as her 'tell’ in situations like this.
They’re nearing a corner when a body bumps into her.
“Sorry. M'sorry-” the guy starts, “Y/N?”
“Oh, hey man.” Harry greets, nodding his head once as an informal 'hello’.
She tenses up.
“Hey, Harry,” the hello’s rather quick as he turns his attention back to Y/N.
“Y/N, can we talk?” He reaches a hand out, but she steps back from his reach.
Harry notices how she’s looking anywhere but at her boyfriend.
The man glances at Harry once, a flash of irritation in his eyes.
“I need to talk to you,” and this time he grips her arm. All Harry does is stare at where he touches her, eyebrows knitted in…concern. Maybe even anger. And he can’t ignore the fact that his tummy had tighten in…jealousy?
Harry doesn’t need to see more, the situation clearly uncomfortable for her, so he removes the man’s hand, “don’ think she wants to, man.”
He snaps, “doesn’t concern you Harry. She’s my girlfriend.”
“Was.” It’s the first she’s said since they’d left his place.
“No. I just, let me-” he takes another step towards her, and this time Harry wedges himself in between them, one hand finding Y/N’s behind him, the other firm on the guy’s chest to halt any other actions.
He tries to look at her, eyes pleading, but Harry’s body seems to shield all of her from his view.
“I’m sorry okay.”
Y/N turns her head to avoid the man she thought she once knew as he makes his way around Harry and past her, the sob that’d been caught in her chest erupting from her throat.
If Harry recalls correctly, he remembers Y/N was completely smitten with that guy. It was as clear as day when she first introduced him, eyes brighter than Harry had ever seen. And Harry was courteous with the bloke. Made conversation when Y/N brought him to gatherings, but they were never really friends, per-se. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was either. Maybe because she’d stopped going to his, making the trip only once in a while and no longer staying at his when he asked. Maybe Harry was jealous because for the year or so they dated; he had to share Y/N with another man. No, not maybe, definitely, but he’d never admit that.
Y/N wipes at her eye harshly, a tear already threatening to fall.
“Don’t wanna talk about it.” And she’d kept walking along.
Harry presses his forehead to the shower wall, tile cool despite the temperature in the room due to the hot water. He remembers that day. It was the first time he’d seen her that broken. It was the first time he realized how fragile she really was.
He also remembers the night she’d revealed to him the reason for the breakup. It was the same night he’d confessed his love for her. They had been talking about everything and anything, and after Harry confessed that she was the reason for the lads’ teasing, she’d shyly mumbled 'y'know. That’s why my last relationship didn’t work out.’
He’d been confused at first, until she’d explained that her ex had become overbearing. He had compiled an endless, and frankly absurd, amount of reasons for why he thought she was cheating. He’d admitted that he was very wary of Harry. He’d insisted and insisted that surely Harry didn’t want just afriendship from Y/N. It’d started with 'a guy knows when another guy is into his girlfriend.’ Which turned into 'I see the way you two look at each other’ until it became everything he could talk about. She’d tried to explain more than once that it wasn’t at all like what he thought. That Harry and her were only friends. But of course that didn’t help. Not when her ex knew them before he’d expressed an interest in her, not when he saw them cuddling at gatherings, or sharing lingering glances.
She told Harry how she tried to make it work, tried to defuse the situation, but when her ex had gone banging on her flat door, drunk and in the mood to fight, is when she’d called it quits. She told Harry how she wasn’t going to stand for it, not after he’d yelled harsh words, accusing her of having an affair and calling her a whore.
Harry remembers it all because it was the same night he’d promised he’d never hurt her in any sort of way. He didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness.
But now here he is, in a position he could never have thought he’d be in.
He exits the bathroom to find his bedroom empty, curtains still closed, rays of light illuminating a picture of the both of them in its respective frame. He walks to the dresser to pull out a pair of briefs and shorts.
Meanwhile Y/N’s been sat quietly on the white, soft sofa. Telly background noise to her thoughts, a foot tucked under her knee and her hands clasped together on her lap.
Her head whips up when she hears footsteps nearing from behind to see Harry, damp hair and all making his way to her.
She says nothing, rather watches meticulously at the way his body moves, a hand running through his hair to push the wet strands slickly back, his nose scrunching for a second and his eyebrows knitting.
“What’re we watching?” He coughs into his fist before taking a seat next to her and giving her a small smile, his hand on her bare thigh.
It feels like she hasn’t heard his voice in a hot minute.
When she doesn’t answer, Harry turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, allowing his lips to linger and his eyes to close as he breathes in her scent.
“I love you, y'know tha’ right?” His thumb rubs her skin, state holding hers.
She’s somewhat relieved to hear that, but it doesn’t settle her worries fully.
Word Count: 2675 Warnings: panic attack tw, swearing, angst (?), probably gonna be sad
A/N: and here’s the next part of Worth the Risk! Hope you enjoy - i’m feeling a little awkward about this part? it felt choppy.. but i’m also just sick and stressed and very tired lol so idk if i’m just being hard on myself or if this is genuinely bad hoo boy but anyways, enjoy!
“Not me, birthday boy”
Bucky looked up at his best friend in confusion. Who else would have gone through the trouble for his birthday? He wasn’t particularly close to that many people in the tower and as far as he was concerned, he didn’t deserve any of this.
Steve continued to smile as he watched his overjoyed friend try to make sense of the situation.
“Which dame do you think is capable of putting together something like this, Buck?” Bucky turned around, eyes scanning over those in the room.
There was only one other person whom he was close to, and when his eyes met hers, he knew he had to be right. He took two large steps until he was face to face with Pam.
Pam began to speak, mentioning something about Y/N, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention as he pulled her into his arms.
“What did I do to deserve a friend like you?” Bucky mumbled, looking down at his friend in adoration as they slowly began to pull away from one another. “Thank you so much.”
Pam nodded mutely, a small smile making its way on to her lips. But Bucky was so overwhelmed at that moment that he failed to notice discomfort behind it, or the panicked looks being exchanged around him. He was so overjoyed that evening that he had become blissfully unaware of the mistakes he and his friend had just made.
the feysand modern au with more cliches than should be allowed
Feyre Archeron is pretty sure there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed when it comes to conduct with the authors whose books she edits. But when you take what should have been a normal flight to Paris and add a tuna sandwich, a red pen, and a smirking stranger, lines can get a little blurry.
the one where feyre accidentally trash talks a novel to its author and then they kinda fall in love
Me again this is a promp (if you'd like): Maggie and Alex are getting physical in a supply room at the DEO and the whole crew hears alex screams and when they're finished she just walk out awkwardly and id love you forever if you could throw in a Line where Winn make a comment about alex doing things with her finger (referencing that scene where she says she could get him 2 talk painfully in different ways with her finger) Tnx luv u bye mum
Vasquez turns off the security cameras for them periodically.
Alex couldn’t be more grateful.
Unfortunately, Alex also couldn’t be more loud.
Maggie tries – whenever they’re getting physical in public spaces (which, it seems, Alex can’t get enough of, and neither, quite frankly, can Maggie) – to keep Alex quiet.
Kissing her mouth, swallowing her screams, while she palms her breast under her shirt, pumps her other hand under Alex’s boxers.
And sometimes – always with Alex’s eager nods, always with Alex’s desperate okays, always with Alex’s needy begging – Maggie puts her hand over Alex’s mouth while Maggie occupies her mouth with licking and sucking at her nipple under Alex’s yanked up shirt, her pushed-aside bra.
Maggie’s hand cupped over Alex’s mouth is meant to keep her quiet. Meant to keep them subtle. Meant to keep them somewhat low-key.
But it’s also meant – of course it’s meant – to turn Alex on even harder, and god, does it work.
So when Alex screams through her orgasms, helpless and writhing and all over Maggie’s lips on her breast, all over Maggie’s thigh between her leg, it’s against Maggie’s firm hand covering her mouth.
But the sound of Maggie’s name pours through Maggie’s skin, between the gaps in her fingers, and resonates down the hall and into the command center.
Vasquez smirks and Winn covers his ears and J’onn mutters something about it being bad enough how loudly his daughter thinks and Pam from HR groans because how many times has she lectured them about sex in the workplace?
Alex’s uniform is – for the most part – properly arranged when they stride, flying casual, back into the command center a few minutes later, and Maggie’s hair is – for the most part – in place, though the agents who are distinctly not looking at their commanding officer and her girlfriend could swear her hair was up in a ponytail, not loose around her shoulders, when she and Agent Danvers strode off to “access some archived case files.”
“Sounds like you’re not the only one who knows at least six different ways to make someone scream with their index finger, Alex,” Winn splurts before he sprints away from Alex’s wide eyes and Maggie’s dropped jaw.
“It wasn’t even my index finger, though,” Maggie murmurs when she remembers how to speak again, and Alex blushes an even deeper shape of red.
“Agent Danvers, you’d better go find your brother: he can’t be hiding from your inevitable revenge in a corner all day, he has work to get done.”
“Yes sir,” Alex nods crisply, and Maggie starts to follow.
“And leave Detective Sawyer here. I’m always happy when you are, Alex, but my ears have had quite enough for one morning.”
zoemonster200 said: I just got a good idea for a Reid x reader. So reader is Hotch’s daughter, dating Spencer, and goes into witness protection with her father and brother. She heard what’s been going on with Spence and the prison and wishes to go back but she can’t for obvious reasons. When they get word that Scratch is gonna Hotch let’s her go and it is an emotional reunion with her Spencer. Also Luke’s first time meeting reader. Pwease?
I looked up from the board game I was playing with Jack at my dad, whose face was a mask. Even so, there was something in his voice that alerted me, and I knew something intense was happening.
“What is it?” I asked. My heart had already started to pound inside my chest in anticipation of whatever he was about to say.
“Scratch is dead.”
My heart leapt against my ribcage, images of the one and only person that I had left behind in DC flashing through my mind.
I was up in seconds.
“I have to go see Spencer,” I heard myself say; it felt so unreal, the idea that I could just go and get on a plane to see the love of my life.
“Go,” he replied, and I paused in my internal spinning to meet his dark eyes; warmth and understanding radiated from him, and I found myself filled with gratitude as I leaned in to hug him, taking a moment to take comfort in the familiar embrace before I gathered my things and headed for the airport, to go to Spencer.
I sat next to the window on the plane; gazing out at the clouds, I thought of nothing but Spencer. After hearing everything that had happened to him, my heart had been broken at the knowledge that I couldn’t be there for him. If I had been there, I could have helped. Maybe, I had thought more than once, I could’ve even kept him safe from all the suffering he’d had to endure. Now, all I could think of was getting to him.
When the plane landed, I headed immediately for Quantico, and walked the familiar route to the bullpen where the team was often gathered. I stopped at the top of the stairs, and looked down, finding a quietly disturbing scene. Each of them was sitting at their respective desks, and Spencer’s head hung low as he gazed at the wooden surface. Even from my distance, I could almost feel the exhaustion and beaten down feeling radiating from him. I had to force myself to take the stairs at a normal pace, and came to stand at the foot of the stairs. Each of them was so lost in their own thoughts that they had all failed to notice me.
“Spencer,” I heard my own voice say, the word which was so familiar in my mind and my heart sounding nearly foreign on my tongue. He looked up and I watched his guard crumble as he stood up from his chair, a mess of emotions on his beautiful features as left his chair spinning in his wake to race across the bullpen toward me. And then, I was wrapped up in his arms, and he was burying his face in my hair.
“(Y/N), thank God you’re here,” he murmured.
“Hey sweetheart,” I whispered. As I held him close to me, I could feel him trembling. I ignored the others; gently and quickly I led him across the bullpen and up the stairs, into the conference rom, closing the door behind me and checking to be sure the blinds were closed. I knew he was moments from losing it, and wanted it to be a private affair.
He looked at me and I saw so much in his hazel eyes; the months and months that he’d been facing the world alone were reflected there in those warm depths. I felt a pang in my heart and my stomach begin to twist yet again with the knowledge that he was all alone for so long, wandering and lost and desperately needing the kind of love his team couldn’t provide him and his mother was no longer able to.
“Spencer,” I murmured again. “I am so sorry you had to do this all alone.”
“No,” he replied, and he reached up to rub his eye with the heel of his hand, anguish on his face.
“Hey,” I said softly, stepping forward to stand right in front of him. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Slowly, Spencer shook his head and I saw his lip start to quiver in spite of his valiant efforts to keep it together.
“No,” he whispered, casting his gaze to the dingy, dark carpet below our feet. “No, I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He let out a shaky sigh.
“What isn’t?” he asked.
“Scratch is dead,” I offered. “There’s that. And…I’m home.”
He looked up at my words and I could see so much desperation and the tiniest sliver of hope, all of which made me want to hug him and never let him go, to shield him from everything so that he wouldn’t ever have to face such heartbreak again.
“You are,” he whispered, and it was as if he wasn’t sure he should believe it.
“I am,” I said, a little forcefully, and took another step forward so that I was standing right in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth that radiated from his skin.
“I have PTSS,” he said. He looked up, as if forcing himself to meet my eyes. “I- I don’t know what I’m going to do about my mom. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I don’t even know how to function right now. I’m not the same person I was when you left, (Y/N).”
“Stop,” I said. He hesitated, but closed his mouth.
“I know what you’re getting at,” I told him softy. I cocked my head to the side and the gently laid my hand against his cheek, holding his gaze.
“I’m not leaving you again, Spencer,” I said fiercely. “It doesn’t matter to me what you’ve been through while I wasn’t able to be here. It doesn’t matter what battles you’re facing right now. I want to fight them with you, because I love you, Spencer Reid, more than anything in the whole world. I wish more than anything that I could have been here for all of that, but I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again.”
Tears had started to fall from his eyes as I spoke, and I brushed one of them away with my thumb.
“Come here,” I said, and reached for him. He came willingly, and I could feel his tears soaking into my hair, but I didn’t care at all.
“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, running my fingers through his soft curls.
He started to speak, but sobbed against my shoulder instead.
“Hey, shh,” I said gently. “It’s okay, love. We have all the time in the world to talk, okay? You don’t have to talk right now.”
I sank to the floor and he followed. I leaned back against the wall, and he curled his lanky limbs into a ball next to me, his head on my shoulder and my arms around him a little awkwardly.
After all he’d been through, even a tough, genius FBI Agent like Spencer needed to curl up and cry.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” I murmured against the crown of his golden curls. “It’s okay.”
We sat there like that for what could’ve been hours, but more than likely wasn’t, and eventually Spencer pulled back to look at me, swiping at the remaining tears on his face. I smiled softly at him, leaning in to press my forehead to his, allowing my eyes to flutter closed. I breathed in the scent of Spencer, and thanked my lucky stars that I was able to return to him.
“I love you,” he whispered, a little hoarse.
“I love you, too,” I replied. I cupped his cheek in my pam and pressed my lips against his, tasting the familiar blend of coffee and Spencer, letting it all rush over me.
I was home.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, and Spencer stood, reaching out to help me up. I followed, and he opened the door to the conference room with a small smile for the dark-haired man on the other side.
“Hey, Luke,” he said.
“Hey, Spencer,” the man named Luke replied. His eyes flickered to me and Spencer cleared his throat, his grip on my hand tightening for a second.
“This is (Y/N),” he said to Luke, adding, my girlfriend, and Hotch’s daughter.”
Luke held out his hand to me with a smile, and I shook it.
“Welcome home, (Y/N),” he said sincerely.
“He has a German Shepherd- Roxy-” Spencer said, looking over at me with a smile reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart. “You’ll love her,” he vowed, and I couldn’t help but smile. As we followed Luke down to the bullpen, I couldn’t help but feel that there was a glimmer of hope; things would be alright, I decided, as I let go of Spencer long enough to hug Emily, JJ, and Garcia before greeting Rossi and meeting the newer members of the team.
Tonight, I would be going home with the love of my life. We had a long road ahead of us, but really, what more could I ask for?
As I glanced back at Spencer, I decided that I had everything in the world I would ever need with him by my side.
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anon: Could you write an imagine where y/n and either E or G (Idc which one :)) just started dating and E or G really wants to kiss y/n but he is shy and nervous so she kind of takes the lead and gives him a quick peck at first and he’s all flustered and then it gets heated omg yessssss!! I just thought of this and I can’t wait for you to write it :) please and thank you love!!!
a/n – i seriously hope this was good because I spent lots of time writing this (: so yeah I hope you like it haha sorry if you don’t :( also sorry its REALLY LONG i got way into this like omg goals but anywayyyyy
Y/B/D = your birthday haha (:
“You’re going on a date with Ethan Dolan?” Your best friend squeals over the video chat you were having. You were getting ready and she had called, and you decided you needed some best friend motivation before this date with the most gorgeous boy you’d ever seen.
“Yes, now what should I wear, casual or like, a dress?” You ask, looking in your closet with a sigh. You were feeling very frustrated with yourself, and very nervous about the upcoming date.
“Well, where are you two going again?” Your best friend asks and turn to look at her,
“This cute little place that’s like an hour away. He says it’s his favorite.” You shrug and you watch her fall back on her bed,
“Goals!” She screams and you laugh,
“Shh!” You giggle and she does the same, getting back up quickly looking like she had an idea.
“Ooh! I know! You could wear that really cute white romper you have, you know, the one with the long sleeves?” She tells you and you grin, “Yeah, and you should wear your hair down. And wear the cute flats that match.” She tells you as you rush into your closet and change into the outfit she picked out.
“You are a blessing!” You say and she laugh, flipping her hair behind her back,
“I know.” She winks, “You look hot!” She says and you look in your mirror, mentally agreeing with her. You did look really good in the outfit. You decided to add a gold necklace and some earrings to complete the look, and you minimized the make-up you put on. You left your hair down, thinking it looked decent enough.
Suddenly your doorbell rang and you sigh in relief because you were the only one in your house today.
“Okay. Have fun then, don’t forget I need details when you come back!” She yells and you roll your eyes, ready to end the call.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you, bye.” You hurriedly end the call and rush downstairs, almost falling down.
You smooth out your romper and take a deep breath, opening your door finally.
You look out the door and see Ethan looking down at his shoes, and he quickly looks up with wide eyes and smiles at you brightly. He was wearing nice jeans and a shirt that fit him perfectly. You were glad you went with something a little more casual, instead of fancy.
He raises his arms and you see a bouquet of flowers in his hands, making you grin slightly. How sweet, “Some flowers for my flower,” He says cheekily making you laugh,
“How cheesy. But still cute, here, come in.” You smile and take the flowers, walking into the kitchen and getting an empty vase to fill it with water.
Ethan walks in hesitantly and follows you, leaning against the wall rather attractively, waiting for you to finish.
“Are you ready for this road trip?” He asks as you put the flowers into the vase, setting them down on the table.
“Yeah. I love road trips.” You inform him and he smirks,
“Good, because this one’s a long one.” He tells you and you shake your head, laughing as you confidently take his hand and lead him out of the house.
When you guys finally hit the road, you decide to put on some music.
“How do you put on music in your car?” You ask, looking at him and waiting for an answer.
He glances at you and then looks back to the road, grabbing his phone and handing it to you, “My phone is already connected to the car and I have Apple Music so, you can look up whatever you want.” He says and smiles at you and you smile back, “The password is 121699,” He tells you and you were genuinely surprised he had given you his passcode.
“Thanks,” You say happily, “Does it mean something?” You ask curiously as you type it in.
“It’s my birthday,” He chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road and your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape,
“That’s a good idea,” You say and he laughs, nodding,
“When’s your birthday?” He asks awkwardly but you didn’t mind, smiling a little at his question. You were happy this wasn’t a super awkward quiet car ride.
“Uhm, Y/B/D ” You tell him and he nods. You could tell he was making a mental note to remember that, which also made you happy.
You click the Music app on his phone and scroll through his song library, “What do you want to listen to?” You ask, continuing to scroll through his songs.
“Put on…” He starts, putting on a thinking face, “Whatever you want.” He shrugs.
“Wow I feel so pressured,” You say and he laughs, “Okay, I think i’m going to put on One dance.” You laugh and he does too.
“That song is so old!” He says and you put your hand above your heart,
“Don’t insult drake!” You say and he bursts out laughing.
When you finally got to the cafe, it was a little dark outside. The car ride was really fun, and you thought that even if you had just went on the car ride it would be a great date.
You learned a lot about Ethan during the car ride, especially since halfway through you both got bored of listening to music so you played 21 questions instead.
He turned the car off and gets out, walking around just to open the door for you which made you smile. You knew that with this much smiling in one night, your face would start to hurt.
“What a gentlemen,” You compliment him and he smiles,
“Only for you.” He laughs and you do to. You knew Ethan was a sweet boy, but you had never expected this.
When you got into the cafe and got seated, Ethan immediately raised his menu to look through the food.
You raised yours too, except you didn’t look for food to eat, and instead used it to shield you so you could stare at Ethan.
Suddenly Ethan looked up and saw you staring, and wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh. You wiggled your eyebrows as well, making him laugh. This continued until a kind old women came to ask for which drinks you wanted.
She coughed slightly making you and Ethan straighten up and act civil. You looked at Ethan and held in your laughter, because you could tell he was about to laugh too.
“I would like some water.” He tells the old lady, who, from her name tag, was named Pam.
“Me too please.” You tell her with a straight face and she rolls her eyes playfully.
“Of course. And I’m assuming by how much laughter is coming from this table, you don’t know what you’d like to eat yet?” She says and you and Ethan turn to look at each other sheepishly.
“Uh-” Ethan coughs, “Actually we were waiting for you to tell us what’s good…” He tells Pam and turns to you, giving you a wink making you giggle.
“Many customers here get the number one. It’s like breakfast for dinner, everyone loves it. Especially with coffee.” She adds and you nod understandingly, thinking that you might want that.
“Does it come with pancakes?” You ask the important question that both you and Ethan were thinking.
“Yes.” She replies and you and Ethan order the number one.
As you waited, you laughed harder than you ever had before, and so did Ethan as far as you could tell. You didn’t know why but everything he said or did was very funny, and to him you were hilarious as well.
When the food finally came you both dug in immediately, and you finished your completely much to Ethan’s surprise.
Suddenly Ethan chuckled, seeing a little bit of whipped cream on your bottom lip. He took his thumb and ran it across your bottom lip, wiping it off.
“Thanks,” You say with a small smile on your face and he shrugged. He put some money on the table, enough to pay for the meal and the tip, and stood up, reaching his hand out for you to take, which you gladly did.
“You look tired.” He tells you as you walk out of the cafe hand in hand.
You yawned after he said that, making him laugh. “I am tired.” You say and he nods,
“Me too, Y/N.” He laughs again, and figured that that sound was definitely one of your favorite sounds already. Maybe it’s because you had been hearing so much all night, but either way you loved it .
When you two got in the car, he looked at you before staring the car, looking nervous. This was a look you hadn’t seen on Ethan all night, and that made you a little bit nervous as well.
You look in each others eyes and suddenly his eyes flicker to your lips, and you knew why he was suddenly nervous. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you wanted to kiss him as well.
You took a deep breath, and then quickly pressed your lips to his. You could feel him tense up, but then relax immediately when he realized what was happening. You pulled away and looked to see his reaction, and you saw a very flustered Ethan. His cheeks, and face, really, were all red and you giggled a little.
He looked at you for a moment longer, before gaining confidence and this time, he pressed his lips to yours. This kiss was different from your last, which was slow and new. This one was needy and rough, and you kinda liked it.
“C'mere,” He mumbled and helped you maneuver onto his lap. The steering wheel was sort of digging into your back, but you didn’t really care.
You hands found their way into Ethan’s hair, and he groans a little when you pull on it, making you smirk.
All of the sudden there was a tap on his window, making you jump and Ethan’s eyes widen. His hands rested on your waist as you look at Pam through his window in shock.
You look at Ethan with a “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” look.
He shrugs and you roll your eyes, rolling down the window, “Hey pam!” You say with a smile and when you look at Ethan he had an obviously fake smile on his face, almost making you laugh.
“You kids are way to young to be doing this. Especially not at this Family friendly restaurant! Want to know why I came out here? Because there was a complaint about you two! Now get out of here, lovebirds.” She says in a serious tone but there was a small smile on her face.
You nod and give her a smile, “We’ll go somewhere else.” You say and she nods,
“Come back soon,” She whispers and you nod. When she walks away you look at Ethan only to see him staring right back at you with a grin plastered across his face.
“You’re so cute.” He says randomly, making you blush. You lean and touch your noses together, smiling wide, and give him a quick kiss on the lips. Then you hop off of his lap and back into your seat, putting on your seatbelt.
You look at Ethan and see him frowning, “I liked being in that position.” He says and you laugh.
“I bet you did.”
a/n – GUYS I LOVED THIS SO MUCH GOALS OMG OMG OMG i want to make a part two and like add to this where like they go back to the cafe and he proposes or something idk BUT GUYS
Kurt thinks today will just be an average day; he’ll go to work, he’ll pine for his friend-with-benefits Blaine (who he desperately wants to become more), and he’ll remind his boss for the millionth time that he doesn’t want to be set up with her son. It goes pretty much as he expects… well, sort of.
Written for @prompt-a-klainefic‘s Klaine Prompt Reversebang! This fic is based on this amazing piece of art by @quizasvivamos based on this prompt. A big thanks to the artist, who not only made this amazing art, but also made some follow up art based on the story, AND put up with my obnoxious emails about the fic. Also, thanks to teach for looking this fic over :) Hope you all enjoy <3
alarm blares at 6:45AM, as it does every weekday morning. He sits up in bed,
rubbing a hand over his face.
As he gets his bearings, sleep-fog
clearing, he happens to catch sight of a head of dark curls pressed into a
pillow, connected to some of the nicest shoulders he’s ever seen. He stares for
a moment, then looks around.
He jumps out of bed, which makes
Blaine groan, arms curling around his pillow.
By Monday, everyone had begun to notice your unusual behaviour.
It was obvious that you were trying to put up some kind of front around your friends, but nobody was buying it. And although Bucky was sure that Nat had figured out what was going on alongside Steve and Wanda, no one said a word.
You avoided him and the subject like the plague. Feigned illnesses, impromptu assignments, and unexplained disappearances were becoming more and more common and it was only a matter of time until someone brought it up.
That someone was Sam.
Wednesday night he discreetly pulled Steve to the side after dinner, voice low and face solemn. You’d been absent again that evening, claiming to have an upset stomach, and Sam had had enough. Although it had seemed an unspoken rule not to bring up your behaviour, the situation was getting out of hand and he had to at least try asking about what was going on.
Steve’s face softened as his friend spoke and Bucky watched in silence, slowly wandering closer as he used his enhanced senses to listen in on their conversation.
“If you can’t tell me what’s going on, at least let me know if she’s okay.” Sam pushed, eyebrows knit together in worry.
You’ve just gotten a job as one of the makeup artists on the set of Supernatural. Nervous on the first day, you become completely awkward, winning the affection of the divorced Jensen Ackles. You try to fight your desire for him, but he thwarts you at every turn. Will you be able you separate work and play, or will you let Jensen win?
Giving Gen one more hug, you pulled back, amazed to find tears clouding your vision at the thought of leaving your new friend behind. During the short time you had been a guest in their house you had become close friends, and you weren’t ready to leave her yet. Gen had been there when you had needed a shoulder, giving you smart advice you wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else.
“Y/N, it’s time to go.” Jensen said from beside you, his hand slipping over yours, gently squeezing.
“The boys and I will be up in about a month. And you’re more than welcome to come down here again. Anytime. A room will always be made up for you.” Gen promised, her hand on the stroller where her two boys were sitting. Jared was standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder as he leaned down to kiss his wife goodbye. Giving them their privacy, you turned to Jensen. He pulled you into his side, throwing both of your bags over his other shoulder.