lousy day at work

Lousy Day; reidxreader

Originally posted by sassygeek77

A/N I hate the ending of this o my but whatever here’s ur imagine!!!!!

You were very open with Spencer. Although he had a hard time expressing his feelings, you didn’t. You trusted him so much that as soon as something happened, you turned to him for comfort. Free of judgment and with a pair of arms waiting to hug you and comfort you. 

Today was a lousy day for you. Your coffee machine had broken, then you went to work all day on a completely empty stomach. You had gotten a cold and couldn’t stop sneezing or coughing or blowing your nose. Everything was just a mess, and on top of it all, you hadn’t seen Reid once all day. He was visiting his mother.

Currently, you were sitting on a chair in the living room of your shared apartment wearing sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a large long sleeve shirt. Your hair was pulled back but a few strands fell astray. Instead of your usual contact lenses, you were wearing glasses. The electric fireplace made it a bit easier to get comfortable as you sat by it on a chair and read a book.

You heard the doorknob jiggle and the lock turned. You glanced up at Spencer, who just walked in, but then looked back down at your book, not saying anything. That is, until he sat on the arm of the chair and kissed the top of your head. “You look upset, what is it?“ He questioned, pushing you over so he could squeeze next to you on the small chair. You moved to sit in his lap and sighed. "I had a crappy day.”

“Something happen?” he asked you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing horrible, just a lot of little things getting on my nerves, and I missed you..” you admitted, a blush coloring your cheeks.

Spencer smiled softly. “I missed you too. I should’ve just brought you with me, because I was distracted all day thinking about you.” he stuttered a little as he said this, looking down. 

“Hey,” you muttered, “you okay?”

He looked back up at you. “I’m okay. Let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

“Sure, but, Spencer?”


“We need a new coffee maker.”


something old, something new (sam drake x reader) pt. I

summary: you’ve been working at a museum for about two years now but crave adventure outside the texts.  one night you’re tasked to pick up an artifact from none other than sam drake.

(wow I am sam drake trash and loving it.  fair warning, it’s been years since my fanfiction days so it may be a bit rusty.  i’d say sam is around 27 at this point in time, so before panama. i also have no knowledge of museum life so all you with knowledge don’t hate me lol)

You’d been at the museum for over two years, a year and a half of those locked away in the basement documenting the various artifacts that came in and out the door on a daily basis.  It was what you had wanted to do since you were little but you somehow imagined the whole thing being a lot more glamorous.  You blamed that on your adolescent obsession with the Indiana Jones movies.

The feeling remained when you were promoted to the head curator’s assistant six months ago.  It obviously had its advantages - more say in the exhibits, more publications branding your name, actual invitations to the galleries you worked on - yet you still felt the whole thing was lackluster.  

You spent hours a day getting lost in other people’s words, rediscovering their journeys, but that wasn’t enough.  You wanted one of your own.  To travel to these far off places they called home and explore every crevice until you finally felt like a native yourself.  It wasn’t enough to read about it in some corner office on the second floor of the museum.

Keep reading

I just want her to be happy 

on the flip side of “don’t be an asshole to someone in a service industry job,” there’s “do not badger someone you are asking for money in a professional context.” ( @copperbadge , i apologize for the cringeworthiness of the anecdote to follow)

I had a lousy day yesterday - work sucked, shopping sucked, traffic sucked, my cats were being assholes, work continued to badger me at home, and myrid household responsibilities were being more annoying and challenging than they should be. the third time the phone rang, it was someone soliciting me to purchase a magazine subscription to support a charity - something i have done previously, if not with a huge degree of enthusiasm, but i was entirely out of cope, and the unrelenting doggedness of the caller (combined with a nontrivial amount of sexism - my history of subscribing to a magazine for cat lovers and ‘car and driver’ is probably not the kind of thing that would suggest outdoorsy, hunting magazines are my jam)

“can you call back another time? i am really not in a good place to decide on a magazine that i probably won’t even read.”
“no, the computer logs that we called and–”
“i’m sorry, but can i just give the charity money, without a magazine subscription?”
“that’s not how this works. how about ‘golf world’?”
“no. look, i have had a rough day, and i am trying very hard not to take out my frustrations on you, because that’s not your fault, but–”
“fine. have a nice evening.” (i seldom get to use the adjective “shirty,” but that was precisely the tone the caller used.)

at which point, i damn near broke my fucking hand fighting with a stuck luggage handle.

anonymous asked:

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES!" John shouted as he bounded up the stairs after work. "What did I do?" Sherlock asked confused because for once he really hasn't done anything, he didn't call or text about trivial things and he tidied up a bit, not a lot but some. It's not what you've done, it's what you're going to do, and that's bend me over the sofa and make me beg for mercy until I've forgotten all about the lousy day I had at work," John told him. "Your wish is my command," Sherlock smiled.

hOT dAMN! \o/~♥