#reagan x fem reader
Reagan: YOU MEAN ALOT TO ME!
Reagan: YOU'RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!
Y/n: Why are you screaming?!
Reagan: I HAVE DIFFICULTY EXPRESSING MYSELF, IT HELPS TO SAY SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE TONE!
Reagan: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!
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Can you please do some headcanons of reagan x fem reader but the reader is like the compl opposite of her like their outgoing, and well put together💗
- When you first met Reagan would find you to be the most annoying person on the face of this fucking planet. You’re so obnoxious, loud, childish, organized and you have your life so well put together. A nice loving family (probably), your life isn’t falling apart. Everything she wishes she had, you have. Maybe she was jealous? Myc certainly thinks so and he can read minds.
- nowadays she adores you for these qualities you have. She finds them endearing. They’re so … you. She can’t help but adore you. You’re so different, and admittedly it makes you more interesting since she doesn’t understand you much.
- still, there is no way she lets you know she actually finds you endearing and really cute and like perfect in every way- ohhhh shit
- well, her thinking you’re cute cannot possibly mean anything in the slightest right ahaha- did she just see you walk in slow motion?
- seriously though she is in denial about liking you for the longest time cause you’re so different and even worse you’re a GIRL
- and eventually myc finds out because of course he does, maybe Brett and Gigi know because she talks about you a lot but yknow.. now myc knows that’s fucking horrible
- “wait what do you mean everyone else knew already? REAGAN WHAT THE FUCK?! Just for that, I’m telling them.”
- and now you’re dating, congrats!
- but this also means you’re ideas of dating are different, Reagan has a hard time expressing her emotions in general, while you have no issue! You don’t expect much of Reagan in terms of intimacy, you are patient and understand it takes time. Reagan is impatient and doesn’t understand why she can’t just “be normal” and often may try to invent something to fix her “relationship issues”
- so it’s a bit difficult at first but eventually you are able to convince her to relax and take things slow :)
- eventually she is able to show you she loves you.. with a invention she makes! It can give you affection when she’s not around.. which is all the time.. holy shit she sounds like dad nevermind abort mission
- but eventually she becomes comforting enough you can hug her! Sure… she’s not hugging back yet but it’s progress!
- she at the very least can hold your hand.. sometimes..
- “I tolerate you..” “I tolerate you too Reagan :) <3” “how did you do that verbally”
- “oh my god you’re the cutest girl in the world” yes, Reagan can actually say this.
- thing is I imagine Reagan is bad at affection (duh) but she can say it if she’s aggressive about or if she says it “jokingly”
- she still gets red in the face about it though and she’s bad at seeming like.. really genuine and shit but she’s trying ok <3
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Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)
Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.
A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote.
Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,)
Category: Fluffy happy ending!
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst
Word Count: 6k
Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber.
It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost!
With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.
I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it.
“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too.
“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?”
“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement.
She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?”
This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg.
She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.”
A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway.
“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way.
“... something old.”
Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one.
She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.
“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.”
As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.”
Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”
The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes.
“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”
She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe.
“Is this ‘something old’ a place?”
There was no indecision with this answer. “No.”
“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?”
Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”
Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination.
Ellie’s Bridal Boutique.
“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.”
A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested.
“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.”
“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.”
She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke.
“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.”
I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine.
“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”
I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely.
It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too.
“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her.
“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.”
Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.”
I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform.
“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne.
“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine.
It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her.
At least in my world it does.
By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it.
To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison.
Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.
But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?
Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!
I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor.
With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost.
In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me.
Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected.
(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare.
“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back.
“That good, huh?”
I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me.
My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance.
“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you.
“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”
I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.
I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her.
“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.
We both knew I wasn’t though.
It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.
“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.
Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will.
Speak now or forever hold your peace.
At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.
“...I love you.”
She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant.
“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway.
I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back.
“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”
This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?
Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her.
(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me.
By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car.
“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?”
My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.
“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.
“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”
The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue.
_ _ _
If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol.
Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so.
For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.
You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me.
She’s stubborn like that, remember?
And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart.
The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more.
It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter.
It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.
But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her?
It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding.
Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her.
As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless.
If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?
“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.”
That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?
“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.”
The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.
She was lying.
She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message.
She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?
What was she hiding?
The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?
That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover.
Can Love Happen Twice?
And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.”
_ _ _
My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled.
“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!”
I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?
“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.
“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad.
“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short.
“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”
By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles.
“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”
Even if that life isn’t with me.
I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue.
I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion.
The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something.
In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know.
I needed her to say it. So say it.
Say it, darling.
Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk.
She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.
_ _ _
Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church.
Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?
Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already.
It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone.
Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.
I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels.
“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?”
It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me.
It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”
As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked.
“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation.
“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.”
There was my answer I’d been searching for.
“God, Spencer - what took you so long?”
From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers.
True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past.
“Is this -”
“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”
reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person
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A NEW WORLD – PART NINE
A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC
Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader
Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Murder, Attempted Rape, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, SMUT, etc…
‘Say Good Morning Mumma’ Emmett said holding up Charlotte as you came walking out of the bedroom.
‘I didn’t hear your get up. Why didn’t you wake me?’ you asked as you were still not used to Charlotte sleeping in a different room to you ever since Emmett cleared out the study room and put up a toddler bed for Charlotte.
‘I thought that you could use some extra sleep’ Emmett said as he took one of the wooden blocks away from Charlotte. You were up with Charlotte for two nights as she was teething and last night you finally managed to sleep five hours straight.
‘Not in your mouth, remember?’ Emmett said and Charlotte pouted at him, trying to get the wooden block back with her tiny little hand.
‘I asked Jeremy to pick up some children’s paracetamol and a teething toy on his run to the mainland today. Also, one of the women on the island found a baby monitor packed away in her garage. I will try and get it to work today. You might feel a bit less anxious about Charlotte being in another room if you can hear her through the monitor’ Emmett suggested as he handed you a cup of instant coffee.
‘Thank you’ you said with a warm smile and some guilt. You still haven’t told Emmett that he is Charlotte’s father. Yet, you could see an instant connection between them.
Emmett has never asked about Charlotte’s father and you never told him much about her and her birth. It was more that you could handle at the time especially since you thought that he was in a relationship with Nancy.
‘How come you and Nancy don’t share house?’ you eventually asked as you were making breakfast.
‘It’s complicated Y/N’ Emmett said, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.
‘So, you aren’t in love with each other? Is that it?’ you asked curiously.
‘I don’t have feelings for her if this is what you mean. In fact, I believe that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing. It’s not worth it’ he said before putting his empty bowl into the sink and excusing himself.
It was obvious to you that he didn’t really want to discuss his relationship with Nancy.
Later that day you were invited to Nancy’s house to play cards and have some wine.
Reagan had kindly offered to babysit Charlotte that evening as Lucas and Marcus were out in the woods for the night, hunting animals for the community to eat alongside Emmett’s friend Morgan.
You had the feeling that there was something between Morgan and Evelyn, but didn’t dare to question it.
‘This is so strange’ you said as you took five cards from the deck and a glass of wine from the ones Nancy had poured and placed in the middle of the table.
‘Being here, on the island, you mean?’ Nancy asked and you nodded. You still struggled with the idea of being safe, of not being hungry and of having access to clean water simply to have a shower. The strangest of it all was that Charlotte’s father was with you now after you had expected to never see him again.
‘I think you just need to accept the fact that God chose you to be here. To keep you safe. It’s that simple’ Nancy said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
‘I am sorry Nancy but I find it hard to believe after all the shit that has happened to me and my family and friends. I had to kill people to get here. I put a knife in the head of a close friend so that she would no longer suffer when she fell ill while we were at the bunker. I was almost raped by two men when Emmett saved me. Was all of this God’s plan for me?’ you sighed as you had lost faith many years ago.
‘Let’s not talk about faith, shall we’ Evelyn said and you all nodded in agreement quite quickly. After all, faith and believe had become a difficult topic and some people struggled more with it than others since the invasion.
‘Where is Emmett tonight?’ Adrian, one of the others, asked and Nancy rolled her eyes in response.
‘Who knows. He said that he needed space. He’s been acting strange ever since he got back from the mainland and my best guess is that he’s down by the old beach shag. That’s where he usually goes when he wants to be alone’ Nancy sighed somewhat disappointed. Clearly, Emmett has not let her into who he was and to who had become.
‘Hmm I wonder why that is?’ Evelyn said as she sipped on her glass of white wine while looking over at you with a smile.
You were surprised by the look Evelyn gave you. Did she know about you and Emmett you wondered?
After two games of cards, you helped Evelyn to take the empty wine bottles back to the kitchen in order to get some refills for everyone.
‘You need to tell him Y/N’ Evelyn said calmly as she started opening two more bottles of wine.
‘What do you mean?’ you whispered, looking at Evelyn with wide open eyes.
‘That Charlotte is his daughter’ she then went on to say.
‘How do you know?’ you whispered in a panic. You never had this conversation with her.
‘Lucas told me Charlotte’s birthday and he also told me that she came four weeks early and he had to help deliver her. Apparently, he is still a little freaked out about seeing his sister’s vagina’ she laughed before continuing on. ‘Emmett told me about you six months ago, about the night you spent together and how he could never tell Nora who the woman was he had been with that night. He still feels guilty about it all’ Evelyn whispered.
‘I remember when he called me the day after, telling me that what happened between us was nothing more than a mistake. But of course, he feels guilty towards Nora after all the crap she put him through that year’ you sighed, remembering how bad their relationship had become before the night in question.
‘No Y/N’ Evelyn said as she put one of her hands onto your shoulder. ‘The guilt he feels is towards you, for pushing you away the way he did after the night he had spent with you. He loved you. He probably still does’ Evelyn whispered with a smile.
‘He’s got a funny way of showing it. He had more than a month to say something to me before these things invaded our planet’ you huffed.
‘The morning after you had spent the night with Emmett, Nora called him from the hospital near her sister’s house. She was diagnosed with cancer that day. Her prognosis was good at the time but she never got the treatment she needed following the invasion. He chose his family Y/N. He had to’ Evelyn said with both of her hands on your shoulders.
‘I had no idea’ you said as your chin dropped and small tears began to form in the inside of your eyes. Emmett had never given an explanation to you as to why he acted the way he did and you immediately felt awful about what him and Nora must have been through.
‘I know. That’s why I am telling you now. You need to forgive him for what happened between you and let him be a father to Charlotte’ Evelyn said and you nodded in agreement.
There was nothing to say and, as soon as you returned to Nancy’s living room, you excused yourself.
You explained to the group that Charlotte was teething and that you were tired and wanted to get some rest. But the truth was that you had to see Emmett and clear things up once and for all.
As you arrived at the top of the hill which led down to the beach and the old beach shag, you could see Emmett sit on a large towel in front of a small fire place, starring at the sea.
Quietly and slowly, you made your way down the hill in between the bushes and approached Emmett from behind.
‘You scared the shit out of me Y/N’ Emmett said just after he startled as you tapped him on the shoulder.
‘I am sorry’ you smiled before kneeling down next to him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Emmett asked and, without words, you caressed his face with one of your hands and drew his lips closer towards yours.
‘This’ you whispered before your lips met in a passionate kiss.
‘Y/N, I am so sorry for…’ Emmett tried to say as your lips finally drifted apart.
‘Sshh. I know’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his one more time, even more desperate and passionate than before.
‘I love you’ you whispered after you had silenced him with your lips and, just as they parted again, he told you that he loves you too.
‘Didn’t you say that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing?’ you asked in between kisses and while your hands began to roam over each other’s bodies.
‘It is and I am afraid of it, but sometimes you can’t help it. I have loved you for years Y/N’ Emmett said, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours.
‘Oh Emmett’ you sighed, before you climbed onto his lap and pressed your lips against his again.
Your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and start dancing with yours all while he began to unbutton your blouse.
‘We are on a public beach Emmett’ you giggled as his eyes wandered over your breasts which clearly had gotten larger.
‘No one ever comes down here’ Emmett assured you before guiding you off him and pushing you onto the towel beneath him, covering the sand.
After taking off his own t-shirt, Emmett rubbed both his hands along your thighs up towards the hem of your skirt. Then he moved his hands underneath your skirt and then back down towards your knees. As his hands made another pass over your legs and under your skirt, he reached all the way to the top of your thighs and his fingers felt around for your panties. Not finding any, he looked up at you and raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.
‘Shortage of underwear on the island’ you answered his unasked question with a little smirk and a flirtatious look in your eyes.
Emmett then started exploring you with his fingers. Finding you wet and aroused, he pressed one of his fingers easily into your opening and then slid it back out and rubbed it along your pussy lips and towards your clit. He repeated this process over and over again and you let out a soft moan every time his fingers made this journey along your body. Your eyes met and you bit your lip as he continued fingering you.
‘Oh my god, that feels so good’ you whispered to him and he smiled back at you.
You certainly didn't want him to stop, but you also wanted more.
After a few more minutes of this pleasure, you pulled him on top of you and your bodies were pressed up together. You could feel Emmett's hardness straining through his jeans against your thighs and you could help but moan at the sensation.
He then pulled your mouth to his in a passionate embrace. Your breaths were shallow as your kiss deepened, his mouth practically enveloping yours.
It wasn’t long until Emmett reached between you and unzipped his jeans before pulling them down along with his briefs.
‘Fuck I want you so badly’ you whispered as you pushed up your skirt and spread your legs widely, allowing Emmett to line himself up with your soaking entrance.
‘Fuck Y/N’ Emmett moaned as he thrusted his rock-hard cock into your very wet, swollen, and ready, opening.
You let out a long, low moan as he entered you. His cock felt so good inside you; like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You squeezed your muscles on him in response, sending a shiver of intensity through your body. With your left legs wrapped around him, he was pushing deep into you. With every hard and fast thrust, you would yell out, not afraid of making your noises heard on this darkened and empty beach. As he pounded into you, your hands slid, scratched and grabbed all over his body, along his back, onto his shoulders, and then down to his ass. You gripped his tight ass cheeks and pushed him in tighter on each thrust.
‘Don’t come inside me’ you barely managed to say and Emmett simply nodded as he kept thrusting into you deeply.
With all the thrusting, you eventually arched your back, changing the angle of his entry, and now his cock was hitting your very sensitive g-spot.
Your moans now turned to loud "fucks" and "oh gods" and you were soon pretty close to an explosive orgasm. Knowing that you were close to climax, Emmett sped up his thrusts which sent your over the edge.
‘Oh god, oh god, oh god...Emmett…fuck’ you moaned as a powerful orgasm rippled through your body and Emmett’s palm quickly came down on your mouth.
‘Shh’ he smirked as your pelvic muscles contracted and pulsed, tightening around his cock and then released. Spasm like shivers moved up to your shoulders and through your body and you let out a very long, satisfied exhalation.
‘Holy Fuck’ you said to Emmett, with an exasperated laugh in your voice once he finally removed his hand from your mouth.
He smiled back at you, then scooped his arms up under your back and lifted you to sit facing him. Still catching your breath, your mouths came together for a kiss, but you simply exchanged warm breaths into each other's mouths before your lips met.
As your body calmed from the orgasm, you brought your hand down to his cock. He was wet and sticky from your fluids, so you leaned down, bringing your lips to his cock, tasting yourself on him and began sliding your tongue all along his shaft, adding the lubrication of your saliva to him.
Your tongue made broad strokes along the underside of his cock and then tickled the tip and then back down again, adding more and more moisture to his cock with every lick. Now slippery with your moisture, you brought your hand to his cock and began moving it up and down, giving your mouth a break. As you squeezed your fingers and twisted your wrist on his cock, he brought his fingers back to play with your pussy. Still highly sensitive from the orgasm you had just experienced, you gasped at his initial touch and your muscles involuntarily squeezed and clenched.
He inserted his pointer and middle fingers into your wet opening, then dragged them out and up along your lips to your sensitive clit. You let out a loud groan as he did this, while your hand continued its work on his cock. Slowly, he continued moving his fingers along your wetness, along your lips and then he started finger fucking you, slowly at first and then faster and with more intensity. You matched his intensity with your hand on his cock. Faster and deeper he plunged into your warm tunnel, and faster and tighter you moved on his manhood. He took in a deep inhalation and let out a gasp and you knew he was close to release. His fingers were now rapidly pounding into you and you were moving your hand faster than ever on his cock.
‘I am close’ Emmett moaned, barely managing to speak and you quickly dropped your head down onto his swollen cock and he let out a loud, guttural exhalation as his warm and sweet cum released into your mouth.
‘Hmm’ you moaned out, squeezing his cock with your lips and sliding them up and down as he pulsed out more semen into your mouth. Once he was complete, she licked your tongue on his cock, before removing your mouth and swallowing.
You had never really enjoyed sucking off a cock and swallowing cum before, but with Emmett it was different and you were somewhat truly delighted in satisfying Emmett this way.
You sat up and looked at Emmett. His head was leaned back, his eyes closed, and a look of complete pleasure on his face.
‘Fuck…this was something else’ he whispered to you, followed by a deep sigh and a little contented laugh.
You smiled in return as he fluttered his eyes open.
It wasn’t long until your lips met again and, just as you heard some noises in the bushes besides you, Emmett quickly pulled up his pants while you buttoned up the blouse which never left your body.
Then, Emmett quickly put his t-shirt back on and, to your relief, two rabbits jumped out of the bushes making you both laugh and fall back against the towel which was barely covering the sand from the beach.
‘Emmett?’ you said as you rested your head on his chest while your eyes were gazing into the fire.
‘Hmm’ he said as he was holding you tight.
‘There is something I need to tell you’ you murmured.
Tag List (Cillian):
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Who I Write For | request guidelines
I decided it was finally time to make an official list of who I write for, separated by fandom (movies, shows, real people, au’s I have).
Please send all requests to my inbox. Starting October 16, I will no longer accept direct message requests. Any of these will be redirected to submit an ask. It’s easier to keep track of them there.
UPDATE: removed retired people and characters. Might not write the requests I have for people I took off of the list. Thank you for being patient and your understanding. I’m also considering scrapping the grey’s au tbh
Crossed out means I do not write for them
Last updated: November 1st, 2021
X-Men (mainly the alternate timeline movies - FC, DOFP, A, DP)
Charles Xavier/Professor X
Warren Worthington III/Angel/Archangel
Evan “Buck” Buckley
Howie “Chimney” Han
Eddie Brock/Venom (have yet to write for)
Angus “Mac” MacGyver
Jameson “Jamie” Reagan (newest edition)
Grey’s Anatomy AU - X-Men Marvel AU
One shots, mini series, blurbs, headcanons all set within this general hospital au
Feel free to request specific episodes or scenes
Also, specify what year/role/specialty the reader is
Working on bringing in MCU characters into this (mostly will write x Peter Parker in term of x reader ships)
Charles Xavier - chief of neuro (when reader is an intern), foundation figurehead (starting some point in reader’s residency if a surgical resident)
Erik Lensherr - chief of trauma
Alex Summers - trauma
Warren Worthington III - chief of ortho
Scott Summers - ortho fellow
Peter Maximoff - cardio fellow
Kurt Wagner - intern/second year resident
Wade Wilson - chief of plastics
Sunshine!Fem!Mutant!reader x Warren Worthington III
For the most part, it’s technically standalone things aside from the Avengers crossover but have a continuous timeline (think MCU but I sometimes have to edit existing parts)
Blurbs, headcanons, one shots, mini series
Happy requesting! Inbox me for any and all questions.
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Please read all the rules before requesting!! Thank you!
I write headcanons, and short imagines, please specify which in the request
I have the right to refuse any requests
I will write extremely light smut (think, idk, steamy make-outs??), but nothing explicitly nsfw
Don't request more than 3 characters at once (for headcanons)
All readers are gender neutral unless specified in the request
I'm not comfortable writing fem!readers
no canon/canon ships (im fine writing hcs for general non-x reader stuff tho!)
For Unspecified Fictional Others
I will only write imagines and headcanons for this type
Try to give a light description of the f/os (or, optionally, s/i's) personality (think shy or adventurous)
All the same rules apply!
Fandoms and characters
The Lego Batman Movie
Carmen Sandiego (2019)
Neal the Eel
All of the bachelors/ettes
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Uncertainty ~ PART TWO (Frat boy!Harry Styles x fem!Reader)
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of smut
Author’s Note: Aaaaaand here’s the long awaited continuation! I was almost convinced that I was giving up on this idea, but then I felt compelled to continue the journey for these two. I hope you all enjoy. Let me know if you’d like more parts and what you’d like to happen between these idiots. Take care and TPWK.
Harry didn’t know whether he should be feeling elated or uneasy. It was precisely forty seconds before his calculus class was set to begin and Y/N had failed to show her face. One one hand, she wasn’t here and that meant Harry wouldn’t have to face her after what happened at his party this weekend. She wasn’t able to ask him questions that made his chest vibrate with anxiety and he wasn’t going to have to tell her about how he had been in her apartment when she was more or less unconscious from having one too many cup fulls of the punch his fraternity brother made from several mismatched bottles of liquor in their basement.
However, on the other hand, the fact that she wasn’t here made him almost feel like losing his breakfast into the nearest trash bin. What if she remembered him taking her home and was so appalled that he’d invaded her space that she couldn’t even stand to look at his face? What if she remembered him buying her chips and making her nurse a cup of water in the car ride home and untangling the delicate straps of her dress until she was down to her bra and panties and felt so violated by it that she dropped the class? Better yet, why did he care so much about what someone who was merely an acquaintance thought of him when he was only trying to take care of her?
Because of this, because of the fact that the obnoxiously pretty girl he sat beside in calculus had unknowingly dug her claws into the pores of his psyche and refused to release him from her grip, he was almost certain that her absence was worse.
He didn’t think his leg had stopped bouncing on the metal support bar of the uncomfortable desk chair since he’d taken his seat fifteen minutes ago. Every time there was even the slightest disturbance that wasn’t his profressor’s obnoxious voice or the squeaking of a marker on the white board, his head snapped up to the weighted, wooden door to see if it was her finally making her grand entrance into class. In an attempt to busy himself, he checked his phone - A few texts from the president of his frat about sweatshirt orders that he knew he was going to ignore before he finished reading the first sentence, one from his sister about his mum’s birthday that needed to be planned two months in advance for some reason, one from his friend about the girl he had fucked at the very party that Harry was trying very hard not to think about right now. The pads of his thumbs were clammy and catching on the screen; it was no use. He wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about Y/N until he saw her face.
He kicked himself for not leaving her his phone number along with the pain medicine and water that he’d laid out on her counter so that he could have at least checked up on her and explained himself then. Had he made it worse by not saying anything or leaving her a note? Had she spent all weekend knowing that it was him who had taken her home, or did she have no idea that he had quite literally saved her from being assaulted at his frat house and more or less tucked her into bed that night like a toddler sans the bedtime story before ducking out without a word? If he asked himself one more fucking question, he thought he was going to explode.
Nearly twenty minutes into the class and Harry had convinced himself that she wasn’t coming. He had accepted that he’d have to sit with his anxiety for two more days and pray to whoever was listening that she’d either show up to class on Wednesday and ease his qualms or tell him off and he’d never be able to hear her sweet laugh when he made one of his dumb math jokes again. It was right when the weaselly profressor with glasses that made his eyes look three times their actual size and a comb-over hairdo to mask his premature balding starting babbling on about derivatives that the clicking mechanism of the door handle pierced the walls of the lecture hall -- and there she was.
She scurried in with her head down and muffled her footsteps the best that she could in order to not disrupt the lesson any further. A sweating, plastic cup of coffee clutched tightly in her hand, careful as to not allow the ice to slosh around and draw even more attention to her tardiness (most likely a soymilk latte with an extra shot of espresso - Harry had picked up on her caffeine preference when he’d steal glances at her and read the markups the barista had made on her cup). Harry finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when she muttered quiet apologies to the students around her and took her unoffical seat next to him.
“Hi,” she whispered as she quickly but quietly pulled her spiral notebook from her worn, canvas backpack.
Harry suddenly felt his heart beating in his ears and knew for a fact that a startling blush shade of red was creeping up the neck of his stretched out Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. The best he could muster was a tight-lipped nod of acknowledgment in her direction, as he felt like he might melt into the seat and slip away if he tried to do anything else.
No other exchanges were made throughout the remainder of the lecture, just Harry mindlessly jotting down whatever notes the professor had written on the board in attempt to look busy and her occassionally pulling sips from the dilluted espresso through a chewed, flimsy straw. He didn’t know if she felt it too, the tangible awkwardness that lingered in the air like cigarette smoke in a dive bar in the deepest depths of New York City. But she did.
In fact, she had been thinking about Harry just as much if not more than he had been thinking of her ever since she woke up on Saturday morning with a pounding headache and pain reliever laid out conveniently on her counter top. She couldn’t shake the lurking thought that it was Harry that had taken her home from the party she’d been dragged out of the house to go to. Her friend wasn’t her escort, as she’d spoken to her later in the afternoon and found out that she’d ended up going home with an ex-girlfriend. She was beyond drunk, that wasn’t a question. But in the midst of her downward spiral of sobriety, she remembers his face. She remembers a thick accent and an emerald green, intimidating gaze and conversations about calculus and something about, “no peeking.” At least, she thinks she does.
It loitered like a pinched nerve in the back of her brain. She couldn’t for the life of her come up with a reason as to why Harry would have been the one to take her home on Friday night, but she couldn’t think of who else it could be or why he was the first one to come to mind whenever she pondered the notion. Her patchwork of memories taunted her; tangled dress straps and greasy chips and sitting on the lip of a bathtub that wasn’t hers. She had the pieces, but she couldn’t put them together.
She toyed with the idea of asking Harry about it. She knew it was the right thing to do seeing she sat by him in calculus three times a week and it would be incredibly awkward if he was who brought her home and plugged her phone in to charge and laid out hangover-curing meds on her counter and she didn’t bring it up. But what if he tells her something she doesn’t want to hear? What if he tells her that she rambled embarrassing secrets the entire drive back to her apartment or what if she accidentally told him that she thinks the way he reflexively rubs the tip of his nose with his ringed index finger is the cutest thing she’s ever seen?
It wasn’t a hastle for her to admit to herself that Harry was attractive. Hell, he was better looking than most of the men she’d encountered in college thus far. She’d chalked his persistent need to engage in conversation with her during class up to the fact that he was bad at math and was milking his advantage of sitting beside a smart girl to get the passing grade he needed and not up to the idea that he might possibly be looking for a way to ease into more casual banter that lead to exchanging phone numbers and hanging out at her favorite bar on the east side. However, it didn’t stop her from paying a little more attention to the lectures and showing a little more extra work on her assignments so that she’d be ready to talk to him when he undoubtedly asked her about the homework each morning when she took her seat next to him. Maybe all of this was something deep inside of her that made her want to think it was Harry - a strange, unrealistic, romantic daydream come true where he was her knight in shining armor and swept her off her feet and away from beer pong and novelty Reagan/Bush ‘84 memorabilia.
Neither of them realized class was over and the professor had dismissed everyone until the uproar of scuffling chair legs and zippers burst the bubble of their inner turmoil. They were slow to face each other, slow to muster up the courage to be the first one to start the dreaded conversation they’ve been festering over all weekend.
The room was nearly cleared now, sans a few lingering bodies and a handful of confused students needed assistance from the professor. Y/N’s “I have a question,” came out at the same exact time as Harry’s, “Do you remember-.”
“Oh, sorry,” she chuckled nervously, “Go ahead.”
“S’okay. You first,” Harry’s baritone oozed from his naturally watermelon-colored lips and made butterflies flutter violently in her tummy.
"Umm, this might be kind of strange but...” she paused, exhaling shakily in a way that Harry was able to comprehend that she was probably going to bring up the same exact thing he was.
“Where you at the party on Greek Row last Friday?”
Harry nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his loose jeans.
“Erm, yeah. I was. That’s my frat actually.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”
There it was again. That fucking adorable non-existent itch on the tip of Harry’s nose that he scratched with the knuckle of his index finger that she had grown so fond of over the past few months.
“Okay, well....Did we? I mean did you...umm.. did you take me home that night?”
He could tell that it made her uncomfortable to talk about, like she was scared to know the answer or scared to see the look on his face when she found out he had no idea what she was talking about.
“It’s just...I woke up on Saturday and I don’t remember much, but I swear I remember you driving me back to my apartment? I’m sorry if that’s weird. I just feel like we were together at some poi-”
“Ye’, that was me,” Harry confirmed her suspicions that had been eating her alive for the last two days.
“Found ye’ in the bathroom. You were pretty trashed and couldn’t tell me where ye’ ride was so I just took ye’ home.”
“Jesus Christ,” a wave of relief crashed through her like a tidal wave.
Thank fuck she now had confirmation that she hadn’t lost her mind.
“I thought I was going fucking crazy. Thank you. Seriously. You didn’t have to do that.”
“‘S no problem. It was the right thing t’ do. Plus, I don’t know what I wouldn’t done for the rest of the semester if something happened to m’ math buddy,” he nudged his shoulder into hers in attempt to lift the strain from her composure.
Her soft chuckle filled his ears like the sweetest melody he had ever heard. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled and how she turned her head to side as if she were embarrassed of the way she couldn’t help but bear her teeth when he laughed stirred something inside of him. Not anything he could necessarily place, just something that he recognized as foreign however it wasn’t particularly unpleasant either.
“I’m sure you would’ve managed,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile while rolling her ankle around behind her other leg to busy herself.
“I owe you big time,” she began again after a brief period of silence, “Is there anything I can do to pay you back for being my babysitter? Do you smoke? I know a guy and I can have him get you some-”
“Seriously, Y/N,” Harry insisted, “’S fine. Ye’ don’t have t’ do anything f’ me. I was just being a friend.”
He was beginning to get anxious again, feeling the pores in his skin start to swell with perspiration.
“No, Harry. It’s not fine. You could’ve been doing a million other things besides taking care of my drunk ass. I shouldn’t have even went in the first place. Stupid fucking ex-”
“Ex?” Harry felt the tips of his ears flood with heat.
“Uhh, yeah. I dated, well... had a ‘thing,’ with a guy from that fraternity. Your frat too, I guess? My friend thought it would be fun to show up and make him jealous. Guess I only really proved his point.”
“Erm, who is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”
The thought that Y/N had been under his nose this entire time, potentially walking around the house in which he lived in and associating herself with any of the vile people he dreadfully called his “brothers” made his skin crawl. He didn’t know her that well, but he knew she was too good for any of them. And most definitely too good for him.
“Oliver. Do you know him well?”
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew exactly who Oliver was. Harry’s frat was filled with more boys than he could keep up with, so no, he didn’t know everyone extremely well (and honestly preferred it that anyway), but he was certainly acquainted with the man Y/N had just mentioned. He had buzzwords that came to mind with everyone he wasn’t immediately familiar with in order to keep them in line in his head. Oliver’s just so happened to be “Loud-Mouthed Asshole With No Sense of Personal Space and a Nicotine Addiction.”
“Heard of him. But no, not really. Frat’s pretty big so I just tend t’ stick with my own little group ye’ know? Everybody kinda does that.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. He never really brought me around much anyway, so I don’t really know much about it. Think he was kind of embarrassed of me.”
“Everyone’s an asshole there. Trust me. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t you.”
“Thanks, but I doubt that.”
She seemed duller now, regretting that she accidentally let the mention of the boy that broke her heart into trillions of tiny, sharp shards of hazardous glass.
The way she perked up was almost immediate, giving Harry a form of whiplash from how quickly her mood had shifted.
“Midterms are next week right?”
“What if,” she tapped her chin with her pointer finger in exaggerated thought, “You come over and we study together? And if I just so happen to be cooking a kick ass dinner when you get here, will you accept that as your reparation for taking me home?”
Guess she didn’t remember the part when Harry told her he wasn’t actually bad at math.
“If it’ll make ye’ sleep better at night, then sure,” Harry responded with jest.
Harry had no earthly idea why in the fuck he was agreeing to this. His mind was already racing and he knew damn well that this would end in awkward, uncomfortable disaster, but he couldn’t help but go along.
“It definitely will. I will never stop apologizing for this. I don’t even want to know what I said to you that night.”
“It wasn’t tha’ bad. Promise. Just kept cryin’ about wantin’ chips is all.”
“That explains the wrapper in my trash can,” she brought her palm to her forehead in revelation.
“Anyways, you wanna come over Saturday then? That work for you?”
“Yeah, sure. Fine wi’ me.”
“Great,” Y/N huffed, “I’ll give you my number and we can sort it out later.”
“Alright,” his one-sided smirk was hard to miss.
“Alright,” she repeated, “Guess I’ll see you next class.”
She flashed him her pearly whites before the bubble between them burst and the two of them realized they’d been the only ones in the now empty lecture hall for an unknown amount of time.
Harry made the dreadful treck from his bedroom upstairs to the oversized kitchen meant to harvest enough supplies for the ungodly amount of men that lived in the red brick structure he called home. Curse the human body for requiring food to survive.
He wasn’t exaggerating when he said that he keeps to himself and only really engages with the small handful of boys he actually calls his brothers. The rest of them, for lack of a better word, were mediocre. They treated anyone and everyone around them that didn’t benefit them in just the right way as if they were disposable and couldn’t care less about who they hurt in the process. They drank without remorse, sucked down toxic chemicals from a plastic cartridge without regard for the popcorn lung they’d inevitable develop in ten years tops, fucked any girl that was willing to part their legs for them without reciprocating the very release they confided in them for. Harry often wondered who raised such vile creatures, but found his answer in the fact that his mother had pounded the notion to treat people with kindness, no matter the circumstance, into his body, mind and soul from the second he was sentient.
However, this didn’t mean he didn’t slip up every now and then. It’s hard not to when you’re surrounded by booze and drugs and enough pretty women to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool. You become socialized into thinking that that type of behavior is acceptable, but the reality is that there isn’t quite anyone there to reprimand you for it. Being in a fraternity places you damn near at the top of the college food chain; there’s hardly anything or any one person that has the ability to stop you from doing just about whatever the fuck you want. As twisted as it is, those are the undeniable politics of universities.
Perhaps that’s why Harry joined one to begin with. It’s a security blanket that protects him from feeling alone or being rejected, at least that’s what it was at first. He wishes more by the day that he could pack his bags and get the fuck out of the grimey, yet still immaculately grandiouse boarding house and never speak to or even look at anyone that’s ever lived there ever. But quite frankly, he’s scared of what will happen to him. He’s built his entire identity around this place, around these men, despite how awful they can be to the point where he doesn’t know where his proclamation as a fraternity brother ends and his real self begins. Sure, it’s all for show and he barely believes in any of the bullshit they feed the naive, desperate pledges, but he’s known nothing besides this life throughout his entire college career. If he can just wait it out until after graduation, he’ll be forced to seek solice elsewhere and not prematurely removed from the comfort his fraternity has provided him.
“Dude, are you gonna eat that thing or deepthroat it?”
An obnoxious, almost nasally voice poked the membrane of the train of thought Harry had been wading in.
Harry cut his eyes in the direction of the sound, only to be met with the sole fucking face he had hoped he wouldn’t run into on his once daily run to the pantry for nourishment.
“Sorry,” Harry muttered out of habit (he certainly didn’t mean it, especially after his conversation with Y/N the day before), keenly aware of how stupid he probably looked with an uneaten banana resting against his parted lips as if he was planning on spitting on the tip of it in attempt to seduce the ripened fruit.
“Am I in ye’ way?”
“Nah,” Oliver answered, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”
Harry remained planted in his spot against the counter, his long legs outstretched as the bottom notch of his spine balanced against the lip of the black marble. Oliver dug around the fridge loudly, rustling glass bottles and crinkly packages of processed foods until his hands landed on the item he had been looking for - a can of sugary soda that just the sight of made Harry’s teeth hurt.
“Hey, Oliver?” Harry called out.
“Sup?” the boy dressed in a baby blue golf tee spoke in between carbonated belches.
Harry winced at the ill-mannered sound, but it didn’t deter him.
“Do ye’ know a Y/N?”
This was a bad idea. This was a very bad and nosey idea and definitely not his business to seek out, but he wanted to know more. He had to know more.
“Uhh, yeah. I dated a Y/N. Y/N L/N. Just broke up with her actually. Why?”
“Just wondering,” Harry stuffed a bite of the sweet, creamy fruit into his mouth to shut himself up before he said too much.
“If that’s who you’re talking about, Christ. That woman was a handful.”
“What do ye’ mean?”
Oliver rolled his eyes as if to say this was a can of worms that Harry wouldn’t dare want to crank open. Harry had a feeling that he was being a tad bit melodramatic.
“She was so fucking clingy. I swear to god, dude. She wanted to be around me all the fucking time. Wanting me to meet her friends and come over just to cuddle and all of that shit. She’s such a fucking prude, too. Wouldn’t let me and Shane eiffel tower her. Goody-good ass bitch.”
“Hold on,” Harry interjected, “You’re upset because she wouldn’t have a threesome w’ you?”
His impatience with the man was growing more miniscule by the second.
Oliver shrugged, “Probably ‘cause I was her first. Also probably explains why she clung to me like a goddamn bat, too. She’s a good fuck, though. Still nice and tight. If you’re asking about her because you’re interested, I’d say go for it but she’s not gonna let you breathe after you do. Swear to god that bitch was in love with me and we were only together for a few months.”
“Good t’ know. Thanks mate,” Harry sneered through his teeth before dropping his half-eaten banana in the bin beside him and all but storming out of the kitchen.
Oliver’s psychoanalysis of the sweet girl he sat beside in calculus with the precious laugh that snored in her sleep and cried over fresh chips and always helped with the homework that he didn’t really need help with couldn’t have been more wrong, that he knew for certain. It was clear to Harry that she had been groomed and manipulated by Oliver so that he could take what he wanted from her and leave her to dry out like a fallen leave in the crisp cold of fall. She was young and naive and believed Oliver when he spewed whatever sugar-coated bullshit he needed to get into her pants (and have the audacity to try and push a threesome onto her). Harry was a man but he wasn’t stupid and could very well imagine the gruesome stab to the gut she must have felt when she realized the first person she’d ever trusted to such an intimate extent turned on her. It made his stomach turn.
Like he’d told himself one hundred times, he didn’t know this girl very well, but he knew she was a good person. She was a human being - a kind and sensible human being that never turned down his constant nags to help him with confusing problems on the homework just to hear her voice. She had just so happened to fall victim to a narcissist’s self-fulfilling profecy.
He wanted to know more about her. He knew Oliver was bigoted and vain and only told him what he wanted him to know and that there was definitely more to the story than what was disclosed to him in the kitchen just now, but he felt a sense of urgency to see it for himself.
Harry had a newfound fondess towards Y/N, and a newfound hatred towards Oliver.
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New Girl Masterlist
Meet the Roommates - Jessica Day x fem!reader
Reader is Jess’s new girlfriend and meets her roommates.
Loft - Reagan Lucas x reader
Reader lives in the loft with their girlfriend, Reagan.
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Could i request an imagine with Ash Williams with a fem s/o who has about as many brain cells as Ash and reader knows nothing about deadites, so when one breaks into the house while they're watching a movie or something like that, she has to kill it so Ash doesnt die. And hes really peoud since it was the first time shes ever killed anything?? Let alone to protwct him. Sorry if thats weird.
Die Deadite, Die
Ash Williams x female reader
Warnings: killing deadites, dark humor, I wanted to make a Crack fanfic with Ash for a good 3 months and I'm proud of it.
It was a typical Saturday night, watching some cheesy horror movie with your boyfriend, Ash Williams. You're rather the innocent one in your relationship with Ash. You knew some things like how his sister and friend died when he was younger, but you didn't know how or what happened to his arm- it wasn't your place to force him to tell you.
While you've known about some of the shanigians that your boyfriend's been a part of, Ash hid the whole deadites scenario from you; not because he doesn't trust you, it's more of the fact he doesn't want you to end up like his late girlfriend- one of his biggest fears. At which hes done a good job with, that was until right now.
You were only making popcorn for the both of you when the ugliest zombie looking person broke in through your back door. It looked almost as if it came straight out of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller.' You screamed out of surprise as you dropped yout bag of popcorn on the tiled floor. Ash dashed into the kitchen once he heard your scream. Quickly, his eyes darted at the deadite as he yelled out.
"It's Ole Ashley you want. Leave the girl alone."
The Deadite stammered towards him, ready to attack. You quickly arm yourself with one of your guns that was gifted to you. Your body shakes as you witnessed the fight between a imatation of posessed Reagan MacNeil and your boyfriend.
Ash slammed a pan against the deadite's head as the dead retaliated and a female voice spoke. "Ashley, please don't kill me. I'm your sister" Ash was caught off guard as it started to choke your boyfriend. Fear flooded your body as you see Ash struggling for air.
Aiming the gun towards the deadite, your hands shaked softly. You only ever shot at target practice, you've never shot anyone before; you don't have the heart. On the other side, you need to save Ash from choking to death.
Ash struggles to get the hand off of his airways, the thing laughed at his petty attempts. 'Bang!' The gun went off, blowing a pretty good chunk of its head clean off, causing it to fall into the tiled floor of your kitchen. Adrenaline pulsate throughout your body as you shot a few more rounds into its body.
"You saved me, babe." Ash coughed as you rushed over to him. "But we need to make sure that thing will never come back..." you nodded, looking at the body numbingly. "And you have some explaining to do."
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Reagan: Everyone raise your hand if you thought y/n and I were dating.
Reagan: Y/n, put your hand down.
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To those of you that have actually requested things of me I’m sorry I haven’t posted any of them yet. I’ve been busy this Spring Break because of taking trips to colleges. I’m also trying my best at making the things that I am writing, nice and enjoyable. I’m not the best writer, but I’m going to try. So those that requested do know how my working is going, the following things that will be listed are the ones I’m currently working on finishing.
Iwan Rheon imagine with #17 from Prompt List💚, and #2 from Prompt List💜(Iwan x fem!reader)
Jamie Reagan imagine with #15 from Prompt List❤️(Jamie x fem!cop!reader) done
Theseus Scamander AU where reader had a past w/him, and he secretly is Voldemort’s dad. The reader is Merope Gaunt’s (his mother) cousin, and gives Tom away to her and her husband, Tom. A/N: idk how you came up with this, but it’s intriguing(Theseus x fem!Gaunt!reader)
John Mulaney imagine with #5 from Prompt List❤️(John x gender neutral!reader)
The next following are ones that have been requested and I’ll start after I’ve posted the ones I’m finishing.
Zendaya imagine with #1+#18 from Prompt List❤️(Zendaya x gender neutral!reader)
Stiles Stilinksi imagine with #10+#15 from Prompt List❤️(Stiles x fem!werewolf!reader)
Jake Peralta imagine with #11+#14 from Prompt List💚(Jake x fem!cop!reader)
Mothman: We all this a traumatic event.
Mothman, looking at Brett: Not a "bro moment"
Mothman, looking at Reagan: Not a "major L".
Mothman, looking at y/n: Not an "oof lmao".
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Reagan: I hate you.
Y/n: Well according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue
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Myc: Right hand red.
Y/n: *ends up on top of Reagan*
Reagan: you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?
Myc: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.
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[At the police station]
Reagan: I'm here for my friend and girlfriend
Receptionist: ... Who's your friend and girlfriend?
Reagan: You must be new here.
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Brett: Hey y/n nice pants but you know where they would look even better? Reagan's floor
Reagan: Did you just flirt with y/n for me?
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Reagan: When y/n is mad at me, I tighten the lids on all our jars so she has to ask for help.
[Sound of glass shattering in the other room]
Reagan: It doesn't always work,though.
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Y/n: *accidentally brushes Reagan's hand*
Reagan: *grabs and holds y/n's hand aggressively* FUCKING COMMIT TO IT
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Reagan: There's no way they like me back
Brett: Come on reagan, you know y/n would throw herself in front of a moving car for you
Reagan: y/n would throw herself in front of a moving car for fun
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Brett: Here's what I wonder about zombies. What happens if they can't get any living flesh to eat? They can't starve to death,they're already dead.
Reagan: Y/n, you take this one. I spent a hour yesterday on "How do vampires shave when they can't see themselves in the mirror?"
Y/n: Well-groomed vampires meet in pairs and shave each other. Case closed.
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