#featuring an exorbitant amount of blushing

[spicycinnabun]

part 3 of yogi verse ❀ rated: g ❀ pair: buck/tommy ❀ ficlet from tommy's pov ❀ tags: au, yoga!instructor tommy, shy!buck

Tommy had meant it as a joke. He didn’t really think Evan had hurt himself on purpose to gain his attention, so he was a bit surprised when a pretty shade of pink bloomed across Evan’s cheeks right before his eyes—almost like he’d been caught.

“T-that’s not why I—” Evan scratched his eyebrow right over that unique birthmark, looking down for a moment, then peeked back up at Tommy beneath his eyelashes. “I just slipped.”

Why was Evan so cute? Dangerously cute. 

“Okay,” Tommy agreed. He smiled, apologetic. “I’m only teasing you.”

And flirting shamelessly. He couldn’t resist.

Tommy assessed Evan again. He had improved with the exercises, but Tommy had noticed him favoring that one leg. An old injury that liked to act up, maybe?

“Keep the ice there for a few more minutes,” he advised, nodding towards the towel-wrapped ice pack hanging limply in Evan’s grip. Tommy fought the urge to take his hand and help him press it against his knee. Inappropriate, Kinard.

There were professional boundaries, and Tommy had nearly crossed them in the last class. He’d backed off a lot since then, which also seemed to be a mistake since Evan had gotten hurt due to his negligence.

Evan pressed the ice pack to his knee. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I disrupted your class.”

Tommy shook his head. “Hey, no, It’s alright. Accidents happen.” 

Evan didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything further. Tommy had heard Evan chatting enthusiastically with Maddie when they’d gotten there and they started unrolling their mats, so he assumed that this quietness wasn’t his regular M.O. He could’ve been in more pain than he was letting on, too.

“I’ll include alternate poses for our next class. Some of the ones we do can be hard on certain joints. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt again.”

Evan smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really. I just need to follow directions better. You don’t need to make any special exceptions for me.”

Tommy frowned slightly. “It’s no problem, Evan.”

That was the bare minimum he could do, honestly. Altering his lesson plan was nothing. It was his job to make sure his routines benefitted everyone. Otherwise, what the hell were they paying him for? 

Also, it was more a reflection on himself as a teacher than Evan as a student if Evan couldn't follow his directions. But he could, and he had done exceptionally well for a beginner in an intermediate class. Even if he had stubbornly refused to start with the beginner poses Tommy had suggested last time. 

He opened his mouth to say as much, but Lucy, their pilates instructor who’d stepped in to help, beckoned him over with a judgy eyebrow and impatient jerk of her head. 

“Duty calls, huh?” Evan said. 

Tommy glanced at the clock and stood up. “It does. Take care, okay, kid?” 

Evan laughed. It was self-deprecating, even to Tommy’s ears. “Yeah.” 

Hm. Tommy couldn’t exactly dwell—he had to finish the class with their cool-down sequence—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t also thinking about those sad puppy eyes the entire time.

༻❁༺

As everyone finished packing up and headed out, Tommy couldn’t help but cross his arms and watch the Buckleys. Evan was limping a little but trying to act like he wasn’t. Maddie, his sister, who Tommy knew much better after having her in his class most of the year, put her hand on Evan’s shoulder and rubbed it. 

Tommy had heard about Evan through Maddie. Enough that it almost felt like he knew the guy, too. She was clearly very proud of him, and they were close-knit siblings. Younger than her, Evan worked with the LAFD. He was sweet and comical, bullheaded and frustrating in equal amounts, and some of her stories about him had made Tommy full-on belly laugh. 

She waved goodbye, and Tommy waved back. Evan glanced over his shoulder almost shyly, and Tommy waved at him, too. Then, against better judgment, he followed it up with a wink. 

He tried not to smirk when Evan, clearly flustered, nearly walked into the door. An amused exhale escaped him as Evan went cherry red a second later, visible even from across the room, and fled to the parking lot.

God, Tommy was in fucking trouble.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Nervous

Hello! This is honestly just a bunch of fluff (a tiny bit of angst bc Spencer worries about everything) and the reader being very nervous! I am currently writing a sequel to take place directly after this one! Read part two here!

Summary: Reader is arrested by the BAU! Little do they know, she is dating the one agent who is currently on medical leave...

warnings: none!

Word Count: 4954

“Are you sure you can pick her up today?” You are currently running around your apartment, phone held to your ear with your shoulder. You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, but first you have to drop your daughter off at school, and you’re running very late.

 “Babe, yes. I’m almost completely healed and I don’t go back to work until tomorrow. I’ll pick her up after school and then meet you at your apartment when you’re done working. Okay?” Thank God for Spencer Reid. He has been on medical leave for 5 days, slowly going insane. But, it meant more time for you and Lily to spend with him, so you’re not complaining.

“That’s perfect, thank you so much! I gotta go, I love you!” You are in such a daze, you don’t stop to think about the three words that just came out of your mouth. You hang up before Spencer can respond as you wrestle with your six year old to put shoes on. Grabbing both of your coats, you run out the door.

 You met Spencer Reid 9 months ago when he came into the hospital you work in with a concussion and some pretty bad bruises. It was really a chance meeting. Normally, you don’t even deal with patients because you work in research. But, your best friend asked you to run some lab results to a patient’s room and you couldn’t say no. Dr. Spencer Reid happened to be that patient.

 He wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but apparently something happened with the CT schedule, and he was done earlier than expected. So, instead of simply dropping off forms in an empty room, you hit a man with a door. Why he was standing behind the door is still a mystery to you, but you felt awful. This man is in the hospital and to make matters worse, you come along and hit him! With a door! You offered to get him some coffee as an apology, and in his concussed state he said “Only if we can go together.” You’ve since realized that was smoother than he normally acts, but you don’t care. He is the most lovable man you’ve ever met. 

 You met up for coffee three days later, and have been dating ever since. He met your daughter, Lily, on the second date. They clicked instantly. You knew then and there that you would love this man forever. You have not, however, actually said I love you before this morning. But, you’re still in too much of a rush to stop and think about it… or even realize it happened.  

 You pull into the parking garage at the hospital 7 minutes late. Honestly, better than you expected. The morning flies by as you work on research grants and hospital studies. All in all, a pretty average day. That is, until you walk back into the building from your lunch break.

 You don’t get a lot of visitors in the research wing, so it’s strange to see two pretty official looking individuals at the front desk. It’s even stranger to hear your name come out of one of their mouths.

 “Hi there. We are Agents Morgan and Rossi from the FBI. We’re looking Ms. Y/N L/N. Is she here?” That must have been Morgan talking.

 Spencer has told you a lot about his team. You feel like you know them all already with how many stories he’s told you. You’ve been hesitant to meet them though because of Lily. You don’t want her to get too attached to him and his friends if things were to go sideways. You haven’t really dated anyone since her father, so you’re a bit nervous. Spencer, of course, completely understands. He just wants you to be happy. It’s hard not to love him even more at the thought.

 You are immediately thrown into a panic at the sight of the two agents. Your thoughts are running wild with possibilities. They must be here because something happened to Spencer. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. He’s not even working today.

 Your panicked train of thought pulls to a stop when the two agents walk up to you. “Ms. L/N? Can we speak with you for a moment?” You nod, leading them toward your office.

 “Of course. My office is just down the hall.” You can’t help but feel nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer’s coworkers without him. Especially if it has to do with a case they’re working. These are the people he loves most in the world. They are his family. What if they don’t like you? What if they think you’re an idiot? What if they think Spencer can do better? It also doesn’t help that you know they can tell you’re nervous because you know they are profilers. You sit down behind your desk, offering them the seats on the opposite side.

 “Ms. L/N, you’re in charge of the research department, correct?” Rossi says it like a question, but he clearly knows the answer.

 “That’s right.” You are trying everything you can to get your nerves to settle, but it just isn’t working. You’re basically lying to two human lie detectors, even if it is just by omission.

 “So if items were to go missing from this laboratory, you would be responsible for reporting it.” It was Morgan who spoke this time. It’s hard for you to follow their line of questioning. What would go missing? It’s not like you wouldn’t notice if a fume hood suddenly disappeared.

 “I suppose so, although it depends on what items. We don’t have a specific inventory of commonly used products like syringes and gauze, we just order more when we get low.” You can’t decide which agent to focus on. Your eyes are flicking nervously between both of them.

 “What about human tissue?” When the words come out of Morgan’s mouth, you freeze for just a second. You don’t have any human tissue in the lab, so how would it go missing? Of course, the profilers take the delay in your response to mean something other than confusion.

 “We- we don’t use human tissue in this specific laboratory. We focus on small animal models. The other research lab is responsible for human tissue protocols.” You stutter through your words under the harsh glares of the two agents. It is really not helping your nerves.

 “Then how do you explain this?” Rossi slides a paper across your desk. It’s housed in a large plastic bag with “EVIDENCE” across the top in big, block letters. It’s a form you have never seen before. The kind someone would fill out to transfer human tissue between labs. Your hands shake as you hold the paper, slowly trying to figure out what it is. You almost puke when you reach the bottom. It has your signature as an approval of the request. You drop the paper as if it has burned you.

 “I’ve never- I didn’t- how did-” You’re cut off before you can try to finish your sentence, but you don’t hear what they are saying. You feel the cold click of metal around your wrists, tight enough to just pinch your skin. They lead you back out of the building, to a waiting SUV. You can’t help but be grateful that nobody was there to witness your arrest.

 The ride to Quantico is silent. You keep trying to figure out how someone could have signed your name on that form, but you can’t focus. Your mind keeps drifting to memories with Spencer.

 You remember your first date in the coffee shop a block away from the hospital. He ordered a black coffee only to pour in an exorbitant amount of sugar. He blushed slightly, as if he was embarrassed by his drink preferences, only for his features to transform into a soft smile as you did exactly the same thing. The two of you talked for hours, only ending the date when you had to go pick up Lily.

 You remember running into him in the park with Lily, what you would come to refer to as your second date. He looked ethereal sitting at a table playing chess. Lily ran up to him, or rather the chess board he was sitting in front of, before you could stop her. She wanted to know what the horsey was for. You watched as he patiently explained to the five year old that it was a knight responsible for defending the king. 

He told her how it moves on the board. He told her how it was special because it is the only piece that can jump over other pieces. He must have spent 15 minutes talking to her about this one piece. And she was enthralled. When he was done, he looked around to find the child’s parents only to meet your eye. You’ll never forget the way his smile grew when he realized Lily was yours. The three of you spent the rest of the day in the park, playing chess, walking around the pond, and getting to know each other.

 You remember the look in his eyes right after he kissed you the first time. You remember how worried you were the first time he was injured on a case. You remember Lily asking you if he could be her daddy, and crying yourself to sleep that night because you wanted that too, more than anything, and you were so scared it wasn’t going to happen.

 Then you finally remember he’s picking Lily up from school today. Suddenly, the car ride isn’t so quiet anymore.

 “I need to call someone.” The words come out frantic and rushed. You are absolutely sure the expression on your face screams crazy, but this is about your kid, so you really don’t care. You need to call Spencer. Then he’ll come fix this. Explain how you couldn’t possibly be involved. The agent’s response is shorter than you expected.

 “Why?” Rossi sounds skeptical when he asks it. You would later suppose that he had a reason to be skeptical of you. Right now though? You didn’t do anything wrong so the whole innocent until proven guilty thing feels a little fake to you at the moment.

 “My boyfriend is picking up my daughter from school. I need to call him.” You don’t really know how to tell them said boyfriend is one Dr. Spencer Reid. You weren’t supposed to meet his friends yet and definitely not without him. You aren’t really in the right headspace to be deciding if right now is the best moment to out your relationship.

 “If he’s already planning on picking her up, you shouldn’t need to call him.” It feels to you at this moment that they don’t even believe you have a child. Of course, they must know because they have the one and only Penelope Garcia to find out every little thing about you. Before you can say anything else, they are dragging you out of the SUV and into the building. You are pushed through security into an elevator that takes you to the fifth floor. The BAU. You thought the first time you visited Spencer’s work would be a happier occasion. And that he would be here. The whole situation would actually be kind of funny if you weren’t so worried and nervous.

 The first thing you say when you are lead through the very intimidating glass doors is “JJ.” You would come to understand why that might earns some stares. The whole room is looking at you as if you have grown another head.

 “How do you know my name?” That’s a loaded question. Spencer has showed you pictures of his godson, Henry. JJ happened to be in some of those pictures as he is in fact, her son. Of course, you can’t really articulate that because you are too stressed and nervous to form full sentences. It takes a lot out of a person to be arrested, dragged from their place of work, shoved in a car, driven two hours through DC traffic, and then pulled into the FBI building as a suspect.

 Instead of properly calming yourself down until you can form a complete sentence, your eyes go wide and you say “Henry” as if that is enough of an explanation. If looks could kill, you would be dead.

 “How do you know my son’s name?” JJ’s words are so harsh, you physically flinch.

 “I.. it’s just that… You… Well… I-” You are a loss for words, yet again. You didn’t expect for Spencer’s best friend to ever look at you with such disgust. It’s honestly a little overwhelming to think the people he calls family all currently hate you. Even if they don’t really know who you are.

 “Maybe a few hours in here will jog your memory.” And with that you’re left alone to sit in a cold metal chair and stare at your reflection.

 --

 Throughout your relationship, Spencer has tried not to worry. You frequently come home from work a bit later than you originally planned, especially if you feel like you got a late start. So, when you don’t enter your apartment right at 5:30, he doesn’t think anything of it. When 6:00 rolls around, he texts you. At 6:30 he calls. By the time it reaches 7:00 and he still hasn’t heard from you, he’s actively pacing your small living room. When his most recent call goes to voicemail, he breaks. He packs up Lily’s stuff and the two of them are on the way to Quantico, finding you being the only thing on his mind.

 He replays his favorite moments with you in his mind as he drives from your DC apartment to Quantico. Normally, he’d take the metro, but if you really are missing it’s safer for Lily in the car.

He remembers the look on your face when you realized you hit him with a door. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful person. You looked so guilty, he felt the need to hug you to tell you it was okay. It was a foreign feeling for him. He’s never been one to physically comfort people. Maybe it was the concussion. It was definitely the concussion that gave him the courage to ask you to coffee.

 He remembers the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach when he watched you pour almost as much sugar as him into your coffee. The soft smile on your face as the two of you spent hours talking about anything he could think of to keep the conversation from ending.

 He remembers the utter joy he felt upon realizing the five year old who inquired about the horsey on the chess board is your daughter. He remembers how he felt when he looked up, expecting to find an annoyed parent given that he just lectured a five year old on one chess piece for 15 minutes, but was instead met with your kind smile and loving eyes. He loves Lily just as much, if not more than he loves you.

 He remembers how you hung up the phone this morning before he could say “I love you too.” And now the thoughts he’s tried so hard to block out are circling in his mind. The words repeating in his head, over and over. What if I never see her again? What if I can’t tell her I love her?

 He pulls into the garage, carrying Lily so he can run faster into the building. He puts her down when they finally reach the elevator. She’s been surprisingly calm despite Spencer’s nervous attitude.

 “Spencie, where is Momma?” Spencer’s heart constricts at the sound of her sweet voice. He doesn’t know where you are, and it terrifies him.

 “We are going to find out! How would you like to see my desk? You can play with the cube I showed you at home!” He pulls a Rubik’s cube out of his satchel, placing it in Lily’s small hands. He guides Lily to his desk, telling her to stay there while he looks for his friends. She looks so tiny in his desk chair, he would stop to take a picture if his phone had that feature.

 He finds the team in the round table room. His eyes scan the room, landing on JJ’s concerned expression last. He’s surprised to find Will in the room as well. JJ notices him before anyone else.

 “Spence, thank God you’re here. We need fresh eyes.” Before he can protest, Morgan is filling him in on the events that have unfolded.

 “We brought a suspect in from DC, and she knew JJ.” Spencer’s eyes go wide. If the team is in trouble, that could be why Y/N was taken.

 “When I asked her how she knew me, her only response was ‘Henry.’ Something doesn’t add up.” Movement in the doorway catches everyone’s eye.

 “Spencie, did you find Momma yet?” Lily stands in the doorway, looking straight at Spencer.

 “Not yet sweetheart. I have some cookies in my bag, why don’t you go back to my desk and eat them, okay?” 

“Can I have two?” The little girl holds up two of her tiny fingers, unaware of the confused glances from every adult in the room that isn’t Spencer. 

“Of course, sweet pea. Whatever you want. You can even spin around in my chair!” The child nods before running back to Spencer’s desk. Spencer turns around to find all eyes on him. The entire team wears similar expressions of shock and awe.

 “Spencie?” Derek questions the nickname.

 “Sweetheart?” JJ’s more focused on how Spencer responded.

 “Who the heck was that 'sweet pea’ and why have you kept her from me?” Garcia is glaring at Spencer for hiding such a cutie pie from her for however long.

 “She’s why I’m here. Well not her, her mother. We’ve been dating for the last 9 months. I picked up Lily from school today. We were supposed to meet back at her apartment, but she never came home. She’s not answering my calls and I don’t know where she could be.” Spencer breaks down as he tries to explain what’s going on. He can’t imagine a world without you in it.

 “Reid, give Garcia her phone number to track her location. This could all be related to our case. If someone is targeting the BAU, we will find them.” Hotch’s no nonsense tone calms everyone in the room. Again, movement in the doorway catches everyone’s attention.

 “Sir, she keeps saying she can explain everything. I know you said 3 hours, but I think she’s ready now.”

 “Thank you, Anderson. We’ll be right there.” The agent leaves without another word. Hotch turns back to continue filling Spencer in on the case. “Reid, we’ve got a suspect in custody. She doesn’t match the profile, but we think she knows something.”

 “She mentioned a boyfriend in the car. He might know something too.” Morgan pipes in as well.

 “I want to talk to her. If she knows where Y/N is, I have to talk to her.” Spencer is out of the room before anyone can stop him. He’s practically running across the bullpen to get to the interrogation room.

 “Y/N?” Morgan questions to the agents left in the round table room.

 --

 You are so cold. They must have the air turned down to put you on edge. You have finally calmed yourself down enough to form actual sentences instead of useless mumbling.

 “Please. Let me explain! I can tell you everything. Well, not everything, because I don’t know how my signature ended up on that paper, but I can tell you about JJ! And Henry! Let me explain!” You never thought about how weird it would be to know someone could be watching your every move. You feel like you’re talking to nobody as you beg for them to let you explain.

 The door flies open with so much force, you fall out of your chair in shock. There are hands on you, pulling you to your feet before you’ve even registered hitting the ground.

 “Where is sh- Y/N?” Spencer’s tone of voice changes so quickly your brain can’t follow. You just look into his before you burst into tears.

 “Oh thank God. Spencer, I was so scared. I was so nervous when Derek and Rossi came to interview me. I didn’t want them to hate me, you know? Even though they didn’t know who I was. And then I saw JJ, and I got even worse. I mean, she’s your best friend! And she sounded so angry, which was my fault, but I couldn’t even form words to explain myself because I was so sure these people- the people you consider family- were going to hate me and I made everything so much worse. But I-” Spencer knows if he doesn’t cut you off, you’ll ramble endlessly. It’s always like that when you spend too much time alone. As if all the energy you could’ve spent talking to someone pours out of you all at once.

 “Shh, baby, it’s okay. We can explain everything. I’m so happy to see you. To know you’re okay. God, I love you too.” You turn your tear stained face to look up at him.

 “Wha- oh my God. I said that. I didn’t even realize I said it. But it’s true. I love you so much. I can’t imagine a world without you. That’s why I was so nervous about meeting the team. And they wouldn’t let me call you, so I couldn’t ask you what to do.” The two of you continue trying to fill each other in on what has lead you to this moment.

 Hotch and JJ make their way into the room without either of you noticing. They both sit down before either speaks. “Reid, I’m going to need you to leave the room.” Spencer turned around with you still in his arms, your head pulled tight to his chest. He glares at his boss before responding. “No. She didn’t do this. The dates from the case file you gave me, they don’t line up. April 17th, we watched the new episode of Doctor Who and spent the rest of the night discussing theories. April 20th, we went to dinner to celebrate Lily’s sixth birthday. April 22nd we watched Tangled with Lily until she fell asleep and then we…” He trailed off, turning a bright shade of pink. You wiggled in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face as well.

 “Spence, where’s Lily?” You know he needs to leave if you are ever actually going to get out of this room.

 “She’s at my desk. She looked so tiny in my chair.” He practically has heart eyes as he thinks back to where he left your little girl.

 “Why don’t you go tell her you found me? I’ll be okay.” You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes as you sit back down in the cold metal chair. Spencer looks as though he would rather read Twilight again than leave you, but he reluctantly walks out of the room.

 You start rambling before the agents get a chance to ask you a question.

 “I’m so sorry. I’ve probably wasted so much of your time. I just freaked out when I realized I was meeting Spence’s family. That’s why I know your son’s name.” You turn slightly to look at JJ. “He talks about him all the time, and he’s shown me pictures. I’m so so sorry that you had to worry about your child’s safety because of me. I was just nervous to meet you. That’s why I haven’t met you yet actually. Because I didn’t want Lily to get too attached if something happened and we broke up. Not that I can imagine breaking up with Spencer. I would spend the rest of my life with him if he gave me the chance.” You can feel the tears brimming again. “I really don’t know why my name is on that paper. I never would have signed it! My lab doesn’t use human tissues.” You try to stress that point.

 “Ms. L/N, we believe you. We never thought you were responsible, but it was a suspicious situation. You can never be too careful in our line of work.” Hotch still looks extremely serious, but his tone is slightly more relaxed than when he threw you into this room.

 “Of course. I would’ve thought I was guilty if I didn’t know the truth. Is there anything I can do to help?” You are so relieved to know they don’t think you’re a crazy murderer.

 “We need to ask you a few questions about the people who work in your lab.”

 “Oh. Okay.” You have to actively force yourself not to start rambling again.

 “Do you know any of these people?” The agent shows you three pictures of young women. They couldn’t be more than 25.

 “No…” You can’t put your finger on it, but they look familiar.

 “But?” JJ encourages you to continue.

 “I’m not sure. They look familiar for some reason.” All three women have brunette hair and green eyes. Their face shapes are even shockingly similar.

 “Do you know anyone who looks like these women?” You don’t know how they know that, but you do. They’ve planted the seed, and it instantly grew into a massive oak.

 “I do! Her name is Renee. Um... Renee Watkins. She works in the hospital, in the lab where they run blood tests.” You look at the agents with hope in your eyes. Maybe now they’ll let you leave. They both stand up without saying anything else. Hotch leaves first. JJ stares at you for a minute.

 “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, you’re his best friend. If you hate me, we won’t work. He cares about all of you way too much for me to get in the way of that.” You honestly still feel awful about the unnecessary fear you’ve caused her and her family.

 “He cares about you too. He’s been happier than I’ve seen him in years. I knew something was up, but I didn’t want to push him.” You can’t keep your smile off your face at her words. “Let’s forget about all of it. I’m just going to focus on the relief of knowing nobody is after my son.”

 “Thank you. I really am so sorry though.” You feel the need to keep apologizing.

 “Really, it’s fine. Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

 JJ leads you back to the bullpen. Right as you turn the corner, you can spot Spence playing with Lily and Henry. He’s captivated their attention with a magic trick.

 “He’s so good with them.” Almost involuntarily, your hand brushes over your stomach.

 “He’s always wanted to be a father.” JJ eyes your hand before giving you a rather pointed look.

 “Oh! No, I’m not pregnant.” You let your arm fall back to your side. “He’s just so good with Lily; she asked me if he could be her dad.” You can feel the tears coming again. “I just know that one day I will have that man’s babies.” JJ snorts and suddenly the two of you break out laughing. Your laughter makes enough noise to capture Spencer’s attention, two little pairs of eyes following his lead. All three of them are suddenly running across the room to you and JJ.

 Lily jumps into your arms, much as Henry does to JJ. You pull her close, leaning into Spencer as his arms circle around you both. The moment is interrupted when Penelope Garcia comes running into the room.

 “I’ve got him. Shane Harrison, 28. He dated Renee Watkins in high school. He was recently fired from his position in the human tissues lab at Children’s National Hospital. There are reports of him breaking in, although nothing was reported stolen due to falsified transfer documents.”

 “What made him start killing?” Morgan asks while you and JJ desperately cover the children’s ears.

 “Renee recently got engaged. She posted all about her new fiancée on social media. I already texted you the address.” JJ says a rushed goodbye to Will and the team is out the door. Lily runs back over Spencer’s desk with Henry so she can show him the Rubik’s cube.

 “Aren’t you going to help them?” You turn to Spencer who hasn’t left your side.

 “I think they can manage this one without me. I’m needed somewhere else at the moment.” As if to prove his point, he leans in to kiss you. It’s short and sweet and everything you needed at the moment.

 The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls the two of you out of your bubble.

 “Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia. I’m sure the Genius Doctor has told you all about me.”

 “He has indeed. You’re even lovelier in person.” Garcia is just as bright and bubbly as Spencer described her. It makes you smile to think that the team has her never ending positivity while they are surrounded by so much darkness.

 “We are having a team gathering at Rossi’s tomorrow night. You should both come. And Lily!” Garcia smiles again before walking away.

 “You know that means we have to go, right?” Spencer asks you the obvious question.

 “I know honey. You’re afraid of what Garcia could do to you if you get on her bad side.” You laugh at his pout, pulling him down the stairs and over to Lily. It’s about time you all head home.

[lovely-ateez]

It’s Not Just The Coffee~

ꕥPosted: 1/11/21

ꕥGenre: CoffeeShop!au, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x San

ꕥWord Count: 1.3k

ꕥWarnings: None

ꕥTagging: @midzyatiny​

ꕥA/N: For those that don’t know, San has said before that if he wasn’t an idol he would be a barista, so that was my inspo. I wrote this while listening to Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg and I highly recommend listening to it while you read this, if you so desire :))

There was always something about that coffee shop that kept me coming back.

Maybe it was the homey, rustic look of the store or their creamy, rich coffee. Perhaps it was the gentle jazz music in the background or the adorable little plants they had displayed in their windows. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the cute barista that led me to return.

How Have You Bean was not only the cutest name for a coffee shop ever, but the name of this particular coffee shop. The one I happened to stumble upon when I first moved to town two months ago.

It was horribly cold that day. Due to the bitter cold and snow, I ran inside the nearest open building in search of warmth. There were only a few people there, mostly college students quietly discussing their upcoming assignments. I debated on whether or not I should order something. I’d be rude if I simply stayed and didn’t order anything, right? I walked to the counter and saw a male employee with his back facing me.

“Sir? I’d like to order if you don’t mind?”

The man turned around I couldn’t help but stare. I had never seen a man with such gentle yet stunning features. His eyes formed crescents as dimples on his face appeared.

Damn. Who is he?

“I don’t mind at all. How may I help you miss?”

Of course his voice would sound like honey.

I placed my order and he smiled. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

My brows furrowed. “What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve worked here for quite a long time. I know every customer, but I’ve never seen you here.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been here before? Just not when you’re here?”

“Nope.” His answer was immediate, “If you did, I would know.”

I smiled, “Alright, you omniscient being. How much do I owe you?”

I paid and he asked for my name. I gave him a quizzical look and he explained that he needed my name so he could write it down on my cup. I blushed slightly and told him.

“It’ll be ready in no time, miss.”

“Thank you,” I looked down at his name tag, “San.”

His beautiful smile returned as I called him by name. My heart fluttered and I sat down at a nearby table. I began to twiddle my thumbs as my head wandered to him. It was a habit that I’d never been able to rid myself of.

Is he single? Should I ask him? What if he says no? Maybe I should just approach him as a friend?

I tried my best to stay level headed and not completely fawn over him.

There’s absolutely no way that he’s single. With his looks and kindness, I’m sure someone is already hopelessly in love with him and I’m sure he feels the same.

I didn’t realize I was frowning until San was standing in front of me with my coffee in his hands, asking if I was feeling alright.

“Oh! Of course!” I said, unconvinced by my own feigned happiness.

San gave me a look I couldn’t quite place. He glanced back at the empty counter and sat down on the chair across from me.

“If you don’t want to talk I understand, but I don’t like seeing people sad. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The genuine look in his eyes made my heart swell. I never believed in love at first sight before, but I had no doubt that’s what this was.

“Ah. Well...”

The man waited patiently, not pushing me to say anything.

“I just moved here and I’m a little nervous. I don’t really know anyone. And you’re kinda cute and you’re making my heart beat really fast.” I whispered the last sentence, not wanting him to hear me, but he did. A playful gleam lit up his eyes and his mouth formed into a crooked smile.

“Cute, huh?”

My eyes widened and I buried my face in my hands. “Oh god I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

A moment of silence followed my confession, each passing second building my regret of saying it in the first place.

“I think you’re beautiful. Especially with the blush that I can tell is lighting up your face right now.”

“Nooo now I’m going to blush even more.” I giggled out of nerves.

San gently removed my hands from my face. His playful smile was still there, but his eyes had softened.

“I need to get back to work, but I’d like to see you again. I’m here most days so...yeah. Come and visit anytime. It was wonderful to meet you, miss.”

I gave a shy smile and responded, “You too.”

And so a day later, I returned. It became a habit of mine to visit San at the coffee shop at least twice a week. Seeing his bright smiles and deep dimples always seemed to remove my worries and stresses without fail.

Sometimes we would sit down and talk, other times we wouldn’t get the chance because of the exorbitant amount of people ordering coffee, keeping him busy. But the occasional glances and smiles in my direction made it all worth it.

One day, when the coffee shop was empty aside from him and I, I found myself sitting on the counter and tasting new coffee mixes that he was concocting.

“Mmm! This one is amazing!” I pointed at the small cup in my hand.

He gleamed, eyes widening, “Really?”

“Oh my god yeah! I think this is my favorite.”

San leaned down on the counter next to my legs, propping his head on his hands and looking at me with starry eyes, “What is it you like about it?”

“Well, it’s not too strong, to start with. I hate black coffee so automatically any coffee that isn’t black gets points in my book.”

He smiled, “What else?”

“I like the slight hazelnut taste. Hazelnut coffee is one of my favorites.”

He nodded, appearing deep in thought, “It’s one of mine, too.”

“You have good taste, sir.”

His handsome laugh rang out through the shop and I couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“I’d love to teach you how to make it but my boss would probably kill me if I let you touch anything without you working here.”

“I mean...you could still show me. I’ll just watch.”

“You’re a clever girl, aren’t you?”

I felt my cheeks flush and I giggled, “Oh shush.”

“Watch what I’m doing very carefully okay?”

“Okay.”

San went about making a cup of coffee, instructing me on all the steps that he followed previously. When he was done he placed a lid on the cup, handing it to me.

“Oh I can’t accept this. This is too big of a big cup to take for free. Here, I’ll pay you for it.” I reached for my purse.

“Nope. On the house.”

Smiling at him I tilted my head, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Although, I’m not quite done. There’s still one last step.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned towards me, “The last step is to ask the pretty girl in front of me if I can kiss her.”

Flustered, it took me a minute to process his words, “She says yes.”

I set my coffee down and placed my hands on his face, moving him closer to me as his lips touched mine.

His lips were as soft as I had imagined countless times, the taste of coffee lingering on his lips.

San pulled back, much to my dismay, and I noticed the slight blush dusting his ears.

“I’ve never seen you flustered before, San.”

“What? I’m not flustered.”

“Your pink ears say differently.”

He covered his ears with his hands and giggled, “You’re gorgeous, how else would I react?”

I shyly tucked my head in my hands, letting out an excited squeal.

Anyone from the outside would’ve probably thought we were still young teens who’d never felt butterflies before, judging by our pink faces and shy laughs, our lingering touches.

Confidence growing, I pushed myself to ask, “Can...can you kiss me again?”

“I would love to.”

[rosegoldannie]

Tell Me no Lies Chapter 17

Hey y’all, this chapter gets a lil spicy towards the end..

Masterlist

previous chapter

Barely a second after the bell had ceased ringing, and the last of the teens had filed out of the classroom, Aelin burst through the door and threw herself onto her best friend.

Lysandra held her tight for several seconds, before throwing herself backwards. “Spill everything.”

She plopped into her friend’s desk chair, and pulled her knees up to her chin. Lys braced herself against the desk and waited, staring expectantly. Aelin took a deep breath, and began. “There wasn’t one point when I knew. It’s...It’s been building up for a while. I guess I finally realized it earlier.”

“What happened earlier?”

“We were getting pizza, and he was holding my hand, and...I realized how much it was going to hurt when he leaves, because Lys, do you remember how I felt about Sam?”

Her friend blinked, paling slightly. “Yes, of course.” She replied slowly.

“I feel the same way about Rowan, only more.” Her eyes began to water as her cheeks warmed. “And I barely survived losing Sam, so I have no clue what to do about Rowan.” Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as her nose grew stuffy.

Lysandra let out an, “Oh, honey.” and was instantly kneeling beside her, wrapping her in a warm hug and stroking her hair gently. “It’ll all be alright. We’ll figure this out.”

“We will?” She sniffed, swiping at her eyes.

“Yes, we will.” Her friend promised. “But you know what you need right now?”

“A girl’s night?”

Lysandra grinned, whipping out her phone.

And that was how Aelin found herself wrapped up in Rowan’s old sweats, Lysandra’s and Nesryn’s arms looped through hers, Elide flouncing an exorbitant amount as she gushed about her boyfriend while they all discussed what to get friends, family, boyfriends and roommates for Christmas.

Nesryn was murmuring something about buying a nice leather wallet for Sartaq, and dragged them into Men’s Wearhouse, slipping her arm from Aelin’s, and scampering off to the wallets along one polished, wooden wall. Lysandra trailed not far behind her, then wandered off to look at Timberland boots for Aedion.

That left Elide and Aelin.

She turned, grinning at her younger cousin. “Do you know what you want to get Lorcan for Christmas?” She grinned, conspiratorially nudging her.

Elide blushed, shoving her hands deeper into her hoodie pocket, a soft, secret smile on her lips. No, not both hands, Aelin observed. Only the left one, something small and hard and sharp pushing against the fabric of her pocket. Aelin grinned, happy silver lining her eyes. 

Then her eyes landed on a small shop across the way, and she instantly knew what she was going to get Rowan for Christmas. Murmuring a quick apology to Elide, who was now most definitely texting Lorcan, if the happy smile on her lips was any indication, and scurried over to the shop.

The woman behind the counter gave her a warm smile. “Would you like some help?” She offered kindly.

Aelin politely waved her off, and picked up a medium sized wooden pallet, and carefully brought it up to the counter.

The woman smiled again, and that smile only widened when Aelin showed her what was to go on the pallet. “He’ll love it,” She promised. Aelin could only grin, and pray to the gods that she was right. “Alright, it’ll be ready in about a week, so around the seventeenth. Though, we’ll keep it in the back for another two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Aelin told her, then scampered out to where her friends were waiting for her.

Elide was still tap-tap-tapping away on her phone, that happy smile turning her cheeks a rosy pink.

Nesryn and Lysandra were gushing over their respective fiances, and discussing wedding ideas, plans, and preparations. Something cold settled in her gut when she realized that of her best friends, she was the only one still single.

Slowly, they began to meander over towards the food court, and Aelin found herself next to Elide, still typing away, her left hand still buried deep in her pockets.

“So,” She began, unsure of why she felt so nervous, “how are you and Lorcan doing?”

At last, she put her phone away. And positively beamed, happiness radiating from every pore. “So good, I really love him.” She gushed, a dreamy look taking over her features. “Sometimes when I come home from work, I find that he’s already done all the cleaning, and made spaghetti for dinner.”

“Wow.” Aelin murmured, struggling to match the image of Lorcan she had with the one her cousin told her of.

Elide’s dreamy look dimmed slightly. “Sorry, I know you don’t like him very much.”

Oh. Oh. “No, no. That’s not it at all!” Aelin assured her, as they all approached a table, and dropped their bags. “I just didn’t know he could be so sweet is all.”

“Oh,” She whispered, some of that happy glow returning. “Well, in that case, I’ve got some news to share with you guys.” Lysandra and Nesryn turned towards them, interest shining in their keen eyes. Aelin leaned forward a tad more, as that happy, rosy smile only grew. Elide slowly withdrew her left hand from her hoodie. On that ring finger sat a simple, stunning, silver engagement ring.

“Oh my Gods!” Lysandra and Nesryn shrieked, launching around the table to throw their arms around the tiny woman. Aelin simply held her tightly, her eyes clenched shut yet still streaming tears as if a dam had broken, and murmured low congratulations.

When they all at last parted, they were little more than living, moving blobs of mascara and smudged eyeliner, giggling and cackling and laughing and crying.

“D’you know what this calls for?” Lysandra sniffed, rubbing at her eyes and only worsening the smudging of makeup.

Aelin, Elide and Nesryn shook their heads.

“A night at Rita’s, of course!” Their friend stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

With that, they allowed Lysandra to drag them all back to her house, which was mysteriously empty and silent, save for Hollin and Evangeline, curled up on the sofa, watching some romantic movie.

Lysandra called out something about not getting pregnant to her sister, and began sorting through her closet for something for each of her friends.

Elide picked out a daring, red dress, that while it looked innocent enough, given how it flared out at the waist and brushed just above her knees, all it took was one look at the lack of a back for everyone to know she was a vixen through and through.

Nesryn chose a short, black satin dress that hugged her curves and highlighted her dark hair and eyes. She paired it with thigh-high boots, and straightened her hair. With a dash of highlighter on her collarbones, cheekbones, and nose, if Aelin hadn’t known better, she would have thought her friend was an influencer.

Lysandra decided on a daring, skintight aquamarine dress that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. The neckline barely reached her collarbone, and the sleeves reached down to her wrists. Sequins covered nearly every inch of the dress, and Aelin knew that if Aedion were here, he’d be positively drooling. 

For Aelin, though, choosing a dress was much harder. She hadn’t been out clubbing since before she’d met Chaol, and as such had no idea what to wear. All of the dresses she saw were either too long or too short. Too tight or too loose.

At last, she found a pine-green satin number in the very back of the closet, that pulled in perfectly at her hips and waist, then fell to just below her upper thighs. The neckline was low, without being desperate. She paired it with black ankle boots, a leather jacket, and a dark green smokey eye with bright red lipstick. Once Lysandra finished curling her hair into loose waves, she led her over to the floor-length mirror, and Aelin at last saw the final product.

As her eyes trailed from the toned calf muscle exposed by the boots, to the red pout of her lips, she found that she felt beautiful. No, more. She felt sexy for the first time in recent memory.

Turning to her best friend, tears pricked her eyes as she held her tightly. “Thank you, Lys.”

“Of course.”

When they at last parted, she quickly swiped at her eyes before the tears could smudge her makeup, and followed her friends out to the car. She only paused to glare at Hollin, and threaten the destruction of his most favorite part should he hurt Evangeline, then chased after her friends, and slipped into the back seat with Nesryn.

The drive to Rita’s was filled with laughter, giggling, god-awful singing on Aelin’s part, and loud music blasting from the speakers.

As they stepped out of the car, and made their way into the club, the first thing Aelin noticed was how loud the music was; she couldn’t just hear it. No, she could feel it reverberating through her bones. The next thing she noticed were the lights, constantly changing color and blinking and swirling.

Lysandra led them over to a booth in the corner near the bar, and slid in, followed by her friends. “Alright!” She shouted, once they were all settled in. “We’ve got a mission tonight, ladies.” A teasing smirk tugged at her best friend’s lips. “We’re going to get Aelin a man.”

She could only grin and shake her head, fighting the urge to say the only one she wanted was her silver haired roommate.

Her dark-haired cousin slipped out of the booth, and returned with several rounds of shots. 

Aelin took one, and gave her cousin a warm smile. “To Elide!”

“To Elide!” Her friends echoed as they all downed their drinks.

“Gah!” She coughed, swiping at her mouth as the liquid burned its way down her throat. “It’s been so long..” She muttered under her breath.

Next, they toasted to Lysandra, then Nesryn.

By that time, her thoughts had begun to get muddled, and her words slurred. So when she glanced up and saw a head of silver hair, and green eyes staring at her, she chalked it up to the alcohol. But when that silver-haired, green-eyed man slid in next to her, followed by Aedion clambering in next to Lysandra, then Sartaq and Lorcan and Fenrys, Dorian, Gavriel, Vaughan and Connall.

Rowan dropped an arm around the back of the booth, and it took everything in her not to lean into him.

“So, ladies.” Fenrys called, grinning like a fiend at each of them. “What are you all doing here?”

“Ladies’ night.” Lysandra called, then cast a warm, sisterly smile at Elide. “And…”

Lorcan and Elide were so absorbed in whatever hushed conversation they were having that they didn’t notice. The man which Aelin disliked with a burning passion was looking down on her cousin with such love, warmth and care that if she hadn’t already been over the moon for her cousin, she would have been then.

Fenrys followed Lysandra’s line of sight. “Ah. Then we’re here for the same reasons, then.”

“It would seem so.” Nesryn replied, leaning back into Sartaq.

Over the next half hour, the drinks kept flowing, and flowing, and flowing, and people slowly began to partner off and wander towards the dance floor, until all those who remained were Lorcan and Elide, and Aelin and Rowan.

Elide and Lorcan were still murmuring quietly to each other.

She glanced down, string her drink absently with her finger, then-

“They’re so in love.” A husky voice murmured in her ear. 

Glancing up, she found that Rowan had angled himself so that he was closer to her than she had realized. “Yeah, they are.” She agreed, finding it difficult to look at him.

Her roommate didn’t seem to notice, however, and carried on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lorcan so happy.”

Aelin took a deep gulp of her drink, nearly downing half of it at once. “Me neither.”

Suddenly, Lorcan stood, and pulled Elide towards the dance floor with a happy grin, laughing all the way there.

“Wow,” They both murmured at once. Instantly, they both glanced at each other, then burst into laughter. 

Rowan grinned down at her, sliding from the booth to offer her his hand. “Dance with me?”

She downed the rest of her drink, and took his hand, allowing him to lead her through the throngs of people to the middle of the dance floor.

The music was little more than heavy, booming bass with some slight music notes every few seconds, but Aelin still gripped Rowan’s hand, and bounced around, her free hand waving in the air as she danced around him. Rowan watched her with a warm smile, always only a few feet away, laughing.

As the minutes melted by, they drifted closer and closer together, and Rowan’s strong hands settled around her waist as her fingers played with the hair at the base of his neck, their friends dancing and grinding and bouncing around them.

They swayed back and forth with the music, him gazing so deep into her eyes that she thought he might have already discovered her eyery secret, and was now reading her very soul.

A warm buzzing began in her ears, and Aelin’s movements became looser, freer, more relaxed. The music began to speed up, and the dancing around them became harsher, hungrier. 

Aelin turned so that her back was pressed against him, and kept her hand behind his neck, deep in his unfairly silky hair. Rowan’s hands began a journey down her body, running over her stomach and waist and thighs, before coming to a stop, gripping her hips and holding her against him.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she allowed her head to fall back against his chest, her nose brushing his throat.

Rowan’s grip on her hips tightened, and he pulled her tighter against him, her behind now pressed against his hips. Though, his grip was loose enough that she could easily pull away. 

She didn’t, only pressed herself closer to him, and began to sway her hips to the beat. He let out a whimper, and a warm, heavy breath began on the side of her neck.

Angling her neck more to the side, that warm breath turned into hot, heavy kisses against her sweaty skin, trailing down to her collar bones and back up to her ears.

Lower lip clenched firmly between her teeth, she snapped herself back against him. He only chuckled, and pulled her behind further into him, and began grinding into her. 

She let out a sharp gasp as he began sucking on the junction of her neck, trailing alternating kisses and sucks up and down her neck and shoulder. Rowan let out a pained groan, and quickly turned her around, his hands resting on her waist, their chests and hips flush. Their hips moved together with the music, crushed together.

One of his hands moved up her back to bury itself in her hair, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. 

She did the same, keeping one hand on the base of his neck, the other deep in his silky hair.

Slowly, they each leaned forward so that their foreheads were pressed together, and Aelin found that she was panting, her neck throbbing and pulsing.

She met his eyes, both of their pupils blown wide.

Suddenly, he surged forward and captured her lips in his, pulling her completely flush against him.

Stunned, it took her a second to respond to his kiss, but when she did, her world turned to ash and flame.

His tongue brushed the seam of her lips, and she instantly opened for him with a groan, pushing her hips against his, and tugging at his hair.

Rowan laughed, warm and carefree. “Alright, alright, Fireheart.” He murmured, leading her back out through the crowds, and out towards a dark, semi-quiet part of the club.

Pressing her firmly against the wall, he set to work on her neck, sucking and kissing and licking, his hands trailing over every inch of her body.

When he found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, she let out a sharp, loud moan, and clenched her thighs together. He pulled back for just a second, grinned wildly at her, then dove right back into that spot as if his life depended on it.

As the minutes passed, Aelin found herself coming closer and closer to that edge, whimpering and moaning and gasping each time he touched that one spot on her neck, until at last she crashed over it with a low whimper.

Rowan pulled back slightly, and Aelin discovered that sometime during the last several minutes, he had thrown one of her legs over his hip, and was using it to keep her pressed against the cool brick wall.

He followed her gaze, then slowly met her eyes, questioning.

She surged forward, seizing his lips, and pulling him back against her. He groaned, slipping his tongue into her mouth, pressing sweet kisses to her lips.

A strong hand slowly lifted her other leg, and she found herself pressed to the wall, a moaning mess, as her roommate ravished her.

His hips slowly, tortuously drove into hers, and Aelin thought she might just combust.

When he began to gently trail his thumb across her cheek, she thought she was dying.

Everything about what he was doing was driving her insane, bringing her back to that cliff a second time. Something hard was now pressing into her with each thrust he made, and each of his movements were becoming more and more desperate. His moans and whimpers became groans and grunts and hissed swears and murmurings of her name.

When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she let out a sharp gasp of his name, and her hand flew down to hold him.

Rowan pulled back, searching her eyes. She only nodded, and resumed kissing him.

He reached down, moving her skirt up so that it bunched around her hips, and moved her underwear out of the way, his fingers teasingly bringing her closer and closer to that edge.

Her head was thrown back against the wall, panting and whimpering his name with every breath. Quicker than she would have expected, she was falling over that edge for the second time, and there was a slight crinkle, and she was full.

Completely and utterly full.

Her head rested against his as they moaned together, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Rowan surged forward, beginning to thrust gently as he took her lip between his teeth, and tugged.

She was on fire, whimpering his name in time with his thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses down his neck, which quickly turned into biting and sucking.

He was grunting, groaning her name as he worked her, pressed as close to her as he could, his hips snapping into hers as they kissed, one hand going to stroke through her hair.

Their movements each became more and more despreate, hungry as they moved together, each struggling to find release.

As he approached that cliff, Rowan returned to that one spot on her neck, and bit down in time with his thrusts. They flew over that cliff together, each groaning the other’s name.

After several minutes, he pulled out and set her down gently on legs that were little more than jello.

Pulling her skirt down, she turned to find him smiling at her, utterly without guard. He reached forward, and began fixing her hair, his eyes trailing to the red marks across her neck that were already forming. Something like pride filled his eyes.

She studied his face as his fingers combed through her tangled hair, and found with some suprise that her lipstick was now smeared all over his face, and chin. Down his neck and below his collar. With slight disappointment, she reached up and wiped that red wax away with her thumb.

Her heart was completely full as he pulled back from her, and set about fixing himself up. She took that opportunity to comb through his hair with one hand, the other stroking his cheekbone.

Rowan grinned again, his eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.” He murmured, leaning into her hand.

Aelin couldn’t help but laugh.

Those pine green eyes flew open, and he took her hand, beginning to lead her back towards the booth, taking care to go the long way around the dancefloor. “I love your laugh,” He mused, thumb stroking across the back of her palm, “if I could, I’d bottle it up and drink till drunk every night.”

Stunned again, her eyes burned, and she could only hold his gaze, and pray that she was conveying everything she was too scared to say.

As they approached the booth, he turned back to her. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

She grinned. “Yes, please.”

Rowan grinned right back, and released her hand, moving effortlessly through the crowds of people towards the bar.

Sighing happily, she continued the rest of the way back to the booth, and slid in.

Lys, Aedion, Lorcan and Elide had returned as well, and were all murmuring in low conversation to each other. Her best friend glanced over her still-messed up hair, swollen lips, and bruised neck, and gave her a wicked grin.

Elide did the same, smiling kindly.

Lysandra took that opportunity to lean over and whisper in her ear, “Who was the lucky guy?”

She only smiled, and gave a conspiratorial wink.

Her friend chuckled, and shook her head. “My plan worked out marvelously, then.

Aelin blanched. “Your plan?!” She hissed.

Lysandra only grinned, and Aelin could only shake her head.

Quickly, she leaned over and murmured a quick thank you in her best friend’s ear.

Nearly twenty minutes went by, then a young man approached their booth, his black hair reflecting the greens and blues and purples of the light. “Excuse me,” He began, studying Aelin. “I was wondering if I might possibly be so forward as to ask for your number? My name is Nox.”

She only shook her head kindly. “I’m afraid not, I apologize. I’m already involved with someone at the moment.”

Several pairs of eyes shot to hers, varying levels of confusion.

Nox ducked his head slightly. “Alright, I understand.” He placed a small scrap of paper on the table before her. “Here’s my number if you change your mind, though.” With that, he excused himself and returned to the crowds.

 After several more minutes passed, Aelin glanced at her phone, and was surprised to find that her silver-haired companion had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.

“Pardon me.” She muttered, extracting herself from the booth. “I’m going to see what’s taking Rowan so long.”

Ignoring the smirks and chuckles coming from her friends, she wound through the crowds, slowly making her way towards the bar.

When she at last reached it, she glanced all around, eyes straining to spot that signature silver hair. At last, she spied that silver glinting near-blue in the pulsing light, and began making her way towards him.

However, the closer she got, the more her grin faded, as she saw that he was exceptionally close to a thin woman with cedar-colored hair. No, not exceptionally close. He was pressed against the bar, with her leaning against him.

Aelin stopped moving towards them, her stomach turning cold, eyes burning but utterly unable to look away. Rowan wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t pushing the woman away, either.

It was only when she surged forward and began to kiss him that Aelin was able to tear her gaze away, and storm back to the booth, where her friends were waiting.

She only realized that she was crying when Lysandra launched up from the booth, and began to swipe those tears away.

“Can you, uh..can you drive me home please?” She stammered, unable to stand looking at either of her cousins.

“Of course,” Lysandra murmured, wrapping an arm around her.

“It wouldn’t be too much of a bother, would it?” She whispered.

Lorcan piped in. “Don’t worry about it, Aelin. I’ll make sure Elide gets home safely.” For once, his voice lacked the rough tone it always held.

Aedion added in, “And I’ll get a ride from someone. It’ll be fine. Go.”

Murmuring quick thank yous and goodbyes to everyone, she allowed Lysandra to whisk her out to the car, and peel out of the parking lot.

About halfway back to her apartment, Lydandra cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Aelin shook her head sharply. “No. Not in the slightest.”

Her friend only nodded. “Alright. I’m here for you if you change your mind.”

The remainder of the ride back home was silent.

When they parked in front of the building, Lysandra offered to walk her up, but she quickly refused, and bolted from the car before her friend could see the tears.

As soon as she was inside the apartment, she sprinted into her room, slammed the door and flopped over her bed. It was only then that she allowed herself to freely sob, heavy, wheezing and coughing. Distantly, she heard a cracking that sounded an awful lot like her heart shattering.

This is one of the last three chapters of TMNL!

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[egoiistas]

may i feel, said he (3)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn

a/n: blessings on you, blessings on your cows, blessing on your crops, for the feedback on this trash heap! <3

Rated: M | royai Words: ~4500

CHAPTER THREE

Riza waits after class.

As she’s pacing in the front of the bathroom stalls, it feels more like hiding. The surprise coffee on her desk has given her the jitters and everytime she had taken a sip out of it, she felt an unsettling guilt like there was a secret she was hiding.

This is ridiculous, it’s literally just coffee... even if it had a personalized note written on it. He was doing something nice; her professor was doing something nice for her. Maybe that’s what it boiled down to. But she couldn’t just expose him by thanking him in front of the auditorium.

Indecisiveness wiggles its way into her en route to his office. Perhaps a simple thank you note would suffice then she would never have to think anymore of it. A coffee maker would make for a good investment as well.

In the end, she doesn’t have a say in the matter.

“Miss Hawkeye.”

Riza steps out of the way and into him almost knocking into him trying to get out of his way. She was under the assumption to be in his office already, judging by the embarrassing amount of times she’s been there.

He gives her concerned looking pointing to his coffee cup as if to say: “Not again.” Instead, she picks up uncertain undertones when he casually mentions, “You didn’t fall asleep.”  

Riza doesn’t consider herself shy - reserved maybe, but the amount of times she’s been mortified in the last three weeks in the presence of this man alone is throwing her through a loop. She trails behind him with her heartbeat drumming in her ears. “No,” she says quietly. “I did not.”

“What a joy it is to not have to interrupt a lecture to wake you up.”

She bites her lip at the sarcasm. Even though she vowed to never come back, he opens the door for her and Riza edges her way inside. She keeps her arms close to her body eyeing him carefully as he strolls by her, fluffing strands of her loose hair. “I wanted to thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He fans out the papers across his desk and the rich oak surface disappears as he empties his bag, just like the night before.

She tries to look over a little, to read his expression because she thinks he’s joking. “For the coffee?” Riza clarifies a little bit braver, clearer.

She straightens herself when his suddenly head snaps to her; his eyes narrow and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Wordlessly and intimidatingly, Mustang walks over to his office door and she can see him checking either side of the hallway before he shuts the door. Riza takes a step back. She’s thoroughly confused when a hand on her shoulder guides her away from the door. “I know it’s from the same place where you get your coffee. It wasn’t from an on-campus cafe.” She doesn’t know why she feels the need to state it out loud; it’s not quite an accusation, nor is it just an innocent statement. She doesn’t understand why this is bugging her so much - yes, it’s a little unusual but as far as she understands there are no rules about it being wrong to be given a coffee by your professor.

Right?

He runs a hand through his hair and it somehow gets even messier, sticking out in all the wrongright places. “Please don’t misinterpret, Miss Hawkeye. I don’t make it a habit to reward students who sleep in my class with coffee in the morning.”

“No,” she says to the floor, uncharacteristically, and then, unintentionally glances the length of him until meeting his eyes. She cranes her neck a bit just to do so. “Of course not, sir.”  

Mustang clears his throat as he walks away. “I am your professor and you are my student. It’d be precarious to both our careers if you assumed our relationship extended beyond anything than an academic one.”

Her brow twitches and it feels like she’s been hit with something out of left field. She turns and his back is already to her. Pursing her lips, her cheeks radiate with heat. “I only came to thank you.”

He turns his head slightly to regard her out of the corner of his eye. “Then why are you still here?”

“I - “ Riza struggles with her words; a thick knot caught in her throat as if she’s been caught when, in truth, there isn’t any red on her hands. She racks through her brain, frustrated that he expects her to explain her reasoning when he’s the reason she’s standing in his office in the first place. “I’ve calculated the totals for possible grades at the end of the semester alongside past assignments, and even if I achieve top marks on your assignments, at most I’ll get is a C for the class in the best possible situation.” She lies to save face, but, to be fair, she’s made a really broad estimate in her head.

“And?”

She sighs, starting to feel like a parrot, “Extra credit.”

His shoulders visibly drop as he exhales emphatically. “I don’t even know why I asked.” Mustang turns around properly and leans on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. He fixes a gaze on her and she almost loses her nerve from the scrutiny. He shrugs, ”Take the C. I’m not changing the rules for one student.”

Riza huffs, pushing her bangs away from her face. Her request isn’t unreasonable. She can feel a little tempering simmering in the back drop from the way he shoots her down, almost cruelly. She can finally empathize with Rebecca whining about her stubborn professors. But Riza can’t back down herself because she can’t risk her scholarship - it’s her only real means of paying for her exorbitant tuition and her job is her only real means of paying for her lifestyle, however meager.

Her brow flattens but his demeanor doesn’t change. She defiantly mirrors him, crossing her arms over her chest as a lightbulb goes off, “You just said you don’t make it a habit to buy a student coffee.” Right then, she doesn’t know what that means; she doesn’t connect the dots that it means more than just her ace in the hole.

His face drops. She swallows hard. The air is stifled from her little stunt and she holds a breath looking at him looking at her wordlessly. She becomes painfully aware that she is a student in a closed office with a professor who has bought her coffee.

His abrupt laughter fills the room, like she’s told the funniest joke, and it adds a different tension to his office. Mustang sets aside his glasses to rub at his eyes.“I didn’t expect that to come back to bite me so quickly. Do you always bite the hand that feeds?”

She doesn’t say anything. She’s won and he knows it. Anything said to her beyond that confirmation is distraction, so she lifts an eyebrow emotionlessly.

He smiles and that manages to stir something in her otherwise steel gut, “Right. Since you managed a successful checkmate, I’ll concede to your victory.”

The rigidity in her muscles dissipate, finally.

“Please note, Miss Hawkeye,” he says matter-of-factly with a push to his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “That I won’t just give extra credit. You will have to earn it.”

“Understandable.” She nods, and despite her relieved smile she knows enough stories, true or imagined, to be wary of that tone and diction, for her own reasons. “What will you have me do?”

Mustang chews on his bottom lip while staring at the space in front of her feet, contemplating. His fingers drum on the overhang of his desk.

Riza’s eyes wander around the room while he thinks - an order for herself to stop staring at the man and, for as many times as she’s been here to grovel, she’s never noticed how spartan the room is. Filled with books and frames with diplomas, but nothing telling about him, like pictures, personal or professional. There isn’t a ring on him either, not that it matters for her, but she hasn’t considered how young he really looks for a professor. Couldn’t be older than thirty. She couldn’t be sure. Something tells her that, underneath his clothes, he’s undeniably fit for someone in academia.

Blushing lightly, she doesn’t follow that train of thought, but her attention snaps back to him when speaks again.

“I chose to work for this university because of its extensive resources.” He raises his eyebrows but not his unfocused gaze. “It’s amazing, actually, how much this place pours into scientific research.” His eyes fix on her. “It’s why you saw me yesterday night at the library and why there are papers all over the place on this desk.”

Her head tilts in the slightest way, unsure.

Mustang pushes off the desk and at last takes a seat in his rolling chair. “I need an organizational assistant. The department had informed me I’d be able to choose one in a couple of weeks from the class list, but I really don’t have the time for that...nor the patience.”

Papers she can do. No problem, easy. But being around him more than she should feels like a red flag. Something in her gut tells her to walk away from it, like a premonition of danger -- or bad decisions. She repeats back to him, “You want me to be your assistant?”

“Unofficially,” he corrects. “To help me organize and other administrative tasks, like finding books and indexing sources, until I’m cleared to find one of my own.”

Riza breathes out. “I’m sorry, sir, but I barely have time as it is with my courseload and my position in the library.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. Overnights can be surprisingly productive for me.” He smirks, flipping a pen in his hand. “Think of it as a few extra tasks to do while you work at the library. For only a limited time.”

Rebecca’s cackling laugh is one of her…less endearing features and it grates on Riza regardless if she’s had any restful sleep or not. She finds herself slinking away from her food and into her chair. It’s already boisterous in the dining hall on campus and people are still looking in their direction.

Her words are choppy, in between breaths. “I cannot believe you convinced him to give you want.” Rebecca obliviously remarks, “You look so angry all of a sudden. ...what did you have to do?”

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” Riza pokes at her fruit. “And try not to draw attention.”

“I can tell it’s not an easy feat, Riza. You said you’ve been living at his office for the past month.”

“Rebecca please.”

“Relax, I’m joking. I’m happy that you won’t have to lose your scholarship. Really. You wouldn’t shut up about it. Are you sure you shouldn’t be in law with Olivier with your uncanny powers of persuasion?”

Without answering, Riza looks up from her plate and a knot forms in her throat when she sees him at a distance picking up a to-go order. She only notices him for a second.

“Oh, fuck.”

Her eyes snap back to Rebecca. “What is it?”

Rebecca glances behind her and swivels back with a quirked, suspicious eyebrow. “Did you fuck him?”

A chunk of strawberry nearly lodges in her windpipe. Strained, she says, “I won’t dignify that with an answer. I managed through respectable means.” Technically, he bought her the coffee. “You, of all people, should know that.”

Rebecca slumps in her chair, “You’re right.”

“I’m terribly sorry to disappoint,” Riza says unapologetically.

Her friend is quiet for a moment and Riza earns a moment’s peace from her. That is, until Rebecca’s switch flips and she perks up again, leaning eagerly into the table. “You totally have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Riza frowns, brow knitting in disapproval. “No,” she responds pointedly, aggressively poking her fruit now. “Absolutely not.” Riza sees him leave and Rebecca follows her gaze.

“Riza.” Rebecca scoffs teasingly, “Did I or did I not just see you ogle at him?”

“I don’t ogle.”

“He caught your attention like the heavens above shined a light for your --”

“All right!” Riza glares. Into her plate, she mutters, “He’s not the most unfortunate looking.”

The gasp Rebecca releases is obscene, along with the flailing in her chair. “I’ve never thought I’d see the day! You have such high standards - usually. But, I mean, I can’t totally blame you. The boys here are just that - boys.”

“This is why I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You love me. Okay, now that the cat’s out of the bag, sweetheart, what assignment has the hardass given you? Something tells me it’s not just a paper.”

“I’ll be helping him organize his research.”

“Scandalous…” She shimmies her shoulders. “Alone? In his office? At his place?”

“At the library. While I’m working there overnight.”

“It might as well be alone.” Rebecca’s voice is dripping in innuendo, and Riza flicks a piece of pineapple her way.

“Even if I find the man attractive, that doesn’t mean anything. There are consequences for things like that and I’d rather not risk my education for something so careless. I’m acting as an assistant until he finds a new one - and that’s all there is to it.”

And she does. With her best intentions.

Mustang arrives at the library that same night and every night the following week. Riza gives him access to the study room; this time away from where she can sneak glances from the help desk. She’s still tired from her eight o’clock classes (three bloody times a week - why can’t they just be combined escapes me) except now there’s always a warm coffee sitting on her desk with only an R.H. to tell her it’s hers. She’s learned to tolerate black coffee. The sheer bitterness is more than enough to keep her awake, though Riza is hesitant to admit that there might be another part that is beginning to enjoy his classes - not for the knowledge he is imparting, but rather that he’s become somewhat of a character study for her. The margins of her notebook are littered with observations and witty responses to things he’s said in class. She’s grateful that she sits at the back of the class; he can only suspect she’s not giving him her full and rapt academic attention now that she’s conscious during his classes.

She encounters a different obstacle however.

Riza didn’t account for the consequences following Rebecca’s conversation where she verbally, and foolishly, admitted she finds him attractive. On the first night, her awareness of how she acts around him becomes keen and that makes her feel off. His presence sends off little pings in her head that tell her “don’t look at him too long”, “don’t laugh too hard at his jokes”, and “don’t overanalyze his gestures.”

Ever since then, she never stays in the room with him, decidingly taking the notes back to the help desk and sorting it there -- a clever maneuver on her part. She finds the many books and articles printouts he requires.

In light of it all, Riza is eternally grateful for his professionalism. If he’s noticed her frigid behavior, he’s said no word of it. The focus the man has is something to be admired. She catches glimpses of it whenever she has to walk back into the room and it feels like she’s invading a very private and personal space. Even when she’s reshelving books, she sneaks in a look from the open door.

There’s nothing wrong with simply looking. It’s like window shopping without any of the costs.

At the end of the week, her perfect maneuver to stay out of his hair backfires when he asks her to stay with his notes. Mustang tells her he needs them to be readily available, but would still like them to get organized and, with a distracting smile, that the little colored tabs she puts on them makes it really accessible.

She doesn’t say much; she minds her own business, working diligently through his handwriting. Just like in class and the first night, he walks around the room as he thinks, stepping up to the dry-eraser board in the room, toying a marker with his mouth.

He always comes dressed comfortably, probably to gives appearances of a student, and today is no different with sweatpants and a sweater to combat the bitter cold that has settled over the city for the last week. It’s precisely when he rises from his chair that she notices, to her misfortune, that it’s a bit too… tight to be decent. She doesn’t have the heart, or enough energy for the gall to say anything and honestly, it’s none of her business - let alone inappropriate. That would be admitting that it was obvious, plain as day, calling her attention and she-

Riza takes a deep breath for focus, looking away from any and all prohibited areas. With every stride, she tries very very hard not to notice his ...endowments shifting around. By the time she is back to blankly staring at the notes, the image is already ingrained in her mind. She’s baffled by how it is clearly outlined under his pants, including which side its favoring, and she can feel her ears getting warm with a rapid pounding pulsing in them.

She’s sitting at the end of a four person desk and Riza tilts her head the opposite direction when he walks to the chair on her right. He asks her plainly, “Can you hand me the stack you have?”

Riza glances at him cautiously when he takes it, but he’s mumbling to himself sorting through the looseleafs and she swears his habit of keeping writing utensils in his mouth is a punishment or maybe all of it is. She is a statue in her chair, looking forward, until he begins to scribble a name and a title on a sticky note. Leaving the room, she reminds herself not to spring out of her seat so quickly next time.

Eventually, Roy finds her in the 800 section - again. She cradles a heavy tome in her hands, and is completely diverted by it. At first he’s a little annoyed - he had sent her off half an hour ago - when really, it should’ve taken her ten minutes at best. But she’s curled up against the metal shelving, completely distracted by the words in front of her, her mouth sounding them out quietly. All thoughts of chastising her flies out the window as he watches her more, watches how her fingers descend with each line, stopping in places as she murmurs to herself - the barest hints of a smile curls into her lips.

It feels like he’s intruded on something sacred, not meant for his eyes. She seems smaller in this space; completely unconcerned with what is happening around her and absorbed wholly with what’s in front of her, and it isn't until he crouches down next to her that she’s pulled out of her reverie.

Gentler than he intended, he says, “This isn’t the journal I asked for.”

She smiles guiltily, and gestures to a printout next to her, already stapled and highlighted. “There’s not much in that one,” she says by way of excuse, gripping the book tightly. “My apologies, sir, I didn’t mean to-”

Roy shakes his head and sits down next to her, resting his head against the cool shelf behind him. “You’re probably right. Yoki has always been full of his own bullshit.” He sees her relax, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s seen her the entire week. “What I’m more interested in is a chemistry major spending her free time with the likes of-” he leans in closer to read the name on the front of the book, brushing against her fingers with his own and tipping the book forward. “e. e. Cummings?”

He ignores how that surname rolls off his tongue.

“A long-time favourite of mine,” she says quietly, almost reverently. “Poetry isn’t for everyone, but the sentences he creates are…”

Roy knows he should should tell her to get back to work. He knows he should stand up and return to his cubicle. However, not for the first time this semester, curiosity meddles in the way of reason: he taps a finger on the page. “Which one of these is your favourite?”

She hums pleasantly, flicking to the front of the book and slowly working down the index.

“I like my body when it is with your body,” she begins, still staring down at the index page, and the words alert him like splash of ice water. He thinks she’s joking until she goes on: “It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth-ness and which I will again and again and again-” She stops here, a shaky smile on her face. “It’s not-” she says quickly but he holds up a hand.

“It’s lovely,” he says tensely. “An you’ve memorised it all?”

She nods once, hesitantly, but he doesn’t discount the pride gleaming in her eyes. “Only the important ones,” she explains.

“Is there more?” he prods carefully, investigating. Roy had never been much for poetry in his younger years. They were just words in his eyes, prettily arranged at best and desperately misaligned at worst. Hearing them recited, with such reverence and affection was an entirely new experience. Fleetingly, he speculates if this is really her favorite, or if this is a play of hers.

“Yes, but-”

“I’d like to hear the rest,” he says, nudging her shoulder slightly with his own.

She exhales heavily, murmuring under her breath, her tone rising and falling as she quickly recants the first half of the poem. “...which I will again and again and again kiss, I like kissing this and that of you, I like - stroking the - shocking fuzz of your electric fur-” her cheeks are stained pink and she keeps her eyes firmly on the book in front of her. “And what-is-it comes over parting flesh...and eyes big love-crumbs - and possibly I like the thrill - of under me you quite so new.”

He’s silent for a moment and averts his eyes from her face, trying to give her some semblance of space and propriety and for himself, some composure. Her hands grips the thick book tightly, her knuckles blanching white.

The next question falls from his mouth before he can catch it. “Why is that one your favourite?”

Her head jerks around and Riza gapes at him a little inelegantly, her cheeks rapidly shifting from pink to a darker hue. She quickly scrambles to her feet, stumbling over the piles of books surrounding her and she scoops up the printout, thrusting it towards him. “I need to - to do restocking again,” she says jerkily, and Roy sighs, accepting that he may have gone a step too far.

In hindsight, he should’ve walked away.

She visibly struggles with the weight of one of the book. Her toes push down on the carpet floor and she stretches up, bearing some skin from her lower abdomen. The book wobbles from the inadequate support the tips of her fingers supply and it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s about to smack her in the face.

All in good faith, Roy closes in swiftly, standing behind her, to catch the spine of the book before it falls on her. He nudges it back into its place. She turns around and he’s blindsided by an alluring scent of perfume still lingering on her skin. Their hands touched again when he helped her, and the electrifying sensation was present there too. He looks down on her with a hooked arm over her head. Her mouth is slightly parted like she still has a line of prose she wants to recite, but she’s searching for it in his own eyes.

He’s not moving. He doesn’t want to.

The scant distance between them is all too small; too charged in the respect that there is something unspoken between them. The breathing changes for them both, hitching or holding breath or a combination of the two. It seems all too cliched that it’s a secluded area of the library in the quiet of an early morning.

Roy finds it intoxicating to be on the precipice like this and for a while, for the good innocent days he's dealt with her help, he thought he could dwell on the edge. Yet, something else, something carnal, yearns for more in that specific pocket of time, probably because it’s within grabbing distance. He admits to being ensnared by her little poetry, but it’s a slippery slope that could cost him everything. Unfortunately, he knows he has a blurring line in the sand, for inexplicable reasons, when it came to her. Trying to make sense of it in the few silent seconds they stood like that, he’d say: she's the exception, his exception.

He really should have walked away.

In the same moment she curls and tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt, Roy angles her jaw towards him. Their mouths meet, joining together like they were magnetized, crashing like waves from a turbulent tide. The fragrance from earlier wafts prominently as his fingers comb through her hair - not a perfume, a shampoo - and it only adds fuel to the fire coursing rapidly through his blood.

Theirs is not a timid or gentle kiss, it is forceful and heady, gripping at each other. He learns that she enjoys nipping at his lower lip and teases with the echo of an amusing whimper when his tongue dances with hers. She abandons the strings and grasps a handful of his sweatshirt.

Without thinking, the hands on her hips push against her. The shelf behind collides with her back and his leg pushes to part her own. To his delight, the moan-that-wouldn’t-escape finally does, wreaking havoc through his body and encouraging the small tenting in his pants to grow. But it’s only seconds before the books on the other side hit the ground. They rip from each other, wet sounds entering their ears as they do, and the severity of it dawns on them simultaneously.

Roy takes note of the coloring of her lips before he turns his shoulder away from her. He leans on a shelf with arm and a hand covering his pulsating mouth. He can hear her catching her breath. He wants to say something - anything. But conflicting thoughts murks his clarity, and he cannot conceive a rational one. He’s speechless, astonished, unsure. Roy stammers just trying to formulate a sentence in his own mind.

When he shifts to face her, Riza is already gone.

next

[goannelisalove]

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