#everything about them has gone horribly wrong

[book--wyrm]

Pengu Finale Liveblog ahhhhhh

Julian just absolutely brain blasting this old woman

Oh Rex is close enough to call her doll and make her breakfast he is not beating the deadbeat daddy allegation

OH NO DOES SHE KNOW OH MY GOD SHE KNOWS

NEVERMIND I WAS SO WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING SHE HAS KNOWN ALL ALONG

holy shit holy shit holy shit

okay so they did find the bodies eventually holy fuck hooooooly fuck

oh my god rex literally teaching francis how to manipulate oz and use him oh my god ohhhhh my god this is so much more of a betrayal than if francis had just hated him for what he'd done

she knew all along she knew all along and she used him and she

she

oz was right ahahahahah every relationship in his life is fuckign transactional because he KILLED THE ONLY TWO BOYS WHO TRULY LOVED HIM, AND KILLED HIS MOTHER'S LOVE WITH THEM

dude he has to kill his mother now

this is a psychological nuke the likes of which i think sofia could not possibly have ever imagined.

Francis's FACE oh my god.

Julian baby boy maybe Sofia should stand out of sight to not break immersion

God this is absolutely not how hypnotism works is it

IT'LL BE EASIER NOW YOU LITTLE PSYCHO

"I see you in ways other people don't" while she is ACTIVELY USING HIM

dude. dude. I just. It's always the same with Oz, isn't it. Sofia, Eve, his mom. He's the biggest bullshitter in Gotham, and he's so full of it he doesn't have a clue how to sniff it out

God they are both so horrific to each other. Just his horrible cycle of selfishness and toxicity what a twisted family they are

HELLO VIC I MISSED YOU

Oh rip lmao I guess the gangs know the bliss is all gone

Vic baby he's saying all the same stuff oz does, only he believes it, so he can't bullshit people to his side

Oh hey that dude on the other side of the walkie talkie lived!!

Man Oz and Sofia haven't been face to face since ep 4 hahahaha

BERTO MENTION. she hasn't used that name in a hot second

Oh my god Sofia literally using that bird nest metaphor ahahahh whoever that anon was in my inbox you are a genius

Man. Sofia literally just laying out all their horrible family drama in the worlds worst family therapy oh my god

Dude I've been saying for weeks now that Sofia's superpower is to completely shatter people with the truth and. ohhhhhh my god ohhhhhh my god ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Wait. Is Sofia going to give that cigar cutter in her cleavage to Francis to use on Oz. I think she should give it to her.

Uh. Nevermind

Wow Sofia really is leaning into this evil therapy thing what the fuck. girl.

God i desperately want her to be the girl-jonkler running the aslume at the end of this show please please please

Also Sofia, I think it was the left. I mean I'm sure she knows just so she can do the other one next, but. man. she is fuckin sadistic. im love....

Julian so enthusiastic about all of this hahaahah

I love Sofia like, almost framing this to them or possibly herself as a gift she is giving to Francis. Is this cope? Is this something she sincerely believes? Or is she just being cruel?

I ALREADY FUCKIN KNOW

It's my finger you spineless prick hahahaahha but that doesn't matter to him because its your love he wants it's your adoration your pride and what actually happens to you? Doesn't fucking matter.

I NEVER STOPPED HATING YOU

Sofia's face right then like. damn dude. god i love her

She had enough love for all of them and he soured every last drop of it. For them, for him, for the world.

Sofia really does know the value of just letting a drama play out.

Francis saying Sofia is right this ep, Sofia saying Francis was right last ep, damn.

Oz really is... the only character in this show chronically incapable of learning

Damn mama cobb strong enough to smash a bottle. I don't think even i could do that.

Oh my god no wonder she said "they look at me like i'm not even theirs" because in her mind, she let their murderer go free

also is oz gonna hulk out that she's showing love to an imaginary jack and benny when oz has just seen her hate?

Oh is she just dying right now

Julian doing the get down mr president

MR DETECTIVE YOU DIPSHIT

Sofia baby you did great okay you already hurt Oz please just go to italy with your boy toy

Wow is he not getting this fucking stab looked at

EW EW EW EW

Yeah sure sure. Sofia stabbed you. Sure. Sure.

Oh noooo. Vic... baby.... he is such a believer in Oz's stupid self serving bullshit. He is so good. And pure. And he speaks from the heart and. And Oz acts like this is something Vic rehearsed

And they laugh about it but Vic doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that Oz isn't giving him advice on how to most effectively show people the fire you hold in your heart—he's teaching him the art of smoke and mirrors. how to con and grift and bullshit until even you don't know what's true and real

Christ. Vic is so fucking dead

She'd never look at me again unless i get this done.

Oz knowing now that this love is transactional. And fine. He'll make that transaction, he'll take down sofia and then maybe his mom will pretend again that she doesn't hate him, doesn't want him dead

it's not going to work, of course. it can't because this show is about him becoming the penguin. and it can't, because even that transaction was always a lie Francis told herself

I don't think she could ever have loved Oz even if he'd gotten her into a penthouse at age 20. I think she lied to herself to survive living with him, because what was the alternative? Losing all three of her boys?

AHAHAHAHAHAH SOFIA LITERALLY PICKING UP OZ'S GOLD SUMMIT MEMBERS i have to say. I did not anticipate this at ALL

damn girlie really is just gonna dip to go to italy or wherever

sofia really is just setting up the funniest game of capture the flag imaginable while cramming like seven olives in her mouth

i dont' say this often. i desire her carnally.

The gun in the glove compartment surely that will not come back later

Oz originally checking his image in the reflection of the car vs asking Vic now, treating this kid as his reflection

Damn. Is Link really going to fall for Oz's shit again after that truck of cigs thing? Or is this just a ploy to get Oz into the right place for Sofia to pick him up?

Actually maybe that's what loses Vic, that Link betrayed him, and Oz expected it. Idk we shall see

Penguin planning to run for mayor in a couple movies?

Oh Oz is totally gonna send sofia to arkham ahahaha poor baby

Oh my god I thought Sofia was gonna claim credit for Sal's death, not that Oz would give it up himself

I cannot tell you guys how fucking tempting it is to skip right to the end of this episode to see if i'm right you guys

Wow Oz really eyeing that Mayor's office

Is he going to kill Bella and frame Sofia. Is he gonna kill bella and THAT is what turns Vic on him.

oh my god LINK

HAHAHAH I WAS SO RIGHT SHE IS BURNING DOWN FALCONE MANOR

oh god that's the watch Sofia gave him for his birthday FUCK YOU CARMINE

Sofia really is gonna fucking screw over EVERYONE hahaha THREE CIGS BABY

oh god she is so hot i love her you self actualize through arson baybeeeeeeee

that shot of her throwing the cig like a dart is so much oh my god

babygirl i love you

you deserve the world

but yeah she is going into the cold according to the needle drop. definitely going back to arkham

... what's in the trunk. i don't think it's normal luggage. is it more bombs

there is still 20 mins left. i am afraid

This is clearly a trap for someone i just don't know who. Where is vic

I'm so afraid this is the last we get to see of Sofia.

She knows. She always has such a nose for bullshit lmao. Also fuck you Link you gotta know Oz is gonna stab you in the back.

I do think it's promising that Julian has not been seen all day tho. What is he doing.

I love this. I love that Oz and Sofia finally get this one moment to be truly honest with each other.

Well. At the very least, Oz gets to be honest with Sofia. idk that he knows how to be honest with himself anymore.

Why does this look like a chemical factory. I know it's not happening but it'd be so funny for Sofia to become the joker right now.

just dunk her in the goop

Man. Is he actually going to shoot her. Police pls come and save my girl. Cannot believe that's what I'm begging for now.

oh my god

yeah i called it but. Man. This is so painful to watch. also i think my julian prayers are not going to be answered it did not look like Sofia had planned any of this

okay i'm normal about sofia being arrested now.

Okay. I'm normal.

I'm back to not being normal francis and vic and oz all in one place this is all gonna blow up emotionally

Is francis in a coma. is she totally brain dead oh my god.

oh man she really is never going to say she loves him hahaha

she let jack and benny's murderer go and it never got her anything

is he gonna kill her now.

TELL ME YOU'RE PROUD OF ME oz you fuckin

he's so fucking delusional jesus putting her hand on his head

dude. is Vic actually gonna live through this episode

holy fuck

did not call that in the least

well. i was right about the pyrrhic victory for Oz

"All kinds of things" shut the fuck up.

God. I cannot believe Vic is living through this show. Admittedly as the kind of guy that his parents would have been ashamed of, but.

Wait. No no

don't

don't do it

no nondfonfodnfodnfodfn

please dont

pelase dont

oz don't you dare

nONONNNONONONONONONONONONONONO

PLEASE DOJNT DO IT NOW PLEAE

NO NO HE IS THEO NLY ONE WHO HAS SEEN THE WEAKNESS AND HUMAN IN YOU

OZ YOU

OZ

NO

WITH YOUR HANDS???? WITH YOUR FUCKIGN HANDS???? I THOUGHT HE WOUDL PULL A GUN AT LEAST YOU FUCKING

ODSOFANDFONSODNOSDAGNOGNIOAGDSASGJDISGNAGLNFGOSANFOSDO

SANO

NON NO NONONONO

VIC

vic. vic. vic barely lived a month longer than his family

all that good heart and he just. enabled a monster to rise to power. to make gotham worse

HE'S MUGGING HIM

YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT YOU BASTARD YOU

i

i

and the water takes him too.

JULIAN

oH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AHHAAHHAHAHA

JULIAN

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOFIA GETTING MARRIAGE PROPOSALS HAHAHAHAHAH

SELINA KYLE???????? HELLO??????????????

bro.... oh my god..... this is....

I'm so happy.........

sofia smiling... sofia finding a new family member....

nvm i am so glad my original theories were wrong this is way better than anything i could have hoped for

oh my god

ohhhhh my god he actually is keeping his mom in a vegetative state.... exactly what she begged him not to do.......

she knows.... she knows... some part of her is aware in there ahahahahah

you should have let Rex kill him all those years ago

oh my god EVE???? EVE GIRL GET OUT BEFORE HE KILLS YOU TOO

oh no please tell me he never learned what happened with sofia and eve

hes literally just calling her ma. fuck me. mayeb that means eve is safe for now

NOT THE BATSIGNAL

[thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl]

The books 👏🏻 aren't 👏🏻 even 👏🏻 all 👏🏻 in 👏🏻 the warehouse 🤣😭

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[rororow]

I’ve decided Sparrow is AroAce, Rebecca is AroHet, and Lark is PanPoly and I’m writing them all (+ Nick) into a sitcom/soap opera. In my head.

[insanityislife101]

POV: fucking geometry

he's so fucked up

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ long time coming : aaron hotchner x fem! reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

summary: after getting hurt out in the field, you're on leave for a month. coming back felt long overdue, that is until your plans with the team lead you to a situation that feels a bit too close for comfort after such a traumatic time. what's worse, your feelings you've harbored for your boss have no choice but to come to light when he makes the odd choice to address you as 'agent' rather than your name after one month of being apart, and years and years of back and forth will-they-wont-they.

content warnings: making out. allusions to sexual assault + r4pe (but only in the context of the case). reader has slight signs of PTSD. anxiety/panic attacks. reader runs into a few pushy men while out at the club. drinking / drunk confessions. reader has a crush on her boss, it is also implied that reader finds derek attractive, and he reciprocates these feelings. hotch is very good at calming reader down. no usage of y/n. reader is described as having shoulder length hair (can be read as a wig/weave) angry/disappointed hotch! reader has been hiding her anxiety / nightmares / memory issues from the team. mentions of vomiting. kissing. mentions of elle & the events of the fisher king. no distinct timeline, but can be read as s7 with the iconic team (hotch, emily, derek, jj, penelope, rossi, & spencer)

"Okay, I didn't know we were going all out. I would've prepared better." you smile shyly as Jennifer pulls you into a tight hug. When Penelope had called you early that morning with an excited decree that you'd been cleared to return to work you hadn't been sure how to feel. You hadn't bothered to ask how Garcia of all people was privy to information you hadn't received from your bosses yet, there was no getting a straight answer when it came to the Technical Analyst.

It had been her idea for the entire team to get together. You'd been out of the office for a full month, and in that time you'd tried your hand at maintaining your bonds with the rest of the group. It of course wasn't the same, but you knew that you'd needed the time. The last time you'd joined them on a case things had gone horribly wrong. You shudder at the thought, you had been doing so good at forgetting about it all, but seeing them again made it all come back.

The unsub had been your run-of-the-mill anger excitation rapist, a creep that had been using an elaborate ruse to entice and entrap women. It had been Emily's idea for the two of you to go undercover, the unsub had been killing two women every week, women who in many ways were polar opposites of one another, a trait that you and Emily shared. Long story short, in the midst of your plan to lure and trap the Unsub, you'd been separated from Emily and cornered.

You’d been carted off by the creep who kept you stuck for three hours before the team used his mistake to find you. By then though, the damage had been done. You remember the look on Rossi's face when he and Hotch came busting in, and found you looking bruised up with a bloody face, and a gun barrel to the side of your head. You'd never seen Hotch quite as scared, at least not since everything with Foyet nearly three years ago when he lost Haley and almost Jack.

You'd been too out-of-sorts to hear the way they'd tried to reason with the Unsub. And you hadn't realized your abdomen was losing blood until a gunshot rang out, bullets whizzing past your head as the unsub curled into himself before falling to the ground. You didn't know much, you thought maybe your eardrums had exploded with the way they were ringing, and you'd half expected to smack your head against the ground and end up with an annoying concussion.

Instead, you'd been met with the sight of your boss. He'd yelled something you weren't privy to, mouth moving as he seemingly forced the rest of the team out of their stupor long enough to get a medic inside to look you over. It was like you said, the details were fuzzy, but nothing had managed to wipe Hotch's worried expression as he fussed over your safety, out of your mind. However, if you were honest with yourself for one measly second, that was nothing new.

Nothing seemed to fill up your mind the way your boss did, and it was stupid, and deplorable all things considered. But it's not like it had even been something you'd asked for. It just happened one day. You shake these thoughts of your near paralyzing emotions away, pulling yourself back to the present as you took in JJ, who despite her perceived candor looked great. "Oh come on Jaige." you huff, and you appraise her more openly. "You look amazing, as usual."

She grins, albeit shyly, and she's waiting, maybe for your approval maybe for something else. She's trying to be discreet as she sweeps your for obvious reminders of what happened, and you feel nervous. Most of your injuries had healed up well enough, and the scratches that littered your face had been covered in a smattering of makeup. You felt comfortable in your pretty girl cocoon, all done up with a bright smile on your face that was surprisingly believable.

"Can I hug you?" she asks, and you can tell she's been holding it in, waiting to ask. You nod your head, a quiet chuckle escaping you as the blonde seems to scoop you into her arms. She's careful not to squeeze too tight, but the love is felt all the same. "God, it's been so weird without you around." she hums, and while the rest of the team is already huddled inside, probably in a booth Penelope picked, you're so happy she's the one here telling you this now.

"Now you know how we all felt when they sent you to the Pentagon." you whisper back, and you hear her bemused giggle as she steps back, and she takes you in again. Your red minidress was a stark contrast to the usual business-casual attire you wore everyday to work. Your hair was curled, pinned back with a gold claw clip, hair just barely ghosting over the divots of your collarbones. You'd opted for a shorter do' following everything with the unsub.

"Never leave us again." she pleads, and you feel this warmth blossoming in your chest at the way she's staring at you, almost like she really means it. You'd joined the team back when Elle and Gideon had still been around. At one point you'd been the rookie, the new girl nobody knew what to expect from. JJ had been right there beside you, even back then. She had been sweet, assertive, your first real friend on the team. She'd welcomed you before anyone else.

In time of course, things had changed, JJ had a husband, kids, a hoard of other units that were plotting on her skills at all times, but she was still JJ. Still that same first friend that helped you to see the Behavioral Analysis Unit was the only place for you. "I'll do my best." you promise, and she grins. She links arms with you before you both head inside the bar. There was music playing, some alternative indie song that wasn't half bad.

"Here's the girl of the hour now." Emily exclaims, and it's clear they've already started tossing back shots. JJ's head is instantly shaking in mortification. So it was going to be one of those nights. Penelope meets you both, pulling JJ from your arms and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek sweetly, before she's turning to you. She's got tears already brimming in her eyes, and you can't help but giggle at the dramatics of it all.

"I'm so happy to see you." she squeals, and you find yourself hugging back despite the sting of your abdomen. "You look so beautiful." she adds a second afterwards. "What are you looking to get lucky?" she asks, as she uses her hands to push you away slightly, hands resting gently on both of your shoulders. You feel your face growing hot at the implication, and you see the way she's looking at your facial expressions for a signal of your lies. Curse her proximity to profilers.

"I just wanted to look nice." you reply and Penelope lets you off the hook. She leads you to the table, and you're just in time to hear the group finish up their hellos to JJ. She's sitting next to Morgan, who's bright-eyed as he looks up at you. You find yourself fussing with your hair, playing it cool as you press your lips together, re-smearing your lipstick as you waved your hand.

You weren't sure why you felt like the new kid all over again.

"It's good to see you, pretty girl." he croons, and you grin. Morgan was flirty, had been since you met him, and if you weren't so disastrously into Hotch, you think he'd be all on your mind. Well, you know... more than he was. There had been times where you'd been partnered together, and it almost felt like the tension was going to cut you in half. Sexual tension aside though, Derek was your friend.

They all were, and despite what your mind tried to tell you as you sobbed yourself through nightmares during your break from work, they were genuinely happy to see you. "I'm glad you're okay." your eyes flit over to the youngest member of the team. Spence is looking relieved as he too looks up at you with eyes full of relief. He's next to Emily, and she's already downing another drink. She'd be complaining about a migraine the next day, you could hear her now.

"Thanks, Spence." you coo, and you offer him a wink as your eyes fall on the only present member of the team that hadn't addressed you. Rossi had made a point to send his hellos, but due to a previous standing appointment, he wouldn't be joining tonight. You couldn't hold it against him, Rossi was scoping the prairie for wife number four. He offers you a faint smile, the group instantly falling into chatter.

"H-Hey Hotch." you mumble, and he's closest to you, sitting on the outside of the booth as the rest of the team tried their hardest to pretend they weren't expecting this. He doesn't say anything for a moment, instead he takes you in. He wasn't blind, he'd seen you before, you'd always been beautiful, but there was something about you done up like this. Red dress, red lip, bold makeup, and heels that showed off your legs, and accented your model-esque posture.

It was obvious that you were still a bit nervous about being out and about, and you were out of practice with being around the team. He imagined after a bit though you'd be back to yourself. You, and the rest of the girls would be falling into a rhythm in no time. He stands to his feet, much taller than you, as you take a small step back to give him space. "It's good to see you up and about, Agent." and his voice is low, clearly as a courtesy to the bustling of conversation behind you.

"Agent?" you repeat, and the word is so foreign. It makes you take another step back, the bottoms of your Louboutin's clacking against the ground. You looked a bit hurt, but you played it off quickly. "Come on, Hotch. I think we're a little past those formalities." you chuckle awkwardly, and you find yourself looking towards the bar. Yeah, you were definitely going to need a drink. He seems to curse under his breath, but you're not sure if that's due to you, or some internal conflict you weren't privy to. You don't wait to figure it out either.

He doesn't have the opportunity to reply to your correction, because you're looking to Emily, JJ, and Garcia. "Wanna get some shots?" you ask, and you sidestep Aaron, making sure you don't look his way again, as the girls immediately exclaim their agreements. Penelope's sliding out of the booth first, Emily and JJ following her example as they head straight towards the bar. JJ's shooting you a knowing glance as she looks between Hotch and yourself.

"You coming boys?" you extend the invite to Derek and Spencer, who are quick to nod along, both men trailing after the others as they head to the counter to order more drinks. You prepare to follow after them, ready for the welcome respite from your mind swimming in circles.

"I didn't mean to offend you." you stop short, spinning on your heel to meet the gaze of your Unit Chief.

"Well you did." you reply, and your voice is small. "I've known you for almost seven years, and here you are treating me like a stranger." you mumble, and you find yourself tugging at your dress. "I mean, I know it's been a while, but geez Hotch, it's still me." you say and he winces. You're not sure what the last month has been like for the others, but you know what they've been like for you. Torturous. It's been Hell.

"I know." he says, and your eyebrow raises, unmoved by his words. "And again, I didn't mean to offend you." he promises, and he clenches and unclenches his fists by his side. "After everything that happened, I guess I just assumed you'd prefer a more professional approach." he mutters, and you scoff quietly. Classic Aaron Hotchner, running away from interpersonal conflict with his tail tucked between his legs. "You don't even seem comfortable with us tonight."

You blink. Okay well he had a point there, but you were trying.

"It's not that I'm not comfortable." you mutter, and you look over your shoulder at the rest of the team. "I guess I just didn't expect to feel so out of place being out and about." you shrug your shoulders bashfully. "Everyone's normal, everything seems the same." you continue, and you notice the way that Hotch's lips have pressed into a hard line. "And it's like no time has passed at all for anyone else, but for me it's like I never moved." you blink, shivering at the thought.

Hotch's eyebrows furrow inwardly as he takes in your words. "I still feel like I'm-" you trail off, feeling a wide lump growing in your throat. "It's like I never left." you course correct, eyes shutting briefly, lashes brushing against your cheekbones. "Like no matter how much time passes, it still feels like I'm there with him and I'm-"

"I understand." he cuts you off, you think maybe to salvage your pride or to keep you from having a panic attack at the thought. "And you're certain you're ready to come back to work? You know you can take all the time you need." he reminds you, and you are immediately nodding your head as you wave a tired hand his way.

"I can't stay cooped up in my house anymore." you mumble. "It's becoming counterproductive." you huff. "I'm ready." you add a second later. "Apart from this awkwardness, I'm also perfectly fine." and it's a lie, you'd been having nightmares every night. Restless, sleepless evenings full of dread, and jump scares of your own creation. "I mean, I'm here aren't I?" you offer a tight smile as you reach out and tap Hotch's shoulders twice, a tense little conversation ender.

You don't want to stay huddled up with him anymore, not while he was looking at you like he was trying to see into your soul. You turn on your heel, dress swishing side to side as you head for the group. You find yourself in between Emily and Penelope, the blonde to your left immediately sliding a drink in front of you. You down it in a second, the intense burn as the alcohol rested in your chest was a welcome reprieve from the anguish and anxiety you'd been feeling.

You forget about Hotch, and all your heavy feelings by the time you're on your third drink. Your heels feel much too heavy under your feet as you stumble into Emily, the brunette chuckling vibrantly as you hang off each other, the music playing overhead lulling you into a false sense of security. It was nice being like this again after so long, laughing at the dramatic banter between Derek and Penelope. You wondered if they'd remain purely platonic forever.

Trading gossip back and forth with Emily and JJ was always a treat, especially as Spencer tried to keep up with eyes wide as saucers while Emily finally cracked the secrets of her coveted Sin-To-Win weekends. You weren't sure what was funnier, the peeks into Emily's life outside the unit, or the horrified looks that crossed Spence's face with every new tidbit of knowledge he learned about his coworkers. You found your eyes flickering over to Hotch again.

He was stoic as ever, but looser than he would be in the office. He seemed to enjoy being a quiet observer much more than he preferred to be in the mix. He leisurely swirled his glass of scotch, and you felt that familiar buzz of warmth in your chest when you managed to catch him smiling as he quietly passed conversation back and forth with a newly drunk Penelope, and Derek, who looked exasperated.

"Are you just gonna stare at him all night?" you jump a bit, turning to face Emily with surprise swirling in your irises. "If you keep it up, he's gonna catch you." she adds a second afterwards and you tense, head nodding as you scold yourself. You peel away from the bar, drink clutched in your hand. You had to get away from the bar for a second, maybe the cluttered dance floor would be the best distraction.

"Sorry." you mutter, and Emily offers a airy laugh. "He's just usually so serious." you lean into Emily, who nods along. She'd met Hotch after you, but still she'd managed to become so close to him it was almost surreal. She seemed to always know what he was thinking, they were in sync. Unlike you, who seemed to always be on the other end of a hard stare from the man. For a while you just began to assume he hated your guts. Or better put, he was indifferent to your existence.

That was why his look, that look he'd given you as he cradled your head while he waited for backup had been burned into your skull. All that went out of the window the second he'd labeled you 'Agent' though. God, how stupid were you? Emily's amusement makes your eyes roll. "Can I be honest?" she asks, and you nod. Penelope and JJ have migrated to the dance floor, JJ grabbing the good doctor and bringing him along with them. He looks incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sure, Em. If you think it will help." you reply audibly.

"I haven't seen him this relaxed since everything went down." she admits, and you're surprised. As if somehow your presence had been enough to set the stone-serious man at ease. "The first few days after your accident he was a mess." she adds, and she's got a surprising about of stability to her tone to be as inebriated as she was. She lowers her voice some as she leans into you, "He showed up late." she mutters this like it's some sworn secret just meant for the both of you.

"I'm sure Strauss was just riding him about another mishap in the unit." you try, and Emily looks unconvinced and unimpressed with you. "He's our boss, it's kind of his job to worry about us." you finish.

"Yeah, I guess so." Emily concedes, and she looks like she's done talking about it, so you find yourself relaxing. "Still. I've never seen him go that hard against an unsub, maybe you're not the only person that's feeling something." she leaves you with that, trying to keep from tipping as she marched towards the group. You chuckle quietly to yourself, ignoring Emily's words as you focus on finishing your drink. It seemed you'd inadvertently been trying to be alone all along.

You felt some of the tension melt from your shoulders now that you were standing at the bar, away from those prying eyes you couldn't lie to. There's this sound of heavy footsteps, and then the clearing of a throat, as you turn to be met with the sight of a man. He looked to be about your age, cheeks and nose covered in a little smattering of freckles. He's got a head full of shaggy hair that hangs in his face. He takes a quick step, sliding up against the bar beside you.

Way too close.

"Hey." he mumbles, and you appraise him boredly. It's not like he was ugly or anything, but despite Penelope's words you were not looking to get lucky tonight.

"Hi." you offer a dry greeting, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other as the bar seemingly became a beacon for thirsty men. Just as you were politely stepping away from the freckled man, you found yourself bumping into another man who'd slithered up to the bar, your ass pressing against his crotch as his hands wound around your waist. A sleazy chuckle escapes the man's mouth as you gasp. "I'm so sorry." you exclaim, and you're quick to peel away.

You feel trapped though, there were at least four guys, they all seemed to be friends, they all seemed to be in kahoots.

There's a third and fourth man joining the fray, they all looked to be about the same age, height, and weight class. This was probably their routine: approach and overwhelm whatever drunk girl they might have happened upon. It looked like you were tonight's target. "Hey, what's the rush?" the guy closest to you drawls, and you wonder where all your years of training have gone. His arm raises, and it feels like he might hit you so you flinch way too violently.

"Stick around, we'll order the next round." the next demands, and his breath smells like booze. It stinks, and it's hot as it puffs across your face. You almost break your heels backing away from them, suddenly feeling self conscious a`nd way too vulnerable in your short dress.

"No, it's alright, really." you try, and you stumble again. "My friends are right over there." and you point in their general vicinity. "Have a great night though." you offer politely, and you're trying to make your grand escape. One guy, a shaggy blonde haired man is quick to grab you by your forearm, and it's like you're back to that day. Your bureau appointed therapist had been talking to you about your anxiety, how a range of things could become triggers and transport you mentally.

"That wasn't a question. Stay a while." You're stuck, absolutely frozen in place as your entire body tenses up. Some Special Agent you were, the bureau would be so disappointed in you. Your team would be so disappointed in you. All it took to turn you into a pile of nothing was a bit of confrontation. You could remember a stronger version of you, that girl would've had these men on their knees for even thinking of laying hands on you. God, you missed that girl.

His grip on your arm tightens, fingers digging into you harshly as you find yourself surrounded on every side.

"L-Let me go." you huff under your breath, and you crane your neck. You spot JJ, the blonde's eyes locked on yours as the reality of what's going on forces her to sober up. "I just-" and you jerk away, stumbling back completely. You're surprised you don't scream as your glass drops to the ground shattering as glass sprays in every which direction. You feel like your ankle's twisted as you fall back on your ass. You expect to feel the embarrassing thud that came with smacking your ass on the hard floor of a bar, but it never comes.

Instead you feel cocooned by a familiar scent. Strong arms are looped around you, but you suppose your lack of disgust at the action is just a testament of your comfortability. "Are you alright?" it's mumbled against your ear, and the low tone of his voice makes you shiver. All you can really offer is a tight nod as Aaron's guiding you behind him. You don't get to see Hotch in action, not when JJ, Penelope, and Emily are flocking you like Charlie's Angels.

You feel the first signs of the need to barf pricking at you, and you know that you need to get some air. You needed to breathe.

"God, are you okay?" Penelope asks, and you're not sure if you are being dramatic. I mean, it wasn't like they'd done anything really. Now you were gonna look like the freak that ruined a fun night.

"I'm sorry." you chirp, and you miss the way Jennifer and Emily share a hard glance. It's not until you're feeling brisk air whipping around your face that you realize they've taken you outside, and you haven't stopped apologizing. I'm so sorry. Penelope's got wide eyes, quickly brimming with tears as you find yourself crumbling to the ground. Your hand's quick to clutch around your chest as you try to inhale. The dramatics of it all made you even more nauseous.

You should've stayed at home.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Emily's cooing, and it seems being out like this has sliced through her tipsy stupor. She's focused just like she would be on any regular sort of day. "I need you to breathe." she instructs, and JJ's crouching down in front of you, brown eyebrows draw inwardly as she takes in your clearly frantic state. Every puff of air that escapes you is tight and sounds like it hurts. You can just barely hear the sound of a commotion taking place inside.

You do hear JJ's quiet exclamation of "I'll stay with her, go check on Hotch and Derek!" before Penelope and Emily are heading back into the packed building. She calls your name, and it takes a while for you to regain your voice. She's devoid of pity, which you appreciate. JJ knew more than anyone how much you hated being seen as a burden, or someone to be sorry for. Pride was a killer. "Can you try and take a deep breath for me?" and it's then you realize your choppy little intakes of air weren't doing you any favors.

It takes a great deal of effort for your vision to be less blurry. Your ears were full of cotton, and your head was swimming. You feel bile again in the back of your throat, and you jerk away from JJ's reach. You feel like you're suffocating, transported away from the random bar in the middle of Virginia, and back to a place you'd fought so hard to escape. You were certain you'd remember that unsub forever. His evil eyes, the way he tried to use your entrails like paint.

You remember how Elle had changed after she'd been attacked by Garner. How she had changed so much that she had no choice but to step away from the Unit. Would that be your life? You didn't want that life, but it was clear you needed something, you needed help. You couldn't focus on anything else, but what had happened. You'd ruined a night out because the act of being cornered was enough to transport you back.

JJ's still peering at you as if she's waiting for you to start panicking, and maybe you were. "I'm sorry." you huff again, and JJ's shaking her head at you.

There's a deep frown etched into her face as she sighs herself. "Stop apologizing." she insists, and your lashes are wet with unshed tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. Those assholes should've never put their hands on you." she proceeds. "You know that don't you?" she continues, and you don't know how to respond, so you don't. JJ reads you like an open book, and she smacks her teeth. "Well now you do." she says this firmly. "And I'm sure Hotch and Morgan are teaching them that lesson right now." you tense up again.

"I didn't mean to ruin the-" JJ's offering you a hard glare that shuts you up. Another bad habit you'd picked up since the incident. You were working on it, trying not to blame yourself for things you didn't cause. "I'm sorry." and this time it's not because of tonight. "I was so nervous about tonight.-" you take in a hiccupped breath. "I just wanted to prove that I could bounce back." you explain, and it's the first insight you've allowed anyone. "I figured if I pretend everything's normal, soon enough it would be, but it's too much." you huff.

"And that's okay." she promises. "What you went through isn't something anyone's expecting you to forget about in a month, alright? It's gonna take time, and there will be days where it'll hurt a lot more, and there will be days where you're feeling like your old self again." she promises. "What you need to understand is that we-" she pauses as you take it in. "are your family." she finishes, and your lips start to twitch, you're not sure if you'll smile or cry.

"I know-" you proceed, and she holds a hand up in front of you.

"Let me finish." she pleads, and you inhale before nodding. "I don't- none of us want a repeat of what happened with Elle." she says quietly. "None of us want to show up to the unit one day and see your badge and gun sitting on your desk." JJ sighs. "So if you ever start feeling anxious, or terrible, or just like you're back... there." and you wince at the mention. "I want you to call me, call one of us. Don't deal with this alone, alright? Not when you don't have to."

JJ hugs you before you have time to respond, but her words sink deep and make you feel warm inside. "Thanks, Jaige." you mumble against her hair. She squeezes you tighter, and you believe it's to make up for her shyer hug earlier.

"You're welcome." she mumbles back, and then she's pulling back. You don't have much respite, Penelope practically tackling you in a hug of her own. You hadn't even realized the rest of the team has left the bar, you were sure the mood of the night was much lower.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Penelope exhales, and you do too, breathing fine again, save for a few hiccups that escaped you every so often. She lets you go after a beat, and you're quick to take a small step back, suddenly feeling anxious once more.

"Yeah, I'm fine now." your eyes meet Derek and Emily's. "Thank you." and you're chuckling quietly as Derek pulls you into his side. He plants a kiss on the top of your head, and you warm inwardly. Spencer does hug you, and it's a shock. One of those hugs that you never take for granted, because it could be a while before you get another. Once he's pulled away you find yourself still hovering, listening quietly as they all decide the night's not over.

You respectfully bow out, you'd had enough for one day. It's then you notice that Hotch is all by himself. You quietly excuse yourself, but you find that they're not really listening now that you were safer. "Are you alright?" you ask, and your voice is very quiet. Hotch looks up from his phone as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You take in his face, and it's clear he's been in some sort of scuffle. Most notable due to the fact he's got blood smeared under his nose.

"I should be asking you that." he retorts, and your eyebrows furrow in.

"Y-You already did." you remind him, eyes darting away. "Why are you over here by yourself?" you shoot off a round of questions, the wind whipping around, and making you crave the comfort of your bed. You maintain a respectful balance, you weren't in any rush to be all up in someone's space.

"I think I've had enough of crowds for the night." he retorts. You don't realize until it's happened though, your hand reaching up to swipe at the blood that's slowly drying on his upper lip.

"Get into a bar fight?" you ask, and you hold your breath for the answer. Hotch looks down at you, and there's this unreadable expression on his face. You realize that this is nothing new. Hotch had never been easy to read, he was one of the greatest profilers you'd ever met, one of the greatest people. But he'd always been an enigma. His emotions were an Alcatraz all on their own.

"You should see the other guy." the classic rebuttal to a question like yours. It doesn't make you smile, mostly because he's not smiling either. "Are you okay?" and he's got you by your wrist, eyes zoned in on the harsh mark the guy from the bar had left behind. "He never should've touched you." his voice lowers, and there's an annoyance attached to his tone. "I'm so sorry." you find yourself huffing.

"You shouldn't have fought him." you say matter-of-factly. Your fists fold up at your sides, your lips pulling down into a frown. "It'll give everyone the wrong idea." you say, and you wrench your hand away from his grasp.

"Everyone?" he repeats, and he looks confused, classic Hotch.

"Me." you correct, "I'll get the wrong idea." you whisper. "I might actually think you like me." you admit quietly.

"We wouldn't want that." he replies, and his tone is far from mocking. You hate that it makes you crack a smile. You hate that he's always the one that manages to get that reaction out of you.

"Hey, are you two coming? We're all heading to Mo's." Emily calls, and you snort at the fact that their alcohol riddled mind had caused them to forget you'd already declined. You take a step away from Hotch, and you hate that you stumble. You were hating a lot of things tonight. Maybe you weren't as sober as you'd thought.

Aaron looks to you as if he's waiting to see your answer before giving his own, and maybe he was. The second you're politely explaining that you're ready to head home, Aaron is offering to drive you. Derek is whistling, Emily and JJ offering you smug little smirks. Penelope is trying to keep herself secured to Earth. "He's gonna take her home." he whispers to no one in particular, and it's a horrid attempt.

"We all heard, babygirl." Derek replies to her, and you find yourself a bit stuck. The thought of spending the eighteen minute car ride with your boss make you want to scream, but you'd taken a cab. Your own car was parked in the driveway of your place. And he doesn't look like he' taking any goodbyes either way. Rounds of goodbye and see you laters are soon offered. "Take care of our girl, Hotch." Derek calls, and you hear Spencer as he starts to rant about Derek's turn-of-phrase.

Our girl. Hotch finds that the words repeat in his head like an obnoxious echo. "Why are you doing this?" you question quietly. "If you're just trying to make up for the whole Agent thing, there's no need." you proceed, and you take a small step back.

"I'm not trying to make up for that." he replies quickly. "But, you're drunk, and you've been through a lot tonight." he reminds you as if you're ditsy or something. "It wouldn't be smart to leave you by yourself." he continues, and he inhales deeply. He watches the way you watch him, like you're unsure, like you're suspicious. "That isn't a testament of whether or not I think you can handle yourself... and neither was fighting that man at the bar." he promises, and you blink.

"No?" you ask, and your tongue feels extra dry. Like you've licked a stripe of sandpaper.

"No." he reaffirms. "You mean a lot to the team. We wouldn't be the same without you." he says this bit like he means it, and you can't find any trace of a lie residing in his face. He does mean it.

"Thank you, Sir." you reply under your breath, exhaling the word. The chill of the night finally gets to you, and you shiver.

"Can I take you home?" he asks, and you know you're reading into it more than you should. You know what he means, what he's really asking, but delusion was healthy every now and again, right?

"Y-Yeah." your head nods, voice wavering slightly as you take hold of the bottom of your dress. "Yes." you say more firmly.

"Okay." you stand there for a few moments more, passing charged glances back and forth. "You never answered my question earlier." is what he says to break the moment. "About how you were doing..." he proceeds. "I've asked you twice, and both times you-"

"Deflected?" you offer, and his head nods. "I guess I'm just scared you'll see right through whatever my answer is." you admit, and you cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Emily and JJ will at least humor me." you explain. "Penelope won't ask... mostly because she's scared of the answer." you chuckle awkwardly. "Derek and Spence, well I guess they're like you too... but you're here, and they're not... so here we are."

Hotch appraises you for a second, but he doesn't say much else. You're grateful for that, but equal parts annoyed that he wasn't leaping to tell you that you were harder to read than you thought. No such luck. Still, you're surprised when Hotch grabs you by your arm, much gentler than earlier, and he's slowing his stride to be in step with yours. You don't realize you've leaned fully into his side until you feel him tense up. He doesn't say anything though.

A win is a win.

You didn't know much about the inner workings of Aaron Hotchner's mind, but you did know that if he was uncomfortable with your proximity, he would have said so. The walk back to Hotch's car is silent. At least outwardly, inside you were panicking. He opens the passenger side for you, and you imagine a world where this was normal. Where it didn't take you being hit on by sleazy men at a bar to be having these moments with Hotch. But it was impossible.

"Did it hurt?" you ask, once the car is moving. He's adjusted the temperature, a soothing warm pooling from the vents. You're surprised at how quickly he drives, you'd half expected him to be one of those slow as molasses drivers. Hotch looks over at you incredulously, his eyebrows raise, but he doesn't look agitated nor annoyed with you breaking the silence again.

"You'll have to be more specific." he replies, and you hum. You pause for a second, trying to find the right words. At the last second you decide saying it straight would be just as good as anything else.

"Punching that guy?" you ask, and Hotch's lips quirk upwards, he was amused with you. In truth, he had no idea what he was thinking. As soon as the girls had ushered you away, he'd found himself swinging before he could think of the repercussions. All he knew was that you'd sounded scared, you'd sounded unlike yourself in a way that made him angry. Everyone saw how you had changed, the elephant in the room was hard to ignore. But you were trying, he could give you that.

"No." he mumbles, and that likely has a lot to do with the fact that he hasn't come down. He's still on edge, still watching you like you might at any moment start spiraling. "Besides, it was worth it." and he says this a bit under his breath, you hear it all the same. "I doubt he'll try it again." he admits, and you feel liberated. It was nice to have someone fighting for you, fighting the fights you weren't capable of.

"Thanks, Hotch." you hum, and it triggers a yawn.

"Back to Hotch?" he asks, and you look over at him confused. You kick your feet back and forth, careful not to dig your heels into the plush of the car's floor.

"Would you prefer I call you sir?" you ask, and he is tapping on the brake, the car slowly peeling to a stop as you come up on a red light.

"No." he answers sternly. "It's not like you." he admits, and the light is turning green again. He steps lightly on the gas, the car surging forward "Especially if you're only calling me Sir, as payback for me calling you Agent." he says, and even though you had tried your hand at pretending the greeting hadn't bothered you, it was obvious he had read right through you.

"Why'd you do that?" you question and your tone is a lot more clipped than you had intended.

"So it did offend you?" he retorts, and you feel anger flaring up. You swallow this feeling, hands balling up by your side.

"Hotch." you snap, and he smirks fully, eyes back on the road. "Can you be serious, please?" you ask, and you probably sound pitiful.

"The last month I've just been..." he trails off momentarily, and you wonder if he's emotional, or just being dramatic. "I should have known better." he expresses. "I should've been there to make sure that what happened didn't." he says, and you tense up. "He never should have gotten the chance to get close enough to cart you off." he completes his thought, and you're shocked. You never would have guessed Hotch blames himself for what happened to you.

"That wasn't your fault." you promise, and you mean it. You'd never once thought of blaming Hotch for what went down. "You were confident in the plan, you were putting your faith in the team."

"There is a very thin line between confidence and arrogance." He rebuttals instantly. "We got cocky, and you suffered because of it." he looks so destroyed as he says this. "And then you showed up tonight, and tried to pretend everything was fine." he notes as you remain silent. "It just reminded me that we're too close." he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "The longer you stay in the unit, the more you become numb to the things we see. You start to ignore the signs that you're not alright." he says, and you'd never thought of it that way.

"Hotch..." you exhale.

"I called you Agent to set up a boundary, or at least I tried." he says this like he's beating himself up. "But then I saw the way it hurt you." and he looks ashamed. "And I never want to be someone who does that to you." you're warring with your heart then. "So I wont do it again." he promises, and he looks to you briefly. "I'll call you by your name, I won't deflect." he adds as your mouth drops open just briefly.

"But, it's not right for someone your age to be so closed off. It's not right for you to pretend to be okay just to keep up with the people around you. If you weren't up to being out, you should've stayed home, our opinions don't outweigh your safety." he lectures you. "They never will." he adds a second after, and he's so sure as he says this. He's slowing down, coming up on your place.

Your leg is shaking slightly, that pesky feeling of anxiety creeping back up on you. "We're here." he says under his breath as if you weren't aware. You don't budge, you can't. You have so much to say, but where do you start. Hotch has shut his car off, almost like he too has a lot sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"I just wanted to prove I could handle it." you admit, and you're crying. "I didn't want to be another Gideon or Elle... or Spence." you cringe at the memories. "I didn't want you guys to handle with me with kid gloves. I didn't want you to see me as the girl who needs the kid gloves." you express honestly, and now your tears are falling in quick precession. "I'm sorry..." you swipe at your face. "I don't know why I'm crying, this is so stupid." you hiss at yourself.

"No, it isn't." the response earns him a surprised glance. "It's good... this is good." Hotch is quick to use a hand to swipe at your tears. He hates the sight of them, but loves what they mean. Your heart's still soft, pliable. You haven't fully succumb to the horrors of the job. "Consider this me atoning." he prompts. "You have my ear, say whatever you need to say." he looks over at you again, and seems to mentally backtrack. "If it'll help you." he adds.

You sniffle audibly, hands clenching and unclenching as the car suddenly feels much too hot. "It's not your fault, okay?" you repeat, and you say it with more certainty. "I just need you to know that." you sniffle again, but your tears keep falling, even as you try to blink them away. "Hotch, you're our leader for a reason, and you were there to save me that night, and you were here to save me tonight." you remind him. "I don't want you to pull back, not when I'm finally making some progress with cracking that hard exterior of yours."

Hotch's lips quirk at your words, and he looks down at his lap. "I've never meant to pull back from you." the inflection with the last words sticks. "I thought I was doing right by you... pulling the band aid off before you got in too deep." he says. "But that was wrong of me, I can admit to that. I'm sorry." and his apologies are like kisses. They wash over you, and force you to believe him.

"Don't apologize to me." you plead, "Just promise not to leave me behind, treat me like an outsider again." you continue as his head nods, and you can trust that he's listening.

"I can do that." he promises.

That seems to be the key to unlocking the dam of your emotions. You choke on the feelings, a quiet sob escaping you as you clasp a hand over your mouth. How dramatic, and pathetic, and God awful were all these feelings. But they'd been years in the making, right?

"Are you alright?." he asks under his breath, worry palpable.

"Do you know that the only thing that kept me from losing it that day was you?" you ask, and your boldness won't leave you, clearly it was now or never. "You told me to 'keep breathing'... you said it over and over and over, and I listened." you explain, and he remembers the day too well. "Even though everything hurt like hell, and there was so much blood." you reminisce. "And I don't know, maybe I'm just crazy, but there was this look." you exhale sadly. "This look you had on your face that made me think... 'maybe it's not just me'"

It isn't. He knows that instantly. You've plagued his mind so severely for so long that he can just barely remember a time where you weren't one of the only things he thought about, worried about, cared about. But he had his post to think about, he was the Unit Chief, your boss, your superior. What would the team think? What would Strauss think? Did it matter? In the grand scheme of things, did those worries outweigh his need, his innate desire to see you safe and protected from harm? Absolutely not. So what was the real problem?

"Hotch..." you inhale deeply, voice cracking distractingly as he gives you his full attention. Something you'd dreamed of, wanted more than anything since the first time you'd ever laid eyes on him. "Aaron." you correct, and you breathe again. "I've been thinking of how to say this... i've been rehearsing it over and over again, because I wanted to get it right, and I just knew tonight would be the night I'd have to have the balls to either say it or let it go forever." you admit.

"Say it..." and he's rushing you, but you suppose that's deserved. You were still stalling, dragging this out way more than you needed to.

"I'm in love with you." and it was out there, and you couldn't take it back. You stare him down, worried about his reaction, about how he would respond. "And it took me getting hurt, and being sent home, away from the team for me to realize." you inhale shakily. "I kept having these-these dreams about that night. All these different scenarios about how things could've turned out different, how I could've died had one thing been out of place." you process.

"You're the reason I'm still here, you're the reason why this team can function, and you're the reason why I- why I came tonight even though my anxiety told me it wasn't safe. Because, somehow I knew that as long as you were here... I'd be okay, and I am." you say, and it's a lot, too much maybe. His reaction is hard to read at first, face just as stoic as most times, but his eyes.... his eyes hold the truth. They melt, pools of warm honey dancing in the darkness residing there.

"And it's inappropriate... and wrong... and silly... but- I couldn't go another day without you knowing, without you hearing from me." you explain. "When you came up to the bar tonight I just... I've never felt this way before... lucky, protected, safe.... and-and I'm not asking for anything from you... I'm not expecting something in return, I just wanted to get it out there... I think we both know it's been a long time coming..." and your words are being swallowed as Aaron leans forward. The middle console is a bridge, a roadblock.

It doesn't deter him though, not from using a hand to gently cup your face, mouth slotting against yours as if it belonged there. You're dizzy, shocked, surprised, but you don't let this mess you up. You can't possibly allow anything to mess up this moment. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two... the seconds tick by with neither of you moving to break the kiss, hands and tongues and breaths fanning over one another as you get acquainted in the most perfect way.

Still, life dealt lots, and yours consisted of a need for oxygen. It's the only reason why you break apart with heady gasps, eyes dilated and fogged with emotions much too heavy to really explain. "Oh, you can't do that." you explain, and Hotch's bemused, eyebrows raising upwards, as his thumb brushes over your cheekbones.

"I can't?" he asks, and he sounds so much lighter now.

"No, you can't. I'll get the wrong idea, you know." you explain, and he smiles brazenly at your callback to earlier. "I'll actually believe you're in love with me or something." you say, and Hotch is slow as he leans back in, a peck being placed right on your lips as your eyelashes flutter, and your heart beats out of control.

"We can't have that, can we?" he's following your lead with the callback, and your cheek presses into his palm.

"I don't know." you answer, and your voice is faint. "I'm scared this'll be a dream." you proceed as Hotch's eyes scan over your frantic face. "I'll wake up and find out that this was all in my head, and the only memories I get to hold on to are from that night." Hotch's lips purse, head shaking in denial as you inhale shakily.

"No, not this time. an ambitious remark. "This time it's real." he promises. "This time I'm here with you to make sure that all those things you felt that night, and earlier by the bar, are how you keep feeling about me." he answers truly. "I'm here to love you back for as long as you'll have me. Is it alright for me to feel that way?" he asks, and your hand jumps up to keep his squished in place against your face.

"You can feel however you want." you reply, and he laughs, a full blown chuckle escaping him as his face seems to light up like a thousand suns. His eyes glisten, twinkling as he looks down at you, like everything was right in the world. And to him it was. Nothing and nobody could hurt you here.

"Good. Then I choose whatever this between you and I leads to, I choose the feelings that come with that." You smile grows to an almost blinding brightness as you reach across the console to hug him, and pull him into your arms. He's quick as he presses a peck to the top of your head, eyes still dancing over you as if he was seeing you for the first time. And maybe he was, that part wasn't your business, all you knew was that loving Aaron was easy, it could be.

A long time coming, but a wait well worth it. Lucky you.

[makelemonade]

how people find out you’re dating them

pt2; cyno, diluc, thoma, neuvillette

SUGGESTIVE

Cyno

He probably keeps it a secret for 2 weeks until Candace, Alhaitham and Tighnari sniff it out- literally. But in the end it’s not them who find out it’s you.

His jokes change.

Like, insanely.

There’s no more horrible puns- well, there are sometimes, but his humour starts to change to multiple different types of jokes and Candace is the first to notice.

She has been at his side for YEARS protecting the desert so when she actually laughs at his joke for the first time her heart literally drops from shock because did she actually just laugh!!?!?! At CYNO’S JOKE?!

She brings it up with Alhaitham and Tighnari and even they are surprised and of course because they’re nosy people, they decide to figure it out. 

Alhaitham keeps an eye on Cyno whenever he’s in the Akademiya for work. He noticed the way Cyno is always in a rush which before he never was. It’s almost like Cyno has something to do, he thinks.

That’s when he realizes and brings up the idea to them that what if cyno is seeing someone? Tighnari feels a little betrayed knowing they are best friends and that cyno tells him everything but he does slightly agree with the theory. 

He agrees with the theory once he smells expensive products on cyno. Cyno used to never once care about his hair or how nice he smelled given the fact he’s in the desert a lot but he smells a lotion on him one day and realizes that 100% Cyno is seeing someone.

They just have no idea who.

One day they’re talking about it in Alhaitham’s office within the Akademiya, and Nahida comes in one day.

“What are you all talking about?” She asks innocently, eyes peering up at all of them as she hops on Alhaitham’s desk to sit on. 

“We think cyno is seeing someone.” Alhaitham answered.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh right! Y/N!”

“We don’t kno- wait what?” Candace stares at her shocked.

Nahida just giggled. “He dreams about her a lot.”

They all immediately run out of the office and nahida starts to think maybe she shouldn’t have revealed that. 

Diluc

kaeya.

For months now people have noticed that Diluc was taking less time at the bar and was always rushing to get home. He was more talkative and he was even fighting less with Kaeya.

It creeped Kaeya out if we’re being honest here.

So one night you’re hanging out with Kaeya and Venti at the bar while Diluc is working and it’s a pleasant night for you all! 

Venti was singing, strumming the lyre! Kaeya was making jokes and Diluc was laughing at them! It was- wait what? 

Kaeya doesn’t realize until later that night that Diluc laughed at one of his jokes. 

At the end of the night you tell the others you’re going to stay and help Diluc clean up since Charles was off for the night and they pay no attention to it. Kaeya doesn’t either- the only thing he wants is answers.

So one hour after closing, Kaeya bursts into the bar thinking you’d finished helping up Diluc and you were already gone.

But instead he found you bent over the bar, skirt PUSHED up and Diluc right behind you and Kaeya immediately turns back around, knowing his question was already answered.

Of course he immediately tells venti, but not what he saw. He does not want anyone knowing he ever witnessed that even if it was for 0.5 seconds.

Thoma

He starts to deny his help whenever people in the city ask him for something and it’s so shocking that it reaches Ayato through gossip and he HAS to talk to Ayaka about it.

Thoma is an incredible and amazing man; he’s always willing to help out anyone and everyone at every second so of course it’s a shock when he starts denying and is rushing home.

“Is something wrong with him? Is he upset? Is he sick?!” Ayaka has never seen Ayato panic like this about his best friend.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Ayaka giggled. “Maybe he’s just realized that his kindness is taken much advantage of. Personally I think it’s great.” 

“Or he has someone to return home to every night.” 

Both the siblings yelped and their swords were out in an instant, pointing at whoever snuck into their conversation.

Miko was unphased, putting both her hands on the swords and lowering them. “Apologies, it wasn’t my intention to sneak up but it was surely my intention to eavesdrop.” She grinned.

The weapons were away in an instant and Ayaka started to question. “What do you mean someone to come home to?”

“Have you not noticed his need to rush his duties everyday?” Miko asked, and giggled when both the siblings looked at each other with a “no I have not” face. “Wow; I hardly ever see him and even I know of his current actions! Well, if you two are really so keen on trying to figure out what’s ‘wrong’ with him; he has a lover. A secret one, at that, and it seems as if he just really wants to spend the night with them after a long day of work. I’d assume his lover is Y/N, the one who works for me. You have noticed his frequent trips to the shrine, haven’t you?”

The two siblings just stared at each other in shock before they were both running off in different directions; Ayato to find out any information on who you were and Ayaka running to find Thoma to demand answers.

In truth, Miko just saw the two of you kissing on your break in a hidden spot and you both still had no idea she had seen. 

Neuvillette

THOSE DAMN MELUSINES. 

They’re adorable; the cutest little things ever and it’s so cute how he takes care of them but you can never trust them with a secret because they will pass it on to EVERYONE. 

It’s when they do their usual rotations within the buildings; Guard the doors.

In full honesty it was yours and his fault for being, well, quite loud that even though his desk was far from the doors, the Melusine’s could still hear everything and it was insanely embarrassing but they were immediately talking about it and were shocked when you walked out of his office 2 hours later, pretending it was some random meeting.

The next day, one of them- Sigewinne- comes up to him in his office and he gives her a gentle smile. “Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette!”

“Good morning, Sigewinne. Would you like anything?” He opened one of his drawers which was full of mélusine-appropriate snacks.

Sigewinne shook her head. “No thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette! Thank you for offering! We were wondering if Mademoiselle Y/N was coming today?”

He looked at them confused. “Uhm, I believe she is for another meeting in a few hours. Why?”

“Just so then we’ll know when to give you two privacy, Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sigewinne skips away and it takes a few seconds for him to fully process what she meant and becomes mortified.

You’re insanely confused when all the melusines greet you and say hi to you and ask if you want anything when you come in. 

[starlight-library]

Because I Liked A Boy | LN4 (PSDE)

pairing: reader x LN4

summary: You were known as the one who tamed Mr. Playboy of the paddock and for a moment, you thought you had. Then everything goes sideways and suddenly you regret what you've done all because you liked a boy.

warning: angst. so much angst. break-up, player!lando, OOC Oscar?? it's based off the song, sorry not sorry

a/n: welcome to the playlist series, deluxe edition! i put my stim playlist on shuffle and picked the first 12 songs that was played (last two songs are bonus songs!). yes the titles are the songs, whoops

wc: 1.9K

song 1 out 12: because i liked a boy by Sabrina Carpenter

You and Lando had “broken up” right before Baku. Aka, Lando had dumped you right before Singapore which was horrible because he had given you tickets to the race. He let you keep the tickets, thank god, but you would’ve easily sold them if your flight was refundable but the asshole had done it quite literally 24 hours after they hit the non-refundable mark so you decided to go.

That was the first mistake you made. The news broke right after qualifiers when Lando was spotted with another girl at a club.Then the rumors spread that night about how Lando and this girl were a thing first. That you were nothing more but a psycho. Obsessed. A “proud mistress.” A homewrecker. A slut. You decided that it wasn’t worth the energy because you knew the truth and that things would blow over within a week or two.

That was mistake number two because by the second week (and the first week into summer break),  you were still getting hate and death threats directed at you or about you and it was too late to attempt to clear your name. You were thankful for the handful of fans who defended you and found it really odd Lando decided to just let himself be seen with another girl instead of announcing his split beforehand since clearly this girl came after you but there was nothing to do now to change the public’s view of you.

Clearly, it showed that Lando really did not care for you as much as you thought so you decided to do yourself the favor and just disappear. You deactivated all your socials and only told your close friends you were going on a social media detox. Your family were going on a mini vacation when in reality you found yourself waltzing into

Plopping down on the couch, you run your fingers through your hair before letting your head hang. Your fingernails dig into your scalp and suddenly your sweats are wet from the tears falling onto them before dragging your hands down and silently crying into a mix of  your hands and hair. You tried to figure out what had happened.

What has gone wrong?

You swore that you and Lando were happy. Sure, the long distance at times was rough and the time zones felt killer but you had held strong. You were convinced that you two could make it to the postseason and the few month or two that you two had together would help immensely. Still, you had been warned to keep him at a distance. That Lando was nothing more but a player and a heartthrob that moved on when he was bored but you swore that you were the one and for a bit, you were fooled into believing it along with everyone else.

It was almost a year. A fucking year basically you spent with Lando before he decided to dump you. A year of fucked up sleep schedules and sleepless nights. A year of traveling to go see these races. A year of meeting his friends and slowly being integrated into his world just for it to come crashing down. God, how stupid were you? You had poured so much energy into this boy just to be the one that got hurt in the end. What you would’ve give to punch him in his stupid fa—

“Here.”

You look up to be greeted with a carton of ice cream. You take the carton without a second thought, top flung off, and spoon diving in. You grunts slightly as you struggle but you manage to be victorious as you get a spoonful. The couch shifts next to you and tears immediately swell again when there’s a gentle comforting hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumble while shaking your head before shoving another mouthful of ice-cream into your mouth, “you tried to warn me. I didn’t listen. This is the consequence of my action.” You laugh bitterly, “God maybe I really am nothing more than a naive hopeless romantic who can’t pick a good guy to save my own life.”

“Don’t say that, y/n.” You can hear the frown as you look over, “you aren’t naive. You see the good in everyone and I admire that about you greatly. You saw the best in him,” gently brushing some hair out of your face. “But he’s never going to change unless he wants to. Sadly, he doesn’t and you got burned in the end because he’s too busy being a player.”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his side. “You’re too good for him.” Pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, “Now. Do you want a trashy movie or trashy TV?”

“Trashy TV. Maybe that new mom documentary about those Mormon moms from tiktok?”

You snicker slightly at the . “The what documentary?”

“Do you seriously not keep up with these things?”

“No.”

“We really have to change that.”

Summer break had come and gone. You had done a lot of crying and snacking but you had also done a lot of healing. You think you’ve done a lot of healing anyway but today would be the deciding factor.

Your stomach twisted and turned as you watched the destination time get lower and lower the closer you arrived to the Austin track. You glance out the window anxious before looking back at your phone. When you arrive, you thank the driver as you climb out, holding your purse just a bit tighter before making your way to one of the back entrances you knew existed. Nobody in the media knew about it so you got into the paddock undetected from the media as you started your journey to a certain garage.

You’re so close to your destination before you’re finally spotted. “Y/N?”

You freeze hearing the familiar British accent behind you. His voice sounded surprised. You should just keep walking, you’re so close to your destination but your body betrays you as you turn. You study those stormy green eyes that seem to grow a bit colder seeing you here. You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your pal to keep from crying. He didn’t deserve that from you.

You silently stare at Lando, who was in his cream sweatshirt from his new academic merch drop and some joggers along with that stupidly beautiful mullet. God, you swore that Aphrodite herself had hand sculptured Lando which would explain why you could not find it in you to hate his looks. Instead, you clear your throat, “can I help you?”

Lando decides to save both of you the trouble and cuts right through the bullshit. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to support my friend.”

“Friend? Seriously?” Lando looks around then back at you, “last time I checked we weren’t even acquaintances. Hell, are we talking again?”

Anger simmered in your stomach but you kept it at bay, “Why would you think I was talking about you?”

Lando seemed a bit surprised by that, “Well, you aren’t really close with anyone else here,” he let out a small chuckle. “The boys might’ve liked you but I’ve known them longer.”

“Well, maybe some of them weren’t happy with how you let things end. I mean, with your new fling starting rumors about me being a homewrecker and such even though when all that went down we’d already broke up. Yet you didn’t have the balls to say that to the media, did you?”

Lando grits his teeth, “I never told her to—”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut in. “You let the rumors spread. You let the fire grow. You never denied the rumors or told her it was wrong. You didn’t even tell the media we broke up before that night. Now I’m just the homewrecking slut when she came into the picture after me. Seemed like she was doing a lot of projecting and yet, here we are.”

You cross your arms over your chest staring the Brit down. Silence falls upon the two of you and you’re ready to leave before an arm is slung over your shoulder startling you and Lando. “There you are.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim and smile, “hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lando interjects.

“Excuse me?” Oscar asks, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Spare me, Oscar. Why the hell are you inviting Y/N knowing damn well we broke up just a little over a month ago.”

You can feel your heart twist as Lando speaks. His words were like a knife that would stop at nothing until you were nothing more than a shell of yourself wallowing in pain occasionally through the numbness.

“Well, Y/N and I are friends and I invited her as my guest this weekend so…” he lets his words trail off for a moment.

“When did you and Y/N become friends?”

“When you decided to treat her like trash and tossed her to the side for some random girl probably after you just for your fame and money.”

The silence that followed Oscar’s comment was suffocating. Your jaw was opened a little while you stared at the Aussie in pure awe while Lando’s jaw had dropped to the floor. He quickly regained some of his composure, still unsure how to respond to his teammate and friend (maybe?) remark but Oscar wasn’t done.

“I mean, come on. Y/N is great. Everyone loves her. Everyone looked forward to seeing her. She stayed up countless nights for you. Rearranged her schedules to visit. Hell, she didn’t know anything about F1 until you and worked her ass off to learn your profession. What’s the thank you gave her for almost a year of your life? Some random girl at the club? Seriously?” Oscar shakes his head, “Mate, I love you but I’m not gonna side with you. You fucked up. You picked a girl who’s known to be a celebrity hopper over someone who gave you everything and you want me to side with you and the celebrity hopper? Who has to slander other girls and put them down so nobody focuses on how fast she moves on?? No thanks.”

You stare up at Oscar in awe for coming to your defense. You feel tears starting to swell because this has probably been the worst month in your life and here was Oscar, reminding you first hand that there were people in your corner. That there were people who saw you for you. Who knew the kind hearted person you were. The one who gave it their all until they couldn’t give anymore. The one who saw the good in everyone and loved way too much and never got the same energy in return. You avert your eyes quickly when Oscar’s gaze meets your and you clear your throat. “You should head back to your garage before they look for you. I’ll meet you there.”

“You sure?” Oscar asks.

“Yeah!”

Oscar nods, “Okay,” he glances at Lando but doesn’t bother saying goodbye. They’d see each other soon enough.

You watch Oscar leave before turning to look at Lando, unsure what to say. It seems he was in the same boat as you both stood there awkwardly.

“Well.” You start finally.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Save it.” You hold a hand up, looking away from him, “please. I don’t. The damage has been done, Lando. It’s over. You’ve already told me who I am from your actions. Just…have a good weekend,” You turn and head to Oscar’s garage without a second glance back at the man who was once your everything.

[alotofpockets]

Co-captains | Leah Williamson x Lionesses!Reader

Where your teammates try to get you with someone at the World Cup to make Leah jealous

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

While representing your country was always an honour, especially at the World Cup, it felt different this time around. Ever since you were thirteen you had represented England with your best friend Leah, but this year she wouldn’t be there with you.

Leah had done her ACL a few months before the World Cup, everyone was devastated for her. The injury in itself was horrible, but to have it happen right before a big tournament like the World Cup made it even worse. 

Besides being best friends, you had also been co-captains for your country the past couple of years. Doing this tournament without her felt wrong, but you knew you had to step up and make her proud.

The team had definitely noticed your mood during your training sessions in Australia. You were very grateful to be a part of the team, but not having Leah there to do it with you kept playing over and over in your head. 

“Missing Leah?” Keira asked as she sat down next to you in the hotel lobby. “Yeah, I wish she was here with us.” A playful smirk formed on Keira’s face. “What?” You asked with your brows furrowed. “Oh nothing, but if I were you I’d turn around.” You had no idea what was going on, but you turned around like she said.

“Lee!” You quickly stood up when you saw your best friend walk through the doors. “You’re here!” With a couple steps you had reached her and wrapped your arms around her. “I’m here.” She whispered. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” You hadn’t smiled this much since you had gotten to Australia. “You didn’t think I was gonna sit this one out completely, did you?” 

You let Leah greet the rest of the girls, and hugged her brother Jacob who had been filming the whole thing. “Jakey, I saw you a few days ago, how could you not have told me?” The first day you had landed in Australia, you had gone to visit Leah’s brother. The two of you had talked about the World Cup, and Leah’s wellbeing, and yet he hadn’t said a word about this surprise. He playfully shrugs his shoulders. “What would have been the fun in ruining the surprise?”

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and excitement. Leah joined you at training, while she wasn’t playing, she was a captain at heart and had plenty to say to prepare her team for the upcoming games.

After training you all gathered in the common room of the hotel, you sat down between Ella and Jordan. The room filled with a mix of conversations about everything and nothing. Leah was sitting across the room from you, and every now and again your eyes would fall on her. A small smile playing at your lips when she would look your way as well.

“Look at them,” Alessia said softly enough for only Ella to hear. “They’re such idiots.” Ella followed her best friend’s eyes between you and Leah, “Completely clueless.” Alessia nodded in agreement, “We’ve really got to do something about that.”

An idea formed in Ella’s mind and a smirk grew on her face. “I’ve got an idea.” She turned back towards you. She spoke loud enough for all of the team to hear this time. “So, y/n, it’s been ages since you’ve been on a date, hasn’t it?”

The question took you off guard, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “Eh, I guess so. What does that have to do with anything?” You felt watched by everyone on the team and suddenly you grew nervous.

“Oh, I was just thinking that we could help you out. There are so many good looking players at this tournament, there must be one that has caught your eye, right?” Your cheeks flushed as the intensity of the eyes on you grew stronger. “Oh, eh, I don’t know. I’ve just been focussed on football.”

Your eyes darted to Leah, silently asking for help. She was sitting back in her chair, looking nonchalantly, but for a second you thought you saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes. Before you could think about it further Jordan chimed in on the conversation. 

“Oh come on, there must be someone. Name one player you think is fit.” You felt put on the spot, so you named the first player that came to mind. “Oh eh, maybe Alexia Putellas, she’s a very talented player.”

The team erupted in laughter at how you were still choosing to look at this through football lenses. Only one person wasn’t laughing, and that was Leah. Her jaw was clenched as she looked at you, but it went unnoticed by you. 

“I can definitely set you up with Alexia. In fact, I can call her right now!” Keira joined in on the fun. “No! Please don’t do that.” You didn’t like the turn this was taking. “Oh I won’t then, someone else maybe?”

Everyone on the team joined in on calling out names. Raso? Rölfo? Kaneryd? Bonmatí? Kennedy? Sonnet? Fleming? 

Leah sat watching the scene unfold unamused. Her arms were crossed and her expression had turned into a frown. Everyone was enjoying getting a reaction out of you by listing every player they could think of, so they hadn’t noticed the change in her demeanour, until she stood up abruptly. Her chair loudly clattering against the floor.

The room went fully silent. No more names being thrown around, and no more laughter. “I eh, I’m gonna go check on her.” You stood up and followed in the direction Leah took off in. 

“Lee, what’s wrong?” You say as you reach her about to open her hotel room. She huffed and walked into the room, just before the door closed behind her, you managed to slip through. 

“Nothing, go meet up with any one of those people the girls mention. Go out, have fun.” Your brow furrowed, “Lee, I don’t know what’s going on. But-” She cut you off before you could continue telling her that you never said you wanted to meet up with those people, that it was just coming from your teammates. 

“I can’t deal with listening to you potentially being with any one of those people. I don’t wanna hear who you think is good looking or fit. I don’t want to hear it because… because I want you to think of me that way.” The last part of her sentence was barely above a whisper.

You stood there, too stunned to get out any words. Leah figured she had put it on the table now, so she might as well continue what she just started. "I like you. I like you more than just my best friend. More than I ever thought I would. I didn’t realise it until I heard you talk about other girls that way.” She looked up at you nervously. 

“Well, I was going to say that I didn’t talk about any of the people that way, and that it was only the girls doing so. And honestly the reason for that is because I only have eyes for you Leah. I like you too, I have for a long time.”

“You do?” Your smile grew, “Yes, you dummy. I’ve been a total grump without you here. You are the only person that I want. I don’t care about any other players going into this competition, it’s always been you.”

Leah stood up quickly and moved towards you. “I am so happy to hear you say that.” She said with her face mere inches away from yours. One look at her lips and then quickly diverting your eyes back to hers, was enough for Leah to lean in and connect your lips. 

The kiss was short and sweet. It was everything you had hoped it would be and more. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Leah asked as soon as you pulled away from the kiss. “Definitely.” You said with a big smile.

“Can we go back down and show the girls everything is alright?” You asked shyly, not wanting to make Leah feel bad for walking out on everyone the way that she did. “Only if we can tell them that they can stop trying to match you up with someone.” You chuckled at her request. “Deal.” 

As you wanted back to the girls, Leah took ahold of your hand and gave it a soft squeeze. You couldn’t believe that she was your girlfriend, but you knew that with Leah by your side everything was going to be great.

The atmosphere in the common room shifted the second the both of you walked in. The team had been quietly speculating about what had happened, and if they had taken things too far. 

As soon as they looked at your intertwined hands, the speculation started back up again, this time in the direction of did this actually work? 

“Everything alright?” Keira asked with a knowing smile. Leah glanced at you and squeezed your hand once more. “Yeah, everything is more than alright.” She pulled you a little closer. “You can stop matchmaking, I’m taking her out tomorrow morning.” 

The room filled with cheers and laughter. A few of the girls high fived each other. “Finally, I thought we were going to have to lift every player in the tournament before the two of you finally got together.” Ella says dramatically, earning a laugh from the whole group, including you and Leah.

The teasing of the girls didn’t stop, but this time around it felt different. Leah’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder, with her thumb lightly caressing your arm. 

You still had the tournament ahead of you, but tonight had given you a bit of extra encouragement to perform better than you had ever done before. You felt ready to take on the world and make Leah proud.

-----

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[slutt4lovee]

friends (b.b.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2356

warnings: NO SMUT, just cutesy fluff, maybe just a tiny bit of angst but not really, nothing really to warn about. might be some typos and shit but at this point y'all should be expecting this from my dyslexic ass.

summary: After being friends with Bucky for years, you finally get the confession you've been dreaming of.

Being Bucky's friend isn't really as great as Steve made it seem. Sure, Bucky is caring and funny and fiercely protective of the things and people that he loves. Yes, he's funny and charming and everything good in the world, but he is also arrogant and cocky and so emotionally repressed that you're not even sure he knows what feelings are anymore.

Being Bucky's friend means that you're also the Winter Soldier's best friend and that is a horrible feeling. Not because of the fact that he is the Winter Soldier but more so because the Winter Soldier has a fucking martyr complex. Despite the fact that Bucky is an amazing person who you think encompasses every good aspect of the world, he's an incredible dumbass. Not just a regular dumbass, the kind of fucking idiot that thinks everyone else, everything else is more important than him. The kind of idiotic person that thinks everyone but him is worth saving, the kind who runs head first into danger because he genuinely doesn't care if he lives or dies as long as he saves someone. Bucky is the type of imbecile that would run into a building, knowing it was rigged with explosives just to save a cat.

Bucky may be one of the best people you've ever met, but being his friend is horrible.

It's caring so intensely for someone who doesn't even care about himself. It's not being able to see or even speak to him for weeks or months because he's off on some insanely stupid mission to save the fucking world or something stupid like that. It's him constantly thinking he's some kind of invincible god and you having to remind him over and over and over that he's not. No matter how much he might look like one. It's trying to convince someone that hates his entire fucking existence that he deserves every soft, sappy thing in the world no matter how much he thinks he doesn't.

But worst of all it's being in love with a complete fucking idiot who doesn't even think he's worthy of love. You'd take all the anxiety, the panic, the dread, the crying and worry a million times over if you could just not be in love with that complete fucking dumbass. Or if you could maybe convince him that he deserves all the love in the fucking world.

—

You can't sleep, never can when he's gone. Some stupid romance movie you've seen about a hundred times plays on your tv—a feeble attempt to keep your mind off Bucky. To keep your mind from imagining what he's doing on his mission and all the ways it could go horribly wrong.

It doesn't really work.

It's almost impossible to keep him out of your mind. When you're not worrying about all the ways he could be killed, you're pining after him in the worst fucking way.

Just staring mindlessly at the screen daydreaming about him and the way his clothes always fit just right, just enough to give you a good view of his muscles without being too tight. And the way he looks in his stupidly attractive one armed outfits he wears on missions—which shouldn't be so fucking hot, but it is, it really fucking is. And his lips, just everything about them, their shape, their pretty pink color, the way they look so fucking soft all the god damned time. And that boyish, way too endearing, smirk of his that makes your heart feel like it's about to burst out of your chest. And his hands and the way they feel against your skin, rough calloused fingers with a touch so soft it sends chills down your spine. And—and, God you're so fucking fucked about him.

He's your best friend, really one of your only friends, and yet you can't stop thinking about him doing filthy things—that he would probably never do—to you. It's horrible and dirty and disrespectful but you just can't stop, thinking about Bucky's mouth and if it's really as soft as it looks.

You smell him before you even hear him, woody smoke, and honey, mixed with sweat. You smile softly to yourself as he drops his bag to the ground with a little grunt. Your mind moves slowly, struggling through your lack of sleep to put pieces together. You're clumsily climbing over the back of the couch the second you realize he's really there.

"Bucky," You start to say, stumbling a little at the ungraceful way you dismount from the back of the couch. "What the fuck?" You ask, waving your hands up and down in his general direction.

He's not sure if you're questioning his appearance or his presence...maybe both. You're not really sure either.

"I just got back," He mutters, words dripping with exhaustion as his arms slip lazily around your waist, making you trip over your own feet as he pulls you into his chest.

"You didn't text," You whisper, matching the soft tone of his voice as you slide your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He doesn't respond right away, he pulls you closer instead, grabbing onto your shirt to keep you there as if you had any plans on letting go. He makes a soft, barely audible noise, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His arms are tight around your waist, holding you to him like he's scared you're just gonna disappear and the thought makes your chest ache. You tilt your head, squeezing your eyes shut as your nose presses into the top of his shoulder, your lips just barely touching the leather on his jacket. Your nose floods with his scent, and you find yourself wishing you could capture it and keep it forever. He smells like camping in the summer, like searching for bugs and plants and pretty rocks in the woods, like staring up at the sky and pointing out the prettiest ones.

He smells likehome, warm and cozy and safe.

Slowly it feels like every ounce of worry and dread is leached out of your body. He's home, he's safe, he's here in your arms and nothing else fucking matters. This is the good part, this right here, all the worrying and sleepless nights are worth it just for this feeling. This happy sort of peaceful relief you get every time he comes back safe.

"M'sorry," He mutters after a few seconds, his words muffled in the crook of your neck. "Jus' wanted to get home."

Your stomach twists at that, a giddy sort of feeling floating around in your stomach at his words. He came straight from his mission to you. Didn't stop at his place, didn't go to the compound, he came straight to you. Straight home to you.

"Took ya long enough." You whisper against his shoulder, voice light and teasing as his grip on your shirt tightens.

He doesn't say anything, but you can tell this one must've been rough on him. It's obvious from the way he's clutching your shirt like a lifeline. Holding you to his chest like he thought he'd never see you again, like he's scared to let go. You don't ask him about it, he'll talk when he's ready, but you do hold him just as tight as he holds you. Rub your hands along his back, over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, lingering the softest touches everywhere you can reach because you know it calms him down.

"S'good you came home, you were gone so long I was about to come lookin' for you." You tell him, smiling softly against his neck at the little snort he lets out.

He's quiet for a bit longer, just standing there with his arms around your waist, his hands clutching at your shirt like he's terrifiedyou're going to vanish. After a while he relinquishes your shirt and before you can even think about pulling away, not that you would, his hands are running down to the backs of your thighs.

"M'sorry," He murmurs into your neck, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist like you weigh absolutely nothing. "Came as quick as I could, darlin', didn't even get to shower or anything."

"Did you eat?" You ask softly, holding onto him a little tighter as he hooks his arms back around your waist.

He shakes his head and you start to offer to cook him something while he showers but he's walking in the direction of your bedroom before you can get a single word out. He nudges your bedroom door open with the toe of his boot without saying a word and it makes you frown because Bucky is never silent around you. Talks so damn much you started to think he just liked the sound of his own voice (really he just loved the sound of yours but he's not about to admit something that sappy).

"Do you want to eat?" You ask, voice all soft and sweet in a way that makes his head spin.

He shakes his head again and without even letting go of you, he falls forward onto your bed, sandwiching you between him and your mattress. He's heavy, dense, thick muscle directly on top of you, but you don't complain. You wouldn't dare tell him that he's crushing your fucking chest because then he'd let go and you don't want that.

He settles with his head on your chest, his ear pressed up against the center of it. Listening closely to the sound of your heart like he didn't believe it was real. His hand slips a little under the hem of your shirt but stays resting on your hip as if all he wanted was just to feel your skin.

He's silent for a while, laying so still that you almost think he's fallen asleep. You don't say anything either because what could you possibly say? You could tell him about work or something but you're almost certain he doesn't want to hear that.

"Thought you were dead..." He whispers as he nuzzles his face against the center of your chest. His hands squeeze at your hips and you can't shake the feeling that he's trying to make sure you're real.

You don't really know what to say to that either. You stroke your fingers through his hair and you swear you feel your heart break a little at the pain in his voice.

"God, I thought you were fucking dead..." His voice cracks a little this time and his arms wrap around your waist tight, too tight but you don't say a thing. You're happy to just let him squeeze the life out of you if it makes him feel even a little bit better. "They...they got in my head, made me see things...and all I could think about was that I never got the chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You ask and you think your voice comes out a bit strained because he immediately loosens his grip.

"That I'm fucking in love with you," He forces out, voice rough with emotion as he shifts a little so that he's looking down at you.

Your heart fucking stops at his words and all you can do is just stare up at him like a complete fool. Cheeks flushing bright red and eyes wide as you stammer and choke on 16 different failed attempts at speech.

He loves you. No. He's in love with you.

"I thought you were dead and all I could think about was that you didn't know I loved you." He tells you, voice softening some as his eyes scan over your face. "All I wanted to fucking do was hold you and kiss you and just fucking touch you again and I know that's so fucking selfish of me but...fuck."

"You...love me?" Your voice comes out all meek and unsure as you look up at him. You're not even sure if your heart has started beating again because it feels like you could, very well, drop dead at any fucking second.

"Of course I do you fucking idiot." Bucky laughs and the sound is utterly heart wrenching to you. He tries to smile but it just looks so fucking sad that you want to cry.

And maybe he's right and you are a fucking idiot because you can't think of anything to say. You want to tell him you love him too but the words won't come up, they stick in the back of your throat and make you choke. All you can manage is to reach out, grab his face, and pull it down to yours in a pathetic excuse for a kiss.

He kisses you back instantly, taking control of the kiss, somehow calmer than you. His lips are soft and sweet against yours and nowhere near as clunky and uncoordinated as you but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. He smiles a little against your near frantic lips, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face.

It's not your first kiss, not even close, but you're so clumsy with it that it damn near feels like it. He hums against your lips like it's the best damn kiss he's ever had, strokes his thumb over your cheek and laughs when your teeth hit his.

You think he'll pull away, you would if you were him, but he doesn't. If anything he kisses you a bit harder, trying to take control of the kiss and guide your lips to work with his and it works wonders, you practically melt into it. He makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat when you finally relax and then his tongue slides over your bottom lip and you melt all over again.

You've never been the biggest fan of tongue kissing, it's always just so wet and slimy and forceful. But there's something about the way Bucky's tongue slides so so softly across your bottom lip that has you parting your lips without a second thought. And you don't fucking regret it at all.

It doesn't feel all slimy and gross like you're used to. His tongue is soft and wet and there's a faint hint of sweet mint as he kisses you. One of his hands squeezes at your waist under your shirt and he fucking groans like kissing you is the best thing he's ever experienced.

He kisses you until you're both breathless, until your lips are raw and swollen and slick with spit.

His forehead presses against yours and his voice comes out all hoarse and raspy as he says, "Fuck, I could kiss you for fucking ever,"

You laugh at that and the noise is so soft and sweet that it makes his breath hitch. You flutter your eyes open, thumbs stroking at the side of his neck as you look up at his flushed face.

"I love you too," You whisper and God, the way he smiles sends a jolt of warm heat through your body. "I didn't say it earlier, but I do. I really fucking do."

[amuseoffyre]

I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now. 

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

[luveline]

hiii jadey <3 i’ve been having a bit of a rough time in college lately and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write some bombshell!reader where spencer talks about being bullied in high school and maybe bombshell can relate? even if not, just a lot of comfort please? i hope you’re doing well!! <333

ty for ur request!!! fem

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever you come around. Spencer’s thinking he hadn’t seen you in a while when your text lights up his screen, a summoning if there ever was one. 

Hi Spencer, I need some help with my laptop. It turns out for about ten seconds and then turns off again. Do you think you can fix it?

He has no idea. Probably. Do you want me to come by SCU? 

No need

“Spencer!” you say, practically glowing as you drop your messenger bag on his already crowded desk. “Sorry, that’s so heavy.”

“You’re here,” he says, surprised. 

You lean down to hug him in his chair. Spencer can’t ignore that he likes every part of you, your arms as they wrap around his shoulders, the perfume on your neck as you touch your cheek to his, even the soft exhale of your breath by his ear. “Hi, Dr. Reid,” you say gently. “Missed you. So happy my laptop isn’t working ‘cos now I get to see you.” 

You pull away with a grin. Your lips are a shade of pink that Spencer won’t soon forget.

“That was fast.” 

“So fast,” you say. “You know I love an excuse to see you and to not be at work.” 

You work very hard, but you’re like anyone. Stealing time is fun and free. “You’re not gonna get in trouble, right?” 

“With who? Hotch doesn’t care if I’m here and Sandy,” —you full body shiver at the mention of your boss— “won’t notice I’m gone for another hour. Besides, I can’t have a broken laptop. They’re pretty cool, right?”

“Laptops?” 

“Yeah, I like them. I just need the WiFi to work everywhere.” You squint at him. “Is that something you can do?” 

Spencer cannot make the WiFi work everywhere you go, but he can soft reset your laptop after a short investigation of the problem. It takes about five minutes, in which you steal Morgan’s chair and get comfortable next to him, legs crossed, hand resting open on your thigh. “You’re so smart. I bet you were very popular in high school.” 

He laughs, startled, a horrible sinking feeling moving through his chest. “What? Why would you think that?”

“‘Cos you’re a genius at everything, right? I bet you were always helping people with their homework.” 

His lips last. He doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I talked to anyone in high school who didn’t want to hang me at the top of a flag pole,” he says honestly. 

Your lovely smile falls flat. “What?” 

“I skipped a couple of grades, so I was younger than everybody, and I wasn’t well liked. I was actually bullied pretty badly.” He laughs again with that same brittle panic. He’s talking without thinking, it just spilled out, it’s spilling still, “I used to get beat up for breathing wrong.” 

You’re quiet. Spencer panics worse because why has he told you that? You’re so sweet to him but that doesn’t mean you wanted to know about his worst moments, he can practically feel the affection you had for him melting away as you realise he’s a loser, he’s pathetic–

“I was bullied too,” you say, giving him a tentative smile. “All the way through high school and a little bit after that, too. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, huh?” 

He looks at his hands. “You were?” 

“Yep.” He can hear the strain of wanting to sound normal. “I mean, I didn’t get beat up, Spencer, that’s awful and I’m– I’m so sorry.”

You’re the last person he’d ever want an apology from, because you’re one of the only people he’s ever met who likes him as he is. You could never make him hurt the way he did back then. High school was years ago and it lingers like it happened yesterday. “I can still remember the stuff they used to say to me,” he says. 

“I got made fun of for so much stuff,” you agree. “Boys I didn’t even know would berate me in the halls for just being there. I got called ugly so much I genuinely believed I was for years.” 

“You’re not ugly,” he says immediately. 

“I know.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard trying to forget about it. I think if people knew how much I carry with me from then they’d tell me to let it go, but I can’t.” 

“You don’t have to let it go, Spence, so long as you know it’s not your fault it happened.” 

You offer your hand. Spencer stares at it. You wiggle your fingers and he thinks, Oh, grasping it quickly, before you change your mind. Your fingers slide between his and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb, smiling approvingly, eyes crinkled with pleasure. 

“They don’t know what they missed,” you say, a hint of shyness in your voice that’s swiftly covered by your usual confident drawling, “they had unfiltered and unadulterated access to the Spencer Reid, n’ I have to pretend my laptops broken just to see you. So crazy.” 

You give his hand a good squeeze.

“It was sort of broken,” he says as you take your hand back. He’s sure his brain is broken too. 

“Nah, it always does that. I just give it a love tap and it fixes it again.” 

“A what?” He laughs so loudly it turns heads. His crush on you turns to full blown infatuation.

[samcarter34]

Since people seem to once again be having trouble remembering the order of operations, let me just remind everyone:

The ability Laudna possesses to feed Delilah is Hunger of the Shadow. In the fight with Bor’dor, Laudna used that BEFORE Orym’s head nod. Bor’dor attacked them and her response was to do the thing she knew would give power to Delilah. Matt even makes the sound of Delilah’s heartbeat.

The spell she used after the head nod? Whither and Bloom. The same spell she later attacked Orym with, which isn’t even a warlock spell.

And speaking of the head nod, you want to know what’s it’s prefaced with? ‘Laudna you can do whatever you want.’ And Marisha responds by saying that Laudna is ‘barely present’ because she’s having ptsd flashbacks to all of the times something horrible happened to her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So she kills Bor’dor because it makes her feel in control of the situation.

And yeah, the 4SD where Liam says Orym thought Delilah might come back. Except y’all somehow took that and made it seem like he’s the one who shoved Laudna over the edge when what actually happened is that Laudna flung herself off it because betrayal is triggering to her.

And the sword. The sword which apparently wasn’t triggering enough that Imogen contemplating whether the Vanguard were good guys didn’t cause any reaction. Or for that matter, make her object to Ashton’s ‘this is permission statement.’ But she saw Orym wearing it, got uncomfortable and then all it took was one sentence from Delilah for her to decide to steal it. Delilah, who mutilated her, murdered her, has been possessing her for decades, and who basically held her soul hostage when BH wanted VM to resurrect Laudna. But what Delilah didn’t do? Tell Laudna to steal the sword.

I wasn’t around for campaign 1, but in campaign 2 I definitely noticed a trend that people who were all ‘I love women! Female characters rock!’ would, the second one of their alleged faves did something controversial (or just something they didn’t like) would find a way to shift the onus onto someone else so she could remain blameless. And that is definitely continuing this campaign, and if anything is getting worse (which, not to get into speculation, but I wonder if it’s because all of the female characters this go round are more traditionally feminine than last campaign.)

I think the reason Orym’s been getting raked across the coals so hard by certain parts of the fandom is actually because of this. Because Imogen’s repeatedly gone ‘what if the Vanguard have a point’ and Laudna agrees with everything she says, whereas Orym’s been pretty consistently ‘no, the murder cult that murdered my family are bad guys.’ And well, can’t go around admitting that our faves did something wrong.’

And so we have a situation where Laudna attacks Orym, but somehow that’s Orym’s fault because the possibility of Laudna doing something wrong ruins people’s lesbian cottegecore fantasy. But the thing is, that whole thing was all Laudna. She chose to listen to her first murderer when Delilah said ‘maybe it’s cursed’ and then she chose to blanket the room in magical darkness (sorcerer ability, not warlock) chose to cast an area of effect spell to destroy the thing Orym was using to sheath the sword (sorcerer spell, not warlock) and, upon hurting Orym, chose not to drop said darkness, which meant Orym couldn’t see who attacked him. And when she got caught, she tried to downplay what she did, tried to say that because she didn’t mean to hurt him it didn’t count, refused to apologize for actually hurting him, kept shifting her argument (and even low key got called out on it by Imogen when she asked Laudna why she’s want its power inside her if she thinks it’s so evil.)

There is an alternate universe where Laudna wakes Orym up and they have what probably would have been an intense discussion about the sword (and that might even have been what Marisha was aiming for before Delilah got involved) and THAT truly would have been the ‘both sides are equally right’ scenario, but that’s not what we got. And you can say Orym shouldn’t have taken the sword unilaterally (but somehow Laudna’s allowed to unilaterally steal and absorb it?) or that she’s being manipulated by Delilah, but the fact is that Laudna’s an adult and is responsible for her own decisions. Yes, Delilah is a powerful and malign presence that they all downplayed/ignored, but, to use Marisha’s addiction metaphor, making amends with those you’ve harmed is a part of recovery for a reason. Because ultimately, you are the one who did that. Yes, it does immensely suck for Laudna that she’s been handed the cards she has been, but it’s up to her to make the best play she can.

Wow this got long, but my overall point is that Laudna is a character with her own agency and makes her own decisions (well, Marisha makes them, but at this point y’all should know she’s not conflict averse and is willing to have her characters make controversial character choices). And really, take all that away, what’s left? How much onus can you take from a character before you might as well go look at a painting?

[skay-ali]

Tears of an angel

The idea of ​​a Wayne reader, who was well received from the beginning at the mansion and by its members, has constantly crossed my mind. A good family relationship that took an obsessive turn, not only with his family but also with other people.

A weapon, your head felt pressed with great force, so much so that, if you didn't make an effort to keep your head up, the force would surely send you to the floor.

There were many people, an endless number of blurry faces that surrounded you, they were horrible, it made you nauseous to see them, although some were also reindeers, it was difficult for you to recognize them, not only the criminals were vile, sometimes even people who seemed normal hid big things, you learned throughout your life.

Of all the possible hostages, you were the first to be threatened, you regretted leaving your home, you should have stayed locked in the safest place you created.

Yes... you should never have gone out, all your thoughts repeated it to you, you were wrong to leave your safe space, now you were surrounded by people and criminals, when it was over the cameras and the reporters' unconscious questions would come, thousands of news stories about you, the majority that would leave you feeling bad, and the feelings of guilt that would torment you for a long time.

You inhaled air, it became difficult to breathe, if you didn't control yourself you would panic, you would create a big scene, you couldn't do that, it would ruin your image more, you were already doing it while crying silently, your appearance was horrible, your hair disheveled, makeup ruined , a red nose dripping with snot.

You were a Wayne by blood, that was proven by your DNA, along with the similar characteristics that you inherited from your paternal grandmother.

You remember having been in this house all your life, the memories related to your mother were few, mostly blurry, difficult to distinguish from your short childhood and adolescence in the care of your father, as if your mother had never existed.

Your life was almost good, although there was a gap between you and your family, you did not receive excessive neglect, hatred or jealousy from each member of your family.

You were like a rarely recurring character in everyone's life.

The bad things in your life were not reflected in your relationship with your family, that was the least of your problems, something insignificant in your opinion, with what was happening outside.

It's funny to think about it, your father, you knew very well that he thought, that you lived one of the best lives, you really did, you had a family that never mistreated you, a good home and money, many privileges hand in hand with the latest , but that great privilege brought you something bad and terrifying, something that began to rule your life.

Being part of a large family made you a target, first of criminals, who took full advantage of using you as a means to achieve their ends, from criminal minds who kidnapped you as a hostage for their evil plans, as criminals who only wanted a great reward on your head, although in the end you were saved by the city's great vigilantes or the police, nothing took away the long moments of anguish, in which you were trapped in a dirty place, full of unknown people with bad intentions, vulnerable , having a gun pointed at some part of your body.

They were very difficult moments, fear ruled you along with paranoia, you did not normalize it as part of your life even if they were constant episodes in your life, you developed a trauma, one of your defense mechanisms was to disconnect from your surroundings, letting your body lived everything and your mind turned off, everything was black or white, a great void, until they saved you.

As a helpless person, who was in constant danger and only waiting to be saved by his brave knight, even though he wasn't that bad, you felt completely useless.

Things became worse, when you started to be afraid to leave your home, you became a complete renegade, in your big stone tower, a burrowing mouse or was it a rabbit... an asocial being...

How would you not be if your second problem was that, the social ones, people who, since school, persecuted you, wanted to be your friends or so they said, like a stupid and naive girl you believed them the first time, until you saw how they abandoned you When they already got what they really wanted from your father, suddenly their friendship no longer worked and they left you, often disowning you, as if you were a bad person because of your status and money, you were not seen as a girl who hardly understood their around and that he feared society itself, each person.

You couldn't even trust kids your age anymore, they all wanted to destroy you, finish you off.

The third problem in your life, the reporters and paparazzi, who harassed you every time they could, it didn't matter that you were just a minor, they found a way to get what they wanted and make you look bad, take advantage of every part of you. , without caring about the consequences of their actions, the repercussions that occurred in your life due to their news.

The horrible photos, where you hated seeing yourself, just an imperfect and horrible being, that was you... Your last problem, you... you hated yourself, maybe you were a bad girl, someone selfish and super annoying along with all the other insults professed by people who already got something from you or never did and were no longer chasing you, useless... very useless, that you were not able to protect yourself and avoid getting into trouble, you bothered everyone, the police, the heroes, your family... all for not taking care of yourself for wanting to live a little, for being too selfish.

Not even pretty, those words loaded with a very strong poison, that many girls said to you or whispered to each other in their groups of friends, or the boys who blatantly mentioned it after you rejected them, or all the people who looked at your images in the gossip programs or magazines, when the worst photos they took of you were uploaded to gain more audience, because it turned out that you were their great gem, it was a great gossip, you became out of nowhere, the public's favorite, to get the best gossip.

That was your life, although you couldn't change it... there was a small opportunity to improve it a little. Cross saving yourself off your list, give yourself something better.

First, giving all your supposed fans a good image, being perfect in their eyes, someone with great beauty and without imperfection, a star, someone to adore.

Something that at first was only to avoid more bad photos of you and news, became an addiction, how could it not be, if when you were careless for a moment they took the opportunity to humiliate you and make you look like a horrible being again, you didn't want to be that horrible being. , not again, so beauty treatments, excessive care of your body, clothes that highlighted you better, a great activity with your followers, if they wanted that from you you would give it to them, that was the easiest.

That didn't stop you from feeling bad on the days when you were with your great confidant, Alfred.

When you saw yourself in some reflection, at times you didn't recognize yourself, who were you? What did you become? Maybe the man who always had time for you got disappointed.

But seeing your reflection, that arrogant smile, the other person who was reflected told you that it was the right thing to do, they could no longer destroy you if they thought they had everything of you, without them realizing it you would end up on a great altar, you would be far superior to everyone, Maybe then they would never kidnap you with many followers who would give their lives for you, would they defend you because you didn't want that? When your other self shook her head to the side and feigned empathy for you, her words that you should stop worrying about people who would never do the same for you.

“After all, maybe that man you appreciated a lot did something for you every time they buried your name in the mud... nope, he never did, maybe he was just pretending that he cared about you, he loved your father and your father much more your half-brothers, you were the last task on their list, you just don't want to accept it, like the stupid girl you were."

Her big arrogant smile was the last thing you saw of her.

You should never have gone out, a big party with a lot of people, the idea of ​​showing off with all of them, showing a little superiority, having the media pleased and therefore the people, making her, your reflection, pleased, that she was happy and will no longer torment you.

Speaking of her, she was watching you, you saw her in a glass, her icy gaze, oh... she's so disappointed, you heard her words clearly.

“Oh, what a coward you are, you're seriously crying, what a crybaby baby you are, making yourself look ridiculous in front of all these self-centered people, a couple of photos like that and you'll please all the people who want to see you in a bad way.”

“pathetic, very pathetic, maybe that's why you are never someone your family appreciates, remember their faces the few times you spend with your family, they pretend to be fine, but in reality they only put up with you... just because they can't get rid of you”

His cruel taunts were very painful, like thorns, he knew very well how to attack you.

You closed your eyes, squeezing them as tight as you could and covered your ears, you didn't want to hear her anymore. In a few minutes you were white, far from everything. Batman and Superman along with their companions appeared to control such a commotion, although it would be easy to control the criminals there were many hostages in danger.

An extremely complex job, it was even more so when Bruce and his children saw who one of the hostages was, you.

Determined to save you, they entered one of the last rooms, only to find everyone alarmed, some alarmed and others watching somewhat shocked.

A large pool of blood and a man on the floor, one of the participants in the crime, and near the man, a woman, difficult to recognize due to the blood on her face, who brutally attacked the dead man on the floor. Her thin heels crushing the man's skin, again and again.

I wish, Bruce, I had never been able to recognize that person, that deranged young woman, who madly attacked a person with a smile. Where his little smiling daughter had gone, who always visited him or tried to spend more time with him or her brothers.

Normally I like to make a prologue and depending on the reactions continue the story. In addition to developing the yandere little by little, I simply felt that this story needs a little more things before starting with the yandere

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.