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pathologicalreid · 9 months ago

Text

cryptic | S.R.

You and Spencer get a surprise beyond your wildest dreams.

who? spencer reid x fem!AFAB!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort a little bit) content warnings: oh geez. pregnancy, periods, weight, medical inaccuracy, cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, NICU, hospitals, maybe a little ooc i'm not sure, breastfeeding, reader is running solely on oxytocin, crying. word count: 6k a/n: does anyone else have an irrational fear of this? is it just me? that's why i wrote this anyways. also i wrote this MONTHS ago so if it's bad i'm not culpable. (yall voted for unhinged fluff, here it is) anyways i'm calling this part of my "spencer reid dilf agenda".

him

In his work life, Spencer faced fear every day – that was part of the reason he loved life with you so much. The two of you had just moved to your first house together and were still unpacking boxes when he was called away to upstate New York for a case.

You weren’t frustrated with him; you merely kissed him and encouraged him to go save the day.

So, when he told you last night that you must’ve hurt your back trying to move the couch, he didn’t think anything of it. He just told you to rest and to let him know how you were doing in the morning, but when the morning came, there was a break in the case. Spencer had completely forgotten that he was expecting your call.

As the team waited in the police precinct, he didn’t wonder why Hotch answered a phone call and furrowed his brows at Reid until he called him over to talk in private.

For once, his overactive mind went blank when Hotch explained to him that you were in the hospital and that he should call your best friend, Ivy.

In a daze, Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket to find that he had missed two calls from you and thirteen calls from Ivy. Isolating himself in an abandoned office, he looked at your friend’s contact and pressed the call button.

The phone didn’t even have a chance to ring before Ivy answered, “Spencer! Oh my god,” she said, sounding relieved to be hearing from him. “I am so sorry for calling your boss. I pulled his number from Y/N’s contacts – I didn’t know how else to reach you, and I- “

“Ivy, what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, teetering between panic and impatience. “She told me she thought he had just pulled a muscle moving,” he explained, wondering what could’ve happened.

On the other end of the call, Ivy took a deep, shaky breath. “She’s okay, but you have to come home,” she whispered, keeping her voice down.

Now he was leaning closer to panic, “Where is she?”

“Northern Virginia Hospital,” Ivy responded. “When you get here, call me, and I’ll bring you to her,” she told him.

Spencer took a deep breath and left the empty office once he ended the call, very nearly running into Hotch, “I need to- “

Holding his hand up in a ‘wait’ gesture, Hotch nodded, “There’s a flight going out, Morgan will drive you to the airport. Don’t worry about anything here,” he instructed him, gesturing over to where Morgan was standing with the keys to one of the SUVs.

After promising to call when he could, a thirty-minute flight, and a ten-minute taxi right, Spencer called Ivy back.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet through the receiver, “are you here?”

He turned around in the lobby of the hospital, “I just came in the front entrance; what wing is she in?” He asked. Which wing would a back injury be in? He supposed it depended on the severity of the back injury.

She cleared her throat and there was a soft rustling before Ivy answered, “Stay put, I’ll come to you.” Her words came out quickly as if she was trying to prevent him from going looking for her.

Then he began to lean closer to impatience, nonetheless, he waited the couple of minutes that it took for Ivy to come out of an elevator, motioning for Spencer to catch up before they took the elevator back up. “Ivy,” Spencer said, “What is happening?”

“She called me at six this morning, saying that she thought she had pulled a muscle in her back and couldn’t sleep. I told her to take some ibuprofen and try to rest, and if she didn’t feel better by lunch, I’d bring her to urgent care. She called me again at ten and told me something was seriously wrong, but she didn’t know what,” Ivy informed him, her voice sounding distant. “She was crying, and I’ve never heard her sound so scared. So, I called an ambulance and met her here while she was triaged…” Her voice trailed off as they exited the elevator.

Spencer’s heart ached at the thought of you being so scared, but it still didn’t answer his question: What happened?

Ivy sniffled and wiped her nose, “Spencer, have you ever heard of a cryptic pregnancy?”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes as wide as saucers, “She’s pregnant?” His words came out as a whisper, a mix of emotions flurried through him.

Your best friend smiled softly at him, “No, she had a baby. That back pain? She was in labor.”

Questions popped into his head quicker than he could ask him. He took a trembling breath, “Where are they?”

She led him around the corner, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “She’s in postpartum recovery, the baby’s up a floor in the NICU. It all happened really fast; you know? Anyways, they kind of whisked the baby away while saying things about Apgar scores that we didn’t really understand.

They stopped for a moment to get Spencer a visitor’s badge before he motioned for Ivy to continue.

Ivy shrugged in response, “She was kind of inconsolable after that, they gave her something to calm her down, but she keeps asking for you,” Ivy said, stopping outside of a door.

Spencer peeked through the blinds to your room. You’re awake, lying on the white bed, absentmindedly picking at the hospital bracelet around your wrist.

“If you need a minute before going in there, take it. Once you go in there, you need to be strong or brave or whatever,” Ivy instructed, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m not saying you can’t be confused or upset, I’d be worried if you weren’t. I’m saying she just gave birth unmedicated without ever even knowing she was pregnant, and they haven’t come back with an update,” she said, looking at Spencer like she was assessing a threat.

He nodded in understanding. Maybe when his head was clear he’d thank Ivy for being so protective of you, but he just nodded. “I need to be in there with her,” he insisted.

Ivy acquiesced, letting him know that she was going to go to the house to get clothes and was going to the store. At that point, Spencer had only been half listening to her.

You didn’t move on the bed when he opened the door. He looked at the whiteboard on the wall, his heart clenching when he saw the words ‘Baby Reid’ written below your name. Spencer quietly walked closer to you before he pulled a chair up so that it was at your bedside and took a seat. He could see tear tracks on your cheeks, “Sweetheart,” he whispered.

Your eyes closed, and two more tears streaked down your cheeks. There was an IV in your wrist and your vitals were being monitored. It wasn’t until Spencer leaned over and smoothed your hair back that you really started to cry.

Gently, Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, and you leaned forward into him. He just held you, running a hand up and down your back as he gently shushed you, “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“I had a baby,” you rasped, so quietly that Spencer wasn’t sure if you were telling him or trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t a dream.

He was quiet for just a moment, letting a few silent tears stream down his own cheeks. “I know,” he murmured, “I’m so proud of you.”

You hummed, leaning back ever so slightly, closing your eyes when Spencer kissed your forehead. “I tried calling you,” you whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes and lifting your hands so that you could wipe away the tears.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” he tried to apologize. There was no way for him to navigate this situation, but if he felt this lost, then he couldn’t begin to fathom how you were feeling.

Shaking your head, you waved off his apology, “Did you catch the bad guy?”

He nodded, smiling at your question, “Yeah, we got him this morning. That’s why I didn’t get your call,” he said as he took your hand and intertwined your fingers. “Can I get you anything? Have you eaten? Do you need water?”

A slight smile grew on your face at his concern, a fact that made his heart soar, “I should probably eat something.” The smile faded quickly, “We should probably talk, right?” You asked, leaning forward in the bed to reach for a pile of papers at the foot of the bed.

Noticing a pained look on your face, Spencer set a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get it,” he said, guiding you so you were lying back on the pillows. “Please be careful,” he reached for the papers and handed them to you.

Quickly, you flipped through the stack of papers that was now in your lap. “I’ve been thinking, you know, and they gave me all of these papers with my options, but we have space at the new house. I work from home most of the time anyway, and we can afford it and- “

Spencer cut you off, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Yes,” he whispered against your lips before he kissed them again.

Studying you, he watched as you visibly relaxed into your hospital bed. He followed your gaze as you looked out the window of the hospital room, “Spence,” you breathed as a nurse wearing pink scrubs walked into the room.

She looked at him, “Hello, are you dad?”

Dad. He was a dad. Spencer nodded enthusiastically at the nurse.

“I’ve got these bracelets for you two then, they’re to help keep little families like yours together,” she says, loping the white bracelets around both his and your wrist. “Baby’s got two,” she lets you both know. “So, Baby Reid had a hard time breathing at first, but we up in the NICU cleared some of the amniotic fluid from her lungs and everything is looking much better now. Another nurse is bringing the bassinet now…” her voice trailed off when someone knocked on the door.

He wanted to make sure he had heard the nurse correctly. Did she say ‘her’?

The door opened, and it was the tiny hat with the bow that gave it away. She wriggled on the white sheet in her bassinet, looking around her new surroundings. Spencer looked from you to her and couldn’t help the tears that pricked his eyes. It was an emotion that he couldn’t quite place.

Noticing the way you leaned forward, the nurse spoke, “Would you like to hold her?”

“I- Can I? Is she okay?” You asked nervously, for the first time that day, Spencer heard the fear in your voice.

Nodding, the nurse wheeled the bassinet closer to you, helping you move your hospital gown so that you could do skin-to-skin. As she did so, she talked about bonding with a newborn, but Spencer was so enamored watching you that he wasn’t really listening. “We’re estimating that she’s about thirty-five weeks, so she’s late preterm, but she should be able to go home when you do,” the nurse informed you, making sure you were comfortable holding the baby before she stepped back.

The concept of being in a home surrounded by boxes with a newborn stressed him out, but then the tiny baby on your chest let out a squawk and he returned to just watching the two of you.

Both of the nurses left to give the three of you time, and you turned to Spencer, “What was thirty-five weeks ago?” You asked, gently rubbing your thumb over your newborn’s back.

“Exactly? July sixteenth,” he responded, watching your daughter as her eyes shut. “She fell asleep,” he observed, dropping his voice down to a whisper.

You hummed in response, bending your head down and pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. “She needs a name,” you murmured, “we can’t keep calling her baby.”

Spencer leaned over the edge of your bed, “Do you have any ideas?” He asked, even though he already knew you’ve been keeping a list of baby names in your phone for years.

Shrugging ever so slightly, you peered down at your daughter, “All I know is that her last name’s gonna be Reid.” Your eyes flittered up to his, “Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll sob, and our daughter is asleep on me, and I don’t want to wake her up.”

“I just love you so much,” he told you softly.

“We can do this, can’t we?” You asked him nervously, narrowing your brows. “She doesn’t have a name. Our house is a disaster. Oh… Spence, we don’t have a car seat. We can’t take her home if we don’t have a car seat.”

Realistically, Spencer knew that you had at least twenty-four hours before you were released from the hospital, maybe forty-eight, given the circumstances. He also knew that you knew this, and he was afraid the events of the day were beginning to take a toll on you. He wasn’t going to say that, instead, he leaned forward and comforted you, “We’ll figure something out, I promise, okay? The name thing we can do.” He encouraged you to take one step at a time, “What about Ivy?”

Your head snapped up, “Really?” You asked, staying conscientious of the newborn on your chest.

“She was there for you through all of this when I couldn’t be,” he shrugged. “Did you know she dug through your contacts on your phone and called Hotch when I didn’t answer?” He watched a small smile tug at your lips, “I just think we should honor her in some way.”

Nodding, a full smile bloomed on your face, “Absolutely.” There was a brief silence, “Do you need to call Hotch? You can step out if you need to. We’re fine alone. I mean just for a little while not for- “

That was the second time you had nearly worked yourself into a panic. Spencer set a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, angel. Don’t stress yourself out, okay? I’ll handle it.” He promised, after all, you had already done the hard work.

You paused and took a deep breath at his encouragement, leaving the both of you in silence while you caught your breath. “What about Eleanor?”

He smiled and looked at your sleeping baby, “It’s perfect,” he whispered.

The first time Eleanor, who had quickly been nicknamed Nell, cried with the two of you in the room was also the first time Spencer held her. He had been too nervous before, not that he’d tell you that, but when her wails started and he saw you wincing as you sat up in the bed, he instinctively picked her up.

He was still in his work clothes. Granted, he had taken off his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt had been undone, but it didn’t seem to bother Nell, the baby had quickly hushed upon contact. “Sit back,” he gently instructed, “Are you in pain?”

You nestled back into the pillows, “Just a little, they said it’s normal.”

Nothing about this was normal, Spencer wanted to say, but he knew you were well aware. He handed you the baby, knowing that it had been two hours since she last ate and that was likely why she was crying. According to the nurses, she was a good eater. He took their word for it.

Spencer watched you rock gently as Nell ate, you were staring off at nothing, so he asked, “What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m wondering why you’re not more freaked out,” you admitted, looking down at the newborn.

He leaned back in the chair, “I don’t know. I work best under pressure and with a little bit of chaos. It’s also highly likely that the entire situation hasn’t fully sunken in yet.”

You nodded understandingly, “It’s a lot to take in. If you think about it, most parents have months to fully prepare and wrap their heads around it. It’s been about ten hours for me. Maybe six hours for you.”

Nodding, Spencer watched intently as Nell fell asleep, her tiny fists falling and quiet coos coming from her. He heard you say something to him, but the words didn’t process. “What?”

Giggling quietly, you cocked your head at him, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he replied honestly. You seemed like you were taking to parenthood exceedingly well, he was afraid he wouldn’t match up.

In the end, it was your understanding smile that prompted him to agree. “Unbutton your shirt,” you ordered, laughing at him when he looked bewildered. “Skin-to-skin isn’t just for moms, Spence. Besides, I want you to bond. I want her to know who you are even when you’re away for work.”

He obliged your request, undoing his shirt so that he could gently place Nell on his bare chest. She squawked while she was being moved from parent to parent but quieted again as soon as she was being held, “she’s so small,” Spencer remarked, marveling at the tiny creature on top of him.

You nodded sleepily, “Four pounds, fourteen ounces. She had to fit behind my ribcage somehow.”

The oddness of the situation began to find a place in him. Were there changes in you that neither of you had noticed? Your period was always irregular, there was no significant weight change, and even morning sickness had seemed to totally pass you by. “I can’t believe we had no idea,” he murmured as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Nell’s head.

“I went to the doctor three months ago for chest pains, do you remember? I took an at-home pregnancy test just in case and it came back negative. The nurses here told me that there’s a less than one percent chance of that happening,” you informed him, slowly starting to mumble.

Spencer looked up at you to find that your eyes were fluttering shut. “You should sleep. I’ve got this.”

You grunted in protest, “but what- “

“No,” he interrupted. “She just ate, she’s sleeping, and you’re exhausted. I can spend some time with her while you sleep.”

Sleepily, you grinned, sliding down on the bed, and settling your head on the pillows, “Daddy’s girl,” you whispered.

He loved the sound of that.

you

You had always known that Spencer Reid was perfect, and as you watched him fall into the role of father, that knowledge became concrete. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and kept your gaze on the two of them, not daring to disturb the peace. Instead, you watched in awe as he held your daughter, softly speaking to her as if she could fully comprehend what he was saying.

For all you knew, she could understand what he was saying. She was Spencer’s kid, after all.

Gently, he whispered to her and one of her little fingers gripped his index finger. “Your palmar reflex lets you hold my finger like that, Nellie. It’ll go away when you’re six months old,” he softly swiped his thumb over her back as he murmured to her. “I don’t usually like surprises,” he admitted to the infant, “but you and your mama might just be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You grinned, reaching your hand out and touching the green armchair, “I love you.” He reached out a hand to hold yours. “Do you want to try to get some sleep?” You offered. Your body still ached, but getting some sleep had made you feel loads better.

“I don’t think I can,” he answered candidly. “I feel so…”

“Wired? Stressed?” You suggested.

He shrugged slightly, “I was going to say hyperaware, but yes,” he responded.

You wheeled the empty bassinet closer to him, “Set her down. Babies can sense stress. Take a minute, catch your breath,” you told him.

Reluctantly, Spencer placed Nell in the bassinet, adjusting the hat on her head while you watched him. “Don’t worry about me,” he said softly.

Your shoulders drooped involuntarily, “When was the last time you slept, love?” After years with Spencer, you know he would go days without sleeping in order to break a case. His lack of a response answered your question well enough. Quickly, you pressed your call button and asked if a nurse could take Nell to the nursery.

Once you made sure the baby was taken care of, you moved over in the hospital bed and patted the open space. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he told you.

That was the problem with Spencer. He would always put you, and now Eleanor, ahead of himself. It made your heart ache. “Spence, this has been the craziest day, and I can tell you haven’t slept. So, get over here and lay down with me,” you instructed.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer kicked off his shoes before lying next to you in the hospital bed, “Do you promise to wake me if you need anything?” He asked as he gingerly pulled you into his arms, afraid of hurting you.

You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I hate that saying,” Spencer whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your hairline.

Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, “I promise, angel. Get some sleep.”

You startled awake, looking to make sure you didn’t wake Spencer. Your chest ached as you sat up, cringing at the noise your papery hospital gown made. Gingerly, you placed a hand over your heart, feeling the pounding of your heart and listening to the beeping of the monitor, cursing the screen for making so much noise.

This had happened earlier before Spencer arrived, and the doctor had given you something to calm down then.

When you came into the ER, they thought your appendix was bursting, but when they did an ultrasound, they found that you were in active labor. There was no time for an epidural, they didn’t have time to give you anything for the pain. A kind nurse held your hand and quickly explained what was going to happen.

Within thirty minutes, you arrived at the hospital, gave birth, and had your baby taken to the NICU.

It was too fast; your brain was so overwhelmed that it had shut down. It seemed like a ridiculous thought; how did you miss the birth of your daughter?

Hiccupping back a sob, you felt a comforting hand on your back, but the fact that you had woken Spencer up just made you cry harder. He wrapped his arms around you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Shh, it’s alright,” he cooed, rubbing small circles on your back. “I love you so much, you know that, right? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you,” he comforted you. “It’s okay, it’s just all catching up with you, honey.”

You pulled away, wiping the tears from under your eyes. “It’s okay,” you repeated his words.

“What do you need right now?” He asked, smoothing your hair back. “Do you want to make a list? Do you want to move around?”

Nodding absentmindedly, you watched as Spencer pressed the call button and got up, helping you stand. Your legs shook, and you felt a bit like a foal, but it felt good to be out of bed. You haphazardly finger-combed your hair before stepping into hospital slippers and leaving the room. For now, the nurses instructed you to just walk around the maternity ward.

As the two of you walked around, you made several lists. Things you needed to buy. People you needed to call.

By the time you’d returned to the room, Ivy had returned. Spencer opened the door for you and helped you sit on the end of the bed.

“I’ve come bearing gifts,” Ivy greeted, grinning with bags in her hands. She gestured to a suitcase, “First, clothes for both of you. I just grabbed whatever I thought might be good. Toiletries and stuff too,” she said, rolling the suitcase off to the side. “I grabbed a couple of newborn outfits, but again, I was kind of flying blind. The lady at the department store was extremely helpful.” She handed Spencer a bag of baby clothes. “I got a car seat, the same lady recommended it, she was probably getting a commission, but it’s in my car. I have approximately zero idea how to set it up, but I figured, Spencer has a doctorate in engineering. He can do it.”

You glanced blearily at your best friend, “Ivy, you didn’t have to do all of this. This is too much,” you confessed, holding a tiny onesie in your hand.

She dismissed your insistence with a wave of her hand, “I also got this.” Ivy held out a small stuffed duck. “I know it won’t do her much good now, but I couldn’t help myself.”

After you changed out of your hospital garb, you looked at Spencer, “Go call Hotch, we’ll be good here for a while.” You gestured to your best friend, who was filtering through the suitcase she had packed, trying to find your hairbrush. At your request, he told you he’d also ask the nurse to bring Nell back down so that Ivy could meet her.

Once he was gone, Ivy sat behind you on the bed and brushed through your hair, tucking it out of your face, you were finally beginning to feel a little bit more like yourself by the time she had finished.

You watched intently as the nurse arrived at the door, “Do you want to meet her?”

Ivy nodded enthusiastically, lips parting as she observed the small baby. “Is that her name?” She rasped, looking at the card on the bassinet, Eleanor Ivy Reid. “That’s not funny, don’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, keeping your voice down as Eleanor slept. “It’s not a joke, and for the record, it was Spence’s idea,” you informed her, reaching into the bassinet, and scooping up the now-swaddled infant. “He’s so grateful that you were there for me, and I am too.”

She smiled, “I’m always going to be here for you two – you three now. Number one babysitter,” she said, pointing to herself.

You sighed and looked from your friend to your daughter, “She’s got a whole FBI unit of babysitters.”

“I’ll be here when they’re away – when Spencer’s away,” she reminded you, carefully adjusting the hat on the baby in your arms.

The last thing you wanted to think of was Spencer being gone, leaving you to take care of a baby you weren’t ready for.

Ivy must have sensed your nerves, “Hey, you know I’m always in your corner, right?”

You nodded slowly, “It’s just all catching up with me. I have to call my mom. I have to call my boss. How do you retroactively apply for maternity leave?”

“One thing at a time,” she said soothingly. “Right now, just enjoy your time with your perfect little family. I’ll call your mom for you,” she offered. “If your boss gives you any grief, he’ll have to deal with me.” Standing up, she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to go get food, do you two still have the same orders from the deli?”

Confirming with her, you moved so that you could feed Nell, watching her as she looked up at you. “She’s right, you know? You are perfect,” you cupped her head with your hand, looking up to find Spencer watching from the doorway.

“Hotch says congratulations,” he spoke gently, striding over to your bedside and sitting on the edge of the bed. “He also said to let the team know if we needed anything,” he let you know, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He continued to let you know that Hotch had offered to figure out Spencer’s paternity leave, and while you felt bad about giving Hotch something else on his to-do list, it felt nice to have one less thing on yours.

You nodded, “Ivy’s gonna call my mom, so that’s two things off of our list.”

Spencer squeezed your shoulder, “They asked if they could come to visit, but I didn’t want to answer for you.” He moved back to the armchair, “I just said we’d let them know.”

“At the very least we’ll send a picture,” you murmured. “I’m surprised you’re not researching newborns right now.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “I asked one of the nurses if I could get access to the hospital library.”

You snorted, “Of course you did.”

No one from the BAU ended up visiting while you were in the hospital, mainly because the idea of too many people in the one hospital room made you anxious, but both you and Eleanor had been cleared to go home. Eventually, you would have to allow visitors.

“Spencer, you can go the speed limit,” you said from the backseat of the car, not taking your eyes off of the baby in her car seat.

He glanced back in the rearview mirror, “This stretch of road is bumpy. I don’t want to wake her.” Despite his anxieties, he was taking to fatherhood remarkably well.

You shook your head, “She’s already awake, babe.” She looked around her new surroundings, spending part of the six hours a day that she was awake going home for the first time. Part of the beauty of a newborn was that they slept for eighteen hours a day, but only in about fifty-minute bursts.

Spencer kept glancing back, and you made a mental note to get a mirror for the rear-facing car seat.

As he turned onto your street, you sat up slightly. “Who’s here?” You asked, looking at the cars in your driveway. You recognized Ivy’s car, but none of the others rang any bells.

“That’s JJ’s car, and that’s Morgan’s truck,” Spencer told you as he pulled into the driveway. Once he got out of the car, he ran around to where you were sitting. He opened the door, taking the car seat out of its base before helping you out of the car. “I had no idea they were here,” he said curiously.

You hummed thoughtfully, looking at Eleanor in her car seat. There was a part of you that felt horrible, you didn’t have anywhere for her to sleep set up. Another part of you knew that she’d be just fine sleeping in your arms while Spencer set something up. “Far be it from the BAU to abandon one of their own in their time of need,” you murmured, stepping through the front door as Spencer held it open for you.

Setting the carrier on the coffee table, you undid the clips so that you could hold the baby. As you lifted her, her legs scrunched up until you held her to your chest, at which point she settled.

“Where are they?” You asked, gently rubbing Nell’s back as she started to fall asleep on you. You peeked around the corner into the kitchen, across the counter, there were bottles set out to dry, along with other various baby things. “Oh, Spence,” you breathed.

There was a distinct lack of boxes in your house, they weren’t entirely unpacked, but there were much less than there had been when you left. A crash from upstairs got both of your attention, Spencer’s arm instinctively going around your waist.

Together, the two of you walked upstairs, finding members of the BAU in one of the rooms that was going to be a guest room setting up a nursery. “Hey?” You said, peeking in through the doorway.

“Oh my god!” Penelope said, “Wait, crap, sleeping baby.” She covered her mouth with her hands, horrified at the idea of disturbing the sleeping infant.

You smiled, looking around suspiciously, “What’s going on here?”

Rossi waved a finger at you, “Your best friend is a drill sergeant is what’s going on here.”

Confused, you turned around to see Ivy with her hands on her hips. “I thought you weren’t coming home until the afternoon,” she explained, “I was going to have them all out of here so you could have a nice peaceful house.”

“You enlisted the BAU to unpack our house?” You asked her, tears pricking at your eyes.

Ivy shrugged, “It started as just asking a question, but we all came to the same conclusion. The two of you were never going to ask for help, so we had to take matters into our own hands.” She wiped her hands on her jeans, “Plus, they have kids, so they actually knew what you needed,” she gestured to JJ and Hotch.

You leaned forward to give her a one-armed hug, keeping yourself mindful of the baby. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Penelope hugging Spencer.

JJ stepped forward, “I’m around. Any questions you have,” she assured you. “How are you feeling?”

Laughing nervously, you looked up at Spencer, “Still reeling.”

The rest of the team laughed too, which brought you some semblance of comfort. “I almost thought you were playing a prank,” Emily confessed.

“No, you definitely thought they were trying to prank us. You didn’t believe them until they sent the picture,” Morgan said, exposing her.

Appalled, Emily rolled her eyes, but you spoke up, “I’m not sure I would have believed us either.” Had you not experienced it firsthand, you definitely would’ve been skeptical. Eleanor was going on two days old, and you had still woken up wondering if it was all some kind of dream.

Spencer had previously told everyone that no one could hold her. He was concerned about germs. You echoed his concerns, just maybe not as strongly. So, instead, everyone just cooed at her until Spencer gently ushered you into your bedroom.

You let out a sigh of relief when you spotted a bassinet set up next to your bed. Gently, you set her down while Spencer pulled the bedding down, “You should rest,” he told you softly.

“Spence, I just spent the majority of the last two days in a bed. I’m tired of bed,” you responded, sitting down on the ledge of the bed.

He hummed in response, “You just had a baby.”

Reaching out, you took his hands in yours, “Moving around will be good for me. I promise not to do anything to tear my stitches. I’ll just show Nell the house.”

“Babies don’t recognize their surroundings until four to six months, so she wouldn’t recognize anything you showed her anyway,” he told you.

You narrowed your eyebrows at him, “Spencer."

He held up his hands in concession, “Right, overbearing.”

“Hey,” you said softly, “We’re still figuring this out, right? So, we’ll take it one step at a time.” You offered, having already had an in-depth discussion about being okay with making mistakes. “Why don’t we go check out the nursery?” You stood up, watching as Spencer carefully picked Nell up, cradling her in his arms.

You led the way into the hallway to find JJ, Morgan, and Ivy finishing the nursery. Morgan and JJ moved the crib to a different side of the room while Ivy placed books on a shelf.

Ever so slightly, you leaned into Spencer, glancing at the sleeping infant in his arms, you reached over and cupped her head with your hand. “This is your family, Nell,” you whispered, smiling when Spencer leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

That was your first lesson in parenthood, it really does take a village.

please remember to like, comment, and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid dilf agenda

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apas-95 · 8 months ago

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Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

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norrizzandpia · 5 months ago

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Based off of the song bags by Clairo. Lando and y/n are more than friends but less than bf/gf. Super flirty and touchy always. Both in love w the other but don’t want to confess in case the other doesn’t feel the same way. Ending however you want!

I LOVE THIS SONG

Can You See Me Using Everything to Hold back? (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have always been as close as can be, but unresolved and disregarded feelings threaten everything they thought they once knew.

Warnings: language, angsty but HAPPY ENDING, mentions about Lando’s weight

“Happy birthday to my best friend!” Lando cheered as he let his arm rest firmly on Y/n’s face, a quick kiss to her cheek.

The girl smiled through it. It was her birthday after all, right? No crying this time around.

However, Lando was making that promise to herself extremely hard. The soft fingers dancing along her back, the hugs where he would breathe her perfume in, and the glow to his eyes were just a few of the instances where Y/n felt like keeling over and vomiting all over the pristine marble flooring of the hotel Lando had rented out extravagantly for her. Her glossy eyes, some thought, were just a mixture of the alcohol and the exhaustion of partying until dawn.

Truly, she was grateful for what he had done for her. The surprise party with all her closest friends made it known how much Lando really listened to her. The wish to not spend her day with crowds of people who knew only the shell of her being had been accomplished as she looked on at the room in front of her. Adorned in each corner were people who knew almost exactly what it would be like to live in her skin… and then there was Lando.

Lando, her best friend, knew more than just living in her skin. He knew more than anyone in the room, they both knew that. Nobody knew why she had that random scar on her stomach or why hated blueberries, but he did. Random facts about her that only God would be able to answer, he knew.

…Not to say Lando was God.

Nevertheless, the point was made in her brain. She loved the people here, but she adored Lando. Maybe too much for friends, but, again, no crying on her birthday.

“When everyone leaves and you open your presents, open mine first?” Lando whispered in her ear. Chills down her spine and a flush to her cheeks are not from the drop in the AC.

She turned to him, their faces inches apart as her champagne sloshed over the edge of her glass. Her hair landed over her shoulder, which almost brought Lando to his knees. Her gorgeous hair, beautiful dress, and glowy makeup enhanced every bit of pretty Y/n had to offer. He was breathless at the sight of her. Smiling softly, Y/n tilted her head, “Are you not staying?”

He shook his head and her heart sank, “I want you to open your gift alone. Plus, I have an early flight tomorrow.”

She checked her watch, “Lando, it’s almost 4 AM. What time’s your flight?”

His head dipped down to stare at his shoes, “7 AM.”

Her mouth fell open, “Lando!” She smacked his shoulder as she scolded him, “Why the hell are you here and not sleeping?!”

He pulled her into him, his breath fanning over her nose, “Because I want to celebrate my favorite person.”

She softened, “Fine, I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

—

Can you see me? I’m waiting for the right time. I can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine. Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse; walkin’ out the door with your bags.

The small grouping of gifts sat next to Y/n on her apartment floor, completely alone without the company she craved. As he asked, she fished out the small box from the stack. She shook it around for a moment, a small clanging meeting her ears. Finally deciding the package could be fragile, she unwrapped it.

TWO YEARS BEFORE

“Can we please go in here, Y/n?” Lando pleaded with the girl as they stood on the street, his hand in hers as he pulled her one way. She rolled her eyes at him, “Lando, what are you buying at Van Cleef?”

He stuck his hip out while he let his bottom lip do the same, his usual ‘my way or the highway’ stance. She giggled before relenting, “Fine, but when we walk out empty handed and all the employees give us dirty looks, don’t come crying to me.”

He smiled at her before tugging her through the doors. Immediately, a woman approached them as she began welcoming them to the store. “If you need any help, just let us know.” She smiled and Lando nodded.

When they were alone, he turned to Y/n. She saw that mischievous look from miles away, “Look around, Y/n. Pick out your favorite thing.”

Her eyebrows raised, “You’re not buying me anything, Norris. Especially from Van Cleef.”

Lando’s look challenged her, “Uh huh, for sure.”

Deciding not to argue, Y/n let go of his grasp and let herself wander. Almost to the end of the store, nothing stood out to her. Everything was either quite popular and not something rather unique or not her taste and Lando was beginning to tell. Seemingly quite disappointed in her sudden lack of interest in Van Cleef Jewelry, his face lit up when she suddenly stopped at something.

A little gold necklace laid before with the quaintest red heart charm and there was nothing she loved more. Her eyes sparkled and her fingers ran over it on the glass. Lando loved seeing her fall in love with something beautiful. It paralleled something in his life.

“Like that one?” He whispered, his hands coming up to her waist as his thumbs began rubbing softly.

She twisted her head, “If I say ‘yes’, you can’t buy it for me.”

Lando pouted, “Why not?”

She sighed, “Because, Lan, it’s 2,000 euros. That’s way too much to spend on me.”

“2,000 euros is not enough.” He murmured and she chuckled. Suddenly, his hand tapped on the glass and he moved closer to her, “Tell you what, I won’t buy it for you right now, but I do get to buy it for you at some point.”

“What’s the difference from buying it now to buying it later?” She questioned and Lando’s eyes held hers.

“When I buy and give this to you, whether it’s a month from now or ten years from now, it’ll be my sign to you that I will never let you go. When this necklace ends up in your hands because of me know it is my tangible way of telling you that there is not a day I wish to go by without you.” He gazed upon her face in preparation for any kind of reaction. What he was met with was a slow smile that had his heart beating too fast.

She kissed his cheek, “I think I could get on board with that, Norris.”

PRESENT

On top of the Van Cleef box was a small, folded paper. Y/n let it unravel in her hands and staring back at her was Lando’s messy scribbling, however she could tell he had tried to make it nice.

My love letter to you. You’re better at words than I am. I know you’ll remember. Cheers and a happy birthday to everything you are and everything you will become. I know it’ll be great. You’re meant for something out of this world, Y/n. - L

A small tear ran down her face. She already knew what laid beneath all the ribbon. Her favorite heart necklace rested in her hands as she tried to take it all in. Her hands shook and her brain short circuited.

The only thing she could seem to remember were his words, “it is my tangible way of telling you that there is not a day I wish to go by without you.”

—

Lando cursed quietly to himself when his long awaited slumber had been stolen from him at the hands of his phone. Beside him, the device rang and rang annoyingly until his grogginess finally wore off enough for him to grab it.

Max, on the other side of the table, gave him a death stare. He had fully been asleep and any person knows that waking Max from any type of slumber is catastrophic.

Lando just smiled and shrugged at his best friend before answering the phone.

Crying is all he heard.

Pulling back the phone, he clocked Y/n’s contact. His mind raced. What had happened to her? He had watched her walk through her door the night before and lock it before leaving to get his luggage from his place. There was no time for her to be hurt. She was with him the entire night.

“What’s going on? I’ll kill them, Y/n.” That got Max’s attention.

”No,” She choked out before taking a breath, “It’s you. The necklace. It’s so sweet.”

“Oh,” Lando chuckled and Max continued to eye him weirdly.

“This is so much, Lan. I don’t even- Thank you. I thought you would forget or maybe never end up buying it.” She said, still breathing deeply through her past tears.

At the insinuation, Lando became rather confused, “I was always going to end up feeling this way Y/n. It was only a matter of time. It’s not hard to always want you around. You’re you.”

She was quiet for a moment, “The note, Lan. You say you’re bad at words, but that was perfect.”

He sighed dramatically, “Nothing will ever be as perfect as you. Crazy you don’t understand that yet.”

She smiled, “Still.”

He just shook his head silently and prayed that somewhere something, anything would give him the strength to be just friends with her. “Happy birthday, Y/n. I meant everything I said in that note.”

“Thank you, Lan.” A beat passed, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your flight. Be safe, please.”

He nodded, “Of course. Bye, Y/n. Love you.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. It always did when he said that. She whispered, “Love you too. Bye.”

Max sat with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on Lando. “What was that about?” He asked, although he had a small feeling he knew all too well what had just happened.

Lando coyly grinned, “Her present.”

“Which was what?”

Lando bit his lip, “That Van Cleef heart necklace I told you about like two years ago.”

Max stayed quiet for a moment, keeping his gaze on his best friend, before cocking his head. “Let me get this straight - you bought your best friend, who’s a woman, a Van Cleef necklace so she would know you never wanted to live without her. You got her this for her birthday as well?”

Lando just stared at him.

Max laughed, “Right. So, do you think she knows how in love you are with her now?”

“I hope not.” Lando rolled his eyes and swatted his hand in Max’s direction.

The man huffed, “Lando, sometimes you make me want to claw my eyes out with how stubborn you are.”

“I refuse to put my friendship with someone I cherish in jeopardy for some feelings I have that will surely go away soon.” Lando declared, his tone strong and direct.

But, there was no fooling Max.

“You do realize you just bought her a Van Cleef necklace, right?”

—

A triple-header was never easy. Especially when Y/n wasn’t with him for any of the races. Lando stared longingly at a picture of the two of them in London with chocolate smeared all over their faces, a cup of strawberries in Lando’s hand. They had been out wandering the city with a group of their friends that day and had shoved their faces with the most delicious food that Lando had gained so much weight, Jon had scolded him when he got back. Nonetheless, he adored the memories that came from that day. Which included this picture. Y/n was laughing and he was holding onto her by the waist, smiling at her widely. Lando never let her know this image existed solely because of how obvious his love for her is in it. His eyes twinkle and random dimples he never knew existed pop out and you can practically hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

It was too much for his liking.

In moments like these, when the yearning for her got too strong, Lando likes to think the days of them being friends are over. That they’re more than friends, soulmates or whatever his romantic mind would like to call it. It helps the pain of only being hers secretly subside.

“Are you gonna keep drooling at your phone like that or are you gonna call Y/n?” Oscar chuckled. The fact that the man couldn’t even see his phone yet knew he was looking at Y/n made Lando scream internally. He really needed to be better at not giving away too much.

Lando rolled his eyes, but his thumb was already pressing the call button. His phone rang as he put it up to his ear and Oscar tried to keep his smile unknown. Tried.

“Lando!” Y/n yelped. He could hear the grin in her voice.

He could feel the grin on his face, “Hi, Y/n.”

“What’s going on? What do you need?” She blabbered.

Lando’s eyes shot to Oscar, who was eavesdropping so obviously, and shuffled his body around to gain some sort of privacy. His head tucked down, he whispered, “I miss you.”

Y/n stopped her movements, putting down the yogurt she had been trying to put away. She smiled, “I miss you too.”

“Come here.” He begged, “Please.”

She sighed, “You know I can’t. I’m too busy here.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, Lan” She whispered, guilt eating at her.

“I’m not mad… or disappointed at you. I just…” I love you.

“I’ll be fine, Y/n. I’ll see you when I come back.”

—

Tell you how I felt, sugar coated melting in your mouth. Pardon my emotions, I should probably keep it all to myself. Know you’d make fun of me.

Drunk was not what Lando should be after begging Y/n to come, practically declaring how much he wanted her, and getting denied. Yet, here he was with tequila sloshing over his glass as he tried to comprehend the words coming out of this woman’s mouth. She was standing in front of him, but all he could focus on was the fact that her hair wasn’t the same as Y/n’s and she didn’t smell the same.

Frustrated, he apologized, albeit slurred, to the woman and left her in the middle of the club. His vision was blurred slightly as he fell outside, the cold air going to his head.

Another call to the girl he’s always wanted. He counted that as two today and mentally scolded himself for being so obvious. At this point, everything he did was obvious. At this point, he couldn’t be just friends.

Y/n picked up, the grogginess in her voice evident. “Lando? Is everything okay? It’s 4 AM.”

“Y/n,” She could almost smell the alcohol on his breath, “I’m sick and tired of this.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Lando, you’re wasted.”

He shushed her before continuing, “Let me finish. I cannot do this with you anymore. It’s killing me.”

“You can’t do what with me anymore?”

“I can’t… I can’t…” Even in his drunken state, he knew it was a bad idea. He knew what was truly at stake. She was at stake. He just couldn’t ever risk that.

“Nevermind. I’m just really…” He tried to finish his sentence. Drunk? Yes. Upset? Yes. Angry? Yes. Annoyed? Yes. It was everything and nothing at the exact same time.

Y/n chuckled, “Drunk, I know. Don’t worry, Lan. You’ll just feel a little sick tomorrow morning.”

She hung up the phone, the last moments of it all being her laughing. His hands pulled at his hair and he couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing it all.

And how she had just laughed.

—

After his disastrous call, Lando went completely silent on Y/n. To the point that she dropped everything she was doing, at work and in her personal life, to go see him, to make sure he wasn’t dead.

When she showed up to his hotel, the concierge told her that seeing him wouldn’t be possible, no matter how close she said they were. Back and forth with the employee ended when Oscar walked through the lobby, Y/n calling out to him so loudly it earned her a few stares.

He looked at her for a moment, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was real, until concluding the woman screaming at him was in fact Lando’s best friend and the girl he had been trying to hide from all week.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, completely baffled, when he told the front desk she was with him.

Y/n huffed, “Lando’s not answering me and the last time I heard from him, he was absolutely shit faced. I’m worried, so I came to check on him.”

“So, one phone call and a few days without contact and you’re suddenly showing up halfway across the world to check up on him?” Oscar eyed her, his gaze pleading with her to just end this dance between her and Lando.

She coughed, “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” He smirked, “Well, Lando’s on the second floor in room 28. I think he’s there now if you want to go see him. He’s completely fine by the way. You could’ve just called me to ask. You also could’ve called Max… or Jon… or Andrea… or literally anyone because I know you have all their numbers.”

She blushed, “Stop looking at me like that, Piastri.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I’m not looking at you like anything, Y/l/n. I know nothing.” He shook his head and walked away.

Second floor. Room 28.

—

“Can I just be honest?” She blurted out when Lando opened the door. He stood motionlessly, looking her up and down as if he was trying to will her into existence.

“Y/n?” She pushed past him and turned around in a fury.

“Why the fuck have you been dodging me? What the fuck, Lando? You call me wasted and then ghost me for days on end. Did you genuinely think through anything?” She scoffed.

Lando shrugged, “I couldn’t talk to you.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t look at her, “Because.”

She groaned, “Jesus Christ, Lando, again with all the vagueness! Can you tell me anything? What’s going on?”

His head snapped to hers and he let his eyes warn her own. Warn her not to push this topic, not to make him say what he’s worked so hard to keep down. But, when it came to him and his lack of vulnerability, Y/n knew no bounds.

She sat down on the bed, knowing the aggressive approach was never the right call. She looked down and then up at him, “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t, Y/n.” He sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. Everything in him was screeching. He felt like he was being ripped apart by the two, conflicted sides in him. One wanted him so heavily to end the hell of being just her friend by telling her how he felt and the other willed him to remember the privilege of being in her presence, to not fuck that up.

She could see it as well, the quiet war in his mind. In trying to comfort him, running her hand on his back, she triggered him. He sprung from the bed, gaining as much distance from her and letting his head fall in his hands.

“Stop.” He pleaded, “You need to leave, Y/n.”

Her eyes watered, “Why? I don’t understand why you’re pushing me away.”

The waver in her voice made him grip the side table next to him. If he couldn’t hold on mentally, maybe he could physically.

But, no. One look at her defeated face made him lose all composure. And one small whisper of hers, “Please let me in.” became too much.

“I’ve always been so in love with you.” He breathed out. A relief fell over him, a truth that had been eating at him finally said.

Y/n froze, her eyes on her hands in her lap. When she gathered the courage to look up at him, she found the shell of a man.

In thinking he had let go of a truth, he remembered the risk that had been holding him back all this time. Gone was the relief and all that was left was pure terror at what he had just done.

She breathed, “You know when I got here, Oscar looked at me and almost mocked me for the reasons as to why I had come. He told me I had come here because of one drunk call and a few days of no contact. And, you know, I was looking at this necklace the other day,” She touched it as it laid across her neck, “and it almost felt like some sort of declaration of love. I thought I was insane, thinking you would see me that way, but I think it made me more inclined to do my own declaration of love. The whole grand gesture thing was never for me, but I think I’ve found myself there, no? I think this is my declaration of love.”

Lando gapped at her, “What are you saying?”

She smiled, “If you thought I didn’t love you too, then we were both dumb.”

He breathed out then laughed, falling next to her on the bed. She let her hand rest on his next to her and squeezed tightly.

“It sucks we waited so long, but at least it ended in neither of us walking out.” She murmured.

He sat up, letting his arms wrap around her waist, “I was never gonna walk out.”

“Neither was I.”

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him.

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself.

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him.

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet. Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones.

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you.

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report.

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment.

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this.

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you.

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder.

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would.

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop.

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then.

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon.

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better.

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that.

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag.

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims.

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be.

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming.

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.”

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago.

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?”

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out.

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it.

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon.

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat.

“What?”

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight.

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.”

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago.

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy.

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?”

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling.

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.”

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.”

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.”

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end.

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing.

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?”

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin.

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking.

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car.

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back.

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.”

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same.

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that.

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition.

and voila <3

#spent my sunday writing this while rewatching season 3 #putting off prep for my grad school interview b/c this is so much better <3 #hope everyone likes it #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher imagine #hotch #hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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batboyblog · 7 months ago

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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #15

April 19-26 2024

President Biden appeared along side Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senators Ed Markey and Bernie Sanders to announce major climate action. Biden announced a program, Solar For All, 7 billion dollars aimed at supporting low income house holds install solar power in their homes. The program will support 900,000 households across the country getting solar. Lower the average energy bill for a family by $400 a month and avoid more than 30 million metric tons of carbon pollution over the next 25 years. The boost in solar installation will help create 200,000 new jobs across the country. The President also announced the launch of the Climate Conservation Crops. modeled on FDR's Civilian Civilian Conservation Corps and JFK's Peace Corps, Biden's Climate Conservation Crops will be a program where young people can connect with climate projects across the country and be paid to help protect the planet. The Corps will be 20,000 strong, with 2,000 openings listed right now on their webpage across 36 states DC and Puerto Rico.

The Department of Labor finalized a new rule on overtime. Currently employers are only required to pay overtime to workers making under $35,568. Under the new ruling that will be raised to workers making $43,888, and in January 2025 raised again to workers making $58,656 and under. This will bring overtime pay to 4 million more workers and transfer $1.5 billion from the pockets of companies to workers. It also fixes to raise the level with inflation every 3 years starting in 2027.

The EPA announced a $1 billion dollar program to help replace heavily duty vehicles with clean energy versions. There are currently 3 million class 6 and 7 vehicles, school buses, box trucks dump trucks, street sweepers, delivery trucks, bucket trucks, and utility trucks, in use. 70% of the funds will go to replacing School Buses with Clean energy buses and the remaining 30% will go to replacing Vocational Vehicles like dump trucks and street sweepers. Heavy Duty vehicles on top of green house cases release harmful nitrogen oxide and fine particulate matter and replacing them will not only combat climate change but improve public health.

The Department of Interior took actions to protect 13 million acres of Alaska wild land is protected and to secure the livelihood of Alaska Native peoples who rely on this land. The Administration refused oil and mining rights on the vast areas of Alaska land as well as a 210 miles road through the northern wildernesses. This area represents valuable habitat for caribou and endangered polar bears, as well as millions of migrating birds.

The Department of Transportation announced finalized rules requiring airlines to give automatic cash refunds for canceled flights and other inconvenience. The refunds will be automatic meaning passengers will not have apply for them, prompt the airlines are required to refund a credit card purchase in 7 days, and require repayment in full and in kind, airlines can not substitute travel vouchers for cash. The DOT also announced new rules to protect airline travelers from junk fees, airlines and ticket agents must now clearly tell travelers upfront about all fees so no one is surprised by a hidden fee.

The EPA announced finalized rules on emissions standards for fuel burning power plants. The new rules include a tightening of Mercury and Air Toxics Standards, requiring a 70% reduction in mercury. It also had rules protecting ground water, new rules will require coal powered plants to remove 660 million pounds per year of pollutants discharged through wastewater, and for the first time federally regulates the dumping of coal ash, requiring safe dump sites that will not leak into ground water. Finalized rules require coal fired and new natural gas-fired power plants to capture up to 90% of their carbon pollution

Security of Transportation Pete Buttigieg attended the ground breaking of a new high speed rail project to connect Los Angeles and Las Vegas. The Biden Administration announced 3 billion to support the project 5 months ago. At 218 of all electric green rail the project promises to be the fastest way to get from LA to Las Vegas. Planned to open in 2028 just in time for the LA Olympics it is the first of many planned high speed rail projects. The Biden Administration has promised $66 billion for high speed rail and the largest single investment in Amtrak ever.

The FCC announced a new rule restoring Net Neutrality. Net Neutrality requires internet service pervaders to treat all websites equally and not slow certain ones now or speed others. In 2015 under Obama the FCC passed a rule requiring Net Neutrality. However in 2017, the FCC spread headed by Trump appointed Chair Ajit Pai repealed the rules. A patchwork of Democratic controlled states, lead by California passed state level laws requiring Net Neutrality forcing ISPs to de facto keep it in place. Late last year President Biden got the opportunity to replace Pai on the FCC, giving the FCC a 3 to 2 Democratic majority which voted this week to return to the Obama era rules and protect Net Neutrality nationwide.

The FTC passed finalized regulations to ban noncompete agreements in nearly all cases. These agreements, which cover 18% of American workers, about 30 million people, prohibit workers from joining or creating competing companies for a certain period of time. The FTC estimates that workers will earn an average of $524 dollars a year more and up to 8,500 new businesses will be created each year. The new rule will still allow noncompete for senior executives who make up less than 1% of the work force. Like with the FCC, two out of the 3 FTC commissioners who voted for the new rules are Biden appointees.

The Departments of Health and Human Services and Interior have announced a joint, $1 billion project to connect tribal communities to safe drinking water. Roughly half of Tribal households lack access to clean drinking water or adequate sanitation.

At the White House The Biden Administration announced plans to protect, restore and reconnect 8 million acres of wetlands and 100,000 miles of rivers and streams. This effort will include state, local and tribal government as well as private efforts along with the federal government to protect and restore the nations freshwater environments.

The Department of Health and Human Services announced a new rule boosting privacy protection for abortions. Republicans in states like Alabama, Texas, Oklahoma and Idaho have tried to make it a crime to leave the state to seek an abortion in a state where it is legal. The new federal rule would make it illegal for health information to be shared in these cases

Vice-President Harris announced a new rule requiring staffing standards at Nursing Homes across the country. The new rules will require registered nurses on duty 24 hours, seven days a week. This represents the first time the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have required specific numbers of nurses and aides in Nursing Homes that get Medicare and Medicaid funding.

The Biden Administration Announced a $6 billion deal with tech giant Micron to bring high tech manufacturing to New York. The deal is expected to see Micron invest $100 billion in Syracuse New York area as well as build a factory in Boise, Idaho. The deal will create 70,000 new jobs. It is part of the Biden Administration's effort to bring high tech chip manufacturing to America.

The Department of Education finalized the most comprehensive federal protections for Trans and other Queer students in the nation's history. The rules also overturn Trump era rules on how colleges should handle sexual assault and harassment.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #climate change #trans rights #abortion rights #overtime #net neutrality #high speed rail #green energy #electric vehicles #busy fucking week #sorry for formatting change #so many things

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reidsdimples · 7 months ago

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Strictly Professional | Part 1

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+🔥

You’ve been hooking up with your coworker Spencer Reid. Does the rest of the team know? 👀

After a long case, the two of you can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“Dr. Reid, a minute?” You ask him as the team makes its way into the bullpen. The flight from Seattle was long and everyone’s ready to wrap up their paperwork and get home.

“What’s up?” He steps aside into the small kitchen with you.

“What was the true probability that Morgan wouldn’t have had to shoot that unsub?” You ask him.

“Given his devolution, the desperation of being trapped, and the lack of control he had, he wasn’t coming out of that apartment alive. I’d say based on what we know, only about a 5% chance of one of us not having to shoot him,” he answers quickly.

“Right,” you sigh.

“We saved the girl, it’s still a victory,” he places a hand on your shoulder. The touch diverts your train of thought to him, to the electricity that just surged between you.

He meets your eyes and swallows hard before dropping his hand.

Those hands, those damned hands. In the last month they have been all over your body, his long fingers inside of you, down your throat, pinching your nipples…

“Reid, Y/N, a word?” Hotch pulls you out of your thoughts.

Did he know what the two of you had been doing? That two of his agents have been sleeping together secretly? You look to Reid whose face gives nothing away. He wouldn’t show concern, he’s way better than you at masking things from other profilers.

Shit shit shit.

Hotch leads the two of you to his office, JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss exchange looks of curiosity. Your heart hammers in your chest, heat creeping into your throat and ears.

He doesn’t know, there’s no way he knows. You two were careful.

“I got a complaint that you snapped at one of the witnesses,” Hotch starts with Reid.

Relief floods you but worry for the verbal beat down creeps in. Reid had snapped at a witness, right next to you.

“And you didn’t tell me it escalated,” Hotch turns to you.

“Sir, I…” you stammer.

“That witness was out of line, Hotch. She agressed us first,” Reid reasons.

“And as soon as Reid got snippy, I shut the interview down,” you bud in.

Reid grips one of the arm rests and you remember that same tight grip on your ass. You jolt upright and adjust in your chair, catching Hotch’s attention.

“Reid you are brilliant and you are an asset to this team but you have to be more patient with these people. They are victims too,” Hotch leans on his desk and crosses his arms. “Y/N, you did the right thing by shutting it down but next time run it by me so I’m not blindsided by a complaint. Understood?”

You both nod.

“If it happens again, I’m documenting a disciplinary action,” he says with finality. Reid clears his throat, red on his cheeks.

You both stand in unison which Hotch takes a mental note of.

“Great work this week nonetheless,” Hotch says as Reid gets the door for you.

Leaving his office feels like stepping out of tar, you slow your breathing and purposely walk away from and ahead of Reid.

Shit. Hotch is reading the two of you, he’s picked up on something.

An hour passes and no one on the team has left, everyone still lost in their paperwork and conversation with one another. It’s one of your favorite things, time together after the storm of a case.

You leave your desk to go to the restroom before heading to the intel room to grab some more files which are kept in a large closet connecting to Garcia’s office.

You’re fumbling through paperwork for a while, taking out boxes and placing them on one of Garcia’s desks. You make a mental note to clean it before she gets to work in the morning.

You turn suddenly at the feeling of a presence behind you at the entrance to the closet.

“Shit Reid, you scared the hell out of me,” you sigh.

He’s leaning against the door frame, watching you with a conflicted expression. Strands of hair fall around his face, messy and untamed. He’s removed his cardigan and rolled up the sleeves to his light colored button down. It the dim light he looks gorgeous, mouth watering even.

“You think Hotch is onto us?” he steps forward and pulls the closet closed behind him.

“It’s possible,” you answer honestly.

But then he’s right on top of you, his fresh scent invading your lungs, his body heat warming you.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you closer to him as he starts to nip at your neck.

You pull on his waist band, need buzzing between your thighs. These meetings, these moments where heat and need build to an impossible level are what you live for.

“Then we better be quick,” he snakes a hand up to your jaw and kisses you quickly, desperately.

You’ve never done this with so little people in the office, what if they notice your absence? What if they notice both of you gone together? You’re about to say something when you become aware of the taste of him, his cock straining against his pants, and just how acutely you need him inside of you.

“This is a bad idea,” you hum while hurriedly pulling his cock free from his pants. You pump it slowly, causing him to grunt under his breath while he hikes your skirt up.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you put this little skirt on,” he smiles and rips your panties to the side. You giggle but bury your face in his chest so the sound doesn’t travel.

He sinks a finger into you, his finger immediately soaked and it pleases him. He bites his lip knowingly before pinning you against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he says when you screw your eyes closed to revel in the moment he enters you.

He stretches you around him, gravity forcing you all the way down onto his cock. You grip onto his shoulders as he starts to move, one hand on your hip, the other in your hair. The tip of his cock strokes the nerves inside of you so deliciously that your eyes roll back in your head. It had been too long since you had him and the possibility of getting caught is a thrill that heightens the experience.

“So good,” he whispers, sweat beading on his forehead.

The sounds of him moving inside of you and both of your controlled panting brings you to your climax fast and hard as he continues his rhythm into you. He’s focused, he knows exactly what you like and how to get you to cum for him. That eidetic memory will not let him forget precisely what you like.

“Reid,” you whimper and he clamps his hand over your mouth. You bit into his palm as you clench around him and he fucks you through your orgasm.

“That’s right, keep coming on it,” he urges. The low moans in the back of his throat are ecstasy and you know you’re going to cum again.

He drags his cock out and pushes back in, torturously slow. If he had time, he would tease and drag this out until you were crying. Your legs shake around him as he hits your gspot repeatedly, now rushing the two of you to finish before you get caught. Fuck.

“You’re going to finish with me and then you’re going to go back out there and pretend you aren’t filled with my cum,” he growls against your ear. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you can’t take it anymore.

You come undone around him in waves as he pumps you deep and fills you with his cum. He shudders against you, steadying himself on the wall. His cock pulses inside of you and you’re reeling with pleasure.

There’s no time to revel in it though because you both hear Morgan and Prentiss talking outside of Garcia’s office.

He jolts back, you drop to the floor and pull your skirt down while he fixes his pants. Both of your are panting but trying to control it. The room is hot and alive with what just happened.

“Go out there,” you shove him. “Wait look at me,” you say. You realize that you left a claw mark on the side of his neck, the scratches angry and red. So instead you rush into Garcia’s office from the closet just as Morgan enters it.

“Reid in here?” He asks when he only sees you in the office chair with a folder. You’ve stopped breathing. You hope your hair doesn’t give you away.

“I think he’s in there looking for a file,” you say quickly.

“This the one you need?” He asks Morgan, handing him a file.

“Yeah,” he takes it and turns to leave. “Come look at this,” he tells Reid to follow him.

Reid glances at you with a small smirk as he follows Morgan out of the room, one hand resting on his neck to cover your scratches.

Fucking hell, you’ll never get enough of him.

#mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid one shots #mgg pics #criminal minds #bau #Hotch #aaron hotchner #derek morgan

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flightcase · 7 months ago

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#flight case #flight case box

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nosyrobin · 2 months ago

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“Super surprise!”

PLATONIC!SUPERSONS X CIVILIAN!GN READER

Summary: surprise party by the super-sons of the best heroes ever?? This must be a dream!

→genre: fluff

Groggy, drained, tired. All the adjectives on top of what you were feeling as you came home from practice in band. And holding your big black case of a trumpet was terrible for your back as well. What even sucked more was that you had to climb a flight of stairs just ringer to the 3rd floor! “Lord kill me” you thought as you grabbed your apartment key.

Twisting the key to unlock the damned door, you entered. Taking off your shoes and throwing. Well gently, putting your case of your instrument down. You didn’t even bother to notice some changes in the apartment as you wanted to lay down and wait for your parents.

the lights came on quick, making you scream in shock as confetti come out of nowhere.

"SURP—" immediately the case you held was thrown at the person that yelled. Robin moved out of the way, leaving Jonathan aka Superboy to get hit in the head. Jon screams with a thud, even if it didn’t hurt. He still fell hard as you gasped shock with Robin smirking in amusement.

“Jon! Robin! What are you guys doing here?!” You exclaimed, running over to Jon to help him up. “We’re here because we wanted to throw a surprise party for you. Sadly we have to leave for patrol so we brought you gifts” Robin says, pulling out a small box.

Helping Jon up, you grabbed the box while Jon raised a brow suspiciously. Opening the box revealed a beautiful gold necklace. “Woah…” you smiled softly. With Jon being the tallest, he got behind you. Grabbing the necklace and clipped it around your neck.

“You look beautiful Y/N!” Jon says hugging you from behind as Robin just stands in front of you. Crossed arms with a nod, “I agree with superboy..but we have to go.” Robin says seriously at the end. Jon frowned, letting you go as he walks by the boy wonder.

“Happy birthday.” The two boys said as they started to leave. Jon flew out of the window meanwhile Robin grapple hooks out.

Best surprise ever….

#dc fluff #dc x male reader #dc x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne #dc imagine #dc comics x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #dc x female reader #dc robin #dc superboy #Batman #supersons #superboy x reader #jon kent x reader #jonathan kent

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thelostconsultant · 3 months ago

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Let her go

pairing: Lando Norris x MotoGP rider!reader

summary: You have a massive crash on a weekend when you're both racing. And that crash was really massive.

warnings: major character death (surprise, surprise)

Every time your race weekends took place at the same time, you both promised to watch the other’s sessions live if they weren’t at an ungodly hour that would screw up your sleep schedule, and in every other case you would watch it later when you had the time. It worked well so far, and this weekend wasn’t any different. You were both in Europe, the sessions’ start times were aligned perfectly to make sure fans could watch both F1 and MotoGP.

Lando was sitting on a couch in front of a TV, watching you make it into Q2 from Q1 with the best lap time with a proud smile on his face. Some members of the team joined his little watch party, although he knew perfectly well most of them had their favorite riders, who weren’t necessarily you. But it didn’t bother him. He was one of your biggest fans, and the same way you were one of his.

Four minutes into the qualifying you were in P6, a decent result that would give you a second row start, but there was time for several flying in the remaining time, so he knew you had to improve in run two to keep that position. The Ducatis were fast, and you were riding a GP23 that wasn’t as fast as the newest model, but still gave you a chance to fight for a first row position. Well, Marc was there to snatch it again, but maybe you would stand a chance against the eight-time world champion if you put together one amazing lap.

It was your first flying lap in run two when the cameras began to follow you. You were pushing yourself hard, it was clear, but you had a great first sector and at the moment you were estimated to finish in P2. But then he saw you being catapulted off your bike, landing on the track while the vehicle crashed into the barrier on the side of the track behind the gravel trap. Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for you to jump up and walk away, but you didn’t move.

At all.

The race was immediately red flagged and luckily the other riders noticed you in time and didn’t hit you to make things worse. But the cameras quickly turned to find other parts of the track and the pit lane, the only thing shown related to the accident being the reactions of the team in the box and on the pit wall. Lando could feel his colleagues’ gazes on him, everyone sitting in heavy silence as they waited to find out what was happening. He sent a message to your assistant to make sure she called after getting any news about you, but according to her no one knew anything.

After fifteen long minutes his phone rang, and as if the others could sense he wanted to be alone now, they left without a word. “Hey, you have news?” he asked, voice trembling badly.

The young woman on the other end of the line took a deep breath, then said, “She was airlifted to the hospital. It’s bad, Lando. We’ll only know the exact details after they examined her there, but she’ll be in surgery for a long time apparently. The doc said there might be a spinal injury among the other things. I’m about to book a flight for her parents so they can be there with her.”

He gulped in hopes this could hold back his tears. Your job was dangerous, he had always said those guys in MotoGP were crazy, but having to witness the love of his life crash like that was a little too much. He always assumed the worst that could happen to you was a broken bone in your hand or a cracked collarbone, but a little metal could fix that, just as it had fixed dozens of riders on the grid over the years.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you keep me updated?” he asked her.

“Sure. FP3 is coming up for you, right? Be careful, the last thing we need is you getting hurt too.”

They said goodbye and Lando leaned back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. She was right, his next session was just about to begin, but how could he focus on driving when you were in such a bad condition? Maybe he would get in, then get out if his head wasn’t in it. There was no reason to force this.

He felt the couch shift on his side, and when he looked over there, he noticed Oscar sitting next to him with a worried look in his eyes. “I heard what happened,” was all he said.

Lando let out a deep sigh as he ran a hand through his curly hair. “I don’t wanna be here, I wanna be there with her,” he said, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep the tears back. “I’m so stupid, I always thought she was invincible, but in reality she is so fragile, I don’t even know how I could assume she would never get hurt.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” his teammate began as he put a hand on his shoulder. “This was a terrible accident, nothing more. She’s in good hands, there are great doctors there.” When he nodded, Oscar forced a barely visible smile on his face. “I have an idea. Spain isn’t that far away, maybe you could fly there after qualifying, and come back tomorrow before the race. Maybe seeing her could help you focus on driving again.”

It wasn’t such a bad idea, it could actually work, so he nodded and jumped up, moving towards the exit without saying anything. He could hear Oscar following him without missing a beat, and the Aussie soon caught up with him as they headed to find Zak in hospitality where he was last seen. Lando could feel everyone’s gaze on himself, so he assumed the news of your accident had spread like wildfire in the paddock. A journalist tried to approach him, but his teammate was kind enough to get him to leave with an annoyed come on, mate.

Zak was chatting with a VIP guest, but the moment he noticed them arrive, he excused himself and walked over to them. “I heard what happened. How is she? Do you know anything?” he asked worriedly.

Lando shrugged as he tried to find the right words to say. “All I heard is that it’s bad, there might even be a spinal injury.”

“You think you can focus on driving?”

With a nod, he looked down at his hand. “I’ll get in, do a few laps, and we’ll see. I don’t want to miss the weekend unless…”

“Don’t even think about that,” Oscar was quick to say, understanding what the rest of the sentence was supposed to be. “Zak, I’ve been thinking. What if he gets on a plane after qualifying, goes to Spain to see her, then returns tomorrow before the race? Maybe it would be good for him.”

Looking over at his teammate, Lando couldn’t help but feel grateful for his calm personality. He could think straight in even the most stressful situations, and now he could sense that he wasn’t in the right state to come up with these ideas. And Zak seemed to be understanding, because he nodded and agreed to let him do it.

From Lando’s point of view, the practice session just… happened. His head wasn’t in it, he only focused on testing a few settings just to see how the car felt and reacted, but he only did one or two fast laps. Between runs on the track, he kept checking his phone to see if there was any news, but all he saw was a message that you were still in surgery with no new information about you.

Shortly before qualifying, he gave your assistant a call to tell her he would fly there soon, but he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like this. Because she was crying, her voice muffled as she talked, and he had trouble understanding her. Then there were words exchanged in the background, and the phone was obviously taken by someone who wasn’t a crying mess. It was your crew chief, he recognized his voice when he greeted him, but it was also full of sadness.

He knew something was terribly wrong, and he felt nauseous at the thought. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask after some silence.

The man on the other end of the line took a deep breath. “She’s out of surgery, but… she’s hooked on machines and the doctors say she’ll stay that way. The staff in the medical center assumed she only had a severe concussion, but tests showed that the brain injury was much more serious than expected.”

“No.”

“Her parents aren’t here yet, but we talked to them the moment we got new info. They understand what’s happening, and they wanted us to tell you they will wait for you to get here tomorrow so you can say goodbye before they turn off the machines,” he said, his voice cracking by the end.

Lando felt like fainting. His head was spinning, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, but at the same time his body froze entirely. He just stood there in the back of the garage, staring straight ahead as he thought about what he should do. It was only after a minute or two that he took a deep breath and said, “I’m going there right now.”

But Paolo was quick to speak up again. “Lando, listen, she would want you to get in that car and go on with the weekend as if nothing happened. You will come here tomorrow after the race, and you will have time to let her go,” he said, forcing himself to keep his calm.

“What do you mean let her go? Apparently everyone, including her own parents, gave up on her. There has to be at least one person there who fights for her, because the doctors need to do something to fix her!” he yelled into the phone, earning a few worried looks.

“Listen, there’s no fixing her. She’s brain-dead. If it weren’t for the machines, she wouldn’t be alive now.” Silence fell between them, and it was your crew chief who broke it. “Lando?”

“Fuck this,” was all the Brit said before ending the call.

His vision was blurred by the tears, but he wiped them away and headed to where Zak was talking to one of the engineers. At this point he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, so he approached him with the intention to state his intention to leave immediately before actually doing so. When his boss’ eyes fell on him, it was clear that he knew something was wrong, because the moment he got there, Zak grabbed his arm and gently led him to a more private part of their garage.

He didn’t say anything, only waited for his driver to talk to him. But Lando hesitated, having absolutely no idea where to begin and how to tell him the truth about you. Paolo had been right, you would want him to continue, but how could he do that when they were ready to pull the plug without trying to make things right? There had to be something they could do.

Zak seemingly had enough of the silence. “What’s wrong? Bad news about her?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

Lando nodded. “They say she’s brain-dead and can’t be saved,” he said, once again fighting his tears. “I–I don’t think I can do this. The qualifying, the race, the whole fucking media circus… I just can’t do it, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, try to calm down. Get in the car, do a few laps, and see if you can focus on that. Maybe it will even help you clear your mind,” he tried, but all he got in response was a murderous look. “She would understand if you arrived a few hours later. Just like we agreed; you go there after qualifying, then return tomorrow before the race. We need points to beat Red Bull this year. We need you on the track, Lando, even if it sounds terrible now. Dedicate this weekend to her.”

He agreed, but only because of you. Only because the people around the two of you were right, and as a professional athlete you would focus on your race too. So, he did everything he could to focus, he pushed himself to the limit, and eventually managed to finish the qualifying in P2. First row behind Charles. You would be proud. Their press officer warned the reporters that they should not ask questions about you, so he could focus on the session alone, although mentally he was already on his way to the airport.

A few hours later he met your assistant in the hospital’s lobby after fighting his way through the army of photographers and reporters outside. She guided him to the room you were in without saying a single word, and when you reached the door, she stayed outside, even though everyone was inside. He gave her a questioning look when he turned back, but she only shook her head and wiped away her tears.

Your mother jumped up and hugged him tightly when she noticed him, and your father also stood up to do the same. Lando didn’t know what to say, but neither did your parents. Paolo was watching him with a worried look in his eyes, the memory of their previous conversation probably vivid in his mind. But he wasn’t about to make a scene. He had time to think, he had time to do some research, so now he understood the chances of you coming back to them was close to none.

With hesitant steps, he walked to the side of the bed and took your hand, his thumb massaging your skin the same way he had done so many times in the past. But now you wouldn’t react, you wouldn't wrap your delicate fingers around his hand with that adorable smile on your face. He started crying, for the first time letting himself go and not holding it back, and he began to tell you between sobs how sorry he was for not coming sooner, for all the times you fought over stupid, meaningless things, for not proposing before it became too late.

He told you how much he loved you, how he couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else the same way he loved you. Then he leaned down to kiss your lips, probably for the very last time, and he kept repeating I love you like it was a mantra that kept him sane.

After God knows how long, your mother put a hand on his shoulder to make him look at her. By now he had stopped crying, but after seeing her watering eyes, he had a feeling he would be crying again soon. Because he could tell what was coming, he could feel it in his bones. That grave sadness in her eyes could only mean one thing, and even though he wasn’t ready to hear it, he paid close attention to every word.

“I think it’s time to let her go,” she said hoarsely.

To his own surprise, Lando nodded and let her take his place, then he stood in a corner and watched as your parents said goodbye to you. He didn’t want this, he couldn’t accept that he lost you, but a rational part in his mind told him it was over, and it was time to let you go. Your mother was right, it was better to turn off the machines now, because seeing you hooked on them for a few more days would only drive them crazy.

He said goodbye to your parents in the hospital after the doctor announced the time of your death and went to his hotel to spend the night crying and suffering on his own. He saw the messages on his phone, and he noticed the way their number increased after your team announced your death on official channels. But he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and even at the race the next day, he avoided everyone as long as he could. If he talked, he only talked about the car and the upcoming race, everything else was a taboo at the moment.

On the track he was powered by his rage, which resulted in a couple of aggressive moves, but in the end, he managed to win the race. When he stood in front of the reporter after getting out of the car, he was terrified of a question regarding you arising, because he was damn sure he would break down at that very moment, but apparently his press officer had previously told them not to bring it up. So, all he said was a simple I did it for her at the end and nothing more.

It would be a long process to move on, he knew that.

His parents told him to come over until the funeral so he wouldn’t be alone, which would surely help him calm down a bit, then he would lock himself up in his home and his focus would shift back to racing again. But deep down he knew he had to let his friends close again too, because they kept assuring him that they were there, and he could always count on them. Maybe that was the key. Maybe letting others support him would speed up the grieving process.

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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