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thewulf · 2 years ago

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Unexpectedly || Aaron Hotchner

Request: The reader is a member of BAU, but nobody knows her dark past. She's running from her abusive ex. Once he hurt her so bad (fractured skull, several severe injuries) he left her to die in their apartment. Nowadays she keeps that past hidden, as good as she can... See rest here

A/N: This was SO much fun to write. Took me a little bit to get used to the writing style but once I did it flowed so well. There is A LOT going on in this one (make sure to read the full request!). Timeline is a little wonky – Season 3ish but we’re pretending George Foyet already happened, and Haley has already passed. I also just made reader 28 years old – you can pick whatever age you want!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 10.1k + (Probably should've made this 2 parts)

TW: Abuse. Both physical and mental. General Criminal Minds TW – talk of blood/gore/death/stabbing etc. AGE GAP between reader and Hotchner, reader is implied to be younger 25-35.

Life was good, great even. For the first time in a long time, you felt free, like yourself again. You weren’t sure how, but you managed to convince the BAU that you’d be a good communications liaison while JJ was out on maternity leave. Speaking in front of people never bothered you, it came naturally to you. So, when your manager mentioned an opening in the BAU for your exact job all the way across the country it piqued your curiosity. It piqued your curiosity so much that you ended up applying, interviewing, and accepting the job within a few days. On Monday you were an FBI agent stationed in Los Angeles and by Friday you were meeting your new team.

Hoping to make a good impression on your first day you brought in bagels and coffee just praying they would like you. You met your ridiculously good-looking boss that Thursday night after his team got back from a difficult case, his words not yours, and he showed you around the office. He had given the team the weekend off to relax. Something that wasn’t terribly common around there you had picked up.

Laying out the bagels on conference room table you were so in your own head you hadn’t heard the door open and close

“Well, what do we have here?” A smooth male voice came from behind you breaking you right out of your thoughts.

Spinning around on your heel you took the man in. Tall, handsome and had a devilishly cute grin across his face. Was everyone that worked here hot as hell? If that were the case you might be in trouble, “Oh hi! I’m Y/N. Agent Y/L/N. I’m covering for JJ while she’s out.” You flashed him a nervous smile hoping he wouldn’t be able to read you as easily as you thought it was. See, you never worked with profilers before this. Sure, you’ve worked at the FBI for years, but profilers made you nervous. Profilers seemed to know more about you than even you knew about yourself. And profilers at the BAU? This team was the best of the best. Better than any team you’ve worked on, that’s for sure.

He shot you a ]smile that would’ve taken you out in a previous life, “SSA Derek Morgan. Are these for the team?”

You nodded feeling his eyes surveying you, profiling you, “They are, if you want them.”

Nodding his head slowly he took a step forward to grab one, “Are you trying to butter us up?”

Giving him a small laugh, you continued, “Depends, is it working?”

His smirk grew into a full-on smile now, “Yeah, you’ll fit right in newbie.” He pulled out a chair for you to pop a squat next to him, “They’ll be in soon. Just slow on Friday mornings.” He commented after seeing you look out for anybody behind him.

Sitting down next to him you were sure you looked like a nervous mess. You were confident in your role. You knew you were damn good at your job too. But who wouldn’t be nervous walking into a room of profilers for the first time? Especially ones that could read you like an open book so quickly, “Thanks,” You gave him a quick nod, “You must be good at your job.”

Derek set his coffee mug on the table turning towards you, “We are. But that’s beside the point. You’ll learn quickly.”

Before Derek could continue the door opened again revealing your stern looking boss who gave the two of you a nod before taking a seat at the table.

“Bagel?” You offered.

With a quick look up and a quick head shake he continued scanning whatever he was looking at. Looking over at Derek curiously he just gave you a tight-lipped smile shaking his head. Deciding to just drop it you waited patiently for whatever the hell was about to happen. Hotchner briefly went over your responsibilities when he walked you through the BAU, so you were flying blind.

Slowly the team started trickling in making sure to give quick intros and thank you’s for the bagels. You sat back and observed what was going on. A quick conversation around the weekend turned to a squeal as on overly pink dressed woman came bounding into the room with a very big smile.

“You must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She clapped her hands grabbing a bagel for herself, “Don’t worry honey I only read your file. I didn’t go digging. I’m Penelope but this fine human specimen calls me Penny.” She gave Derek’s arm a squeeze.

“Or baby girl.” Derek through her a wink. A few others walked in quickly introducing themselves to you. Each team member more kind than the next welcoming you with open arms.

At Penny’s comment you felt you blood run cold. Of course, the bureau would have somebody like her on the team. It was stupid to think that this team wouldn’t have one. They needed her. Sitting in a room full of profilers who were watching the exchange was a bit unnerving too. Every expression on your face being hyper analyzed to profile you.

Raising your eyebrows in curiosity you could only ask, “Digging? What for?”

She giggled taking a seat next to Derek on his other side, “Anything dear. I can find any secret if it’s been on the internet. Maybe some that haven’t been.” She laughed.

Your heart started racing knowing she could figure you out completely. It was easy enough to get your file cleared of your past life once you changed your last name, but this? This was a problem. You couldn’t bury police and court records. Those would live for forever.

Smiling and trying to play it off as cool as possible you nodded your head along, “Noted. That’s a nifty little skill you have their Penny.” Her face lit up as she agreed with you. It wasn’t often she got complimented for her skills, so she took it when it was given.

Cool. You had to play this cool. You couldn’t let your emotions expose you now. This scenario ran through your head a hundred times before you came. You knew they were going to ask about your past. It’s not like anything was in your file other than you being from the middle of nowhere Colorado. You made sure to have it scrubbed before you came.

Hotchner cleared his throat letting the team know he was ready to go, and that work was what was important, not you at the moment. Silently thanking the man, you turned your full attention to him.

“Now that you’ve met Penny and the team has met Y/N, let’s get started.” The man was all business as he nodded to Penny. She passed out the case file to each team member, including you. Visibly fighting back your reaction to the pictures in the file it dawned on you how fucked this job was going to be. Shit, what in the hell have you gotten your sorry self into?

“Dayton, Ohio” She spoke after taking a seat again, “Four young women have gone missing and found dead near Eastwood Lake just north of the city. A fifth just went missing last night.”

“They went missing from local bars?” Spencer asked as he set the file down.

Penny nodded, “Each one from a different spot but all within a 5-mile radius downtown.”

“Ligature marks around the arms indicate being chained up or bound for some extended period of time.” Spencer rattled off studying the pictures. Taking a shallow breath, you looked back at the pictures of the young women. You’ve seen some fucked up things working with the FBI, but this was next level. These women were clearly tortured before whoever finally decided to kill them. The bruises, cuts, blood, and broken bones were not a sight many people could handle. A sight that reminded you of your past.

Acutely aware you were around profilers you lifted your head up to listen to the conversation that was unfolding around the table. You watched how they bounced ideas off of each other so effortlessly. How each idea was taken into consideration. They worked so flawlessly as a team. It was something you had yet to come across in your time with the Bureau.

“Lacerations to the left cheek on all of them.” You vaguely heard from Rossi as they all continued to converse. You watched in awe as the team did their thing. No wonder they were so well regarded. This felt like magic. They knew each other so well.

“No racial preference either. Seems to be targeting age. 25- to 35-year-old women in the Dayton and Beavercreek area.” Spenser’s voice chimed in again.

“Cause of death, asphyxiation to all the women. Possibly getting off to the torture?” Emily spoke up.

“What time did they go missing?” You asked skimming the file unaware that they all stopped their chatter keying in on you, “What? Did I do something wrong?” You asked noticing the silence.

Derek shook his head with a little smirk, “Hardly.”

You looked back down not enjoying the attention, “Okay.” You were sure your face was beet red.

“Okay.” Hotchner brought his team back on track, “Jet’s leaving in 20. Y/L/N stay back for a moment.”

“Sure.” You nodded waiting for the team to disperse. Swiveling your chair back and forth you felt overly nervous to talk to the man. You’d heard the rumors about him before you got the BAU, and they seemed scarily accurate for the man. A hard ass that expected a lot from his team but would have your back in an instant, no questions asked. But what everyone failed to tell you was just how handsome the damn man was on top of it all. He was striking to you, exactly your type with his chocolate eyes and dark hair. It made talking to him a very nerve-wracking experience.

Just don’t think about how attractive you find him, and you’d be just fine. Easy, right?

When Penny walked out you turned to him, “What was that about?” You asked your boss as he took a seat next to you.

He gave you a look you couldn’t figure out before continuing the conversation, “It’s not often that somebody comes in and contributes right away. Much less a communications liaison.” You knew he wasn’t criticizing you for not being a profiler as everybody had their roles, but it felt like you’d overstepped.

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

He shook his head interrupting you, “No, we need every idea out there. That’s the difference between brining somebody home to their family or not.”

You scanned his face quickly, hoping you weren’t caught studying him. But he was the infamous Aaron Hotchner of course he would notice. You needed to get your stupid brain in check, but damn did he have a nice jawline. A nice everything really.

Giving him a small smile, you nodded, “Gotcha.” You wanted to call him Hotch, but it felt too soon, like you were trying to be a part of a team that you weren’t apart of just yet.

He gave you a curt nod before standing, “Grab your go bag and follow me.”

Following him out to the jet you couldn’t take your eyes off him. His suit tailored to his body in all the right places was sending you into overdrive. You should not be having these unsavory thoughts of your fucking boss that you’ve known for less than an hour of your life. But you had to give credit where credit was due. He was fine. Far too fine to be your boss. You were just thankful that he didn’t have eyes on the back of his head.

You quietly followed him onto the plane spotting Derek and Emily sitting on the couch. You opted to sit across from them running fast from your boss. He was fine as hell but boy was he intimidating.

“Y/N.” Emily nodded, “Welcome to the team glad to have you. Even if you’re like… twelve years old.” She sat back smirking, proud of herself for that one. You weren’t giving much up and this was her solution to that. Get under your skin. She knew nobody could resist.

Derek snorted quickly placing a hand over his mouth, “Hey! I’m 28.” You shot a glare at Derek already feeling far too comfortable around the man. But that was just Derek, open and welcoming. An easy-going great man.

“I told you she was over 25!” Emily pointed at Derek.

He shrugged, “I was off a little.”

You stared at them with a wide-open mouth, “I’m sitting right here.”

Derek turned towards you, flashing you that brilliant smile, “That’s a good thing Y/N. Younger than you look.” He threw you a wink.

“Shut up pig.” You crossed your arms over your chest blankly staring at him.

Emily laughed happily at that. She loved when women shot Derek down. So often they were throwing themselves at him that it just caught her so off guard.

“I’m going to close my eyes over there.” You nodded to the back of the plane where the curtains were drawn. Making it a bit darker than the rest of the plane.

Derek looked at you with a slight glare, not a fan that you were bowing out so quick. He wanted to get to know the new girl, “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a headache.” You gave him a small smile, “Happens sometimes.” You tried to give him as little information as possible. As soon as you opened the can of worms you knew you were toast. You were walking a literal tightrope right now. One little slip up and the entire thing would come crashing down on you.

“Alright, new girl. Go rest up. We aren’t done talking about you though.” He raised a brow as if to challenge you. Emily nodded glancing up from the magazine she decided to pull out a few moments prior.

Nervously laughing you stood, thankful that these guys didn’t really know you just yet or they’d see right on through you like the profilers they were, “I’m not that interesting Derek.”

“Au contraire.” Rossi spoke up setting his book down. Spinning in the seat from not that far away. This caught Hotch’s attention. He looked up from the files he was studying to see what the commotion was about. Damn, they really were always listening, weren’t they? “The less you say the more we want to know.” Rossi finished spinning back towards Hotch. You watched as they seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes.

You felt your heart rate pick up speed, why didn’t you think of a better cover? “I promise you both, I’m kind of boring.” Was all you could think to say. Just digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“So, you think.” He picked his book back up not sparing a glance back in your direction.

You found a seat that butted up against the airplane wall that let you close your eyes in peace. It felt like a jackhammer was pounding into your head. The stress of the situation raised your blood pressure which meant your head was more susceptible to the piercing migraines that were new to your life. What you didn’t see was your boss watching your every move in quick glances, not going unnoticed by his confidant Rossi.

Ever since the attack you got headaches and migraines all the time. When you were stressed, or your blood pressure started to increase the migraines hit almost instantly. The doctors told you it was due to the increased blood flow to that area of the brain that will likely never heal completely. This was something you just had to live with.

The migraines you could deal with. What really sucked was the bouts of dizziness and nausea that often followed a severe migraine. It got so bad on a case once you ended up fainting from the dizziness that clouded your eyesight. You just had to keep your stress under control. That’d be easy to do at the BAU right? Sure.

You opened your eyes when the plane started to descend into Dayton. A bit shocked you actually fell asleep. Often you struggled falling asleep on a plane or in a car. Instead of joining in on the conversation between teammates you opted to listen in, instead of contributing. The migraine was faint but still there. Maybe this wasn’t the best switch for you. Maybe coming to the BAU was a mistake.

The team exited the plane quickly getting into the escort vehicles taking them to the police station. Enamored with the entire process you zoned out as the team did their normal routine. This was all so novel to you. The jet, the escort, the prestige of it all. You came from a low budget office in the high budget city of LA. This was nothing short of fascinating.

The day you had to ran started just like any other one. Your boyfriend of a few years was off to work early in the morning. He was a detective at the same police department you worked at working as the communications lead for the precinct. You went to work, did your thing before coming back to the shared house. When you walked through the front door it was eerily quiet. Seeing your boyfriend’s truck in the driveway you knew he was home though.

“Honey?” You called out while setting your bag down careful not to make too much noise as you knew he didn’t like it.

“Kitchen.” Your heart dropped out of your chest hearing the tone of voice that came out of his mouth. It was his ‘you fucked up you’re going to pay voice’. Looking down at your hands you noticed that the trembling had already started.

You felt so weak. You couldn’t stand up for yourself, defend yourself. You tried to get away, but he found you. You tried to get the people you worked with to understand what you were going through but they didn’t see it, they didn’t get it. They didn’t want to see it. They wanted to protect him. Your very own coworkers, literal police officers, wouldn’t even help you. You were stuck with him. You knew you had to get out you just couldn’t figure it out. He was going to kill you if you didn’t.

Walking slowly, you peeked your head through the entryway spotting your boyfriend sitting down at the table. You knew you were in trouble for something you just hadn’t a clue what set him off this time, “How was work?” You spoke up knowing this was happening one way or another.

He stood walking over to the sink, staring right at you, “It was great until I got home and found a fucking dish in the sink.” He nearly growled, irritation coursing through his veins.

Fuck, did you really forget to put your glass away? What a dumbass mistake, “I’m sorry I…”

“What did I fucking tell you about the dishes Y/N? Or are you just too fucking stupid to understand what I’m saying?” Raising his voice he took a step towards you, toying with you. Your whole body was trembling now. He was so terribly scary when he wanted to be and right now, he wanted to scare the living daylights out of you.

“No. I’m sorry I just forgot.” You looked down knowing it wasn’t a good excuse. Nothing was a good excuse when he wanted to hurt you. You knew he loved it. The sick bastard that he was.

“You forgot?” He laughed. A deep belly laugh that sent a shiver rippling through your entity. Feeling your hair getting pulled from above you let out a small yelp as he forced you to look at him, “Like the dumb bitch you are.” You felt the pain before it registered in your head what had happened. He threw a punch to the side of your face dropping you to the ground almost instantly. Feeling blood trickle down your face you couldn’t bear looking up at him. That’d leave a nasty bruise.

He placed his boot on your abdomen pressing down a little too hard. “Pathetic. Can’t even stay standing? Hmm?” His boot connected with your rib cage. A nasty crack and the immediate searing pain started radiating immediately. A small whine emanated from your mouth as you tried to take a breath, but the pain almost felt too unbearable. He definitely cracked a few of your ribs.

“Going to remember to put your fucking dishes in the dishwasher next time?” He let out a low chuckle. You were in trouble. This was different. He normally stopped before it had gotten this bad. He knew he couldn’t hurt you to the point you couldn’t work so that usually meant your face, arms and legs were off limits. Yet, he went for it this time. He never dared to used such force that bones actually broke.

“Yeah.” You mumbled out finding it hard to even breathe at the moment. Not that he would take that as an excuse.

“What was that?” He grabbed you by the hair again pulling you to your feet. You were sure he took a chunk of hair out as he did so.

“Ow, fuck!” You cried feeling your vision start to blur from the force of the pull. The cuss word just slipped out, but you knew better than to use that ‘language’ in front of him as it wasn’t ‘lady-like’ at all.

A look crossed his face that you were sure you’d never seen before. One that looked like he wanted to kill you right then. To get rid of you, “That’s it. I’ve tried with you. You’re hopeless.”

He grabbed you by your shoulders grasping down hard making sure it would leave marks, “You are nothing Y/N. Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why won’t you leave me?” That might have been you’re biggest mistake to date with him. A slight twitch of his nostril made you realize just how fucked you were.

“Don’t you ever talk back to me.” Another punch but right to the nose sent you backwards into the wall. Black dots started dancing in your vision as you tried to stay upright. Blood started flowing down your face coating your shirt in the bright crimson.

“Then leave me.” You tasted the metallic blood that was pouring down your face. You were begging him now. It was now or never for you. He was either going to kill you or leave you. You couldn’t keep doing this.

Forcing you up against the wall with his hand around your neck he leaned in hard, making it hard to breath, whispering into your ear, “I’m never leaving you Y/N.” If you had any energy left tears might have rolled down your face but there was nothing left. You could hardly breathe from the kick to the ribs. He was restricting your airflow and you were starting to get faint, “You’re mine for forever, my dear.” He let his hand go from around your neck holding you up by the chest now. You sucked in a big breath only to be met with the excruciating pain radiating from your ribcage.

“Please.” You managed to look at him. Hoping to see any form of humanity behind his eyes. A small sob erupted when you realized how dark he had become.

Shaking his head he grabbed your upper arm, “No.” He squeezed forcing another short whine to escape your mouth, “Now, Y/N. You need to learn to not talk back to me. Do you understand me?”

You nodded your head trying to reserve talking for only when it was needed as it hurt, “I asked you a fucking question!” He yelled in your face continuing to clamp down on your arm. Your hand began to tingle from the lack of blood flow.

“Ye.. yes.” You mumbled out feeling yourself about to slip into unconsciousness.

“Good girl. Now, time for your punishment.”

Eyes widening a bit you couldn’t comprehend it. Wasn’t this the punishment? Before you could speak up you felt him pull you away from the wall. Completely at his mercy you didn’t even have the strength to stand anymore let alone try to argue with him. He was literally the only thing keeping you standing as you moved away from the wall.

He didn’t think it all the way through this time though. When he threw his last punch to your abdomen, he didn’t account for you not having any strength to stop yourself. So, when he punched you, you went flying backwards right into the corner of the kitchen island countertop. The back of your head connected with the stone instantly knocking you unconscious instantly.

Waking up in a puddle of your own drying blood was something you wouldn’t have wished on your worst enemy. The metallic stench of the drying liquid sent chills down your spine as you took in your surroundings. Blinking rapidly a few times you realized it was eerily quiet again as you regained consciousness. The house was dark. Too dark to see anything.

A shallow breath in brought in pain which caused you to wince opening up the raw head wound that had sealed itself shut. Rolling onto your stomach and holding yourself up with your palms you saw how bad it really was. Blood spattered the white cabinets while there was a literal pool of blood that came from your head. It was a miracle you were even alive.

It felt like every nerve ending in your body was on fire as you attempted to stand only to be met with jelly legs. A quite cry broke from your chest realizing just how bad this really was. He just left you for dead. He didn’t even call an ambulance. He was just gone.

He never took it that far in the past. He had an appearance to uphold at the police department and you showing up with any sort of visible bruises would shatter that illusion. It was usually just slaps across the face or shoves into furniture. Never had he actually made you bleed like this, on the brink of death.

The worst thing about all of this was that in the beginning of your relationship he was one of the best partners around. You loved him with your life. Then the stress and the cracks started to form. At first, he found other outlets like video games or going to the bar. Then it became you. The hitting only started a few months prior. But this, this was exceptional. This was a crime scene.

Thanking your lucky stars that you never took off your jacket, your phone was still in the pocket. With your very last ounce of strength, you dialed 911 before succumbing to the darkness again.

Instead of actually finding him, the cops said he ran away. That all they could do was put some feelers out. You used to think the world of these guys but then you realized he was their priority. They would protect their brother before you. You were just a woman. He was their brother.

After spending a week in the hospital due to fracturing your skull you were immediately transferred to another department about three hours away. That was all they offered, a measly transfer. With a head raging of migraines that never seemed to leave you decided you’d have to take matters into your own hands. Coming across a Bureau job in Los Angeles you jumped at the opportunity and was hired almost immediately. You opted to hide your past from your coworkers, changing your last name was the easiest way to do so Sure, the FBI knew about the incident but not your co-workers. The less it was brought up the less you had to think about it.

You were running from your past and you didn’t really give a damn. It made you realize just how fucked up the situation you were in really was. You weren’t anything to anybody at that police department. Just a woman who happened to be in a relationship to one of their police brothers.

Lucky for you, you loved your job at the Bureau. And you excelled at it quickly. Often picking up extra work for your coworkers. When the job at the BAU opened up you jumped as quick as you could. The BAU was coveted in the FBI. If you could make it there you could make it literally anywhere.

The case was tough on you. Just yesterday they found the fifth victim. It was only a matter of time until the sixth was taken. The killer was picking up speed at an alarming rate. Going from once a month down to every other day. You were doing a decent job keeping your stress down and your migraines somewhat at bay. But any of these women could be you on a given night. It hit you like a truck when the fifth woman was found in a park. She was wearing an outfit you would’ve worn to go out with friends. She was out living her life twelve hours prior and now she was just gone. How sick life was.

Time for the worst part of your job, telling the police and the public in a press conference. Even though it sucked it needed to get done. The more that young women knew that this was happening the more alert people would be. You gave the profile during the press conference that the team had come up with. White male, in his early 30’s, likely of shorter and heavier build with deeply rooted emotional trauma due to growing up without a mother or mother like figure. His mother probably left him when she was in her early 30’s thus the reason for the victim age range. So typical. How often you ran across cases like this. This guy was just a little sneakier. Not as dumb as your typical run of the mill criminal.

You sat in the conference room studying the white board with all the victims posted across with all the fine details of their short lives. The rest of the team stepped out for lunch, but you just weren’t hungry. Not after delivering that news to the Dayton Ohio area. Opting to just lose yourself in your thoughts instead.

You weren’t given much time to lose yourself before you heard a chair scrape the ground next to you. Looking up you were surprised to see your boss sitting down next to you with a snack in hand.

“No lunch?”

“No, not hungry.” You gave him a half smile trying to knock yourself out of this mini funk. You thought you were prepared. You read all the case files. You talked to all the experts. But damn, when you were middle of doing it, it was like nothing you could’ve expected.

Feeling your personal phone buzz, you looked down while the two of you sat in comfortable silence. Opening your phone and clicking the little messages icon you frowned not recognizing the number that texted you. Your mouth immediately ran dry as adrenaline started pumping through your body. One text. One fucking text you never ever wanted to see.

‘I know where you are.’

Your heart rate sped right up which would lead to inevitable migraine. Fuck. There was a chance it wasn’t him but who else could it be? He loved to do this kind of shit to you back when you were together. Completely fucking with your mind.

“Everything okay?” You heard your boss faintly ask as you couldn’t rip your eyes away from your phone screen. Blinking rapidly, you had to remember where you were. You were working. You couldn’t worry about that right now. This was a later problem. Block it and move on. Besides, it was getting embarrassing how many fucking times the team had to ask if you were okay. You needed to knock it off and soon.

“Y/L/N.” You heard more sternly this time.

“Yes?” You locked the screen shoving it into your pocked. Out of sight out of mind. Right?

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head trying to play it off as cool as you possibly could, “Nothing Hotch.” You finally felt comfortable enough to call him that. I suppose when you hunt killers and study dead bodies you tend to bond faster than you would in any other job.

He gave you an exasperated look, “You do realize I profile people for a living.”

A sigh escaped your lips, “It’s nothing. They’re just so young.” You pointed your head towards the white board. You couldn’t let him know about your past. It was almost too fucking embarrassing to admit. You thought you were strong. Clearly not strong enough to leave him before he nearly killed you. And Aaron Hotchner just might be the strongest person you have ever met in your life.

In the brief time that you’d known him you’d learned all about his past from his coworkers. How he was stabbed, lost his ex-wife and was still here doing this damn thing as a single father. His strength was unparalleled to anything you had known. So, to admit your past to him was something you were far too scared to do. The worst thing would be to be seen as weak to Aaron Hotchner.

He nodded looking you over. Something he seemed to do far too often that made you feel things you really shouldn’t be feeling, “Is that all?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded refusing to look at him but instead at the victims. Hoping you were selling yourself well enough. He didn’t believe you. He was a profiler, a damn good one at that. He knew something was on that phone. Something you were refusing to tell him.

“It’s tough.” He admitted setting his cheese crackers down turning his body towards you, “This is not and will never be an easy job Agent Y/L/N. It’ll probably be some of the most gruesome work that you’ll be in the thick of. But let me tell you something. When you get to save one of those girls or any innocent victim it changes you. You know you saved them from something so horrific, something that no innocent human should go through. And that makes it all worth it. I can promise you that.”

A little shell shocked that he dropped that bomb on your lap you took a moment to collect your thoughts, “Thank you Hotch.” Looking up to him you continued, “Really, thank you. This is… brutal. I thought I knew what I was signing up for.”

“You can step away at any time. There wouldn’t be any judgment, but we really did hire you for a reason. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Those damn butterflies erupted in your stomach as he looked you over to make sure the message really sank in, “I can do it. I just have to adjust.”

A small smile formed on his face. You had to assume that was a rare sight for the team as it caught you off guard. He looked so damn handsome with a smile on his face. Something you wanted to see far more than you already had in the few days you’d been on the case with the team.

He stood grabbing his crackers, “Good. If you need anything. Really. Anything. Please, don’t be afraid to ask. Alright?”

You nodded rapidly, “Got it Hotch. Thank you.”

“Sure. I need to go talk to the chief. Try and grab some food?”

“Yeah, sure.” You threw him a smile as he walked out of the room. God, you were fucked if this was how we was going to treat you. Already so attracted to just his physical appearance and then he pulls that out? What’s not to love.

Deciding to listen to him you grabbed an apple and a snack from the vending machine to suffice his request. Sitting back down you opted to refresh your conference notes, getting prepped for your next press conference. You needed to get in contact with the latest victim’s family for Hotch too. Spending the rest of lunch, you decided to knock out your needed tasks to make him happy. To let him know that he did hire the right person. You could do this.

“How was your date with Hotch?” Derek asked as he and Spencer walked back into the conference room after they got back from lunch. Completely interrupting your silence that you were enjoying.

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was only trying to work you up. You quickly learned that Derek was the type to tease you. His form of love.

“What are you on about?” You gave him a quizzical look. Hoping to come off as dumb as possible.

“Don’t play dumb.” He sat in the chair right across from you.

Cocking your head to the side you only looked at him curiously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Derek.”

This time Spencer spoke up, “It is uncommon that Hotch stayed back. But you are brand new. He could have just been checking in on her.”

“See,” You raised your eyebrows to let him know Spencer was the right one, “Dr. Reid is correct. He was just checking in on his new employee.”

Derek rolled his eyes this time, much more dramatically than you, “Sure, whatever you say Y/L/N.”

“Although,” Reid spoke up again. You snapped your head around in a panic. He was not supposed to say anything further to egg Derek on, “He has been watching you quite a lot. I noticed it when we were back at Quantico. Then when you were asleep on the jet. And really during this whole case…”

“Boy genius!” Derek laughed clapping him on the back. Spencer just looked back and forth between the two of you knowing he said something you didn’t like as you gave him a less than impressed look. Derek was grinning ear to ear, eating all this shit right on up.

You shook your head, “Because I’m new!”

“And oh, so pretty too.” Derek’s smile only grew wider, if possible, when you blushed a bright shade of tomato red. You just loved how your body exposed you of your emotions.

“Shut up. Does not. Drop it.” Grumbling, you turned away from both of them.

Spencer leaned back silently observing Derek’s picking on you. He didn’t really think much of it at first. But once he saw Hotch’s wondering eyes over and over again, he had to make a mental note of it. He didn’t act this was when he started or when Penny started. It only seemed to be reserved for you.

Spencer had a silent conversation with Rossi as he caught Hotch staring at you when you were sleeping on the plane. Rossi only smiling. Rossi knew something.

“Seems like you might have a little crush too.” Derek made a kissy face. This was a nightmare. Sure, you may have a small little crush, but he was your fucking boss. Hell would have to freeze over before anything could happen between the two of you.

“Do not.”

“Yeah see,” Derek leaned forward, “I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

Derek only smiled, “We’ll be watching.”

“Go for it.”

Your personal phone buzzed in your pocket. Not thinking much of it you pulled it out of your seeing that same number from earlier pop up again. Opening the message your heart might’ve stopped right then and there.

‘You can’t hide Y/N. I know where you are and I’m coming. Virginia? Really?’

You forgot the two of them were sitting there as you read the text over and over again. Burning the God forsaken image into your mind. How? How could he have found you. Why now? Why almost a year later? You wanted to block the number, but you knew he’d just find another way to get ahold of you. You also knew you needed to show the police and fast. But then that’d expose you completely. Open up everything.

“You good Y/N?” Derek asked ripping you right back into the present.

“Yeah, just thinking about those girls.” You lied hoping you were a good enough actor to get you out of this one.

He nodded, “it’s hard. To view them as both human and try and distance yourself. You’ll figure it out. We all did. It might be tomorrow. It might be in a few months. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks Derek.” You sighed fully accepting their fate. That you could move on from. But the horror of being stalked by your ex unfortunately loomed in the back of your mind.

Spencer smiled enjoying the interaction between new friends. He liked you. Derek seemed to like you. Hotch seemed to like like you. And Rossi was bound to adore you if Hotch did. Emily of course would hate you at first and then grow to love you. You were in.

The rest of the team worked tirelessly until the sun went down. Hotch ordered the team back to the hotel demanding a good night’s sleep. You knew it wouldn’t come. It hadn’t come in the almost week you’d been in the horror show.

After tossing and turning for what felt like forever you knew you had to get out. Get away for a moment. Everything felt so suffocating. You guys couldn’t do it. Weren’t able to save the fifth girl. She showed up that morning and you knew that night he’d probably have another. Fuck, why was the world so cruel?

So, you might’ve done the dumbest damn thing that you’ve ever done and called an Uber to take you to the bar down the street. You knew you shouldn’t of. Or at least let somebody know where you were going but you just needed to get away. One or two drinks couldn’t have hurt.

That was until you were sipping on your third drink feeling a little too good. You were people watching enjoying the music that was pumping throughout. Eyes on the group of young women having a good time you didn’t see the man come sit next to you.

“Come here often?”

Turning to your right, the man sitting on the barstool next to you waited for your response. Giving him a quick once over you knew something was not right with him. Your gut was screaming at you to turn the other way.

“No.” You tried your best to ignore him, but he just kept talking. Not taking your silence as a no.

“That’s a shame. So pretty.” His slimy eyes trailed your body. A small shiver went down your spine. Trust your gut. If there was one thing you were taught, it’s to always trust your gut. You took a peek at the man. Young man who was short, fat and creeping on a young girl at night? The same night your unsub would be hunting his sixth victim? Could it be him? Could you be so lucky?

“I’m not interested.” You kept your eyes forward carful now. You had to figure out if it was him.

He really didn’t know how to take no for an answer, “Don’t be so harsh beautiful. It’ll only age you quicker.”

“Look I don’t need some guy with mommy issues telling me how I should live my life. Please just go away.” Moms made him mad. This had to be it.

He gave you a sickening smile, “I didn’t have a mommy. So how can I have mommy issues dear?”

This was your unsub. Had to be. Trust your gut, right? Of all the fucking people in the world to get approached by it was him? Jesus. It then hit you that you were his next victim, or so he thought. He targeted you to take down. Damn, what were the odds of that?

“That’s exactly the problem.”

“Oh, come on beautiful. Let me buy you a drink. It’s free and if you want me to leave after I will.” You needed to keep him talking. If he was talking to you that meant he wasn’t talking to another girl.

“Sure, let me just go freshen up really quick while you get the drinks.” You gave the creep a half smile deciding this would be the perfect time to call Hotch. The longer you took his attention the better chance that he wouldn’t escape. It had to be him. His profile down to his absent mother was nearly perfect.

Hands shaking you begrudgingly typed in Hotch’s number. He was going to absolutely lose it. But you were sure, this had to be the guy. He was short, stalky, and talked like the most misogynistic fuck you’d ever been around. It had to be him. You so wished you weren’t three long island iced teas down though your brain felt a little hazy. Hitting the call button, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he answered.

“Hotchner.”

“Hey.. hey boss.” You sucked in a breath knowing how awkward you sounded. Fuck, why was this so hard?

“Agent Y/L/N.” He sounded more alert now. You glanced at the time only to curse that it was already one in the morning. You’d been out far too late, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m at a bar and…”

“You’re what?” He sounded pissed raising his voice only a little. Oh well. This was more important.

You sighed and continued. Letting him know you were irritated that he interrupted you, “I’m at a bar. I needed to clear my head and I think the unsub might or might not be trying to take me home. If you know what I mean.” You wanted to giggle but you knew that’d set the overprotective man off. You weren’t feeling so hot.

You heard rustling in the background. He must be getting up, “The unsub? What? Stay there. Send me your location.” He was trying to process all this information as you so casually told him what was going on. How were you so calm? Were you fucking with him?

“Yeah, okay. I’m in the bathroom, I…”

“Stay there. Stay on the phone.” It sounded like a growl. He was pissed. More than pissed. You didn’t even know the man that well and you knew he was going to lay into you for this.

“Okay.” You felt the alcohol kick it into high gear now. At least, you’d hopped it was only alcohol that was making it hard to concentrate. But this didn’t feel like an alcohol buzz. This felt like your body slowly shutting down.

“Y/L/N!” He yelled on the phone. You must have spaced out. Fuck. Maybe he did put something in your drink. You weren’t usually so spacey.

“Yes, sorry?”

“I asked you how you know it’s him? The unsub?”

“Oh, uhm yeah.” The walls started spinning. Trying to regain your focus only to be met with a splitting migraine, “Shit.” You groaned. Your head felt far too heavy for this just to be alcohol.

“Y/N. What’s going on?” He sounded a bit panicked. You felt horrible for doing this to him but boy were you glad he was on the other end of this phone call right now.

You sat yourself down on a toilet locking the door in front of you hoping this would pass soon, “Hotch, I think he drugged me.” You were so good with your drink though. Never letting it out of your sight. How in the hell could he have slipped something?

You heard some muffled sounds from the other end of the line. It only sounded like him though, “I’m three minutes away. Are you in a safe spot?” His panic ridden voice almost sounded like it was going to break. You’d only known the man for a week now, but you’d grown somewhat close to him. You probably talked to him more than anybody on your team, being the communications liaison and all. Not only did you guys just click it felt so natural and normal to want to be around him. To push his buttons in the best way.

“Yeah, yeah,” Your head began slumping against the stall feeling heavier than it really was. Fucking fuck. What in the hell, “Locked in a bathroom stall.” You mumbled knowing you weren’t going to be terribly coherent here soon.

Moments felt like a lifetime. Then the bathroom door flew open. It didn’t feel right though. Didn’t feel like Hotch.

“Hotch?”

“Who in the hell is Hotch?” That voice from the bar rang out. Eyes wide you knew you didn’t have much time or quite frankly any strength to fight this guy off. Even if you were the same height.

“What are you doing in here? Get out!” You managed to spit out. The brain fog seemed to momentarily lift in the sheer panic of the situation you managed to find yourself in.

“I thought you ran off on me. It’s time to go.” You heard the door handle jiggle back and forth. Pulling your legs to your chest you sat all the way back on the toilet seat. Fucking hell. How was this your life?

“I’m not leaving with you.” You tried to sound confident, but it came out sounding weak and afraid. Just like you were. Terribly weak. Horrifically afraid.

“Oh honey. But you are.”

“She’s not.” You heard your bosses voice and the click of a loaded gun, “You have the right to remain silent…” Hotch went off on his spiel only for you to lose yourself to your thoughts again. Taking big, ragged breaths it hit you just how close to death you were yet again.

“Y/N, can you open the door?” It was him. Hotch. Thank God.

You weren’t too far gone just yet. Lifting your head from the stall door you managed to stand on your own. Slowly you unlocked the door. Hotch nearly kicked the door into you as he was eager to check you over. He needed to confirm that you were okay. He knew he had to reprimand you for this behavior, but it wasn’t the time. You looked petrified. Scared. He knew you’d never really be the same. How could somebody be once they know they were the target of literal murder? Hotch just didn’t know you’d been through this before though. That this wasn’t even the craziest thing that had happened to you this year.

After checking you over and not saying a damn word he ushered you to the ambulances that were lined up outside. You felt a disgusting wave of embarrassment knowing they were called for you. If there was one thing you had hated it was being the damn center of attention. Fucking hell. You had to talk about this in a press conference too. Your job just got a whole lot more interesting.

“Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

“Hotch, I don’t need to go…”

“Not a word Agent.” He shut you down so quickly and harshly you shut right on up. The man of very few words was giving you even less than you were used to. You royally fucked this one up. Hopefully you had a job once you got back to Quantico.

Your hands trembled before you knocked on his office door. Hotch had asked you to hang back and meet him in his office after the jet had landed. The team gave you sorrowful looks as they exited. You knew you were in trouble. But damn, did they have to look like they were going to your funeral.

You heard a faint, “Come in.” Only to be met with a stoic Hotch sitting at his desk.

Quickly, you sat in the chair in front of him just waiting. Fuck. This almost felt worse than disappointing your ex. Hotch actually meant something to you.

“What were you thinking?” He asked far too calmly.

“I wasn’t sir, I…”

He stood up not daring to look down at you, “I told you all to go to bed. To get some sleep. And you go to the bar? What the hell were you thinking?” He undid his tie. Already frustrated

“But sir I..”

“I’m talking.” He raised his voice a notch. Enough for you to back down. Not daring to look up to him your heart began to race. How awful this all felt. It was one thing to upset you ex but to disappoint Aaron Hotchner.

“I’m sorry... I”

He raised his voice, a little too loudly now, “You disobeyed direct orders Agent! Do you know what that means? That means you could have died out there. Do you understand me?”

You shrunk within yourself brining yourself right back to that night. God how you wish your brain didn’t work like this but here you were. You weren’t in Hotch’s office at the BAU nope, you were in that kitchen. The night you almost died. The night your ex tried to kill you. You heard those chilling words.

“Now, Y/N. You need to learn to not talk back to me. Do you understand me?”

Bringing your knees to your chest you couldn’t stop the stupid fat tears that raced down your face. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. But God damn did it hurt. Your ex said those same damned words right to your face.

“I’m so…” You tried to breath, but you couldn’t. You took short rapid breaths just trying to fucking breath. What in the hell was happening to you? It felt like your lungs were collapsing in on you.

Aarons eyes softened as he saw the tears begin to flow. He didn’t mean to make you cry. You were so different than the rest of the team. The rest of the would have brushed him off or rolled their eyes. But then you broke down. You looked panicked. Like you were in a different world.

“Y/L/N?” He asked hoping to bring you back to this planet. But you were gone.

He walked over to you crouching down, “Y/N.” He knew he couldn’t speak to loudly. That seemed to set you off the first time. He had to go about this differently. He began to reach out to touch you only to met with the panicked version of you he’s seen.

“Don’t touch me!” You jumped out of your chair somehow finding your breath after all of this. You couldn’t let him get near you. He’d hurt you. Just like your ex. Just like the guy at the fucking bar the other night.

“Y/L/N.” He backed off putting his hands above his head as you sat down against the wall, “You’re having a panic attack

“Just stop!” You covered your face with your hands bringing your knees close to your chest. It felt so hard to breath.

Aaron took a few steps closer careful not to overstep but when you saw him you about lost him. He wasn’t Hotch he was your ex coming to take you out for good this time.

“Please.” You put your hand up to stop him. He noticed your trembling hand that asked him to stop. This was a response he never had expected. You’d been so guarded he hadn’t a clue what this could be from. Aaron was used to trauma. That was his field. Trauma and more trauma. It saddened him to know that you’d been through something that could make you so blasé to the fact that you’d almost been kidnapped, tortured, and murdered the other night. Whatever it was he had a sneaking suspicion that this was a response to that same trauma.

“I’m sorry.” He stopped again sitting on the ground. He watched as you struggled to breathe. He wanted to wrap you in his arms so desperately it hurt. It was painful to watch you struggle. God, he wanted to be there for you. He shouldn’t have felt this way about a subordinate. About one his employees. About somebody so much younger than him. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Ever since you came in for that damned interview he was hooked.

He wasn’t mad at you more so the situation. He knew the odds of that happening were one in millions. But of course, you were that one in a million chance. He knew how gorgeous you were. It wasn’t a surprise per say but the thought of actually losing you after not even getting the chance to know you hurt him. He only scratched the surface of you, and he was enamored. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to get to know the real you.

All you saw was him. Your stupid ex sitting there taunting you. Waiting for you to slip up. You just kept trying to fucking breath, but it wasn’t happening.

“Y/N.” He spoke again.

Shaking your head you couldn’t take it, “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He frowned letting himself become small now, “It’s me. Aaron. Aaron Hotchner.”

Your eyes flicked up to him as you cowered against the wall. He was Aaron. Not your stupid fucking ex. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“It’s me. Can I please come closer?” He begged sitting there waiting. Waiting for the second you would let him.

You nodded continuing your short breathes. Aaron Hotchner. He was a friend. He was okay. God damn. You couldn’t believe you were reacting like this. It just happened. You didn’t even have a thought to stop it. Your mind took yourself back to that kitchen a year ago.

Slowly he scooted closer reaching out to you, “it’s okay. I promise. Try and take a deeper breath, okay? On the count of three?”

You nodded waiting for him to continue.

“One. Two. Three.”

Somehow, someway he was able to get you to calm down. With slow counts and patience, you eventually managed to get your breathing back to normal. Taking long slow breaths you couldn’t bear to look up to the man. How fucking embarrassing was all of this.

“I’m so sorry.” You barely spoke.

“Nothing to apologize for Y/N. Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.” You still couldn’t look up. So ashamed.

Feeling his arm wrap around your back you closed your eyes letting him take you in. He pulled you into his chest wrapping his arms around you. Squeezing tightly, he dropped one hand brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into your hair trying to make you feel a bit better. He couldn’t imagine the agony you must be in. He wished he could just take it and throw it all away for you. He was in far too deep. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“It’s okay.” You replied softly letting your head fall against his chest. Whatever embarrassment you felt washed away as you breathed him in. He just felt like comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

“But” you paused taking another breath. Whatever, he should know why you were as fucked as you really were. So, you told him everything. All the nitty gritty details. He listened. Squeezed you when you were slow to continue. To encourage you.

Once you finished, he paused taking everything in. He was shocked the world could be so cruel to someone as gentle as yourself. How could anybody be so awful. How could they not see how wonderful you really were?

“Thank you for telling me.” You nodded, “Sure. Just don’t think any less of me?”

“Never. Come on, let’s get you home.” He stood reaching his hand out to you.

You nodded letting him pull you up, “Thank you Hotch.”

“Jack’s gone for the night. Stay with me tonight in my guest room? I think you’ll sleep better.” He asked which came out more as of a demand.

You could only nod letting yourself fall into him, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Good.”

“Can you walk?”

You smiled softly, “Yes, Aaron. I’m not inept.”

He chuckled softly, “That sounds nice.”

You turned towards him with a big cheesy grin feeling stupidly giddy all of the sudden, oh how this man got you so quickly, “Oh yeah?”

He nodded reaching for your hand, “Come on now.”

“Sounds good, Aaron.” You took his hand happily.

Part 2

@senjoritanana @ssaddyhotchner @realdirectionx @mojo366 @2234world @tonys-bitch @gspenc @life-of-music3 @topguncultleader @whyislenaluthorsohot @givemeth @alex-1967s-blog @montyfandomlove @roastyyytoastyyy

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20doozers · 2 months ago

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★Sickly sweet★

TW: fluff, 2006-2007 Tom, sick Tom, caretaker m!reader, cutesy shit, etc

A/N: IM SORRY THE FIC IS A FEW HOURS LATE

Tom grunted as his alarm went off again, rolling over and falling right back to sleep. Well he was almost asleep before he felt a gentle hand on his back and a dip in the edge of the bed with the weight of someone sitting down.

“Tom.. c’mon we have an event today, David wants us at the venue by 2.” The gentle voice of m/n hit Tom’s ears, only making him groan as he curled further into the pillow he’d been cuddling. He knew they had an event today, there’d be lots of press and for a newly famed band they were supposed to have good press. But here he was, feeling like shit with a runny nose and sweaty forehead, signs of a cold on an important event day.

“Tom..?” M/n slowly rubbed Tom’s back, sighing when he heard a little sniffle come from Tom’s face burrowed in his pillow.

“Tom c’mon, what’s wrong?” He said softly, frowning when Tom lifted his flushed face to reveal his runny nose and tired looking eyes.

“Oh maus… poor you..” m/n cooed, reaching out to cradle Tom’s sweet face in his hands. He leaned down to kiss the boy’s head, the soft kiss lingering on the slightly younger boy’s dreads.

“…m-m/n..” Tom whimpered, only to be shushed by a gentle hand combing through his dreads.

“Shh.. just sleep, I’ll tell the guys that you’re sick.”

“B-but what about the interviews..?”

“We’ll figure it out. I’ll bring you some soup and tea in a bit, okay?” M/n ended with no discussion, kissing Tom’s head one last time before letting the sickly boy go back to sleep as he left to go tell the others that Tom was sick.

“What?! He’s sick? Seriously?” Bill huffed, crossing his arms in a dramatic pout. Gustav slipped an arm around his waist, earning strange glances from both m/n and Georg but both ignored it as the two had been getting awfully cozy around the house these past few weeks.

“Yep. He’s sick, has a fever and everything, poor guy was exhausted when I went to go get him.”

“Then what about the interviews and carpet?” Georg questioned, looking up from where he sat at the table eating cereal.

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll just tell them he’s sick? We can’t let Tom go out there while miserable.” The room was silent for a moment before everyone realized they needed to get ready to actually go to the event.

“I’m staying here with Tom, there’s no way I’m leaving him alone while sick.” M/n shrugged as he grabbed a mug, beginning to make some tea for Tom as the other boys got ready and left for the event.

M/n sighed as he walked through the empty house, carrying a bowl of soup and a mug of tea on a little tray to save him a trip downstairs. Nudging Tom’s door open with his foot and gazing down at the sleeping boy as he sat the soup and tea on his bedside table.

“Tom sweetheart.. I brought you some soup.. and some tea as well..” m/n whispered, gently rubbing Tom’s back as he sat down on the edge of the bed, slowly coaxing the boy out of his fitful sleep. Tom’s stomach growled at the smell of soup, chicken noodle soup to be exact. The scent just barely getting through his stuffy nose but enough to make him hungry for it.

“…Suppe..?”

“Yeah.. that’s right.. soup..” m/n encouraged gently, leaning down to kiss Tom’s head as he helped the boy sit up against the headboard of the bed. Tom sat up, yawning sleepily and rubbing his eyes as he sniffled. M/n gently rubbed Tom’s back as he handed him the soup, watching the boy stare at it while his brain slowly processed the fact that there was now a bowl of soup infront of him.

“Just don’t spill it, alright? I mean, it’s not like I’d be upset if you did, I just don’t wanna have to change the sheets.” M/n said with a small chuckle, gently kissing Tom’s head once more as he slowly began feeding Tom soup.

The rest of the day was slow, the other boys eventually came back home and all went to bed since it had been a long day. M/n checked on Tom every one in a while, usually met with a sleeping Tom or occasionally waking him up to bring his medication for his stuffy nose and sore throat.

M/n hummed as he carried the small bag of medication and such he’d gotten at the store, some coughdrops, medicine, overall things for Tom’s comfort. He pushed the door open, seeing a groggy looking Tom sat in bed rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning Prinzessin.” M/n teased, knowing full well it was the afternoon as he approached Tom’s bed and sat on the edge, setting the bag of items on the bedside table.

“I got you some stuff Tom. Coughdrops, medicine, just some stuff you might need.”

“…was..?” Tom asked in a raspy tone, looking at m/n with exhaustion clouded eyes.

“Nothing, just take it easy maus..” m/n gently kissed Tom’s head, the younger boy groggily whining and wrapping his arms around m/n in a weak plead for him to stay.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stay sweetheart.” M/n slid under the blankets with Tom, propped up on the pillows before patting his chest for Tom to lay down and cuddle with him.

“Nap time, hm?” M/n chuckled as Tom laid on him, tucking his head beneath m/n’s chin and yawning, his arms snaking around m/n’s waist to make sure he didn’t leave. M/n wrapped his arms around Tom, gently combing his fingers through Tom’s dreads. His poor baby, all sick and tired; poor Tom just needed some cuddles, kisses, and soup.. and medicine of course.

“Zeit für ein Nickerchen… schlaf gut mein Schatz..” M/n whispered, kissing Tom’s head one last time before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep with Tom. He didn’t care if he got sick, he got to take care of Tom and that’s what mattered.

YIPPEEE! Another Tom fic to add to my masterlist! Also happy fall! Halloween season is upon us and in October you guys might get a special Halloween fic! Love you guys!!!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @billskeis @divinelolita @d0wn-in-the-morgue

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realmrszurzolo · 3 months ago

Text

ron invites you to the burrow 𝜗𝜚

a/n: this is my first time actually writing/posting one of these so pls bare with me 😭 i like to think i’m not a bad writer but pls lmk if there are any grammar or punctuation errors 🤗😚 also i’m not british so there might be some mistakes or hiccups in the way they talk! again, i apologize 😓

warnings (??) — bf!ron, hufflepuff!reader, fem!reader, pure fluff ♥︎

you and ron had been together for a few months now, and everything was as perfect as could be. you went to his quidditch games, you both bonded over your love for food, and he gave the best hugs imaginable.

he had been unsure if it was a good idea to take you to meet molly and the rest of his family, especially after the way she had reacted to fleur. but after much back and forth and asking fred, george, and ginny, he decided on it.

“just….beware. they can get crazy sometimes,” he cautioned, his chest rising in an oddly deep breath before raising his fist to knock.

the snow had really piled up, you thought, as your scarf barely helped your face warm. your mittens intertwined as best they could with ron’s, his hat matching the cloth on your hands.

“don’t worry, ron, im sure i’ll be alright,” you smiled, squeezing his hand as you stared at the closed door waiting to open.

the door quickly flung open, revealing a beaming molly behind it. she immediately rushed over to hug ron tightly, mumbling a bunch of greetings. ron glanced at you from his mom’s hug, eyes wide in a ‘help.’

you giggled, running your thumb up his hand reassuringly.

molly pulled away, fixing up his now messy orange locks before looking to his left. molly’s jaw dropped, mirroring the way she pounced on ron, but somehow more aggressive to you.

“oh, you must be y/n,” she cooed, rocking you left and right as she squeezed the living daylights out of you.

“well, come on in, then!” she motioned for you two to follow her inside, you and ron side eyeing each other.

“sorry,” he whispered, swallowing thickly before following his mum inside the warm home.

“are you kidding? i love her already.”

once molly had rushed you two inside, arthur greeted you with a firm handshake and a smile. “my darling,” molly began, pouring you each a warm cup of tea. “you are twice as beautiful as ron makes you out to be,”

you smiled, giggling as you glanced at your boyfriend. his face reddened immediately.

“does ron talk about me a lot?” you ask curiously, lifting the mug to your lips. the warm steam cooled your pink nose. the fire crackled, fred and george conversing as they heated their sock-enclothed feet.

“oh, you have no idea,” molly began, ron buried his face in his palms. arthur chuckled, taking a long sip of tea. “but enough about him. tell me about yourself, dear,” she invited, motioning for ron’s dad to get out the biscuits.

“well, i’m a hufflepuff, i’m a prefect, head girl, and i have outstandings in all of my classes,” you told her, feeling a bit tense at the mention of your house. you knew how much the weasleys valued being a gryffindor, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint them.

molly and arthur exchanged glances, and you swore you could’ve screamed and ran away right that moment. you tapped on your mug, looking at ron before down at your lap.

“ronald, you break this girl’s heart and you’re out of the house,” molly raised her pointer finger at him, causing a fit of comfortable laughter to fill the silence of the room.

“she really is an angel, mum. she tutors 1st years,”he added, making you smile shyly as you hid your face in the mug.

molly gasped, holding her hand over her heart. “well, my dear, i am beyond delighted that you are taking care of my ronald. just let me know if he becomes a handful. i’ll be more than happy to send a howler his way,” she warned, shooting ron a stern glance.

just as quickly as your worries came, they disappeared. molly loved you, arthur loved you, and you had not a doubt in your mind that ron did, too.

——————————————————————————

a/n pt 2: this was so fun to make!! i’m on a 5 day break so i’ll be writing some stuff, pls pls pls pls PLEASEEE lmk if you want to see anything or have any questions at all!! 😚😚

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georgeclarkewifey · 6 months ago

Text

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

#arthur frederick #arthur hill #chris dixon #chris md #george clarke fics #george clarke imagine #george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #uk youtubers #youtube

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friccafracc · 7 months ago

Note

DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

#txt #oc fic #tma sona #tma oc #avatar of the stranger #ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE WRITTEN FIC...PLS BE NICEYS

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ofmdrecaps · 21 days ago

Text

11/01-02/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Darby Foster Kittens; Taika Waititi; Kristian Nairn; Vico Ortiz; Nathan Foad; Samba Schutte; Leslie Jones Guz Khan; Anapela Polataivao; Erroll Shand; Adam Stein; Boris McGiver; NSFW: "DILF Awards"; Fan Spotlight: BabyKittenTeach; Love Notes;

= David Jenkins =

David's been reposting more fan tweets! This time this lovely cloud that absolutely DOES look like our boys.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

Also too, David answers the hard questions, and yes, I agree, definitely 'Boy'!

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

= Rhys Darby =

New Full length episode of The Cryptid Factor (Episode 99!)! You can access it on The Cryptid Factor Patreon

The Cryptid Factor Patreon

= Darby Foster Kittens =

Apparently Bumbles and the Dog are literally breaking the Darby Foster kittens out of their room and then they're all breaking into the food.

Source: Rosie's Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew brought this great article to everyone's attention! Agreed! It is VERY natural looking and good god is he hot in it! The wig department deserved an Emmy.

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

= Kristian Nairn =

Kristian's on his way back home!

Source: Kristian's Instagram

= Samba Schutte =

More halloween Shenanigans from Samba!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Samba Schutte (@sambaschutte)

instagram

Source: Samba's Instagram

Are you going to be attending Samba's class on Saturday the 9th? If so, Momentus has sent out the recipe list! If you didn't get it for some reason, reach out, I got you!

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Nathan Foad =

Nathan reminiscing about Lucius and then showing us his gorgeous mug for today!

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram

= Leslie Jones =

Leslie is going to be LIVE in Los Angeles on Nov 6th! Get tickets here!

Source: Leslie Jones Instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Some fun from October with Vico!

Source: Vico's Instagram

= Anapela Polataivao =

More Auntie at the Pacific Institute of Performing Arts!

Source: Gaby Solomona Instagram

= Guz Khan =

Guz out in Instanbul!

Source: Instagram

= Erroll Shand =

Our Prince Ricky, Erroll Shand's show 'One Night' will be streaming on Netflix starting this month in Australia!

Source: Screenmedia_NSW Instagram

= Adam Stein =

One of our beloved writers, Adam Stein is in a production of Waiting for Godot at the Geffen Playhouse, Los Angeles. Nov 6 thru Dec 15 2024!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Geffen Playhouse (@geffenplayhouse)

instagram

Source: Adam Stein Instagram

= Boris McGiver =

Father Bonnet has some BTS of his show Teacup, finally getting to see him smile-- it's so lovely!

Source: Instagram

== "DILF" Awards" ==

Well, apparently the "DILF archive" results that were going on, really left many of our crew frustrated with where our dear cast fell. Seven_sugars on twitter has rectified that issue and was kind enough to make some Our Flag Means DILF awards for our various D's out there!

Source: Ashley (Seven_Sugars) Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= babykittenteach =

Idk if you've see it yet but there's an ADORABLE picrew that our dear @babykittenteach created, where you can make some pretty fantastic Ed picrews! I had such a blast with them-- it's so cute and fun, and thank you dear for sharing it with us all!

https://www.tumblr.com/babykittenteach/766039915755683840/hi-i-made-an-ed-picrew-and-you-can-play-with-it?source=share

Source: BabyKittenTeach's Tumblr

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. I wasn't sure if I was going to get these done in time tonight... what with how behind I am. I know that a lot of us are all very worried about what's going on in the world, and specific in the US with the presidential elections about to happen. No matter what the results are, I know it doesn't just affect the U.S., it affects the whole planet. So many of our crewmates from around the world have been sending support and love, and I'm so very thankful to have the honor of knowing you all. Just remember, that no matter what happens tomorrow the 5th, you all are just as strong, and resilient and beautiful as you were yesterday. We are going to make it through whatever happens. Remember to lean on your crew if you need help, we're here okay? We are stronger in numbers, and we care about you <3 Additional love note tonight from our friend @illustoryart with Nadja!

Source: @illustoryart's Instagram

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stardropsaloongossiptrain · 1 year ago

Text

Bachelors and Having a Baby

I saw another hc blog do this and I wanna do my own take~

Sebastian --

Extremely shocked when you tell him you're pregnant, but would react with a blank face and "oh, huh. Interesting." It does not sink in for a few minutes to an hour, and then he's losing his fucking mind.

Never thought he would be a dad, and convinced himself he would be a bad one. Even if him and the farmer weren't using protection, it still blindsides him

He cuts back on freelance work to help more around the farm, especially in the last trimester. The farmer is NOT allowed to do anything more strenuous than play video games. He will prob call on Abigail and Sam to help, he's not exactly the most athletic guy in the world.

Despite his fears that he wouldn't do a good job, he certainly works to make sure they won't come true. Reads a lot of parenting books and talks to Robin a lot. Those talks heal a bit of the rift between them.

Robin jokes that she's too young to be a grandma, but Demetrius cries when he's given a World's Best Grandpa mug. Maru happily steps up as an aunt and will spoil the baby with custom made toys and a ton of STEM for baby books.

Abigail and Sam are the chaotic aunt and uncle I imagine Shane was to Jas. They will babysit (mostly Sam) but expect funny pictures and wacky situations.

Elliott --

He is overjoyed when you tell him the news. He's going to be a papa! Lots of hugs and swinging you around. He doesn't strike me as the type to seek parenthood, but would lovingly embrace it once given to him.

It doesn't hit him for a while that a baby is going to mean changing his lifestyle quite a bit. No more all nighters, he won't be able to write for hours and hours at a time anymore. He finds it worth changing that aspect of his life to adjust to this new addition, a physical manifestation of your love.

Starts to change his habits early on so he'll be better suited after the baby arrives. Fully supports when you go nest mode and will move the furniture around as much as you want.

Has had a list of names for years before you even meet him. And all of them are beautiful

Leah takes on an aunt type roll, and loves teaching the baby about art and colors.

Sam --

Panics hard at the announcement. It doesn't matter that you're married, he still feels like he's sixteen sometimes, and he's worried about getting in trouble

Jodi and Kent are overjoyed at becoming grandparents, and Vincent thinks it's cool he's going to be an uncle.

Abigail and Sebastian make fun of him for being so worried about it, and help him get ready mentally to be a dad. They may need to remind him how much he helped with Vincent.

Once he calms down and realizes his family isn't going to be mad and his friends will stick around, he's extremely excited. He helped make an entirely new person! Someone he can teach music to! Can you skateboard with a baby?

Happily becomes the stay at home dad and handles a lot of the childcare.

Absolutely writes banger after banger of goofy songs for his kid

Alex --

I think he would be the type that always wanted to be a dad, just to spite how bad his was. When you tell him he's going to be one, he's over the moon. One of the few times you ever see him cry is when you tell him about the pregnancy, and again when the baby arrives.

Immediately befriends all the moms in Pelican Town and joins their gossip groups so he can get their advice and help as you prep for the baby. They adore him. He's like their pet.

Gets into what-to-expect books and takes over farm chores basically as soon as you tell him. No, you don't need to be doing all of that. He's got it. Which, I do think he would be pretty involved on the farm. I don't think he's the type to slouch while his spouse does everything. You can trust that he'll do well.

Evelyn and George are shocked by the news. George especially didn't think they'd live long enough to see it. They both love the little one quite a bit, and despite George's general attitude, he only speaks sweetly to the baby.

Haley will absolutely bury you in baby outfits as gifts.

Harvey --

Probably the most panicked on the list. He's not an ob/gyn but he IS medically trained and knows how easily everything can go wrong.

This doesn't mean he isn't thrilled and amazed in equal measure. Sure, you knew it was a possibility, but... He's so happy. He always wanted to be a dad, and now it's happening! He gets very misty-eyed.

He starts taking over cooking to be sure you're getting all the nutrients you need. You will find snacks in your bag, all healthy.

He also wants you to cut back on the farmwork, maybe hire someone for a season or two to hold it down. He would take over if he could, but being the town's only doctor keeps him too occupied.

He will absolutely do every type of birthing partner class.

He also helps set up the birth plan. He handles your medical needs until the birth. The plan is to go to Zuzu City about when the baby is due, deliver in the big hospital where he can be by your side and let someone else be the doctor. This plan fails when you deliver early and he has to step up. Everything goes well.

Shane --

He never thought he would be a dad. He didn't think he was good enough to take in Jas, and for the longest time, he didn't think he was good enough to be involved enough to have a kid.

He's come so far since when you first met. He's still got his issues, but he has a healthy grasp on them anymore. He isn't filled with loathing when you tell him, but tears up and holds you close. He feels incredibly lucky to have someone that loves him enough to welcome a child from him.

He is excited to prep for the kid. He was around when Jas was born, so he still remembers a fair bit about the baby years.

Jas can't wait to be a big sister. She likes playing with Vincent, but it would be even better to have a brother or sister. Marnie tears up when you both tell her the news. She's already a great-aunt to Jas, but looks forward to welcoming your baby as well. If you call her Grannie she will melt.

Shane absolutely faints in the delivery room. Man thought he could handle it. He cannot.

He's a very attentive dad. He never, ever wants this part of him to feel like it's not loved or good enough.

#sdv headcanons #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey

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blood-mocha-latte · 3 months ago

Note

52 luztoye? 52 luztoye, queen?

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

52. “can I kiss you?”

beloved! might i interest you in a spin off in little talks verse? love love love xx

It was so cold that when George flexed his fingers, he could feel his heartbeat in the tips of them. He’d torn off a fingernail two days ago, trying to unjam one of the dials on the radio, and it throbbed with a steady beat. It took a lot to ignore it, when there was nothing else to focus on.

He lay prone under a thin, rough blanket, hands in front of him, scared to close his eyes in case they froze shut.

Instead, he watched Joe, who sat next to him. George leaned into him, warmth spreading through his side.

It was better, at least. Joe had gotten boots again.

“That looks wrong.” George murmured, face pressed to his shoulder, watching Joe make coffee in his helmet. “It’s… it’s very thick.”

Joe raised a hand to flick at his temple, but missed the mark entirely and instead just brushed George’s hair back from his forehead.

“Don’t drink any of it, then.” He said absently, eyes on the helmet. “I’m just followin’ what Smokey said works.”

George huffed, but stayed where he was nonetheless. “I’d chew on that stuff, more likely.” He said, wry, but pushed up and off of Joe nonetheless, adjusting the thin blanket on his shoulders and resting instead against the wall of the foxhole. “‘s like a solid.”

Joe just hummed, unbothered. “Better than anything else we’ve got.” He said dryly, twisting at the trunk to grab a tin cup. George just hummed.

“Guess so.” He said. “Still. I can think of a few things better than sludge.”

Joe turned his cheek into his shoulder to look back at him, eyebrows raised in something close to amusement, and George resisted the urge to do something stupid, like reach out a hand to him.

Joe turned back to the coffee, soon enough, and George watched his back, heart slowed, and said, after a moment's contemplation, “what do you want to do for Christmas?”

Joe poured the coffee into a cup and took a hesitant sip of it, wrinkling his nose but tilting his head in the end, offering it to George. He took it, more out of a lack of anything else to do. The warmth it afforded to the near-blue skin of his fingers was almost relieving, and he brought the cup closer to his face, cradling it between his palms.

“For Christmas?” Joe repeated, like he wasn’t sure if he heard him right, and George shrugged. “Shit, I don’t even remember what day it is right now.”

“Me neither.” George agreed. “But. Still. Christmas is a holiday.” Joe watched him, for a moment, poured the rest of the coffee into a second cup.

“Christmas is a holiday.” He agreed, voice rough. “What would you want to do?”

“Oh, you know.” George waved a hand absently. “Decorate a tree. Buy presents. Make shit out of popcorn. Easy to swing here, obviously.” Joe raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth crooked up, clearly waiting for him to continue. George just shrugged, took a hesitant sip of the coffee. He wrinkled his nose; it could be worse.

“Is it even December?” Joe asked, tone dry but in a half-joke, and George huffed his own arid laugh.

“It could very well be February, for all I know.” He said, still cradling the coffee between his hands, something precious. He raised it slightly, a faux-toast to Joe. “This tastes like shit.” He offered, and Joe snorted, taking another sip of his own drink.

“I try my best.” He said, deadpan. George smiled, soft and almost hidden, into his coffee. “How’s your hand?”

George could still feel his heartbeat. When he examined his fingers, the tips of them were clotted with blackened blood. “Fine.” He said. “How’s your foot?”

“Fine.” Joe said back, hoarse. It felt like a joke. George tightened his grip around the mug and felt the tin dip under his grip. “Staying here?”

George sipped tentatively at the coffee a second time, lips cracked and bleeding. It still tasted like tar, and he shifted enough to drop his head to Joe’s shoulder, always trying to seek out more warmth. “If I can.” He said.

Usually he was with Perconte or Skip or Penkala, and Joe with Guarnere or Malarkey. They didn’t share a whole lot, and George couldn’t tell if that was for the fact that it felt more suspicious, when they did, or if there’s just never enough time.

The radio only added to the separate complications involved, and for now, George didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about anything, except for the feeble warmth that he’d managed to drum up from leaning against Joe for almost an hour.

He was tired. It didn’t seem to matter.

“What would you want to do?” George asked Joe to stave off the thought. “For Christmas, I mean.”

Joe shifted against him for the hundredth time. He kept the weak fire under his helmet going, though George doubted it was adding any warmth. “I don’t know.” He said. “Whatever you want to do, I guess. Don’t got a lot of plans.”

George smiled into the shoulder of his coat. “That so?”

“I’ve followed you this far.” Joe said, wry. George snorted.

They couldn’t follow each other anywhere. The army made sure of that.

He pushed upwards, leaning back against the frozen wall of the foxhole and keeping his leg pressed against Joe’s own, coffee balanced in both hands. He itched for a cigarette but didn’t move. He was saving them for later. Plus, he’d shaken Joe down for a few earlier, it felt like it would be in poor taste to start smoking.

“Guess we could go to the theater.” He said, letting his mouth run without really thinking, and Joe huffed. It was rough, sounded like it hurt.

“What, movies or a play?”

George held the coffee closer to his face, already colder from pulling away. “Dunno.” He said. “My sister mentioned in her last letter that La Traviata was on broadway.”

Joe paused. “I got no idea what that is.” He said, and George felt his smile dig into his cheeks.

“Me neither.” He agreed. “We could see it, though. If we had the means.”

Joe just hummed. “Bet it’d be warm in the theater.” He said, rueful, and George let the back of his head tip back against frozen dirt as he closed his eyes.

“Mm.” He said. “It’d be warm everywhere.”

“In New York?”

“Compared to here.”

“Guess so.”

He didn’t say everything that he was thinking. About houses, or trees, or a bed. Maybe Joe knew, though, because barely another minute passed before a rough, work weary hand was slipping behind his nape, tugging him closer again by the shoulder.

“The hell’d you go over there for?” Joe muttered, sounding discontent, and George couldn’t help his laugh, quiet and hoarse as he dug his shoulder against Joe’s own.

“You really can’t think of a single damn thing you’d do for Christmas?” He asked, maybe to change the subject.

This close, he could see every crack in Joe’s lips, the creases of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes and black-purple bruises. Joe turned enough to catch his eye, and George looked away with a cough.

“I mean.” Joe said, voice turned up at the corners in a subtle joke. “I’d kiss you, I guess. Was planning on doing that anyways, though.”

George’s smile hurt, stretched wide enough that he could feel his lip begin to bleed again. He didn’t really care. “I can get behind that.” He said, quiet. It still felt like too much of a risk. Joe’s eyes were warm, bright.

“Mm.” He said, and George shifted to face him more fully. Joe reached up a hand subconsciously, pushing his hair away from his face. “I figured.” He tilted though to press their foreheads together. “Can I kiss you now?”

He was ridiculous to ask, George felt, but didn’t say. Still, he just huffed a laugh, pushing further forward and catching Joe’s chapped lips against his own.

It was a horrible kiss, really. George couldn’t stop smiling.

#rie writes #i missed Them…… (it has been Two Days)#luztoye #george luz #joseph toye #joe toye #band of brothers #hbo war

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lewkwoodnco · 10 months ago

Text

Be More - George x Reader

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response.

a/n: am soooo salty i fell sick in the middle of my 12 days of fics '23 for xmas last year :((( so im giving myself a lil treat by doing a short series of valentine's fics! i SO don't know how souffles work if you can't tell so pls don't come for me, and a special special thanks to lisa @neewtmas for the apron idea heheh. all fluff, which is why I got all my angst fics out of the way beforehand if you'd like a lil palate cleanser :) also totally didn't make this a songfic cuz i was struggling to find a title :} btw I headcannon that george randomly zones in and out in everyday life and this has nothing to do with how much I may or may not do this myself ALSO was strongly influenced to post this earlier by the multiverse of George aka @oblivious-idiot @bella-rose29@bobbys-not-that-small heh

warnings/tropes: lockwood and george bromance supremacy!!! baking, lots and lots of valentine's day fluff, awkward georgeeeee

word count: 2.8k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lucy handed George a steaming cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. The three of them were having breakfast as usual, and with the last strains of winter fading, Portland Row's kitchen was entirely too bright. He closed his eyes, pretending he didn't see the way Lockwood's hand lingered on Lucy's when taking his mug. They were bad enough on any normal day, but even worse nowadays, with Valentine's Day drawing achingly closer. He felt himself begin to nod off again from the gentle and comforting steam.

He felt a mild rap against his cheek, which he turned to see is from a well-aimed sugar cube launched from across the table by Lucy. He looked up to see her staring hard at him and Lockwood poorly concealing a snigger with his cup of tea.

"George. Have you or have you not got any plans for Valentine's?"

He takes his time wiping his glasses on his shirt sleeve before responding. "Nothing much. Though I've promised Y/N I'd spend the day with her."

He watched Lucy's expression carefully, and she seemed to be watching his. Truth was, with Valentine's drawing closer and closer, George was going into a mild panic. He hadn't exactly arranged it intentionally. They had been having a quiet chat on a morning when George had been too tired from the previous night's case to strictly follow, and suddenly she was waving goodbye, promising to see him next on Valentine's Day.

He had no idea what kind of a Valentine's Day he had agreed to, or how much of a filter he had had, and he had been dropping Lucy desperate cries for help, with decreasing subtlety. Was it a date? Was she expecting a date? Sure, they had went to that play together after Lucy fell mysteriously ill, and maybe they met up for lunch once a week. But she never referred to

His eyes slowly drifted close as Lucy and Lockwood's conversation morphed into gentle white noise, enjoying the warmth of the little sun streaming through their kitchen window. It felt nice to have a little break from his intense week of baking -

Baking! George snapped wide awake, clumsily climbing out of his chair and feverishly counting the stacks of meticulously wrapped, frilly pastry goodie bags lining the kitchen counter. It had become an annual Valentine's Day tradition for George to construct these small goodie bags of baked goods for a sizeable chunk of his extended family. He even roped in Lucy and Lockwood, and as Valentine's Day approached they'd all gather around the kitchen table at night, even if it was after a case, packing the delicaices George had spent the day baking, until one of them started dropping off.

It was tedious work, but they enjoyed it and were well invested in it - Lockwood fiercely so. When a cousin had remarked that perhaps the tradition was becoming a little tired at a family gathering last Christmas, Lockwood had accidentally-but-not-really smacked his head. George relaxed as he neared towards the end of the pile - just one more day of baking, and he'd be ready to send them off.

Lucy and Lockwood were mostly finished with breakfast anyway, so he chased them out of the kitchen and got to work. Once George had his first batch of cookies in the oven, he started planning for the supplementary baked goods. For instance, he was going to make a chocolate souffle for the three of them to share over a midnight supper tomorrow.

So when the kitchen door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, George spun around scathingly, ready to threaten Lockwood with deflated souffles. But the hiss at the tip of his tongue withered when he saw who it was.

"...Y/N?"

"Hello. Baking, are you?"

George suppressed the urge to shield the vast volumes of confectionary goodie bags littering the kitchen's surfaces.

"...yes." With some difficulty, he slowly resumed his movements, explaining how this was something he did every year. In a way, he was grateful to have something to do with his hands, because the last minute or so reminded him that he had no idea what he normally did with his hands while standing.

"Oh. Need any help?"

It took George another half-minute to process her question. "With what?"

"With the baking, obviously."

"Uh...s'alright, I've got it all handled."

"No, please, I'd love to help."

George paused mid-stir, looking comically perplexed with a smidge of flour on his nose. "What for?" He bit his tongue, hastily back-pedalling since his tone sounded aggressively suspicious. "What I mean is, you wouldn't want to spend your day here, sweating like a pig - not that you sweat, and definitely not like a pig, no - I'm the one sweating like a pig..."

What he wanted to say was, their oven was ancient and so made the kitchen stupid hot every time he baked, but failed miserably. He set down his mixing bowl in defeat. Almost instantly, she stifled a giggle, trying to pass it off as clearing her throat, and George followed her gaze to his apron in horror. What the mixing bowl had previously been hiding was the horrendously cheesy 'kiss the cook' graphic on his apron.

It had been a ridiculous gag gift from Lucy, one that he had never intended to use but was forced to after his last apron caught on fire from one of his experiments with the skull. Bursting into flames would have been more useful now, He stood there, eyes watering from the heat, determined in his refusal to acknowledge both the apron and the smile she was doing a poor job of suppressing.

"Fine. You can start with the cookie batter."

About a minute or two later, it occurred to George that perhaps it would have wise to ask how much experience she had with baking. Not a lot, he soon discovered, when her bowl nearly flew off as soon as she switched on the egg beater. He dropped his mixing bowl instantly, waving away her apologies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't expect it to be so powerful."

He cautiously adjusted her grip on the bowl, gently guiding her fingers to a better hold.

"No, no, it's my fault. Not much of a baker?"

"...no."

"Okay, so what you do is, use one hand to hold the - other hand - hold the bowl, and the other holds the egg beater like - no, not quite."

He took a step closer, placing his hands over hers, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from her body, and the smell of her shampoo.

The last time they had been this close was on their way home from that play. With Lockwood out of town for a client meeting, and Lucy developing a mysterious case of the flu, it was only the two of them crouched under a tiny umbrella as they walked home after the play. George would have been more than happy to walk in the rain, but she was the one holding the umbrella, and was firm in her resolve to not send him back to Lucy with a head cold. With the little space between them, their cheeks brushed against each other occasionally, sending a jolt running through the side of George's face.

"Well...this is me."

George nodded dumbly, staring hard at the chips in her front door's paint, agonisingly aware of her looking at his face. He didn't dare turn to meet her gaze; they were far too close.

"I had fun today, George."

He sighed and briefly zonesout. As short as their chat was, he remembered very little, his focus only returning when she pulled her key out.

"We should do this again sometime," she was saying, as she turned the key in her lock. When he finally looked at her, there were the tinies raindrops on her eyelashes. There was something so pure and unassuming about the sight that it tugged at his heart. It made him want...more. More with her. With a brief smile, she disappeared into her home, leaving him standing alone in the rain. He stood there for a minute, prolonging the moment for some unidentifiable reason. It was a nice door. She had a nice smile.

It was as though she had read his thoughts from his eyes, for a faintly embarrassed air hung in the kitchen after that. For the next better part of an hour, they engaged in this delicate dance as they floated through the kitchen, carefully staying out of each other's way, never in the same area for long. It wasn't until she was sifting the dry ingredients that they next spoke.

"Hang on, that might be too much flou-"

As George touched her elbow, her hand jerked, sending a sizeable chunk of flour into her mixing bowl, along with a cloud of it directly in her face. He was sorry, of course, but as she spluttered and tried to blink through it, he couldn't stop the amused twist to his features. When she caught his eye, she rolled her eyes and sent a fistful of flour into his eyes. Now it was her turn to laugh as George groaned through the smarting.

"You're right, Mr. Cook, it IS hilarious!"

George scoffed, struggling to maintain his sanctimonius, above-petty-acts front as he wiped his glasses clean with as much dignity as he could muster. But on the inside, his defences were crumbling fast.

"You're acting like a child."

She looked mildly apologetic for a moment, and George felt a flash of truimph, before she raised both her flour-coated hands and resolutely streaked them across George's face.

"Egg on your face. Or should I say, flour?"

With that, all pretenses of civility were thrown out the window. The both of them swept up as many ingredients as they could and migrated to opposite ends of the kitchen table, pelting each other with everything that could be pelted. George landed a few well-aimed chocolate chips into her hair. She soaked the front of his apron with half a jug of milk, which was nearly enough to send him into hysterics. So it went on and on and on, until they ran out of supplies in their immediate reach, before resorting to shoving each other's faces into bags and tins of baking soda and powdered sugar. This, it occurred to George as he was rubbing cornstarch into her red, wheezing face, is strangely intimate.

Again, there was this tugging sensation in his chest, the kind that made him want to sit in his armchair for anywhere from half a minute to half an hour. The kind of sensation that could not be held in words. The closest he could get was the wish for a never-ending summer, or perhaps orchards full of cherry trees as sweet as the first pick. But even that fell short.

Just as she raised two fistfuls of sprinkles, the kitchen door swung open. Lockwood wandered in, looking sharp as ever in his too-small suit. The two of them smoothly parted, their faces burning under the flour, and George suddenly became very interested in the pastry dough he was kneading. He felt rather than saw Lockwood looking back and forth between the two of them, wishing that he'd just take whatever he needed from the kitchen and got out. But of course, he knew better than to engage in wishful thinking, especially with Lockwood's mildly gormless smile plain as day. "Hang on. George, you do realise that-"

Whatever it was that Lockwood was wondering if he had realised was cut off by the jam tart George shoved into his mouth, because the answer was probably yes, Lockwood, of course I realised that completely inane observation.

"Out. Out. I won't have you compromising the integrity of my kitchen." With a little difficulty, George wheeled a spluttering Lockwood littering soft pastry flakes all over his clean kitchen floor out into the hallway. He shut the door firmly and turned back apologetically, only just seeing the flour in her hair as she watched on amusedly.

"I sure hope I'm not starting up a ruckus - or was it compromising the integrity? - of your kitchen."

George felt his cheeks warming as he returned to the kitchen table. "No, of course not. You never know where Lockwood's been, is all. You're different."

Had he been standing this close to her the whole day, he wondered, close enough to see the pretty flakes in her eyes, softer than any pastry he could make? How was he supposed to look away? And how did he stand it?

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response, embarrassedly muttering something along the lines of how there was no need for any of that. As she got absorbed into getting the strips of dough just right, George glanced at the kitchen door, to see Lockwood silently making exaggerated kissy faces at him. George picked up his rolling pin and Lockwood fled immediately, without so much as a creak from the floorboards.

Now, they finally returned to their baking with proper focus, now that they were all tired out. She seemed to have picked up some skills pretty quickly, though he still kept an eye out in case she might do something that would, say, set her hand on fire.

An hour or so later, the phone started ringing obnoxiously in the hallway. With some difficulty, George peeled off one of his disposable gloves on his way to it. When he picked up the phone, he almost wished he hadn't, because it was that same cousin from last Christmas' gathering. As his voice wore on and on, George started wishing he had let Lockwood give him another punch or two, just to set him straight.

Suddenly, he picked out a few startling words from his cousin's nasally voice, which made his heart plummet, as the calendar in the hallway came into startling focus. He wandered back to the kitchen door, numbly hearing his cousin's complaints of why no one's goodie bags had reached yet. He blankly stared at her, and she stared back confused, slowing down her cutting of the strips concernedly. After a second or two, he hung up the phone, but was in too much shock to lower it.

"Today's date," he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Today's date. It's not the 13th. I thought it was the 13th. Today is the 14th. Valentine's day was today, not tomorrow."

Even as he was saying those words, the calm look on her face told him exactly what he had feared - that she had known all along.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought this was what you wanted to do!"

"Unpaid labour."

"What?"

"You spent your Valentine's Day doing exhausting, difficult, unpaid labour." He clumsily placed the phone down on the kitchen counter, struggling to find the right words as he fought against the embarrassment. "I am so sorr- just a minute, I might have some loose change somewhere here-"

"Don't." George was spiraling with shame, kicking himself for his oversight, and she still had the gall to look that pretty and kind. "I didn't mind any of it one bit, I promise."

"I promised you something fun."

"George, this is the most fun I've ever had baking, and I've been making pineapple upside down cakes since before I could - oh."

She broke off when she finally looked up to see the growing shock on George's face. She nibbled at the inside of her cheek nervously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"So you do know how to bake."

"Only a little?"

He took in the sight of her apologetic smile, the careful dusting of flour on her face and her suspiciously clean clothes. "You could have said."

"Oh, but I was having so much fun." George rolled his eyes. "I spent the day learning how to construct the most adorable pastry goodie bags I have ever seen, and I did it all with my boyfriend. Believe me, it doesn't get more fun than this."

Not for the first time that day, George stared at her in wonder, like he couldn't quite figure out how she was real. Even now, when all she was doing was merely existing, words failed him. He had a feeling he'd spend lifetimes chasing shadows, trying to pin what was gone before it bloomed, and he still wouldn't be able to find the right words. There was no other way to put it, or colour it - he wished they were more.

He hesitantly extended his hand, brushing just a speck of the huge handprint of flour on her face with his thumb. He turned, walking out into the hallway, but then just as immediately wheeled back.

"Your WHAT?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#if i had a nickel for everytime i wrote a george x reader fanfic where pastries were a siginificant part i'd have 2 nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice LMAO #also in case its not clear i meant the your WHAT to be referring to the reader calling him her bf sdfhajfalskf #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #fanfic #george karim x reader #george cubbins #george karim imagine #george karim x you #george x reader #george karim #valentines day #fluff #Spotify #be more #stephen sanchez

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genieofthebooks · 2 years ago

Note

hello!! i hope you’re doing well and if youre not taking requests, pls ignore this: can i request a george karim x reader where either one of them is sick and a little delirious & they confess to the person taking care of them? and maybe by the end they realise the other person got sick too haha

Love

Pairing: George Karim x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of illness, fluff, Reader shipping Locklyle, Reader calling George Love even though they are not together yet. Kissing. Reader is beautiful/pretty yet insecure so doea not believe it. (You lot are beautiful)

You and Lucy were sat at 35 Portland Row's kitchen table with cups of tea in your hands, chatting mindlessly about anything and everything when a mess of brown curls and orange shirts tumbled into the kitchen nearly walking into the door, his glasses crooked on his face, slightly falling down his nose. His face was glowing but not in the good way. The bespectacled clumsy mess slumped down on the chair without a word. You and Lucy looked at each other in concern because normally he would have made a sarcastic comment but he was just sat there staring at the table cloth.

You gently placed your tea onto the table and stood up, careful to not make any loud noise, you cautiously walked over to the boy currently slumped on the table and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead and then the back of his neck. you were behind him trying to measure how well he is but all George could think about was that your hands were very comforting, so he leaned backwards until the back of his head hit your chest.

You combed your fingers through his curls, soothing him through his shivers. Deciding that he was too ill to function today, you slung his arm over your shoulder and gently coaxed him out of the seat, convincing him to lean all his weight on you. "C'mon love, let's get you back to bed"

He weakly tried to protest, pathetically pushing your hand away. "No. No. I-I have to'm work" he mumbled out, his words slurring together, You just shook your head at him exasperated. Knowing he would research himself to his own death if he could.

"Love, you can't speak properly and if I was not holding onto you, you would collapse in a heap on the floor. So bed with you" You ordered as quietly as you could as to not provoke George's headache. Lucy was laughing into her mug of tea as you were trying to convince george to rest and at your orderly tone but also the sight of you trying to drag a boy taller than you out of the kitchen.

Slowly but surely, you had made it outside of the kitchen. However, you still had an entire flight of stairs to go up, and George was practically falling asleep on your shoulder. For a second you considered leaving him on the sofa in the main room but that would be cruel so you guided him up the stairs by his hands trying not to miss a step as you were walking backwards.

"Y/n, what are you doing to poor George?" Lockwood questioned as he walked out of his own room, seeing you cautiously drag a very ill looking George up the stairs.

"He is ill and is taking the day off as he can barely function. So don't run off to complete the case until George is well and done with the research. " You ordered Lockwood, giving him a pointed look who just jokingly saluted at you.

"Yes Ma'am"

"Lucy's in the kitchen, by the way," you whispered to him once you had finally gotten George on the landing. Giving Lockwood a cheeky smile, desperately wanting the two to give in to their feelings which however, was mutual with Lockwood fed up of the dance you were doing with George.

Once again, taking your place at the sick boy's side, you gently shepherded him into his bedroom. You pulled his orange flannel off his back leaving him in his orange shirt and black jeans when he fell out of you hold and landed on his bed in a slump.

You moved his legs from on the floor onto his bed and coverd him with a blanket, just as you were about to turn and go back and get some medicine, he grabbed onto your wrist. "No Stay." He mumbled, his eyes half lidded.

"Love, I will be right back I just need to get something" You softly answered him but that only caused him to strengthen his grip on you until he pulled you down on top of him.

He nuzzled his head into the crevice of your neck soaking in the warmth of your body. His warm breath tickling your collarbone and his hands snaked their way around your waist trapping you in his grasp. "Stay" he mumbled into your shoulder and because he was weirdly strong he managed to trap you so you couldn't get out of his grasp even if you wanted to.

All that could be heard in the room was the two of you's breathing until it was broken by George. "You are so beautiful" Your breath stopped out of shock when you heard the comment and for a second you thought you must have misheard as you would never describe yourself as beautiful. Tears sprung at your eyes thinking it was a cruel joke and wanted to get out of there as fast as you could but you were trapped in his arms.

"Okay, Georgie you are clearly delirious and don't mean a thing you are saying." You started to wriggle to try and get out of his arms but he only clutched you tighter, causing you to give up.

"I wish you were mine. Do you know how right the world would be if I woke up every morning knowing that you were mine. It has killed me seeing your beautiful face everyday without being able to kiss you or hug you." George continued his confession where by the end of it you were smiling to yourself.

His arms dropped away from your waist, freeing you and when you clambered out of his grasp you were met with a peaceful expression on his face. You leant down to kiss his forehead before sneaking down to the kitchen to get medicine and some tea for him.

It had been a few days since George's love confession which if you were not feeling like death itself, you would be mulling over what he said and if he meant it but you were currently trying not to fall asleep on the kitchen table because your whole body was fatigued and your head was pounding.

George walked into the kitchen searching for you as he felt better but he stopped short at your slumped frame on the kitchen table. Like what you did a few days ago he pressed his hand to the back of your neck to check your temperature, you shivered at the cool touch of his hand. He chuckled softly at you before pulling you into his arms, as you were shorter than him he did not have to struggle with dragging you up the stairs but instead picked you up bridal style and kissed your forehead when you curled into him. "I guess it is my turn to take care of you now, darling"

His comment was met with your weak hand to his face trying to shove it but because of your exhaustion it only slightly nudged his glasses to the side. "You got me ill" you mumbled into his bright orange shirt, barely making any sense before feeling him gently lower you onto his bed.

"But you love me" he cheeked back, caressing your hair to lull you to sleep.

Sorry if it is not the best and the fact that it took ages to arrive, I got really busy with school. Sorry if George's characterisation was a bit off.

#lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co #george karim x reader #george karim #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! do you mind making a george karim x reader fic? maybe like reader is sick as fuck and george takes care of them,, he gives them tea, medicine food and etc while their staying in bed ><

‘Thank you Georgie, your a life saver, truly.’ Your throat scratched irritably when you spoke; causing you to wince as you took the mug from George’s hands before indulging yourself on the therapeutic honey-lemon liquid inside.

“I wouldn’t have to play nurse for you, had you not decided to take a dive. Imagine all the research I could be doing right now.” George said dryly but despite this, his actions would always contradict them. For if he truly did hate being your nurse as he put it, then why did he always make sure you took your medicine in duration that the doctor prescribed, make you food, make you tea and even allowed you his comics for a source of entertainment whilst you were bed bound.

You’d have half a mind then to bring up all the aforementioned examples to him in a joking manner without it coming across as you taking the piss out of his kindness; which would only further George’s resolve in restricting from showing his concern in the future. No one likes their generosity taken for granted and you knew George wouldn’t either.

Instead you allowed George to take care of you without so much as a fuss. After all he’s had a lot on his plate from not only tending to you but also doing research for cases. So you decided that it’d be best for both of you if you were to be cooperative.

“Well I’m sorry for trying to save your arse, I’ll try not to next time.” You muttered against your mug, setting it aside after you were finished drinking, and burying yourself beneath the blankets when you started to feel cold chills running through your body. “Will you quit being dramatic,” George huffed, making sure that the blankets were tightly tucked against your form, “besides no one told you to save me, I would’ve been fine -had I not been wearing heavier clothing and it not been so cold out- but still You should’ve focused on saving yourself instead.” He finished.

George then took a step back to admire his work before considering it adequate enough, he reached for the empty mug on your bedside and was about to make his exit when you made a disgruntled noise. “You alright? You need anything?” He asked, quickly turning to look at you over his shoulder. “Just a little cold, I’ll be fine, you’ve done well more enough for me Georgie.” You told him softly, not wanting to burden him any further then you have for one day but he’d be damned if you thought that he would leave you in a state of distress.

You often told George that his heart was bigger then his chest that withheld it but it was never meant to be taken in a bad way, for it just meant that he cared more but hide so behind a passive aggressive wall of defence. So when he caught wind that you had gotten disastrously sick from the last case, George decided to take it upon himself to aid you back to health given the fact that he was inside a lot more then Lucy and Lockwood; Only if heading down to the British Archive to conduct some research wasn’t on the itinerary. If it was then he would leave a note that of which read:

How to take care of y/n; a guide for incompetent knobheads.

Yes, he thought that was hilarious.

“Stay put.” He told you but just as he was out the door, he heard you say ‘not like I have that much choice in the matter but sure, I’ll stay put.’ Which cracked a smile across his face. George returned soon after with a hoodie tucked under his arm -which was obviously drawn from his own wardrobe- as his hands were occupied with a glass of water and your medicine. Both of which he placed on your bedside table and tossing you the hoodie. “Here, put this on then take your medicine and go to sleep, I can start to see eye bags forming.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re so funny George.” You said sarcastically but wasted no time in pulling the hoodie over your head, immediately feeling a lot warmer thanks to the fleece that lightly lined the inside of the hoodie that was made to endure the cold, rainy weather that frequently occurred in England. “Better?” George asked, finding humour in how quick you were to cuddle yourself into his hoodie as soon as you slipped it on. “Much.” You replied before remembering to take your medicine and a swing of water to wash it down.

When sleep finally decided to pay you a visit, you began to bury yourself back into the covers again before George came over to make sure you were firmly tucked in and that your pillow was to your liking: once again showing you glimpse of the heart that laid beneath the layers he’s built and it was beautiful that you found yourself smiling softly at the tender moment. “What are you smiling about?” George’s soft voice broke you from your thoughts and you saw him look at you quizzically, his head tilted to the side which only made him look like an adorable puppy dog in your eyes.

“Nothing,” You told him, speaking equally as soft, “just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“Cheesy.” He replied but didn’t seem to think twice about resting his hands against your cheeks, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling away to run his thumbs against your skin. “And if I become sick tomorrow, I’m blaming you.” George adds as he pulls away from you completely, just about ready to get some shut eye himself.

“Consider it a token of my affection.” You joked, mind already half asleep while the other side pleaded for you to shut up and sleep.

“You’re something else you know that?” George fondly tells you.

You shrug, “is that such a bad thing?”

George thinks on this for a bit before replying, “I guess not. Especially for you it doesn’t, suits you well. Now get some sleep, breakfast will be waiting for you in the morning.” And with that George closes the door behind him and soon enough you were fast asleep.

#lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagine #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood and co x you #george karim imagine #george karim imagines #george karim x reader #george karim x you

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cecedownbad · 1 year ago

Text

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 2.

Warning: Child abduction, death of a child, angst, no Y/N, made up last name: Cyrus, made up case, light fluff, hurt/ comfort, not too romance-y but alluding to it, not proof read, I don't think the mystery/crime aspect is good but let me hear thoughts guys. Something extra in tags, read after the story.

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1

I'm so sorry this took so long, my exams, mental health, projects, assignments allll just rolled in the past months, and I've been doing everything to stay on top of writing. It's rushed towards the end but with all that's going on I hope it's okay. If anyone is up for part 3, I'm all for it .

Enjoy

"Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it."

-George Santayana

'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.' Tara paused. 'So she took Conrad, no she definitely didn't just take him, poor kid is definitely not okay.'

'Right now Stephen is our priority, the anniversary of Steven's disappearance is in 4 days, so what does she want with him now?' You pace in the room, spinning a pen you grabbed in your hand. 'I think that's something only you can answer, what happened 4 days prior to Steven's disappearance?' Tara pondered, she sat down, looking at you, intent on finding answers. '4 days prior…that was the day my dad— Daniel had come to visit, they, Grace and him got into a fight and Stevie, Steven tried to "protect" Daniel in his own way, he thought Mom was going to hurt him…'

Was it then that this all weighed down on you? Words long lost had started pouring through the cracks of memories locked away. You were never in that station in that moment, no, now you were back there.

'Stevie, get back here! We can't stop them!'

'No! No let go! I don't want Dad to go, Mom's going to send him away!'

'Steven!'

No matter how hard you tried, he slipped from your tensed grasp, landing right between two enraged adults.

Pacing the floor helped gather your thoughts, a little better.

'What was the very last thing she said to you when you left?'

The thought of how it all ended passed through your minds, each time much like a bullet to the brain but you push it all down, now wasn't the right time for you. 'everything okay there?' Tara asked you, it's only been a few minutes since you and Tara confronted the idea that Grace might have done more than anyone could have put together.

'Yeah just a lot going on in my head, I think I need a breather.'

'Hold that thought, JJ and Luke are back with Daniel,'

Your hand now wrapped around the empty coffee mug, a dad you haven't spoken to for the last two decades, what would you have to say? or better yet, what would he say to you? This isn't an official reunion, it's an interrogation and who knows what will spill out of your mouth if you see the very first man in your life that disappointed you, taught you that having a person in your life was enough to make you fall apart.

'JJ and I will go in first, you sit tight.' Tara patted your shoulder giving it a good squeeze before heading out the conference room.

It was soon after that Rossi, Reid and Emily came back in, all three harnessing disappointment with their stride. 'Hey, what happened?'

'Well, Rosa was not in her home, we searched the house and by the looks of it, she hardly came back there.' Emily sat down with her legs crossed. 'but, her room had keepsakes, maybe from the time you lived with her?'

'What did she have?'

'She had pictures, some old folded drawings, and the weirdest one, an old juice box.' as Emily finished, you sat up from your chair, 'an old juice box? Do you remember what flavour?'

'I think it was Apple? Why? Does it have something to do with Steven?'

'…'

'Cyrus?'

'That, uh, it's nothing, I think sentimental feelings do surface no matter what kind of person you are.' You began fidgeting with your sleeves, your mind now slowly began recalling events that transpired long ago. 'Is there something else? It looks like you aren't sure about something.' Rossi eyed your movements, he knew something was keeping you. 'My mother, she'd never show any sign that she felt remorse, not even as far as I could remember.'

'Okay Reid, stay with her, I'm going to check in with JJ and the rest. Rossi? Do you mind?' soon after, Rossi and Emily exited the room, leaving you and Spencer in the conference room. 'Could you tell me what kind of person your mother is?' Spencer sat down right before you, urging you to take a seat right next to him and you did.

'She was an uptight woman, she loved to be in control of her life that meant being in control of mine too, it's why I left. She loved being seen.'

'Being seen? What do you mean?'

'She was always a respected figure no matter where she went, be it at work or in the neighborhood, she pushed for that at home too. When Steven had disappeared, I would always remember how she would tell me he was in a better place, and that if I do anything to disobey her or question her authority, I would be punished.' your head hung as you remembered more, 'I would study, day and night, that was the only life I knew, if my grades dropped by a mark, she'd lock me in my room, made sure I only had books on my desk.'

'Did Daniel ever drop by after what happened to Steven?' Spencer asked gently, 'No, I never saw him after that, I thought he finally got sick of mom and left, but I see now that wasn't the case.'

'Okay—'

'You know the one thing I can't seem to remember though?' you looked up at Spencer, his eyebrows now furrowed in question. 'My mother would always say how beautiful I am, and…and that I look just like her, her very own reflection but, Spencer, I can't…I can't remember her face.' your voice sounded shattered at what came out of it. You felt the tears fall, but you couldn't turn away or hide them, Spencer saw just how much this hurts you.

'You are your own person, no one can ever take that from you, no matter what, you are you.' He held your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of your palm, that gave you a sign of comfort and you smiled at him. 'Alright, let's get back to the case.' quickly wiping away your tears and pasting on a smile, which you flash at Spencer, he in turn regained a more unmoving figure. 'When you said Rosa knew that Steven would never come back, what did you mean?'

'I was only a kid but to me it felt like she already knew that Steven had maybe...and all I could remember was a frown anytime I even remotely related to Steven.' You return with an answer. It was then the phone on the table went off.

'What is it Garcia?'

'So I dug into Daniel a bit more, and you aren't going to like this, so he was actually never in Bakersfield until a week ago, before that he was working as a cab driver in Nevada. He was in Nevada for a long time, but he touched base sometime in 2007, in the month of June. Looks like he tried several times to contact his ex wife but she never entertained any of it. What is concerning is that he was reported of stalking a young boy, said he mistook the boy for a boy he knew and he meant no harm but he was fired from his workplace and when was that? A little before coming over to Bakersfield.' Once Garcia had informed both of you, it was then JJ, Emily and Luke walked back in.

'What did the boy look like?' Spencer asked, 'I sent his picture to your phone.'

'Thank you Garcia.' You picked up your cell and scrolled through to find the image.

'No problemo.'

Upon quick inspection, you could tell at a glance the young boy and Steven shared a few similarities, nothing too obvious except hair colour and facial structure, age is the more obvious factor.

JJ walked in, arms crossed, she sighed but began asking what Garcia checked in for, 'Looks like Daniel was fired from his work place prior to coming to Bakersfield a week before Stephen's abduction.' You informed the three.

'If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's a trigger for him.' Emily began, 'Yeah, I agree.' and Luke followed suit.

'So he not only gets rejected by his ex-wife, but fired from his work place for stalking a boy that looks like his son, then he goes and kidnaps a boy that Rosa seemingly dotes on? Something doesn't add up.' JJ looked on with confusion. 'How did it go with him?' you asked finally.

'Said he had something vital for the case but he would only discuss it with you.' Emily sat down, her voice already etching with exhaustion. 'He's hiding something and my gut is saying it can't be good.'

'I'll go talk to him.' You were close to leaving the room, but Emily had halted your motions.

'Wait,'

'Yeah?'

'Reid will go with you, Tara might want to step out.' You gave a quick nod to Emily's order.

Every step to the interrogation room, you could hear the pained voices of yours, more precisely, from when you were a child. A young girl, alone in a room with nothing but her thoughts, you swallowed hard as you stood by the entrance of the viewing room. When you entered, you let Spencer call Tara from the interrogation room to the viewing room. 'No matter what, don't give in to his requests, you need to break him down, and if you ever want to leave, you can.' Tara gave you a small nudge and she stayed back in the room.

This was it, you let Spencer lead you into the interrogation room, allowing him to get there before you creeped on behind.

'How many times do I need to tell you people? Can't you bring my daug—you, your—'

'Let me be very clear, you have something vital for this case and I'm willing to hear you out, but say or do anything and you will be escorted out of the door by agents, understood?' the firm voice you let out hid every sorry cry that was wailing in you, having not seen your father for 20 years was a shock but not something that should be seen. 'Look at you, what it's been 15, 20 years, oh my beautiful little angel, I missed you.' honey coated words slipped from his mouth and every cell in you twisted in anger and contempt, 'Mr. Carter, the case.' Spencer stepped in this time.

'Always in such a hurry, well, since you brought my little girl. I know where the kid is being held.' He sat there with no remorse, no care that a child, close to the age of the son he lost years ago, was missing.

'Where might that be?'

'I can take you there, but I'll only go if she goes with me.'

After so long, he cares or at least that's what he's showing but you knew what he was playing at, he thought he could get away light just because his flesh and blood was in the justice system, what a sorry bastard.

'I think we're done here.' Spencer had got up from his chair but you stayed seated, deal or not you wanted to break the man in front of you and that was what was nailing you down to your chair. 'Mr. Carter, what good will it do if I went with you? Was it not enough that you came in here demanding to see your daughter about a case I know damn well you don't care about?' you pressed, choice of words were clearly targeted but your composure remained cool. 'What do you mean, you know what happened to Stevi—'

'Your son that you never bothered to report missing? I don't believe you have a right to bring that up, Sir.'

'Now listen here—'

'In the time Rosa had left you behind, you did nothing but fail to bring yourself together, I have a question for you, what were you doing on June 12th, 2007? Why did you come back to Bakersfield prior to that date?' you swiped through the tablet that Tara handed to you, it contained everything Garcia had found including some case files. 'I don't know why you're asking me that, don't you have the life of a boy to save?' He avoided it with such harshness, you only wanted to pry further but somehow it felt like you knew the answer, but the words never fell into place.

'Answer the question Daniel.' Spencer sat back down now jabbing at him as well. 'I just had someone to meet, is that really so important?'

'Why did you need to meet them? Did you coming back here have anything to do with Rosa Cyrus, your ex-wife?' Your slowly tapped at the desk, it was a timed beat. 'I did visit her once but that—'

'Were you aware that a teenager was reported missing around the same time you arrived here? His name was Conrad Miller, he was 16 years old.'

'W-what? I-I don't know anything about that.'

'Really? Because it says in the case files that Rosa was the last person to have seen Conrad, but you knew that didn't you?' He flinched at the response, at this point he wore a sign that screamed suspicious.

It was then that Daniel remained silent, you believed that any word that came out of him at that point would dig his grave deeper.

You stepped out of the room and walked into the room behind the mirror. 'Now he won't speak,' Rossi now stood there with his arms in his pocket.

'We need to find Rosa and Stephen soon, the man is hiding something and Rosa is the key to finding out why.' Rossi took the words right out of your mouth, looks you both knew what he was playing at.

'I think I can help with that, how much can you guys bet on a gut feeling?' You asked the three of them, weary of their answer, 'At this point? I'll take it.' Rossi let out, the two soon followed. 'Rosa will most likely be at the house we used to live in, which is not in this area, I'm hoping that she's keeping Stephen safe,'

'Safe? How come?' Tara asked you, 'Daniel here, came a week prior to Stephen's abduction, not only did he lose his job before coming here, he needed to have a reason to come here,' you deduce.

'His reason being Rosa? But wouldn't that not trigger Rosa?' Looks like you still needed to elaborate your theory, so you continued. 'It did, Rosa having heard that Daniel came here must have caused her protective instinct to kick in, call me crazy, but I think Rosa is keeping Stephen away from Daniel.' you finally let out a sigh, your palms clammed from sweat but if you were right, the little boy you came here for was safe.

'A mother's protective instinct, I'm guessing that something happened 20 years ago that she didn't agree on, which caused her to completely reject this guy, I'll have Garcia send the address of her prior location.' Rossi curtly exited the room, Tara followed along.

Spencer stood before you in silence, you didn't register any movement from him because all your focus was on the man, sitting on the other side of that glass.

'You can go on ahead, Reid, I need to talk to him.'

'But I can't let you go in alone...'

You huffed, your eyes did what it could but meet his but looking away won't make what you want go away, 'Given the chance, I might punch the daylights out of him—'

'More of a reason for me to stay.'

Spencer interrupted, you returned with a sharp look in your eyes before you relaxed, 'Let me finish, I would want to give him a piece of my mind but I need to know, I just, he's the only one that has got to know something about Steven, maybe I can finally put him to rest.'

It was selfish, that's what you called it, asking for just one more clue when you couldn't do anything before. Maybe now that helpless little girl all those years ago, can see her brother off. 'I need to do this, alone...'

'...'

You stood there, waiting for something, a sound from him in response, anything at all. 'I'll wait here, being short of another agent will not slow down the rest of the team.' He'd finished but his response ticked you, it poked at the idea of a child being monitored by their parents.

'I don't need you watching my every move, Reid.'

'I'm just following orders.'

'Following orders? Do I look like a child to you? Do I need a leash around my neck too? I can handle him, he's one man!' Your voice raised, and you stared up at your fellow colleague with a ray of contempt.

'A man you can't stand being around for long, you sounded just fine in there earlier to anyone that watched, but do you want to know what I saw? I saw that you were holding back, hard enough your hands curled at his answers, your feet apart was enough for me to know that you would have given Emily a reason for you to be dismissed from the case.' He'd stated what was right, but it wasn't right to you, not right now, you don't know when it would be. 'I'll wait here, you can go in alone.'

Your feet put you in place for a good moment, his words tore right through you. He was right, somewhere in your clouded judgement, you understood he was right, but just because you understood doesn't mean you accepted it.

With a second left to pass, you turned from Spencer. All in silence, it was accepted that you had a job to uphold, no matter the personal toll.

-------------------------------

The dial ups in the station, voices of police officers, movement all around you had become void. Nothing, that's what you heard when you left the interrogation room, you couldn't even hear one Agent calling out to you when you had left. Something gathered, something rotten had formed in your stomach. Your body felt hot, your head on a swivel.

You felt the acid burn at your throat, the half conscious part of you managed to drag your feet to a bathroom stall for you to expel the choux pastry you ingested.

Standing before the mirror now, you washed your mouth, feeling the remnants of the expelled food at your throat.

Nothing felt right to you, not right then, not right now. Having no mind to lose any more time, Reid waited in the conference room as you begrudgingly walked yourself back into it. You said nothing.

You dialed in Emily immediately, hoping she hadn't reached the house yet. 'What have you got for me Cyrus?'

'I spoke to Daniel.'

'What did he say?'

'He'd been sending frequent messages and calling my mother, they met once, 2007. There was an argument and Conrad had gotten in-between the two of them, it didn't end well.' you informed her, almost mechanically.

'What did he say about Steven?' JJ chimed in.

'Steven was, he said he was never meant to be hurt and Rosa in the mess of things, covered up for him. He told me where...I know where his body is.' Your voice strained, as it got to harsher details.

Nothing came out though, you tried filling in the rest of the details but your voice was overtaken. A pleading look carried over to Spencer and he took over. 'He said that you have to ask where he's sleeping, Rosa's delusion right at this moment is that Steven would come back.'

'Okay, we'll get back to you as soon as we're done here.' The line cut. If you'd carried a boulder on your shoulders, the weight of it might be the same as your conscience. All that was left was you see a family reunited and you get the closure you've been searching for.

------------------------------

The team was back, so was the little boy, he was safe. The Turner family could now go home with their son safe and sound in their grasp.

'Nothing beats seeing that.' you stood, satisfied in a way, the others agreed in unison to your words.

'Cyrus, I need to have a word with you.' Emily called you to a secluded corner of the station, but you had no fear built in you, in fact you felt rather empty, exhausted enough to be emotionally drained. 'We found Steven...' she said quietly.

'Where was he?' you met her in the eyes, having nothing left to tie you down. 'Remains were found in the wall of a small bedroom, it looked like he was initially buried but moved there later.' Every word had struck you, the smaller bedroom was your shared one, no doubt. 'Was he, uh, covered?' a crack sounded in your voice.

It took Emily a moment before answering, 'He was...'

The last bit of remorse. You'd promised yourself for 20 years that he was found. Part of you wanted him to be alive, maybe he ran off and just found a better life or he was on the streets, alive at least. But you knew how far-fetched that sounded, hope was the one thing you were aware that could end you. '...Thank you, can I, um, I want to be alone.'

'Of course, take all the time you need, listen, once this is over I need to speak with you, but only when you're ready, okay?' She patted the side of your shoulders, adhering to your request, she left you alone.

You let out a wavered breath, trying to breathe in and out to calm yourself. What you needed now was to mourn, you knew that but having a hard cry at this moment would slow down everyone.

Not long after, Rosa and Daniel had gotten arrested. You couldn't catch a glimpse at her face, or more accurately, you refused to see the face you'd forgotten. That didn't bother you that much, as a mother she never cared to look out for you, there wasn't any good reason to remain adherent to the details.

Bakersfield PD would have no more reason to have you stay, for now at least but before you could leave it all behind, Steven deserved a proper burial.

The Funeral was small, no relatives, just few friends from school and the BAU were attending, with Chief Marks as well to pay respects.

You stood over the coffin, looking at how small it was, how it all came to an end, all in silence. Quietly you watched as the coffin was buried, soil tossed over it but before it was over, you had to have one last goodbye.

'I did what I promised, took you long enough to come back from playing, huh? You must be tired, rest well, Stevie.' The Carnation held in your hand had been placed on the coffin, a mark of innocence now put to rest. Once it was all over, you stood, not waiting or expecting anything but just, letting the weight gradually let go of you. This was what you needed yet, it didn't feel enough, something remained in you.

Footsteps were heard behind you, and you took a peak at the intruder before lifting the corners of your mouth to him. 'He was a handful you know, always wanted my attention no matter what, saying that one day he'd make it to the moon just so he could get me some space rock.' Spencer said nothing to your bouts of reminiscence, 'He told me once, "I'm going to be no.1, so watch me!" I thought he was being silly, Dad left right after and we were alone, it was us against the world.' It all came back, then you knew what you hadn't let go, knew what it was that made you feel utterly at loss.

'Hey, Spencer, you don't have to do this, but, um, I...' You wanted to ask just for a bit, that little comfort that you so desperately pushed away.

Without another word, he lightly turned to face you. Your mind was too caught up on other memories that when you felt his arms wrap around you, you didn't think for that second. All it took was this to let it all go, no longer in silence but in wailing agony.

He didn't need another word, he simply knew. It was like some crazed superpower of his but it's like he's always known.

He couldn't let go.

Tagging:

@treehouse-mouse

#once again Im so sorry about the late update on the fic #the ending was a bit rushed I'm sorry about that but i hope it's okay #i actually wanted to add Matt to this but because of time constraints I couldn't so #here's a little of what happened afterwards for anyone reading tags #matt was away because his wife was expecting but he dropped by after the case #he got worried about you but you were more happy about him and his family #emily asked if you wanted to continue in the bau you said yes but she said you should take time off so you did #you and spencer have this insane slow burn office romance going on after #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #cm x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #self insert #kinda #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #luke alvez #david rossi #jj

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the1975attheirverybest · 11 months ago

Text

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 6- All I Need To Hear

Read all previous chapters here

Warnings: mentions of smut

——

Somewhere, in a tour bus, on a dark American highway, Matty stirred from a dreamless sleep.

He rubbed his eyes, turning to lay on his side. He the top of his duvet was cold. He shimmied his way out of cocoon that he’d created in his sleep, his feet finally touching the floor. He stood there for a moment, wondering if he should run into the restroom first or have coffee….coffee won.

“Yo,” he attempted, but his voice was too low. Mark noticed him anyway.

“You’re awake!”

“And you….are….for some reason?” Matty scratched his head, his eyes squinting to adjust to the bright light outside of his bedroom.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” Mark shrugged.

“Right. Sorry, you always say you have a hard time with the movement.” Matty cocked his head. “It’s why you should try drugs.”

Mark chuckled. “I think I’ll stick to my herbal tea. Thanks.”

Matty threw himself down on the couch, laying his head back and closing his eyes. “Fuckkkkk” he groaned. “Think I’m still asleep, actually.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get it. Maybe. In a moment. Once my legs have woken up properly.”

Mark smiled, disregarding Matty’s words, he stood up and poured him a cup of coffee. Peaking in the small fridge for a moment, “you hungry?”

“You don’t have to take care of-“

“So that’s a yes then. Is toast alright? Who am I asking…you like anything to do with bread…”

Matty smiled, touched by how well Mark knew him. He peaked out the blinds, into the pitch black of night.

“Where are we?”

Mark stopped buttering the piece of bread in his hand and flicked his wrist. “Interstate.”

“Which one?”

“I75”

“So…." Matty tried to guess the schedule “we’re on our way to Charlotte?”

“Columbus, Ohio.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Ohio.”

“Eat.” Mark handed him his coffee and piece of toast.

“Thanks, man.”

Matty ate in silence, listening to the sounds of his own chewing, and evading Mark’s curious gaze. He knew Mark had something on his mind. He also had an idea of what it might be.

“What?!” Matty eventually said, swallowing dry.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“But you want to. So, just- go- ahead and say it!”

“Alright.” Mark inched closer towards him, clearing his throat and looking directly into Matty’s eyes. “How are you?”

Fuck. A loaded question. Matty found it impossible to look away, now that Mark had locked eyes on him. He couldn’t lie. It’s all over his face. So; instead, he shrugged, picking up his coffee mug and sipping on it, just to have something to bust himself with.

Mark said absolutely nothing, simply continuing to look into Matty’s eyes with a gentle smile.

The silence was unbearable, Matty eventually spoke just to make it stop. “I’m- im….fine. You know. I’m always fine. It’s all good.”

He pushed the plate away from him, then spoke again. “Am I- like- feeling the best I’ve ever felt? No. But- you know. What about it? It’s not like I’m fuckin suicidal or anything….and, I’m happy the boys have all got places to be and all that cuz….could you imagine if the whole band was getting all this…’backlash’? I don’t even like that word ‘backlash.’”

Matty paused to catch his breath. His own words sinking into his mind. “But yeah…it does feel a bit odd. There’s a lot happening….of course, they know. George’s been texting me. You wanna see the memes?” Matty giggled, recalling their latest text exchange. “I’ll go get my phone.”

Matty reached for his phone at the charging station, plopping down on the bed, scrolling through several unread messages from a variety of friends and acquaintances to get to George’s name. His finger hover over Amelia’s name for a moment. He opened their text chain and typed a quick “hiya. Checking in. You left before we could talk about things. Wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay about it all 😊” he sighed, reading his own words back, he felt gross. Perhaps he could rephrase things? He thought about it for a quick second and replaced the emoji with a “xx.” Then, rethinking it again, he deleted the “xx” and ended the text with a full stop. He sat there, staring at the “send” button. Why hasn’t she checked in with him though? His mind couldn’t help but go over every single torturous detail of the last time that he’d seen her. Had he done anything wrong? Had he failed to make her happy? To follow her orders? He was a bit too stubborn with his begging when she told him she didn’t want him cumming. Did she not want him to? Did he break the rules? The entire night played in his head on a loop. He remembered every moment. Her hitting his face, repeatedly. Him feeling it everywhere, from his what to his toes, begging for more. Being on his knees. Her sweet touch on his pulsing, red face. Her fingers in his mouth, on his crotch, her expression of concern once he’d lost balance and landed on the floor after she withdrew her hand. Though she sounded concerned, she still chose to pick his head off the floor by the roots of his hair. Something about that combination excited him immensely. Still, if he was being honest with himself, he kind of hoped she’d lean down and kiss him. Or say something to indicate that she knew how badly he wanted her. But she didn’t.

The pain was good. Him ending up naked and at her mercy wasn’t where he thought the night would go. But he did push her buttons. It hurt so much. And it felt so good. He loved it. Loved feeling that burning on his skin and knowing that she was the cause of it. But he wished he knew if she liked it too. The entire time, he longed to hear a word of encouragement from her. He recalls her pausing to give his cheek a quick kiss once he’d offered to count. She did actually tell him he was doing good. But how sincere was she? Was it just a platitude? Like a “thanks” you say when someone hands you the tv remote or asks if you want anything from the store? Did she know that he liked taking the pain for her? To please her? To show her that he would do anything for her ? Surely she would have said something if she’d appreciated his suffering. Once they’d stopped, he was sure she’d scoop him up in her arms and tell him how good he’d been for her. That she was happy he’d done as she’d told him. Maybe make him promise to try to eat better tomorrow. Or give him the chance to apologize better. Sure, she’d helped clean him up afterwards, but that’s the bare minimum. She did let him cling to her and bury his face in her for a bit. But he’d wanted more. Was he greedy for wishing that he could lay on top of her or be enveloped by her or feel her skin directly on his? She does have a boyfriend. One that she’d offered to break up with. He was the one to stop her. He told her not to. It’s selfish, but, that night, he really wished that she hadn’t left him alone in the room. He needed her so much. He still does. They did have sex, so, isn’t it arbitrary to draw the line at staying afterwards? Or did they even have sex? She whipped him bloody and then held his hand as he experienced his first orgasm in a long time. And then he cried like an idiot. Does that even count as sex? Fuck. The most sexual contact he’s getting these days and he’s not even sure if it really is sexual contact. What has become of him?

The welts on his ass, sending pain through him every time that he sat down or moved a bit too quickly, were a constant reminder of his failure to make her happy. she hadn’t even called or texted to ask if he was healing up nicely or if he needed anything. Where had he gone wrong? Should he have offered to get her off after? Perhaps. It wasn’t fair that she never got to cum. He just didn’t have the foresight to think in that moment. He wasn’t sure his brain was functioning at all. Everything was fuzzy and unclear. Yet again, his thoughtlessness had let her down. Even when he was doing all this for her, he still managed to make the experience about himself and his pleasure. He hadn’t meant to. It was all supposed to be for her. But somehow he got it wrong.

He deleted the text that he’d been composing, replacing it with a new one. “I’m so sorry, Amelia.” Sorry for what? Sorry is what you say if you accidentally bump into someone or if you reach for their spoon at a restaurant. What kind of words could he use for being a useless human being? What gives him the right to even reach out? Clearly, she hasn’t messaged him because she didn’t want to hear from him. He shouldn’t bother her or remind her of what a disappointment he’s been. He deleted the apology and swiped out of the text chain, finally finding George’s name.

“Okay; here it is.” He stood in the doorway, choosing a selection of texts to show to Mark.

***

Three hours behind, in Los Angeles, Amelia struggled to fall asleep in the plush hotel bed that she shared with Joshua. She couldn’t stop seeing Matty every time that her eyes closed. She’d left him crying, in bed, in nothing but his underwear. After inflecting a disorienting amount of pain on his already exhausted body. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. He asked for it, even. Thanked her for it. He looked so beautiful wincing and smiling every time she’d hit him. He’d say ‘thank you’ and beg for more, unprompted. The dazed look in his eyes was clear proof that he wanted it just as much as she did. Though it broke her heart that he was all too eager to be punished, he’d been stoic and brave about it. Still, it was the thing that finally made him cum, so it couldn’t have been bad, right? Her heart shattered into pieces at the memory of his pained cries. He was overwhelmed. Scared to even experience pleasure. She couldn’t forget the way he’d helplessly squeezed her hand. As if begging for her to intervene. To implore his body to be less cruel on him. She wished she could help him but she didn’t know how. Did she have the power to slow things down? To heighten the pleasure and lessen the pain ? Shouldnt she know if that’s a power that she posses or not? Had she taken on a role that she’s woefully unprepared for?

she wondered if she’d gone too far. If he’d only gone along with it to make her happy. If she should’ve been gentler, slower. She remembers being on the receiving end of things like this. She never did it just to make Matty happy, though the knowledge that it pleased and amused him to hear her whimper and beg always made her excited to partake. She had no idea if he felt the same though; it never occurred to her to ask. She felt around the nightstand, in the dark, for her phone. The screen lit up, she checked it for any messages from him but there was nothing. She wished he were here right now. Wondered how he’s been doing since she’d left to get to this exhibit. Has he been eating? Sleeping? Is he feeling excited about seeing the boys again soon? About getting back onstage after a small break? He always had has smile on his face whenever he is up there. She’d missed that smile. All she could hope for was that doing his job would remind him that he wasn’t alone, that people all over the world love him, and that things do get better.

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