#i also need to figure out when to stop with the scene

[mishappeningss]

omg i’m obsessed, we need more scene of our driver with the rookies!!

oh, yes. the rookies love her. if max were their grid dad, that automatically makes her their grid momma. everyone lives for this family, even your favorite drivers!

more about driver!yn

Max is the tired father figure who just wanted a quiet career but now walks into media pens like he’s about to say, “I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” He’s always asking, “Where’s YN?” like she’s the only one who can keep their wild children from zip tying each other to garage doors.

YN is the emotionally unavailable but fiercely protective mom figure who drinks energy drinks at 9 am and tells the rookies, “You didn’t see me.” She’ll scream at them while also giving them the key to her car and a pack of Oreos. Grid wife energy. Always has somebody’s glasses.

Together? They co-parent the rookies like it’s their full time job they didn’t apply for.

Ollie calls YN ‘mum’ with full British sincerity. He clings to her arm post race like a victorian orphan. Max pretends not to enjoy it but gave him a ride on the scooter once. Gets bribed with pizza to stop live-tweeting things he shouldn’t.

Kimi is the baby genius. Quiet, a menace. Sits beside YN on planes and asks philosophical questions. Max says, “Don’t encourage him.” But she immediately does. Once made Max google “existential dread.”

Isack is constantly plotting something. Probably a fake ID ring, or ordering a bunch of merch and blame it on another rookie. Calls Max ‘dad’ as a joke until Max actually grounds him. Has the biggest soft spot for YN, brings her weird snacks.

Liam is only stable when YN’s present. Big middle child energy. Can be seen screaming “I didn’t start it!” across the paddock as Max is counting to ten in his mind. Definitely the one who almost set something on fire at the Red Bull motorhome.

Gabriel’s the one who says “Let’s do something stupid,” and is already halfway up the scaffolding when YN says no. Max doesn’t understand the point he’s trying to make, but nods like a disappointed professor.

Franco is the golden child. Follows Max around like a duckling but worships YN like she’s a Disney princess. She calls him ‘baby’ and makes sure he eats right. The others throw chips at him because he’s clearly the favorite.

Honorary mention: Lando. The loud cousin who keeps getting “advice” from YN and “judged” by Max. Somehow is the always the reason why someone’s crying. Thinks he’s one of the rookies. He isn’t. Max reminds him of that weekly.

a small moment from our grid family :)

They’re in the Red Bull hospitality, long after the race is over. The paddock is thinning out. Max is sitting on a folding chair, half-lidded eyes trained on the floor, sipping water from a lukewarm bottle.

He looks exhausted — his fireproofs peeled halfway down, hair a little damp, the kind of tired that comes only from wrangling points and rookies in the same day.

YN walks in holding a tray. Not for herself, she’s already eaten. She just knows none of them have.

“Eat,” she said simply, placing it on the small table in front of him.

He doesn’t even look up. “What is it?”

“Something with protein. Don’t be difficult.”

He sighs, and she doesn’t push — just sits beside him, crossing her legs beneath her and leaning back in a way only she can: careless, relaxed, absolutely unbothered by the chaos she probably caused earlier.

Then— a crash. A yell. And a voice.

“Franco took my snacks!” — “He pushed me first!”

Max closes his eyes, “No.”

YN doesn’t even blink. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out two lollipops. “Go fix it,” she says, handing them to Max.

He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Bribe them.”

“I’m not bribing children.”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “Then I will.”

Before she could stand, Max stops her. “Just five minutes,” he says. “Before you go stop World War Three.”

She sits back down. Doesn’t say anything, just nudges the tray closer to him.

Outside, Liam’s yelling something about sabotage. Oliver is calling someone a traitor. Isack’s laughing. Inside, Max finally picks up the fork. YN closes her eyes.

Just five minutes. That’s all they’ll ever get, but it’s enough.

[couch-potato28]

ROMANTIC MOMENTS CAUGHT BY FANS WITH THE BLLK BOYS! 📸

PT 2.

🎥 synopsis: Your relationship with him is already established, but fans still can’t get enough of the two of you—always wanting more crumbs. Accidental meetups, funny moments and romantic scenes that get captured or posted by them online offer the world a chance to witness little glimpses of your dynamic with him.

🎞️ a/n: fem!reader, Heads up—Charles is included, his scenes are romantic BUT soft, strictly age-appropriate moments (think hand holding and shoulder rests) I tried my best to be mindful and keep it true to his age also reader is, of course, aged accordingly

🎬 characters: kunigami r., yukimiya k., bachira m., raichi j. and charles c.

Kunigami Rensuke—prince material

It was one of the last events of the year for athletes where multiple teams, media outlets, interviewers and influencers were invited to stream and enjoy the gala.

During the quick break before the awards ceremony could begin, a relatively known sports blogger started to live stream which gained a surprising number of views in a short time.

It was hard too see in the dim room, the only light source being some LED strips on the walls, and the huge chandelier that hang from above.

As the influencer was reviewing the drinks at the bar, some fans spotted the two of you in the background, tucked into the corner of the room.

Before anyone could assume anything, your boyfriend got down on one knee as you held onto his shoulders for support. Despite the low lighting, some hawk-eyed fans could clearly tell what was happening.

Wardrobe malfunction.

Your freaking heel broke. Or it could have been a problem with the straps but all they really focused on was how gently Kunigami tried to help you back into your heels.

Someone took a screenshot. You looked like a princess with your gown on, and your boyfriend—ever the chivalrous one—looked and knelt beside you like a true knight in shining armor.

You saw the pics a week later. He kissed your forehead and moved on. But the fans? They talked about it for a long time…

Yukimiya Kenyu—divas in the wild

Your boyfriend besides being a well-known football player also gained fame as a model to many brands—his face plastered all over the stores, subways, and malls.

The fans knew how private he was, only letting them get a small glimpse of you every now and then.

So imagine their surprise when one of them was strolling around the local mall before she spotted a familiar tall figure with someone shorter than him grocery shopping.

Walking by the vegetable section with your hoodies on, backs turned to the camera was a sight nothing out of the ordinary—that was until the fan zoomed in on what was printed on your clothes.

A selfie of you two: meme-worthy, double chin showing with his glasses lazily sliding down to the bridge of his nose and your hair looking like a tornado. The cherry on top was the word “DIVAS” printed across the sweaters’ backs in bold, pink letters.

The fan thought she was hallucinating for a moment, mumbling in the video about how Yukimiya’s fashion sense and PR team would never allow something like this. Still—your fits were lowkey a slay.

The clip ended there but it was enough. The fandom unanimously agreed on the fact that everyone needed a version of that unhinged anniversary hoodie you gave him last year.

Liked by @ken_yu_getoutofmyface (private account) and 5.9 million others

Bachira Meguru—heart on his sleeve

Your boyfriend was a fan favorite. They adored how he always took the time to stop and chat with them—whether it was about the weather or something random like whether dolphins or bees were better.

He was also known for accepting gifts—especially bracelets.

Bachira absolutely loved them. Most of the time he was always caught in public with his wrists decorated with colorful, handmade pieces, each one a reminder of the fans who took some time out of their lives to make something for him.

It was the same kind of love that surrounded him just the other day, when the two of you went to a concert together. Fans swarmed the area around his seat, handing him letters, drawings, books—even a photo card of you that he gladly accepted with a bright smile.

It took him about 10 minutes to receive his first handful of bracelets—and, following the concert’s tradition, Bachira started to trade a few of his own with the fans.

“Where did you get that?” a girl asked, pointing to the beaded bracelet you gave him a few hours ago.

Before anyone could even think about exchanging, he was already showing it off. That bracelet? It even had your combined initials on it! He proudly told everyone how much effort you put into making it and how there was no way he’d ever give it up.

The fans melted on the spot. You two had a blast that night and he ended up trending on social media. Again.

4.8 million likes including @beebachira_megs

Raichi Jingo—fake nonchalant ahh

He rarely posted you on his socials—partly for privacy, partly out of pure pettiness.

Perhaps that’s why you decided to surprise him in secret at the airport, squished in between many, many of his fans.

He had just landed from the final match of the season—victory shining on his team of course. The airport was packed, fans swarming the place as the boys strolled in wearing hoodies, headphones, and masks. People screamed, holding out merch or whatever they could find for autographs.

You spotted him minutes later. Hoodie pulled low, mask up, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd while signing simultaneously.

That’s when you decided to step in.

Fighting your way through the fans, as he came closer to your row, you held out your phone for him to sign. Raising an eyebrow, he looked up to meet your eyes, surprised at your sudden presence.

Silence followed. And then—he burst out laughing, voice echoing through the international airport.

Wiping his tears away, Raichi reached out to cup your face, kissing you through his mask.

Fans gasped, about to freak out with their phones in their hands before he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you through the barrier.

“She’s my girlfriend guys!”

Charles Chevalier—chilling with you

The final match of the season had just ended, and with it, the fans slowly poured out of the stadium into the night. While most of them were heading home, some chose to linger, taking in a bit more of the buzzing city before calling it a day.

That’s how a group of PXG fans spotted their favorite team in a nearby diner as they celebrated the victory.

Not wanting to interrupt, they quietly took seats on the opposite end of the diner, ordering food and pulling out their phones for a quick video.

Most of them zoomed in on Julian. The other half was focused on capturing your boyfriend, the other star of the match.

He was surprisingly quiet. People would think he would be the life of the celebration by now yet all he did was have his hoodie up and occasionally smile at the others’ jokes.

Charles was definitely tired with the way he yawned halfway through sipping his soda.

Head on your shoulders, he quietly intertwined your fingers under the table, fidgeting with one of your rings while using his other hand to casually wave at the fans across the room, a small smirk forming on his lips before turning his attention back to you.

Liked by @chesire_cat.chevalier and 3.6 million others

[konigsfavwife]

hi! could you write a scenario about jinshi x reader where for some reason they sleep in the same bed and end up kissing.

Please, Please don’t go…

Summary: Jinshi was never one to truly showed who he was besides the perfect face everyone known him for, until he found himself attached to an apothecary who seems to think the complete opposite, until one night.

User is an apothecary (though not Maomao!!)

Authors notes: Based off the scene when he was drunk and cried w Maomao 🙂‍↕️. ALSO tysm for requestinggg. Love you 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Jinshi x Apothecary user

Warnings: no smut, just simple kissing / making out. Mentions of alcohol Jinshis drunk.

Word count: 856

You were never one to fall for jinshi. Watching him flaunt himself at multiple woman and watching them coo in awe was truly exhausting. But what was even more exhausting was the way he seemed to be attached to you. Either it was him giving you the eyes and that damn smile or it was way he seemed to be everywhere you were. Though he did have his moments where he surely started to get to you, and tonight was one of those nights.

You were walking around the inner palace walls one night, having time for yourself. You were enjoying the time you had until you heard someone whining not for far away from you. You raised an eyebrow as your eyes slowly recognized the voice, and then the face. It was Jinshi, her cheeks flustered pink and obviously drunk.

As your gaze locked on his figure Jinshi quickly caught you looking at him and hurriedly wobbled his way over to you. His usual facade was completely gone and nothing but a whiny, drunk man whom was wobbling over to you. “Mm.. y/n…” Jinshi mumbled out as he stumbled over to them, landing right in their arms. “Jinshi… what are you-“ you tried to ask, but was abruptly interrupted by Jinshi as he shoved his face into your neck, leaning into you with all his body weight causing you to lose balance and fall on your butt on the soft grass, and soon was Jinshi following, landing right on top if you. “Mmm… apothecary…” jinshi muttered against them as he closed his eyes, resting his cheek on their chest, almost nuzzling into them. You let out a sigh, looking back at him. You rolled your eyes slightly as you looked down at the man, but you couldn’t help but realize how… normal he looked as he nuzzled into you.

“Jinshi get up…” you sighed, trying to nudge him off you. “No…” jinshi muttered back, his eyes closed as he shoved himself farther into your chest. “Jinshi, you need to get up… people will see u-“ you tried to state but stopped yourself when you heard gentle sobs. You quickly looked back down at jinshi to see him gently crying, gentle tears lining his purple eyes as he looked up at you. “Please… I don’t care… just… don’t leave me…” jinshi said quietly, almost pitifully as he gently cried against your chest. You sighed, knowing he was strong to just simply move off so you stayed quiet, letting him cry gently as your hands moved into his hair, gently brushing your hands through his hair.

You both laid their for a moment, just basking in his gentle sobs and his soft hair before Jinshi slowly stopped crying and looked up at you, his lip pouted out slightly. “Sleep with me tonight in my room,..” Jinshi asked quietly, looking at you with those eyes. You just sighed, biting your lip thinking about the consequences of actually sleeping with the man, but the tight grip he had on you told you you didn’t really have a choice. “..okay…” you sighed quietly, looking at him. “Hurry… up.” Jinshi muttered, practically scrambling to his feet as he helped you up, grabbing you by your hands before speed walking with you back to his place in the rear palace. They both were soon greater with Suiren and Gaoshun, bowing slightly at Jinshis arrival. “Good evening, Young Master.” Suirens soft voice said as she looked back up at jinshi with a soft smile, and Gaoshun simply just nodded. “Retire for the night.” Jinshi said simply, walking past the two as he walked with you to his bedroom. As soon as you both entered his bedroom he closed his door, locking it and hurriedly placed you on the bed, laying you down and then he laid down, cuddling close to you.

“Are you usually this cuddly with everyone you sleep with…” you said quietly, sighing as you gently continued playing with his hair. “Y/n..” Jinshi whined softly, looking at him cuddle back into their chest. “To you.” Jinshi said simply, brining his face up to yours, his nose almost touching yours. “You’re so pretty…” jinshi muttered, looking right into your eyes as his lips moved closer to yours. “Let me kiss you…” jinshi said softly, his eyes pleading, glossy with tears. You paused for a moment, just looking at him before nodding softly, not being able to even speak. That was all jinshi needed before his lips connected with yours, his eyes closing as he held you close. You simply fell into the kiss, your hands softly moved to his cheeks as you kissed him back.

Soon enough jinshi let the kiss go, his face still hovering over yours. “Pretty…” jinshi said softly as he moved down to nuzzle his face into your shoulder. “Yeah yeah… I’m going to sleep.” You said simply, but a little smiled was plastered on your lips as you slowly dozed off. “Night pretty…” jinshi mumbled, kissing their neck as he slowly dozed off. “M’ I love you…” jinshi said quietly, not even to be heard by you.

[literallypyro]

How about a scenario where all of the mercs react to you being in a coma/waking up from a coma? I'm in the mood for angst!

(insert that one scene from the princess and the frog when prince navine and his servant accept the deal with Dr Facilier)

Also.... LOKI PFP SPOTTED‼️🫵

This can be read as platonic or pre-relationship for any of them!

I'm honestly excited to write this one! I hope you enjoy!

I will wait for you

They never expected it. They didn't know about the enemy Redmond had made in the process of trying to take down his brother. None of them knew who they were, and none of them even noticed something was wrong until they had seen the shadow sneaking away from their base.

Nothing was missing, at least they couldn't find any evidence of anything missing. Everyone was suspicious, some more than others. However, with nothing evidently wrong, nobody did anything.

The moment they realized the figure wrapped in the darkness of night had nearly doomed them was in the middle of battle. You had been shot. When you crumpled to the ground instead of getting sent to the respawn room, your team panicked.

The BLU team almost didn't listen until their Heavy— the one who had shot you— forced them to stop firing.

It seemed as if your body knew something happened to the respawn room. It clung to consciousness, but it was quickly getting worse.

Your vision was blurred and you could barely process anything you heard.

"What the hell happened?" You could hear Scout with the most distraught tone he ever had.

"They should have respawned by now!" Soldier shouted with an uncharacteristic amount of worry.

"You don't think I know that?" Medic hissed with a venomous tone. You could see him kneeling over you, blocking out the sun and making it only slightly easier for you to see. "Ach, this does not look good. Someone carry them to the med bay. I need to go prepare my things."

°•'~ᴗ͈_ᴗ͈~`•°

Medic rushed off to the med bay with a look of fearful urgency on his face. No one had ever seen him sprint quite like he did then. Scout was the one to pick you up and follow right behind Medic, an obvious choice because he could get you there the fastest.

The entire team could feel a weight in their hearts. For the first time in a long time, everyone grasped how mortal you were, and none of them liked it.

Medic wouldn't let anyone in the room while he operated on you. He needed to be completely alone. He needed to concentrate fully. He spent hours removing the bullets. He was more stressed than ever when his medigun could only patch up the holes but not bring you back to normal.

°•'~ᴗ͈_ᴗ͈~`•°

The team could barely look at you at first while you were hooked up to all those machines. It had been so long since any of them had gotten this close to death.

Sniper felt as if his lungs wanted to quit when he saw you. He could only tilt his hat to hide his face and leave the room. He knew others would stay there with you while he processed everything. He could barely process the emotions he had. They were so strong he physically felt them. He spent a lot of time watching Scout when the little ball of angered grief was outside.

Scout felt a surge of anger when he saw you. The kind of anger that makes your organs feel too big to fit in your body. The kind of anger that can only be let out through violence of some sort. Running like he was chasing that bitch who broke the respawn machine, breaking something, using Heavy's punching bag, you name it. Engineer even gave him some old useless machines to break with his bat.

Speaking of Engineer, he seemed to be taking it relatively well on the outside. On the inside, though, he wasn't taking it well at all. He lost all motivation to work on his machines. He turned all of his attention to the respawn machine. He spent many sleepless nights looking for what was wrong with it. When he finally fixed it, he spent a good portion of his time drinking with Demoman or asking for updates on you.

Demoman was one of the people the rest of the team went to when they needed comfort. Although he was usually teetering on the edge of being blackout drunk, he always wanted to help his teammates settle their minds. Although he didn't feel very optimistic, he would spend time thinking of good things to help the others.

Heavy was another one people went to when they needed reassurance. He was one of the people handling it the best. He had seen tragedy and hardship his whole life, and while he was still worried sick, he knew how to get through it. He helped the others and gave them some genuinely useful coping methods that fit for each of them. He also asked for constant updates on any progress you made and used any good news to help the team feel better.

Spy was seen even less than before. He didn't let it show around anyone else, but he was one of the ones taking it the hardest. He was going through his packs of cigarettes faster than ever before, and would have three or four glasses of whiskey rather than the one, maybe two that was normal for him. He did the bare minimum to take care of himself, and sometimes, not even that much.

Pyro was also hit devastatingly hard by the situation. They often dissociated. Their most common state was sitting completely still and staring at nothing. Their breathing was barely visible, their chest barely moving from how shallow and slow it was. It was almost impossible to break them out of it, their name having to be called several times before they turned their head towards the source. Heavy nearly had to force feed them just to make sure they were eating.

Soldier was only somewhat himself. When he wasn't standing guard at the door, he was pestering the others to try and find who sabotaged the respawn machine or just sitting in his room and trying to process his emotions. He was actually surprisingly good at handling the emotions of sadness and grief. He may not be smart by anyone's standards, but he actually has a specific type of emotional intelligence that not many quite understand, which helped him a lot while you were in a coma.

If it weren't on Medic's shoulders to keep you alive and heal you, he would be a complete wreck. When he wasn't changing your IV bags, checking your vitals, and maintaining everything you were hooked up to, he was searching for some miraculous cure for your situation. Papers, books, and personal experiments littered his desk. He was rarely seen doing anything but working. He had to fix this.

Nobody wanted to admit it out loud, but they were losing hope after several months of nothing. They all felt the weight of your absence in their daily activities. The base was unusually quiet all the time. The team rarely had the energy to manage anything above a whisper or a mumble.

°•'~ᴗ͈_ᴗ͈~`•°

"Whuh...?"

Scout was the first to find out when he came to check on you. He ran through the halls, shouting of your return to consciousness like Paul Revere. A few of them almost didn't believe him. However, they couldn't deny how all the anger he had was gone and was replaced by subtle tears in the waterlines of his eyes.

The team burst into the room to find you talking with a shaken Medic.

Soldier was the first to step forward, falling back into his usual personality. "How DARE you scare us like that, maggot? The team was falling apart! I've never seen such a sorry display from what is supposed to be an elite group of mercenaries!" Heavy put a hand on Soldier's shoulder to calm him down.

Pyro had to be reminded that you weren't fully better yet so they wouldn't crush you with a hug. You could feel them shaking and hear their sobs finally come out after so long of being completely static.

Scout wiped his eyes, laughing slightly at himself. "Look at me, dude. You got me crying like I ain't done since I was a little kid! Man, I'm just glad you're back."

Some of the team— Sniper, Demoman, Spy, Engineer, Heavy, and Medic— stayed silent and let the others talk to you first. They had the patience. They knew you would still be there when the others were done indirectly fighting for your attention.

It took a little over an hour for them to relax and let the others have their turn to talk to you.

Demoman seemed to breathe easier than he ever had before. "I tried to keep the team morale up, but I don't think I did a very good job. They'll be feeling a lot better now that you're awake. I know I am." His voice shook slightly as if happy sobs were fighting tooth and nail to be set free.

Engineer place a hand on your shoulder. His goggles were gone, and you could see how he was tearing up similarly to Scout. "I damn near can't believe my eyes. I was starting to think you wouldn't pull through. Maybe when you get to feeling better, you can come help me out in the workshop? I've fallen way behind."

Spy could barely even think of what to say. "Maybe now that you're getting better, things can return to normal." Though his words would seem underwhelming to anyone else, you knew him well enough to hear the hints of relief in his voice. You understood how he was and could hear how grateful he was that you pulled through.

Sniper had taken off his hat by this point, gripping it as if to ground himself in the moment. "We should probably work on your dodging skills, yeah?" Even though he didn't say much, you could feel the weight of his words. You could see how his face was lit up like it only did when he was completely filled with joy.

Heavy was quick to agree with him. "Da, team would be devastated if this repeated. We cannot express happiness enough you are better."

Medic waited until everyone left for his turn to speak with you. He sat down in a chair next to the hospital bed in which you laid. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and rested his elbows on his knees. The exhaustion he had was more than obvious. You could tell from the bags under his eyes that he worked tirelessly for you.

He looked up at you with furrowed brows and a weak smile. "You know... I don't think I have ever had a patient so difficult. It was challenging, but I... I'm glad I was able to help you."

"I think you need to rest." Your voice was soft and empathetic. You couldn't imagine how stressed he must have been. It was clearly enough to make him seem almost completely sane, after all. "Thank you so much for keeping me alive."

"You are right." He sighed and stood up with a stiffness in his bones. "I will check on you in the morning."

You smiled gently. "Sleep well."

[adoresia]

YOU MADE ME MALLEABLE : CHARACTER PROFILES

— TOLY HITS !!

SERIES M.LIST ᧔࿔᧓ MAIN M.LIST

Y/N :: emotionally detached from reality , ghosted your therapist , used to believe in soulmates but now you believe in nothing except caffeine and the dopamine hit from ignoring your feelings , balancing uni and work terribly , radio static , over sweetened coffee , headphones at full volume , spontaneous side quests in the middle of the night , worn out hoodies , karaoke at 2am , collecting weird flyers and stickers , forgetting things on purpose

NAGI SEISHIRO :: skips half his classes but somehow still passes , sleeps like its a sport , always has snacks , casually emotionally unavailable in the way that makes people fall for him , video games at 3am , deadpan one-liners that accidentally hit too hard , shrugs in place of apologies , will ghost you and ask if you’re mad three days later , actually cares but doesn’t know how to show it

REO MIKAGE :: looks expensive because he is , says hes emotionally stable but has cried during a business pitch , lives off validation from nagi and overpriced matcha , very unhinged and gives into you easily

CHIGIRI HYOMA :: your emergency contact and only source of rational thought , late night drives in silence , says ‘your better than this’ while passing you a drink , swears up and down that he doesn’t care but memorised your schedule anyways , biggest pretty boy rights advocate , knows everyones intentions with you but you never want to listen , wants better for you and tells you to stop playing people like you don’t care

ANRI TERIERI :: emotionally intelligent but like in a deeply concerning way , tells you the truth even when it ruins your week , graphic tees with existential slogans , works the same shitty job as you but never ever complains , would never hurt a fly , quietly knows everything

KARASU TABITO :: knows you dont see him more than what he is but wont stop trying anyway , lingers in doorways like a question waiting to be answered , shows up unannounced and overstays , gentleman but cheeky , voice note philosopher who overthinks your silence; but in silence , buys you food in an attempt to figure out more about your past , everybody can see how badly he wants you but you dont want it back , trapped between a friend and something more , caught in the drag of unrequited fixation , knows about all the guys you’ve been around with but still tries anyways

BEHIND THE SCENES :: 🎬

First day of the semester yay lets get drunk!!! 😊😊😊😊 - y/n

security cameras caught them running down the street without shoes on uh oh

karasu was following after them in his car (he almost ran them over)

people actually buy from reo believe it or not (the rich are unfortunately getting richer your so right karasu 💔💔💔

Nagi lives of mountain dew can you tell? it gives him energy + hydrates + nourishing (according to him) so what more does he need?

he spills some into choki’s plant pot and then wonders why it’s dying

Reo has to water it for him because he’s so silly

Reo also bought nagi all his followers but like some of them are actually from streaming but theyre still paid to watch… he doesnt really care though but for Reo its income for nagi so #winwin

Reo pays for everything as you may have guessed

karasu stop being a beg challenge failed sorry hes probably ooc actually idc

anri is a year above them btw

TAGLIST ;; 13/50

⤷ @s6rine @pumpkintoad @howtfuspellgorjous @kiss-my-asscheeks @masterrbaiter @matchaveins @andysdrafts @kaalwanan @jellychee @peaktora @vinzcoke @tlissablr @soph1sticatedly

a/n :: hi lina if you are reading this i stole the ‘why is he lying’ sticker from you please dont punch me and punch me and punch me

[rottedraptor]

yappertron coming through.

okay, so, as much as I’m genuinely so excited for this arc and how it’ll play out, the way they’re handling Puzzles and WPNZ’s characters both intrigue me and confuse me. Let’s start with Puzzles.

-

Up until now, Puzzles is known for being a manipulative and self absorbed guy who doesn’t exactly care about others. The ending of the newest episode ‘A VERY unlikely friendship.’ though adds something new onto his character.

He looks almost sad, like he’s having a second thought on something. It almost feels like Puzzles is having doubts on this entire plan and might be wanting to call it quits. Meggy mentions in the phone call that she’s only helping him out because Leggy still believes in him, this clearly gets to Puzzles as he looks at his makeshift Leggy plush with a sad look.

I feel like now being aware that there’s someone who believes he can be better, someone who wants him to be better and is willing to help him, it’s making him have his doubts about going through with his plan. If he’s actually thinking about stopping this whole thing, I wonder how it’ll play out with Toomp and WPNZ.

Now, let’s move onto WPNZ.

-

In this same exact video, WPNZ has this small moment where he admits he’s genuinely proud of all his kids, seemingly a bit saddened about the fall out with his family from SOTC.

I find this scene incredibly interesting because this implies that WPNZ has some sort of care about those kids, but he just cannot understand how be an actual parent and understand that he went too hard on them. There’s also that moment in the last episode ‘PrisonVision’ where he looks to be hesitant on erasing his memories of his family when Puzzles offers that.

Now, does he really regret all his actions? We’ll have to figure that out with later videos depending on what they’ll do, but i feel like they’re hinting at WPNZ having certain regrets about what happened in SOTC. with these little emotional moments.

I honestly feel like WPNZ does care about them a little bit, but he has no idea how to be a proper parent to them, he doesn’t know what a father should do. His idea of parenting was most likely teaching them to be like him, deadly assassins. He just can’t get it through his head that you aren’t supposed to teach children that, especially pushing them into a dangerous mission they clearly aren’t ready for.

-

Being clear here that I DO NOT think these two need a speedy redemption at all. Do I think redemption is possible? Yes, I do think that there’s a very slim chance that they could change, especially with these small implications they’ve been putting in recent videos.

I just would prefer it if they did it slowly, showing these characters improve over time and not immediately fix them. Puzzles and WPNZ are both flawed characters, and I mean EXTREMELY FLAWED, so if they do make the decision to reform these characters, they cannot rush that.

-

Honestly? I think Toomp is the big bad of this arc here. Puzzles and WPNZ are good threats, sure, but I’m getting the feeling that Toomp is a lot more of a bigger problem than he’s letting on. Think about it.

He’s JUST gotten introduced last video and we know that he’s extremely dangerous to the point where they had to create a NEW NUMBER for all the crimes he’s committed, and he’s also described as a walking weapon, similar to WPNZ. In the most recent episode we see more of Toomp.

He has a specific interest in WPNZ (he doesn’t have a good relationship with Puzzles at all.) as he stares at him, tries to sneak up on him twice, and eventually drags him off into a building, at night, in the junkyard and fixes him. But what weirded me out is that Toomp used a gear made from his own body and infused it into WPNZ. Im getting the feeling that it’ll affect WPNZ in some way, like what if Toomp can control him through that? What if he makes him more powerful / unstable than he already is? Theres a bunch of possibilities and none of them seem like really good outcomes. I think Toomp has his own agenda, it’s just a matter of when he is going to start it.

-

If you’ve made it here, thanks for reading my little post! This is all just speculation so I could very well be proven wrong with later videos. ^_^

[liliesyearn]

“Just a piercing”

Snotlout x Reader

Summary: Keeping the tradition of your home island was absolutely all your responsibility, yours and your best friend, Indigo.

Berk was still trying to figure out how piercings were helping them, they couldn't capture the essence of beautiful metal permanent moles all over your face, and other parts of their body if they were brave enough.

That's why you were confused when Snotlout asked you for urgently pierce him tomorrow.

Tags: fluff, comfort, silly snotlout, kinda modern... I needed a kitchen

A/N: hiii this is my first time EVER writing something like this, i really mean it; also this has a LOT of lore drop, I just wanted to set a consistent history to make this a series okayy sorry if is kinda long... english isn't my first language tho so it can be a little messed up but I hope y'all understand the vibe!!! it's all for the vibe!!! pluss this is actually one scene of my oc but i preferred posting it like this tehee

“What are you doing here?” Your best friend and roomie curious asked "This isn't too early for you?"

"Snotlout wants a piercing"

Indigo stopped.

"A... Piercing?"

You cannot tell if she was making fun or if she was really asking "What's wrong?" You asked with a fake confusion, even if you knew where she was going.

"There's no way Snotlout gets a piercing" she laughed.

"I know he won't" You said "But he was desperate so I told him to come"

"Yes" She said "Just that and has nothing to do with the little crush you have with him"

Well maybe Indigo was kinda right...

When you came to Berk after the accident of your homeisland, you never felt that needing of being a real viking or whatever they called it.

Having to make your own life with your almost sister was hard but at least both of you had the Hiccup's help, the only guy in Berk that was your friend.

Not all the guys were mean with Indigo and you, but you never had that bond they could, and not going to the academy didn't help as well.

Just some random conversations with some of them when you went to the village were all your relation with the other guys.

Even so, you thought Snotlout was cute, the island constantly talked about how annoying was but something in yourself thought that he cannot be that bad.

Besides you will be a hypocrite knowing that Astrid didn't like you as well even if she didn't know you.

You understood her though, Indigo and you were some of a jobless who did absolutely nothing and she does everything.

You both didn't see each other but when you do, you don't expect her to be nice to us, you even can swear that she and Indigo had some kind of tension but maybe that was you being delusional.

And about being delusional, that was exactly what you were doing while Indigo was waiting for you to answer her.

"Shut up" You said trying to hide that you maybe were a little bit annoyed by her jokes "You are going to sell your crafts and stuff today?"

"Yeah, someone has to bring food to this house" she joked "Whatever you say" You stand up "I'm going with you"

"You don't have to wait for someone, you do?" She lifted one of her eyebrows.

"He's supposed to come later" You said.

"Let's go then"

Both of you went to the heart of the village.

You constantly get lost in your thoughts thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

"Look who is there" Indigo interrupted your thoughts about nothing while she was again, making fun of you.

You smiled looking at Snotlout near, you weren't annoyed with having to stay together today, you were actually curious about him. It seemed like he realized that you both were directly staring at him so he walked to you.

"You are not supposed to be in my house? like... right now?" You moved your head a bit while you were smiled.

Annoying people was something you really enjoyed, even more if the people get successfully annoyed.

Sadly, the reaction that everyone would expect from Snotlout was not the one you get.

"I'm sorry, princess" He said fastly as if you were actually mad "I was trying to get something for you, you had breakfast?"

You weren't the one amused there, Indigo was even kinda scared and she had to do something about it.

"I heard well?"

Immediately she said that, the one who was scared was Snotlout, who fixed his posture and cleared his throat.

"Since when are you here?" He frowned.

"Since forever, dumbass" Indigo rolled her eyes.

"You don't have stuff to sell or something?"

"Since when have you guys been like this?" You interrupted their little fight.

"Sorry" Indigo said first "Just seeing him makes me mad"

"Hey, I'm still here, dork" Snotlout said notably annoyed.

"I know and I'm done, I prefer not being here than still listening your voice" She smiled victorious at seeing the mad expression in Snotlout's face, she grabbed her basket and looked at you "I hope you finish soon, I don't want to get home and see this stupid guy in" she said smiling looking at the annoyed Snotlout's face again.

"Yeah, I hope so" You softly laughed "Good luck with your stuff"

"I think I'm going with Hiccup later so you can go there" She said while she was leaving you both alone.

"I really can't understand how you can stand her" Snotlout said while he was looking in the direction she walked.

"I'm sure she thinks exactly the same about you" you joked "I didn't get my breakfast"

Snotlout shook his head, like he just got a thought or something "Wait here" he said and left running.

He didn't take long to come back with a slice of pie.

"Do you like blueberries?" He asked with those big eyes.

"I like them" you smiled "You want to go to my place now?" You stopped when you saw his face so you quickly finished your phrase "You know, for the piercing and so"

"Yeah" he looked at the floor "I- I think we should go too"

You saw Snotlout was surprised when he saw your home "You actually live here?" He said.

"Yeah, actually" you made fun of him "Is ugly, right?"

"It's cute I mean, cool it looks cool" he corrected himself "I've never been here"

"Maybe it's because I've never invited you but I don't know" you smiled giving him a little punch over his shoulder "Please come in"

Both entered your home, Snotlout was scanning everything he can. ”You really live alone here?" He asked while he was still watching inside.

"Yup" you said walking to your small kitchen.

"That sounds awesome" he answered "Sometimes I wish I could live alone too" he said and then stopped, like he said something that shouldn't be said" "What are you doing?" He switched the topic.

"I'm cleaning your piercing" your voice was slowly getting sweeter, you didn't know you could do that.

"Oh, true..." Snotlout had a reality check. He walked near you, wanting to watch what you were doing "That really hurts?"

He was being unnecessarily cute.

"Are you scared?" You smiled teasing him.

"Of course I don't" He quickly said raising his tone "Sorry, but I mean it really hurts?"

It wasn't hard to tell that he was scared.

You turned off the stove and served the water in two cups that you were holding now, you turned and walked to the table and did a sign for Snotlout to join you.

"I hope you like tea" You approached him one cup while you finally got to eat that pie.

"Thanks" Snotlout took the cup and sipped the tea you gave him. "Why do you want to get pierced?" You asked.

"What do you mean?" His relaxed posture tensed again.

"I know we aren't that close but you don't see the type of guy that..." "...that" Snotlout said waiting for your response. "That suddenly walks in with a brand new piercing" you quickly said "I don't know what you are trying but whatever it is I'm the only one who's going to hear, you know?"

He thought about it for a second and after a sigh, he said "It's for Astrid"

"Astrid?"

You've been waiting for everything for him to say but that?

"Why is Astrid related to this?"

"Well something like that..."

"I need you to justify your answer, Snotlout"

"Okay maybe we had an argument"

"You had an argument with, Astrid?"

His answers were getting worse.

"No but we are okay, I think so..."

"I still can't understand what this has to do with me and the piercings"

"Okay let me explain" he cleared his throat "We were training and someone started to say how ugly piercings are" he shook his head "I said they were cool and then Astrid said they are painfully awful, I told her she was wrong she was still saying that so I told her I'm going to get one to show her how cool they seem, really thought I was playing but look, I'm here"

"You really argued with Astrid for all that?" You were still shocked.

You thought you were impulsive but maybe you find a good opponent.

"Yeah, whatever" he drank some of his tea "So it hurts?"

"You literally could said anything and you choosed to get a piercing?"

"Yeah, that happened" he was distracted.

"Why?"

"I wanted to defend you" he drank again his tea.

"And how do you know she was talking about my piercings and not Indigo's one?"

Snotlout choked and after recovering he said "Don't say that again ever please, I'm having enough with having a hole in my face for ever" he stopped looking at you "No offense tho"

" "Whatever" you rolled your eyes "You are dumb"

"Yeah... I don't know why I said that to be honest" he scratched his head "Maybe it's because I'm a gentleman and stuff"

You couldn't help bursting in a laugh "For sure is that" you finished eating your pie and said "Thanks for defending me"

"it's okay" he smiled victorious "I know we don't talk that much but..."

"If you say something again about how gentleman you are I'm gonna cry, I mean it" you interrupted him.

"I get annoyed when they talk about you guys, I think it's just that" he started to get nervous and stopped looking at you "I mean, even if we are not that close and even if I can't stand Indigo..." He paused to frown at that thought "I think you are nice, both of you, whatever"

"That's cute" you said "Maybe I get wrong and you really are a gentleman" you wink at him and took the cups going to the kitchen.

"You really think so?" He looked at you, you can even swear his eyes were shining and you didn't have the heart to say you were joking a little bit.

"Of course I do, I never lie" you walked to the stairs where your bed was while Snotlout was following you.

"Well, I'm sure you have said to indigo she's a good person at least once" he laughed.

"You are soo funny, Snotlout" you rolled your eyes. "Yes I am" he smiled

"Is not dangerous like... Getting pierced in your bed?"

"Snotlout you are definitely not getting pierced"

"What?" He looked more scared than disappointed.

You sit in the bed and tapped next so he can sit with you.

Then you looked at him, taking his helmet of and playing with it said "You know we are alone, right?" You took a pause "No one is here, nobody else can listen or see us right now"

"...Yes" he said all confused without knowing what were you trying to say.

"You are freaking scared, Snotlout, you don't want to do this and me either"

"Oh, come on" he whimpered "I promised to show it tomorrow" he pouted.

"It's just a piercing"

"But Astrid is going to keep saying things about you"

"I don't care about whatever she says"

"But I do" he stated "She's my friend but she's getting annoying, I think I'm starting to stand better Indigo than her" he joked "But being real, I would rather she being mean to me than she being with you"

"I doubt she is your friend and you didn't have a crush on her or something? Like I appreciate this so much but you really don't have to do all this for me"

"You doubt she's my friend?"

"Anyways, I knew you were mulish..." You stand up and look for something "So I made something for you"

"For me?"

You came back to your bed and showed him what you had in your hands.

"It's a fake piercing, Hiccup helped me with it yesterday" you gave it to him "it's cool, right?"

"Wow" he turned his tone "That's awesome"

"I know right? I really don't know how I made all that in one day, Hiccup really helped me so much"

"You did all this just for me?" He was still shocked, admiring the little piece in his hands"

"Yes, this is the first time I've done something like this"

"You are amazing"

"It's n-nothing" you suddenly get nervous, you didn't expect him to react like this.

"Even if you didn't knew what this was for you did it for me" He was still amused.

You nodded "Yeah... I thought it was rare all this situation so I made a plan b in the case you get scared with the needle, so"

"Needle?" Hid voice was shaking.

"Well, yes dumbass, how do you think piercings are done?"

"Piercing stuff? I don't know, whatever" he rolled his eyes.

"Silly" you said.

"How do you feel living alone" he suddenly switched the topic.

"I think I finally got used to it" You lay down "I know It can sound kinda rude but I think I finally get over all my parents thing"

"Oh"

You always forget that topic was a little bit awkward so you switched the topic.

"And how are you?"

Snotlout also laid down with you and looked at the ceiling.

"Good, of course I'm good" he quickly said.

"I mean about your parents, fool"

"Well... I think" he took a pause "I actually don't know" he was still thinking"I don't usually think about it"

Maybe Snotlout was lying, maybe he thinks about it all his nights and some parts of the day but he wasn't going to admit it, at least not now.

"Don't think about it then" you said "Parents are fucked up, right?"

"Yeah... Sort of" he smiled "it's been a while since I had something like this" he confessed.

"Something like what?" You looked at him.

"I don't know, don't pressure me"

You laughed at his reaction "You are not that bad as they say, you know"

Snotlout looked you back "Do you think so?"

You smiled "Yeah, I think we should go out more" you suddenly get nervous so you had to add something "I m-mean to talk and stuff... You know"

Snotlout was getting nervous as well "Y-yeah we should" he took a pause "I think it's cute... I mean great, whatever"

Magically you both were closer, the atmosphere was completely different as the one you maybe had one day or maybe a week before.

"Yeah I think the same" you said "You think it would be unprofessional if I get sleep with my not-client? I think I can fall asleep right now"

Snotlout sighed with relief "Oh Thor, I thought I was the only one" he smiled "I think was the tea"

"Sure" you said while both of closed your eyes.

Getting comfortable, maybe friendly cuddling...

[greenqueenhightower]

Your Margaret Beaufort and Alicent Hightower post is perfect! They parallel each other greatly. I also think her relationship with Criston in F&B is like Margaret with Jasper Tudor.

Jasper Tudor was the uncle of Henry VII, an important member of Tudor faction like Criston was of Targtowers. Criston was the kingmaker and a trusted confidant of the greens. Maggy and Jasper in the white princess mirror book Alicent and Criston. Mutual respect and courtly love bound by common enemy and goal. And they both succeeded albeit for a short time.

Maggy and Jasper walked so Alicole could run!

Heyyy thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it 💚

I think you are right about Criston and Alicent mirroring Jasper and Margaret's relationship in the book, but also in the show. I still can't get over how many times Margaret and Jasper referred to Henry VII as "our son" and "our child" in The White Queen/The White Princess. It's insane that Henry VII saw Jasper as his real father, the only father he'd ever known who took care of him and taught him everything he needed to know to be King. All these scenes are reminiscent of Criston training Aegon and Aemond with the sword, all his "fatherly" moments when looking for Aegon all over KL with Aemond in tow, his overprotectiveness over Alicent and the kids at Driftmark, standing beside Aegon at his coronation, and then how he blames himself for B&C in S2 and how he goes after a burned Aegon to return all that's left of him back to Alicent. Criston is the father of Alicent's kids because he was there to see them grow up, he spent time with them, bonded with them, and undoubtedly, they look up to him as a father figure.

And then there's Henry's side-eye and his hostility towards his mother Margaret after he realizes that she and his uncle Jasper harbor feelings for each other. He openly confronts her about it, reminds her that she is married, and then marries Jasper off to Catherine Woodville to keep both of them in check and spite his mom. It is later revealed that Margaret and Jasper had a fling in the past and remained secretive about it for decades, and Criston and Alicent secretly pursue their relationship in S2. I mean, if ever Aegon, or Aemond (or maybe Daeron) find out about it, their reaction could be similar to Henry's (which will make the parallels all the more juicy).

And yes, both couples rely on each other to further advance their political goals and safeguard the position of their "son" as a rightful King and ruler. The angst of it all, the courtly romance of Jasper worshipping Margaret as the most devout, clean, pure, Christian woman he's ever met and Criston calling Alicent his beacon, his literal guardian angel who saved his life and gave it a whole new meaning, make them so similar and now I will not stop thinking about them as mirrors of each other.

[syndrossi]

Help, they're too cute, all of them! (Not me writing more of Daemon-wakes-up-before-the-twins-are-born!AU because the current scene in Resonant is kicking my ass...)

Daemon bundled them into thick furs, taking care to make sure their heads and ears were covered, until only small wisps of black and silver escaped along the sides of their round little faces. He grinned at the sight of them swallowed by the furs, nearly spherical in either arm, and crept out with his bounty, both utterly silent for the entirety of the walk to Caraxes’s enclosure. There was a trace of warmth in the light breeze, a promise of spring, and the air lacked the bite of months before. When spring came, Daemon guessed, it would come quickly to melt the snow that remained on the ground. Caraxes snuffed at his sons, and they both happily babbled at the dragon for the few minutes Daemon left them on the ground beside him to fetch his own personal saddle, as he’d taken to calling it. He secured them to it first before fastening the straps around his own chest, and when he was finished, he had one on either side of his back, peering over his shoulders.

[quadrantadvisor]

Sometimes I still think about The Owl House Gang all trying to watch ATLA together but then Zuko's backstory in The Storm retraumatizes Hunter so bad they have to stop

[pagesofkenna]

fantasy novel wip has officially crossed the 10k mark since i started the new draft with the new outline last month. gotten less writing done than i would have wished but when i am able to sit down to write i'm getting a lot more done than i had previously.

[mercurymacaroons]

woagh 2 posts in one day

[jupitermelichios]

every time I watch a DCEU movie I think "that's it, that's the worst superhero movie", and then they go and release another one

in unrelated news, the Ezra Miller Flash movie is fascinatingly terrible in ways I don't think anyone could have predicted, including looking like someone tried to make an FMV superhero game for the xbox 360.

to give it its dues, I didn't hate the experience of watching it as much as I hated watching the snyder cut, but that's mostly because the snyder cut is so slow i could physically feel myself aging as I watched it. flash is unquestionably a worse movie than the snyder cut, in almost every possible regard, but I don't feel like I've lost several years from my lifespan just by watching it, so good job Andy Muschietti. You managed to make a film that's less than 4 hours long.

also they put cgi christopher reeve in this movie against the express wishes of both him and his estate, and I hope every single person involved in making that decision steps barefoot into dogshit.

[ghwosty]

realizing the mood/pace of the sex scene I've written doesn't match the overall tone or context of the plot up until that point and having to rewrite a completely different sex scene

[elytrafemme]

ok i need to be very kind to myself and acknowledge that i had a good day regardless of how it ended but i did find out that my other best friend (no.4) is asking someone out meaning nearly every person i know is either at that stage or in a relationship and i’m wondering at what point do i start ramping up my insanity in hopes of finding any kind of love

[pencil-n-pen]

ALL I DO IS TRY, TRY, TRY

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

post prison! spencer x genius fem! reader

masterlist | ko-fi | next

summary: all your life, you’ve been second-best. Even now that you’ve been chosen to be an agent of the BAU, you’re just a replacement for Spencer Reid. What could change now that’s he’s out?

cw: there is a bit of an age gap, i imagined reader in her early to mid 20’s, nevermind how it isn’t accurate for working at FBI. this is a criminal minds fic, so there are graphic depictions of violence, as well as implied/referenced child neglect/abuse in readers childhood, reader is somewhat a genius

tropes/tags: slowburn on readers end, Spencer is flirting from the beginning, HURT/COMFORT, angst, bit of a sick fic in one scene, bit of soft dom! spencer as a treat

a/n : this came to me in a prophecy. full disclosure i haven’t actually seen the prison arc yet so if there’s any inaccuracies shhhhhh look at the fluff

also !! this is a LOOOOONG one. strap yourselves in. grab snacks and drinks

slipped in some very slight father figure Hotch bc that’s my crack

title taken from Mirrorball by Taylor Swift

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Spencer Reid is absolutely nothing like you’d thought he’d be.

From how the team talked about him, you’d been expecting a short, slight man. Someone quiet and meek and non-threatening.

And Dr. (Agent?) Reid was quiet. But not in the don’t-notice-me way, but in the I-know-what-I’m-doing-and-don’t-need-to-say-it way. He quietly commanded attention and respect. One look at the man told you he was not somebody to fuck with.

He was also really, really, really hot.

It was unfortunate and difficult, truly, because he’s your senior agent, someone who’s got more than a few years on you in both field experience and general age. He’s a genius- insanely good at what he does and there’s no refuting that.

But most of all, he’s kind and respectful and just genuinely a good person. And also good looking. Did you mention that yet?

He clicks seamlessly into place with the team in a way you’ve never managed to do in the time you’ve been with him. And after all, why would you? You’re just the rookie transfer with a bit higher than average IQ. Nothing to brag about. Nothing like Spencer.

You were a data analyst with the FBI before your boss told you: “The BAU is looking for a temporary genius. I put your name in the ring. Hotchner must’ve been impressed with something, cause he picked you. I know you’ve completed the training courses for their team, so pack your desk. You’ve got a new assignment.”

And just like that, every single one of your dreams came true. And then promptly burst into flames and burned to ashes when you realized what exactly your position on the team was: Temporary and replacing.

It makes sense, you guess. The team grew to rely on Reid’s quick wit and intellect. And beyond that, they’re an agent short. And you fit the bill well enough: swift and intelligent. Nothing more, nothing less. It became clear during the first few weeks that no one on the team had any intention of liking or particularly getting to know you beyond a professional capacity. And you get it, you really do. You don’t name the dog you’re gonna get rid of.

With the exception of Penelope. But you don’t think she has the ability to ignore someone without a clear reason.

So you did your job and you were good at it. Held the team at arm’s length even when they warmed up to you. Kept your head down, stuck to yourself. This way, it’s easier to stop yourself from leaning into JJ and Prentiss’s jokes, or to stamp down the glow in your chest from Hotch’s approval.

All of this hard work goes sailing straight out the window and spattering on the concrete below when Reid comes back. Because all it took was one case together- one. And then you’re hopelessly in love with the guy you replaced.

And it’s all kinds of terrible, because it’s Reid. He’s not only your coworker —soon to be ex, because now that he’s back you’ll be out of a job— but he’s also so incredibly out of your league it’s not even funny. But he keeps smiling at you and including you in conversations and saying hi to you and asking your opinion on things during cases as if you would have more to add than he does.

It’s very hard to keep him at arms length. And because Reid is Reid he drags everybody else over with him and then you’re bonding with a team you have a week left with, maybe two.

Spencer Reid has weaseled his way into your life one stupid smile at a time.

—

The case is going terribly.

What started as a run-of-the-mill serial killer case in some nowhere town turned into huge investigation because Spe— Reid figured out its relation to a cold case from a neighboring town decades prior. And then, to top everything off, just so happens to be near enough to your hometown that your mom saw you on the news when JJ was giving a statement.

And now she won’t stop calling.

Prior to this, you haven’t talked to your mom in about seven months. Now? She’s calling upwards of twelve times a day.

“Mom,” You say, tucked in one of the police stations back rooms, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m working, I can’t just come out to see you—“

“But you’ve never visited! And your finally in town, and—“

“I’m not in town, I’m a four hour drive away from town.”

A sigh crackles through the line, her voice tinny. “You know, your brother always made time to visit family, and your younger brothers—“

“Are younger than me and more successful, yes mom, I’ve heard it all before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to catch a serial killer.”

You snap the phone shut before she can protest, effectively ending the call. You sag against the wall, sighing deep and weary. Exhaustion clings to your bones. It’s not just your mom. This case, being physically close to your hometown, everything— it’s weighing you down. You spend more time in the hotel bed tossing and turning than sleeping.

Even Em— Prentiss had shot you look when you’d came in this morning- though jury’s still out about whether or not it was an are-you-okay look or a you-better-be-good-for-the-case look. You’re hoping it’s the former.

The room you’re in is empty- the precinct that called for the team went under renovation and remodeling last year, so some of the rooms have fallen into disuse, apparently. It’s dusty, and filled with boxes and papers and weirdly, one or two condom wrappers. You wish you were surprised.

Your phone has been put strongly on silent, and you’re not expecting anyone to find you for at least twenty minutes. Of course, you don’t need twenty minutes. You just need five.

You just need to collect yourself for a moment. A few minutes to breathe, to get your mom’s words and the unpleasant memories they bring out of your head; to will the shake out of your hands and the cold creeping in your lungs.

So when the door opens, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Spencer walks in, phone clasped in one hand and a worried expression on his face.

“We’re getting ready to give the profile.”

“Oh,” You peel yourself off the wall, discreetly wiping at your face. You hadn’t noticed the frustrated tears carving lines down your face, “Sorry, I’m coming.”

He frowns as you come closer, and panic begins to beat like a drum in your chest.

“Is Hotch upset? I just had to take a call, I thought it would—“

“Slow down,” He says, raising his hands. “Hotch isn’t upset. Is something wrong?”

“No,” You say quickly, too quickly, because his frown deepens.

“You’ve been taking a lot more calls recently and you’re always upset after they’re over. Is someone bothering you?”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “My mom. We’re a four hour drive away from my hometown. She saw me on the news when JJ gave her statement.”

Something flashes in his eyes when you say your mother, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“You don’t want to see her.”

He says it flat-toned and blank. Like it’s a fact.

It is a fact.

“No,” You confess, “I’ve never been close with my parents. I haven’t spoken to her beyond a text in years, and I haven’t texted her in months. Then she sees me on the news and I’m back on her radar again.”

You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, the folly of the disappointing daughter.”

He tilts his head, questioning. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a special agent. That’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not Doctor or Lawyer or C.E.O or anything else my brothers or cousins have made of themselves, so,” You shrug. “Disappointing.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Spencer says, a small curl to his lips, “You keep all of those stupid people safe by catching serial killers.”

“You’re a doctor. Did you just call yourself stupid?”

He shrugs, mimicking your earlier action. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face but he ducks down, catching it anyway.

“Hey,” He says, eyes catching yours, “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

You (hesitantly) look up to meet his gaze. “Thanks, Reid.”

His face does something weird. Contorts at the words, just for a second. Like he just bit into something sour.

And then it’s gone.

“Of course.”

—

For the rest of the case, everytime your phone rings, Spencer looks at you. You’re getting close to just throwing the damn thing off a roof, if it’ll convince him to stop looking at you like that. You don’t know what to do with it. The look he gives you tastes like worry, and you don’t know what to do about Spencer Reid worrying about you.

You never meet his gaze. You know he’s looking, but you never look back.

Finally, the case comes to an end. Actually, it goes out in a literal blaze of glory— the unsub lights his kill shed on fire.

All of it would have burned to ash if you hadn’t run into the structure and and snatched the murder weapon and the most damning pieces of evidence: the printed photographs the unsub took with the victims.

It’s a win because you saved the evidence.

It’s a loss because Hotch looks pissed while the paramedics check you over.

Well. You assume he looks pissed. You’re staring resolutely at your shoes.

Finally, the paramedic gives you the all clear —just some minor burns here and there, you got lucky— and you no longer have a human buffer and excuse to avoid talking.

The silence stretches out between you two. Eventually, you cave.

“Hotch, I’m sorry—“

He holds a hand up and you clamp your jaw shut.

“Did you not hear me give the order to stay back?”

“I just thought—“

“We are a team, agent. I need to be able to trust not only that you’re going to follow my orders but be able to work together with the team. Now, you’re not doing either of those things.”

You frown. “I do follow your orders.”

He sighs. “You didn’t today. And more importantly, you’re not acting like a member of this team. You don’t call for backup. You don’t ask for help. You do good profiling work, agent. But if you can’t work with this team then we might need to reconsider your position here.”

That… doesn’t make any sense.

Hotch catches the confusion on your face. “Something wrong, agent?”

“I just— I was under the impression that I would only be working with the team for a few more weeks…?”

Now it’s his turn to look confused. “You may have been hired at an inopportune time, and until the first year is over it is a probationary basis, but pending review, you are and always have been a permanent member of this unit.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t think you’d be staying for long.”

You shake your head, your world turned on its head.

He hums. “You should buy earplugs. Rossi snores.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“And agent?”

You look up.

“You did good work today. You have a team. Learn to use them.”

He walks away, leaving you to process this crisis-inducing information.

So. You’re not leaving the team. You’re a profiler. Forever. This is your job now.

So does that mean you weren’t replacing Spencer? So why were you hired? Anything you can do multiple people on the team can do better. Why would Hotch pick you?

You stare at the pavement, which gives you a perfect view to watch Spencer’s shoes walk into view and hear him settle next to you.

“You’re a little young to be having a mid-life crisis.”

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to respond, partly because you’re not sure what to say, but also, the length of his thigh is pressed against yours and it’s hard to think when he’s emanating warmth and you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how it would feel to touch, skin to skin.

“Well,” You croak, “I did just get some pretty big news.”

He leans back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Looking up at him was a mistake. Bathed in the glow of the ambulance and the light from the moon, you can see just how long his eyelashes are, and how his lips move when he says your name.

Oh shit.

“Sorry, what?”

His face twitches in a smile. “I asked if you were okay. You were staring.”

You flush from your neck to the tips of your ears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

See, he always does this. Most people would end the conversation there and move on. And that’s fine. It’s normal. But Spencer asks. Like he’s interested.

You shrug. “I thought… I thought I was leaving the team in a few weeks. Turns out i’m staying.”

He starts swinging his legs on the edge of the ambulance, though where his almost brush the ground, yours swing several inches above it. “Why did you think you were leaving?”

You laugh softly. “My boss told me the position was temporary. And in my excitement of getting it I may or may not have… not read the paperwork?”

He clicks his tongue. “Oh, honey.”

The tips of your ears burn. “I was excited!”

“To get a job staring at gruesome crime photos?”

“To help people.”

“What? Data analysis not helping people enough?”

“Do I even have to answer that?”

He snorts, his body shaking against yours. “You’re a consulting analyst. That’s the big leagues.”

Now it’s your turn to huff. “Is there a big leagues for data analysis?”

He leans his head down to look at you. “Well, maybe miss smarty-pants over here made a league of her own.”

The shade of red you turn must be visible, dark and bad lighting aside. “You have an IQ of 187. Can you really call me a smarty-pants?”

He tilts his head, giving you an assessing look. You recognize it. He gives case files the same look.

A faint shudder runs down the length of your spine at that precise, clinical gaze.

It should concern you, unnerve you.

It doesn’t.

“No, I’m positive. You’re a smarty-pants.”

You look away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

“Hey, no. Come on, you gotta own up to being a smarty-pants. Otherwise you ruin the effect.”

“Am I supposed to start wearing sweaters and Converse, then?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be owning the smarty-pants look.”

“Do we have to keep the smarty-pants thing going?”

“Took your mind off the burns, didn’t it?”

You blink, realizing that you haven’t noticed the dull sting of the minor burns littering your body for a few minutes now.

But that has less to do with Spencer speaking and more to do with the fact that he’s here. Touching you. If you focus really hard, you can feel the chords of muscle lining his arm.

“Uh,” You stutter, momentarily flabbergasted by the way he’s looking at you. Like it’s important to him— you not being in pain. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. Well. I feel them now.”

“Oh, shame. I guess we’ll just have to keep talking.”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Shouldn’t you be helping finish wrapping up the case?”

He shrugs. “I’m right where I want to be.”

That’s a decidedly very loaded statement that are not going to unpack.

You’re not going to unpack to jolt of pure electricity you feel from it, either.

—

You may or may not have lied about just how sick you were, exactly.

“You know,” Rossi says after you hack a cough into your elbow for what has to be the fiftieth time in as many minutes, “That’s starting to sound less like the plague and more like desperation.”

You sniff harshly, taking a swig of cough syrup and praying this isn’t the king with codeine in it. You didn’t read the label very well. “What do you mean?”

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. “He’s saying that most people on their veritable death/bed opt to sleep comfortably in their own beds in their own homes rather than on a plane to hunt down a violent killer.”

You think if your apartment— it’s cozy, at least, but still a glaring reminder of the reason you told Hotch you were fine to come in- loneliness.

You have heated blankets and warm lighting and books and tea —boxes and boxes of tea— and all manner of things that make you happy. But no amount of things can replace, tangible human connection.

You knew the ache of spending the day in your apartment would sting worse than the cold. Fever, Whatever you have.

“I’m thinking of a word,” JJ says, mock tapping her chin thoughtfully, “Starts with work, ends with holic.”

“I am not a workaholic,” you wheeze. “I am fine.”

“Yes,” Prentiss says, raising her other eyebrow. Oh no. Not the double eyebrow raise. “Because this is exactly what the picture of health looks like.”

To avoid answering, you take another swig of cough medicine.

“Just do you know,” Spencer says, “You’re about one tiny sip of that away from overdosing. I’d cool it on the cough syrup.”

“But I’m still coughing.”

“Have you given it any time to work?”

“It’s been thirty-ish minutes since I took the first dose.”

He levels you with a look at your usage of dose. “Why don’t you wait a little longer before committing suicide via shallow breathing and seizures.”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I know how to take care of myself when I’m sick.”

“Is your version of taking care of yourself just continuously taking medicine until the symptoms become bearable?”

“You’re un-bearable.” You snort at your play on words, but grow quiet because when you look up, the entire team is looking at you. “What?”

“You never joke.” JJ says.

“And I think I’ve heard you laugh exactly two times, and I’m pretty sure one of them was a sneeze.” Rossi says, a look of vague disbelief on his face.

You squirm in place. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Uh, yeah it is. You’re definitely too sick to be on a case if you’re laughing.”

“Come on, it was barely a chuckle—“

Spencer looks around. “Yeah, what’s the big deal? I’ve heard her laugh before.”

JJ and Prentiss snap their heads to him in tandem. “What?”

Now he looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“That’s cause you showed up late to the party,” Em- Prentiss says, “You didn’t meet her when she first came. She was all genius consulting data analyst.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius—“

“Yeah,” JJ chimes in, “I only ever saw her smile to be polite.”

“Wait,” Prentiss says, brows pinched, “You heard her laugh and you didn’t tell us? You knew we were trying to see who would make her break first.”

“You guys were trying to make me laugh? Is that what was happening all that time? I almost called Hotch like, thirty times because I was concerned for you guy’s mental wellbeing. I thought you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

JJ snorts. “Nope. Just tried to see if the rumors were true about all data analysts being robots.”

You cough into your elbow. “You guys make it seem like I was some sort of frigid bitch.”

“Frigid, yes. Bitch, no.”

“Hey!” You retort, then wince as the volume of your own voice makes your head pound harder and makes your throat sting worse, “I wasn’t that bad. Also, I was nervous! I’m the youngest person here by like, a long shot. I wanted to be professional.”

“I for one enjoyed it,” Rossi cuts in, “It was all blunt business. Straight to the point. No beating around the bush or gossiping. A few people here could learn a thing or two.”

“See?” You gesture. “Rossi agrees with me.”

Just about everyone on the plane gives you the exact same look. Hotch especially, who’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, looks troubled.

Once you land (an ordeal that normally doesn’t bother you, but today, had you worshipping the porcelain altar) Hotch pulls you aside.

“Agent,” He says before you climb into the car that’ll take you to the police precinct, “I can’t have an agent not at peak performance on this case.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re too sick to work this case—“

“No, no, I can work, I can do it—“

“—In the field. You’re working from the station until we wrap up. Understood?”

You sigh, knowing when you’re beat. “Understood.”

He gazes at you for a second. “You might want to call out of work entirely the next time you’re sick, you know. The less time you spend resting the longer it’ll take to get better. I expect to see you taking care of yourself at the precinct.”

You blink. “Are you… dad-ing me?”

He almost smiles. “Well, I am a father. It’s bound to come out sometimes.”

The joke soothes your concerns of him being upset with you (again.) You suppose it would’ve been warranted —Hotch never gets upset without a reason— but still. He’s the only one you occasionally struggle to read.

The good news is by the time you make it to the station, your medicine has kicked in.

The bad news is when you get to the station your medicine has kicked in.

“Spencer,” You say, spinning in a spinny chair and staring at his blurry face. “Did you know that elephants have prehensile—“

“Do not finish that sentence.” He says, glancing back at the team, all in various stages of concern, disgust, amusement, and annoyance. “Did you take non-drowsy cough medicine?”

“Yes! I didn’t want to be tired.”

He scrubs a tired hand down his face, then nudges a sealed water bottle across the table to you. “Drink that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But my throat hurts.”

“Drink it anyway.”

You snatch the water bottle, grumbling the whole time as you crack the seal and gulp down the water, not realizing how thirsty you were until this very second.

You lean your forehead on the table head still pounding from the pressure in your sinuses. You feel a prickle in the back of your neck, signifying that the team is still staring at you.

With great effort, you lift your head, tilting your chin up and trying to summon all the self confidence you don’t actually have.

“I am making a fool of myself. Please disregard my actions until I am no longer ill. This won’t happen again.”

Words are hard. Speaking is hard. With a groan, you drop your head back on your arm.

“Ah, there she is.”

“Knew that laugh had to be a fluke.”

“Cold medicine must be working.”

There are other mutterings about stubborn geniuses and workaholics and data analysis and Spencer staying at the station and—

You snap your head up. “I’m fine. I don’t need a baby-sitter. Spencer would be most useful in the field. He’s one of the best shot’s on the team.”

“And when it comes to needing a marksman I won’t hesitate to get him,” Hotch says, “But for now, I need my two geniuses to put their heads together to solve this case.”

Feeling cowed, you avoid Spencer’s gaze as the team files out of the room you’ve all set up in, instead grabbing a file from the center of the table. You really are being stupid. You should’ve stayed home, now you’re a liability, not to mention a walking biohazard. Fuck, why couldn’t you just think before you—

“I can hear you spiraling from over here.”

You lift your gaze, eyeing Spencer who hasn’t even put down the case file he’s reading.

You look back down. “I wasn’t spiraling.”

“You’re really going to lie to a profiler?”

“We’re both profilers.”

“Yeah, well, you have an obvious tell when you’re worrying about something.”

“I do not!”

You hear the quiet shuffling of papers.

A sigh leaves your lips, and you press the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I’m really sorry, Spe— Reid. I didn’t mean to drag you here with me.”

If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t give any indication of it.

“Who said anything about dragging?”

“I know you’re a germaphobe, and I’m a walking biohazard, and now you’re stuck here going over case files and, and I’m a liability right now—“

“Slow down,” He says, interrupting your slew of word vomit. His voice has dropped an octave, gaining a richer note. You should stop thinking about his voice. “I’m fine. You’re fine. The team is more worried than upset. You’re not the first person to come to work sick. And you won’t be the last.”

“They keep staring at me.”

“Because your current state and manner of behavior are disrupting their pre-conceived notions and set opinions of your character.”

You scrunch your nose. “Don’t get all clinical on me,”

You hear a small huff of laughter across the table. “I’ve come to work far worse than hopped up on cold medicine, believe me. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on working the case.”

Slowly, the itching under your skin settles, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat. Eventually, you peel your hands away from your face and do what he says.

Hours pass by in a blur of text and you and Spencer occasionally either bouncing ideas off each other or making small breakthroughs. Spencer handles the relay of information because you can’t really go more than three full sentences without hacking up a lung. Seriously, what is cough syrup good for?

Sometime past midday, you start flagging. The words start blending and smushing together and your head gets harder and harder to hold up. You’re jolting yourself back awake every five minutes, forcing your body to just bear through the illness for the sake of productivity. You got yourself into this mess, you deal with the consequences.

You’re just… so tired. Maybe you’ll close your eyes, just for a few minutes. To get energy. And then you can get back to the case.

Just for a few minutes.

—

“She out?”

“Like a light. Powered through for a lot longer than I expected. But dextromethorphan gets us all in the end.”

A low whistle. “Poor kid. The ‘proving yourself to the team’ phase is rough.”

A hum. “I think it’s more than that.”

A beat passes.

“You got her?”

“Yeah,” Something soft and good smelling, like pine and coffee and something almost rich settles over your shoulders, “Yeah, I got her.”

—

When you wake, your neck is sore but you’re not cold, which is strange considering you remember falling asleep in a table.

Oh god you fell asleep on the table.

You jackrabbit up in place, knees knocking against the underside of the table. Hissing in pain, you tug the warm thing further around your shoulders which is—

Holy fucking shit it’s Spencer’s sweater.

Said man is nowhere to be found, and the conference/briefing room you’re in is dark. Not only did someone turn the lights off (you’re pretty sure you can guess who) but it’s dark outside. Meaning you didn’t just take a short nap.

You slept the entire day away.

Cold dread seeps into your shoulders. “Oh my god I’m so fired. Oh shit. Fuck, Hotch is going to be so pissed—“

The door opens and you stand, whirling around to face the doorway and then instantly regretting it when spots dance across your vision and your head swims.

You stumble, grabbing the edge of the chair for support and squinting at the figure in the doorway.

“Hotch?”

“Nope,” Spencer’s voice rings out in the room, “Guess again.”

You groan, sinking down into the chair. “Am I fired?”

He snorts. “Seeing as Hotch bet that you’d fall asleep before dark, I’d say no.”

“He bet against me?”

“Actually, everyone else thought you’d only last an hour. He bet for four.”

“How long did you bet for?”

He sets a mug in front of you, steaming tea wafting up and warming your face. “Three hours. You metabolize cough syrup better than I thought.”

You take the mug in your hands, warming your fingers but not actually taking a sip. “Mmm. Told you I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t think that’s the brag you think it is.”

You chuckle, which quickly turns into a cough.

“Drink your tea,” He commands softly from across the table, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and papers spread about him.

You dutifully take a sip, something restless growing calm in the back of your skull.

You eye is forearms, hoping the look-over you’re giving them is subtle. (It probably isn’t, but come on. A button down with the sleeves rolled up while you’re wearing his sweater is practically sinful.)

“Do you… want the lights turned back on? I’m awake now, so.”

He flips over a piece of paper, then scribbles something on a sticky note. “You were sleeping. And you have a headache. I can see just fine.”

“My headache isn’t that bad, really, I’m fi—“

He levels you with a look, and you sink a little lower in your chair. “Do you at least want your sweater back?”

“No. Keep it.”

“Careful, maybe I’ll just keep it forever,” You joke.

“I’d be fine with that.”

What. The. Fuck.

You stand, pushing out the chair with a loud screech. “I’m just gonna— bathroom,” You splutter, your face blazing and stomach doing a gymnastics routine, “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Bye.”

You’re screaming internally the entire way to the bathroom, and once you get there, open-mouthed silent screaming in the privacy of a stall.

Because. He said. He didn’t even look up. He just. And he. Maybe he—

No, no, no. You are not about to entertain that notion. Not again. He was just being nice. That’s all. That’s all.

Collecting yourself takes about five more minutes, and then you’re walking back to the conference/briefing room when you realize you never took the damn sweater off. He watched you scramble out of that room to the bathroom he has to know you weren’t using, with his sweater on.

This is the end for you, then. That’s it. It’s over.

You mentally slap yourself. Get it together. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

You re-enter the room marginally calmer than you left it. You slide into your seat, sip your tea (that he made you!) and keep working on the case.

You pretend you can’t see him smirking from across the table.

—

The case doesn’t last too long. The team catches the guy in the act of beating his next victim. Thankfully, you manage to save the poor woman before he finishes his plan, and with being caught red-handed, it’s fairly open and shut. Case closed. Which is great, because you really aren’t sure how many more nights you can suffer through trying to sleep in the hotel bed.

You have this thing, when you’re sick. You can’t sleep anywhere but the couch. Your couch. You figured (apparently foolishly) that it wouldn’t be too bad, since the crux of the issue is that you hate sleeping in your bed when you’re sick, but no. You’d spent every night of the case tossing and turning and coughing yourself out. Your lungs were tired. Your body was tired. You were tired.

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you when you board the jet. “You haven’t been near-overdosing on cough syrup again have you?”

“No,” You grouse, rubbing your face with your hand. “I’m like, not even sick anymore. I just didn’t sleep well.” For several nights in a row.

“Mmm,” He hums, non-committal.

You practically collapse into your usual seat on the jet, hunching in yourself and attempting to make yourself comfortable in the seat.

You blink your eyes open when you feel the seat jostle next to you. “Reid?”

He’s already pulling out a book. “What?”

“This isn’t your seat.”

“We don’t have assigned seats.”

“No, but you always sit over there.”

“And now I’m sitting here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if you want to argue him on the point or not. You decide against it, because arguing will draw attention to the fact that you’re sitting next to each other having this conversation at all.

You settle back into your seat. “Whatever. Hope you’re not a loud page-turner.”

“Is that even a thing?”

You shrug, eyes falling shut again.

After a few minutes, you shiver, unconsciously scooting closer to the warmth of the person next to you, your sleep-addled brain barely processing the fact that it’s Spencer you’re pressing your shoulder into.

He repositions next to you, shoulder jostling you. You grumble, dropping your head to his arm. Now much closer, your nose fills with the smooth, all encompassing smell that is Spencer.

The dull chatter that fills the plane, the warm body next to yours, and, despite your earlier complaints, the quiet, gentle page-turning lull you into an easy sleep.

—

“Are you drugging her or something? I’ve seen her sleep more this week than I have in her entire time on the team.”

“The only drugging she’s done was voluntary.”

“Her neck is going to be so sore when she wakes up.”

“Sore? Mine would be broken if I did that.”

“Ah, the joys of youth.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”

“Emily don’t start—“

“Just saying, Spence. HR would get a kick out of this.”

“Not like it never happens. We’ve all walked into supply closet B at the wrong time.”

“This isn’t meaningless sex though.”

“…No.”

Silence.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A deft hand re-adjusts your head to a more comfortable angle. “I will be.”

—

Landing jolts you into wakefulness and off Spencer’s shoulder. It’s not embarrassing. It’s not. It’s only weird if you make it weird.

When you’re all back at HQ, you pull Hotch aside.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods. “In my office.”

You stalk up the stairs, aware of the eyes following your back. You step into the office, shutting the door behind you and pretending it doesn’t feel like sealing your doom.

He sits, gesturing for you to do so too, but you shake your head.

“I won’t be long. I just wanted to apologize.”

He blinks. “For?”

“I shouldn’t have come in. I was a liability, and it was unprofessional. Next time I’ll act with more discretion.”

Selfish, Your mother’s words echo in your head, your father’s words following suit: Try harder.

He laces his fingers together, resting him on his desk.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

“Because Reid was gone, and you needed a ge— someone smart.”

“Every member of my team is intelligent. That’s not why I chose you.”

He reaches down, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a newspaper clipping.

Your breath hitches when you read the words on it.

“Garcia found it,” He says, scanning the piece of paper. “‘Professor’s Assistant saves college class from school shooter’. You were sixteen.”

You look down at your shoes. “It was the scariest moment of my life. I didn’t— he came in, and I was behind the door getting paper, and he didn’t see me. He… I knew people would die if I didn’t do something. I tackled him. He shot me twice before I managed to kick the gun away. I almost bled out.”

He nods, putting the clipping down. “That’s who I chose. Not the genius. Not the consulting data analyst. Someone who wants to help people.”

He puts the clipping back in his drawer. “I’m not going to write you up for not having a healthy work-life balance. No one in this bureau does, and if they say they do, they’re lying.”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “Now I look stupid for asking to talk.”

“It’s not an imposition. You’re a member of my team. That makes your wellbeing when you’re on the job my responsibility.”

Unable to form a response to that, you manage to stutter out a thank you, and then flee from his office, collapsing into your chair at your desk with a sigh.

A mug is set in front of you. Different mug, same tea, same hand.

“I think you need to reevaluate your opinion of Hotch and what kind of person you think he is.”

You take the mug with a glare. “I was reasonably concerned.”

“You thought you were going to get written up for coming to work sick?”

“It was a logical conclusion to draw,” You pause, taking a sip of the tea, which is just as good as it was last time. Actually, it’s slightly sweeter, and it soothes your throat more. “And stop profiling me. What’d you put in this?”

“Stop being so easy to profile,” Spencer says, crossing his arms. “Honey. They didn’t have any at the station.”

It’s quiet for a few moments: him staring at you, you pretending he’s not staring and sipping your tea.

“You should go home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still sick. Don’t tell me you just can’t wait to write all this paperwork.”

“Maybe I am.”

“No you’re not,” He picks up your jacket from where it’s hanging off the side of your cubicle and plops it in your lap. “Go home. I’ll sick Hotch on you.”

You stand, shrugging your jacket on and pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re a cruel man.”

“Mhm. Sure. Go home.”

You grumble all the way to the door, but quiet when you look back to see him watching you fondly. He gives you a little two finger wave, and with the sheer amount of heat that rushes to your cheeks, you have no choice but leave immediately.

Stupid genius co-workers.

—

The next week brings wellness and a lull in cases.

Unfortunately, that also means you don’t have an excuse to put off your paperwork any longer.

Spencer taps the top of it with a slender finger. “Did it get bigger since the last time I saw it?”

He’s hanging around your desk for… some reason. He came to drop off paperwork from your last case, and then stuck around for some unknown purpose.

“No,” You groan, setting your mug of coffee aside and grabbing the first paper off the stack. “Still the same pile I’m procrastinating on.”

“Good luck,” He huffs, finally turning and walking back to his own desk. It’s still in your eyeline, if you crane your neck a little.

You sigh, grabbing your earbuds from your desk, knowing you can’t put the paperwork off any longer. You’re pretty sure Records is going to start sending you death threats soon.

Making your way through the pile is slow going. It’s terrible. The only part of working with the BAU you hate is the paperwork. It’s tedious and never-ending and it always gives you a headache.

The only times you get up are to use the bathroom and get more coffee. JJ kindly tells you that you should probably leave your mug in the break room after your sixth or so trip. Spencer, somehow, appears in the room, and rattles off the symptoms of caffeine overdose.

You leave the mug there.

You continue working well after everyone else leaves. It gets dark, people go home, office lights go off, and while the pile has largely decreased in size, it’s still not finished.

You have to finish. Hotch had made an offhand comment about turning in your paperwork on time and now you have to finish it. To show him you’re not lazy.

You’ve only got a little bit of paperwork left when a hand taps you on your shoulder.

You yank your earbuds out, blinking blearily. “Wha?”

Spencer’s face swims into view. “Come on, time to go home.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you didn’t fall asleep and forget to go home. They do lock the doors at a certain point. Ask me how I know.”

Your brain is moving like sludge, and it takes you several minutes to process what he says. He continues standing in front of you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“But… the paperwork.”

“Will be here tomorrow. Come on, up we go.”

You whine as he takes your hands, hauling you to your feet. You attempt to scrub the sleep out of your eyes while messily moving papers about so your desk doesn’t look like a copy machine threw up all over it.

He pushes your jacket into your hands and you shrug it on, grumbling all the way through the doors and out to the parking lot, Spencer in tow. He follows dutifully behind you, and everytime you look back at him to voice your complaints all he does is smile.

“It’s cold.”

“That does tend to happen in winter.”

When you get to your car, he reaches out, tugging on your wrist.

“Hey,” He says, looking down at you, eyes deep pools of some emotion you can’t identify, “Drive safe, okay? It’s icy.”

“My commute isn’t that bad. And I’m,” You break off with a huge yawn. “Not even that tired.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence, smarty-pants.”

“Oh, so we’re locked into the smarty-pants thing, huh?”

“Yep.” He says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and popping the P.

“Well then what am I supposed to call you? Robot-Reid?”

“How about Spencer?”

His words hang in the night air, mingling in the puffs of air from both of your mouths.

“…What rhymes with Spencer?”

“Sensor, denser, dispenser—“

“Dis-Spencer,” You say, smiling to yourself. “I like the sound of that one.”

“You know dis comes from—“

“The latin word dis, and the prefix is used to denote a reversal of absence of an action, expressing negation, or expressing completeness or intensification of an unpleasant or unattractive action.”

He chuckles, smiling down at his shoes. “That’s why you’re the smarty-pants.”

“Oh please. You know all of that and then some.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You both stand in the cold of the parking lot, neither willing to leave yet.

Before you can think better of it, you dart forward, throwing your arms around Spencer’s neck and mumbling “Goodnight, Dis-Spencer.”

You step away quickly, awkwardly giving him a small wave before hurrying into your car and driving away.

Smooth.

—

The next case is… really rough.

Two spree killers, working as a team. A father and a son; the son was groomed into the lower position.

Not anything you haven’t seen before. Trained for. Studied.

No amount of studying could have prepared you for the cold grip of dread that gripped your throat like a vice when you finally confronted the unsubs, and heard eerily familiar words uttered from the father:

“You’re a good for nothing son! I wouldn’t have had to do this if you weren’t such a disappointment of a child! Why couldn’t you have just been more like your siblings?”

The son was killed before anyone could intervene.

Wrapping up the case left you shaken— you’d watched with hollow eyes as the boy’s body was zipped in a body bag.

A hand landing roughly on your shoulder shoves awareness back into your body and you flinch, hard, whirling around with your shoulders raised to meet the oncoming threat.

Only it’s not a threat. It’s Hotch. And he looks concerned.

You force your body to relax. “I’m sorry, I’ll go help question the rest of the family—“

“Are you okay?”

You blink. “What?”

“Are you alright?” He asks again.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m okay. It just… reminded me of something.”

Hotch purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He looks he’s going to say something, but then decides against it.

“Help Reid get the last of the evidence. Once you two are finished head back to the station. We’ll meet you there.”

You nod, inwardly relieved about not having to deal with the family members. You might start actually crying.

You sidle up to Spencer who’s tagging blood splatters on the carpet. He wordlessly hands you a pair of gloves. He doesn’t ask. You don’t tell.

You work side by side for the better part of two hours, occasionally conversing with the local police or helping the crime scene investigators tag evidence.

If he knows what’s bothering you, he doesn’t say. You wouldn’t have an answer anyway. You’re far too gone in your own head.

You follow Spencer to the break room back at the station, watching him quietly make two mugs of tea. He presses one into your hands with a gentle command to let it cool for a few minutes. The mug is warm in your hands. Spencer is standing next to you, a mug of his own in his hands. Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

You chant this mantra in your head while you wait for the rest of the team to come back.

Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

Spencer doesn’t ask before sitting next to you on the jet. He just does. He hands you a book, then opens his own.

You don’t read a single page. He must know. Still, he says nothing, just presses a little closer to you when he sees your hands shaking.

The team gives the two of you space when you finally land. You stumble off the jet, trip backpack slung over your shoulder, legs wobbly and breath uneven.

You’re not sure why the case upset you this much. Your parents don’t upset you this much. They just— they make the same kind of comments, and so did that father, except now his son is dead because he killed him—

“Hey,” Hotch approaches you slowly, makes sure you can see him. You hate that he feels the need to do so. “Take tomorrow off. Stay home. Recuperate.”

“I’m fi—“

“We all have tough missions and I would do the same for any agent,” He says, clasping you gently on the shoulder. “Besides. We both know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your lips twitch. “Isn’t there a rule against profiling each other?”

“That rule is for all of you. Not me.”

He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before departing.

You manage to haul yourself into HQ and out to the parking lot, cursing as your cold fingers fumble with your keys. Frustrated tears begin to well in your eyes and you press the heels of your hands to your face, sucking in a shuddering breath and begging it all to just stop.

Someone gently pries your hands open, pulling your keys out of your clenched grip. Your shoulders shake as you heave, gasping for cold night air that burns on the way down.

A hand finds its way to the back of your head, pressing it forward into something warm and solid. Another arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close, while the hand on your head drifts down to your neck, squeezing and rubbing intermittently.

“I’m sorry,” You cry, rubbing your face and smearing your tears across your hands, “I don’t know why, it just—“

“You don’t need a reason,” Spencer says, spreading his hand out wide so it covers the entire nape of your neck, “Sometimes it all just gets to you.”

You nod into his chest, lowering your hands from his face to wrap around his torso, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” You whisper, ashamed. “I’ll dream of it. And them. And it’ll be cold and alone—“

“Come home with me,” He says, voice a little breathless while he holds you closer, “Come home with me.”

He says the last part a little desperate.

You sniff. “Okay.”

You hesitantly pull away from the hug, but not before Spencer’s hand moves from your neck to your face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks on your face. He drops his head down, and you feel the gentlest brush of lips against the skin in between your eyebrows.

“Let’s go home.”

He tugs you along by the hand, helping you into his little old car, tucking your bags into the backseat. He lets the radio play softly while he drives, loud enough to quiet your thoughts a bit but not so loud as to overwhelm you.

He helps you out of the car when you arrive to the apartment building, carrying one of your bags up the stairs- you’d insisted on carrying the rest of your stuff.

He unlocks the apartment door, ushering you into the warmth and comfort that is Spencer’s home.

It’s exactly like you pictured, if not tidier. A bit more modern than you’d imagined. Books are everywhere of course, but so are knick-knacks and trinkets and other little bits of things that are so decidedly Spencer. There’s even a quilt on the couch.

He sets your bag down by the door. “The shower is down that hall to the left. Use whatever products you need to. Do you have any clothes to change into?”

You chew on the inside of your lip. “In my luggage, yeah, but they need to be washed.”

“I can put them in the wash while you shower. In the meantime, you can borrow something of mine.”

You shuffle in place. “I don’t wanna impose—“

“Please let me do this for you.”

The raw, rough edge to his tone makes you pause. You nod in acquiescence.

He takes your hand in his again, tugging you into his bedroom. With one hand, he opens drawers, handing you his smallest pair of sweatpants, and a large, worn, and incredibly soft Caltech sweatshirt.

“I’ll have to cuff these,” You mumble when he hands you the sweatpants, “My legs are half the length of yours.”

“You’ll make it work, I’m sure. Now shoo. I’ll have laundry and food finished when you get out of the shower.”

The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is clean and neat, and to your relief, houses more than just a five-in-one in the shower. Spencer actually owns multiple products for you to choose from and it hits you while you’re lathering the body wash you chose because of how good it smelled that you’re in Spencer’s shower, showering with his body wash, about to put on his clothes.

You’re going to smell like him. His clothes will smell like him. Everywhere in the apartment smells like him.

You decide to blame the near permanent flush on your cheeks on the heat from the shower.

When you exit the shower, fresh and drowning in Spencer’s clothes, he’s standing at his kitchen island, putting the final touches on two bowls of soup.

You almost tear up again. “You made me soup?”

“It’s widely regarded as a comfort food for people who are ill or otherwise sad, and is most commonly made in the wintertime.”

He gives you a little jazz hand, gesturing to the soup as if saying ta-da!

You really do tear up then.

He’s in front of you in an instant, hands poised to help. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Do you not like soup? I can make something else, or we can order in, or—“

You scrub at your face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You’re just, you’re just really sweet.”

His face softens. “Oh, honey.”

He envelops you in the second hug of the night, except this time you’re crying in earnest now. Your crying about your parents, about the nights you went to bed hungry because your Dad told that you were smart, and to figure something out, but you were too young to work any of the kitchen appliances. You’re crying about your first best friend, who ditched you the second your brother asked her out. You’re crying about all the classes and friendships you missed out on while you were in the hospital with gunshot wounds. You’re crying about how your parents didn’t visit you once. Not even when you were in the ICU.

Spencer holds you through it all, a steady rock against the battering waves crashing in your head.

After a few minutes, you wear yourself out, quieting down to sniffling, your shoulders hitching.

He pulls back, studying your face. “Are you ready to eat some soup now?”

You nod, blinking the final tears out of your eyes. “I got snot on your shirt.”

“That’s why we invented washing machines.”

He keeps up a stream of idle chatter while you eat, explaining all the different major soups in the world and where they came from. It’s a balm against your weary mind, lulls you into peace and safety.

Or maybe that’s just the effect Spencer has on you.

When you finish your food, he takes your bowl, deposits it in the sink, and then takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have a guest room, so you can take the bed,” He says, voice soft. “There’s extra blankets in the closet next to the bathroom if you get cold.”

He turns to leave, but a stab of panic slices down your chest, and your hand is reaching out and grabbing his wrist before you can stop yourself.

He pauses, turning back around. “You want me to stay?”

You take your lip between your teeth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you in the dark of the room— clad in his clothes, face puffy from crying.

The muscles in his jaw work.

“I can’t do this platonically. If we do this—“

You surge up on your toes, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together so quickly your teeth clack.

He goes rigid, then kisses your right back, hands coming up to cup your face, squeeze your neck, smooth over your shoulders.

You pull away first, looking at him through your lashes with hazy eyes. “I can’t do this platonically either.”

He traces the planes of your face with his thumb. “You have no idea how long and how much I’ve wanted to have you right here, just like this.”

“Crying and sad?”

“Dressed in my clothes, in my apartment, in my bed.”

You pause. “You know, tonight, I can’t, I’m not going to have—“

“I’m not interested in sex with you tonight,” He says, reading your mind, “I just want to get that empty look in your eyes gone.”

“Just?”

“Well,” He says, tugging you down onto the bed with him, crawling under the covers and covering you both, “There are other things. A lot of other things, Like this,”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And this,”

He pulls you flush against him under the covers, tucking your head under his chin.

“But mostly this.”

He presses one last kiss to the crown of your head.

“Really?”

“Really.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his voice breaks the silence.

“After I got out, all I wanted was something soft and gentle. Having something, someone soft and lovely to hold was all I looked forward to. And then I came back and I met you, with your polite introductions and the way you care so deeply about so much and I knew. I knew who I wanted to hold.”

“Wow,” You breathe, “Yours sounds so poetic. Mine is much less so.”

“Mmm,” He hums, “And what might that be?”

You press your face against his chest and mumble so quietly you’re wondering if he can ever hear you:

“I just wanted you to choose me. I wanted to be someone’s first choice.”

He’s so quiet after that you think he must not have heard you.

You’re on the verge of sleep when you hear his whisper:

“There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”

���⁀➴

EDIT: if you want to be tagged in the sequel when it’s posted, please comment “tag me please!” or some variation of THE POST LINKED HERE !! if you comment asking for a tag on this post, you will not be added to the tag list. tag lists are hard to keep track of, so please keep them all in one place !! :)

EDIT TWO: THE SEQUEL IS UP !! It is linked at the top of this post under “next” :)