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note: happy december i hope ur all doing well <3 a little something to hold u over until next friday when i start 12 days of reidrumas ok love u
summary: in which you and JJ are the ones held hostage in truth or dare
cw: spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, hurt/comfort, angst, fem!reader, a heated makeout, reader wears a dress and heels, take a shot everytime reader tears up
wc: 3.6k
p.s. i am a glutton for praise if you couldn't tell from any of my fics but i love hearing what y'all think so plsplspls lemme know your thoughts in a comment or drop in my ask box!!!!
You’re not really sure where it went wrong.
When you joined JJ to pursue Casey, it was out of convenience. You both were simply closer to his last location. No one could’ve predicted he’d take you both hostage or make you play a twisted game of truth or dare at gunpoint.
No one could have predicted that Casey would force you and JJ to reveal details that hadn’t seen the light of day. He didn’t even care for those secrets, egging you both on to reveal something that would satisfy his masochistic itch. When he realizes that neither of you would break, he ups the ante by angling the gun to the middle of your head. JJ panics and speaks before she can even process what she said.
Because as you’re staring down the barrel of the gun clocked at your forehead, you realize the bullet isn’t inside the cylinder, it’s in JJ’s next words.
I’ve always loved Spencer.
You look at her mouth agape, blood draining from your face and tears springing to your eyes. She returns your gaze with one full of remorse and pity. To any onlooker, it would seem like a harmless confession. But they didn’t know the times you confided in JJ about your feelings for Spencer, the late nights at the office she’d stay with you giving advice and words of wisdom, when all JJ wanted was for her friend to be happy.
But now, how much of that can you believe to be true?
Casey seems to be satisfied with your reaction as he lowers his gun, with you reacting quickly grabbing your hidden second pistol and gunning him down. The only audible noise left is the heavy breathing of you both, the adrenaline rush starting to fade. JJ says your name remorsefully, but she’s interrupted by the rest of the team and police arriving to the scene.
The next thing you remember is sitting outside on the back of an ambulance rig, blankly staring out at your new reality. JJ loves Spencer.
You couldn’t compete, how could you? She was JJ. and you were, you. You had lost before you even began, you might as well toss the towel now.
It makes hugging Spence for what could be the last time—not to be dramatic—bittersweet. To know that this is an insignificantly normal moment he won’t remember, but one that you’ll play on repeat for the rest of your life.
Spencer holds you close into his chest with his arm smoothing out your back, “Thank god you’re okay, are you hurt?”
You scoff internally. Yes, but not in a way that can be fixed. In a way that you are not privy to yet, but once you are it will rip us to shreds.
“I’m fine, just a few scratches.”
He nods while examining you with his own mental checklist, “Okay, if your head starts hurting or your vision gets blurry you need to tell the EMT.” you nod as he adds on, “I’m gonna go check on JJ, you’ll be okay?”
No, no I won’t. There is no reality that exists where I can be okay anymore.
“I’m good. Go.”
He squeezes your shoulders and with another nod he walks over to where JJ rests on another ambulance rig, her arms instantly opening to welcome Spencer’s warm embrace. His back is facing you and JJ’s face rests over his shoulder, her eyes meeting yours in a look of sadness, grief. You look away before you can read more into it.
Wrapping the foil blanket around you tighter you let your head fall back and stare at the night sky, hoping there was a message out in the stars that would tell you what to do.
Your relationship with Spencer was, on the surface, nothing more than a friendship. He had joined the BAU only a year prior to you and when you came along it was clear from the first second that you two would be inseparable. Small talks in the bullpen quickly turned into mornings spent at the coffee shop, into weekly movie nights debating the superior science fiction franchise, to holding his hand when he needed a friend.
To Spencer, you were his anchor. Through all the trials and tribulations his life had dealt him, he knew he didn’t need to worry so much as long as you were around.
To you, Spencer was all consuming. He was threaded through every neuron and vessel in your body, intricately and impossibly tethered to you that it would take the work of the divine to painfully separate him from you.
Or, one Jennifer Jaraeu.
You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face until the EMT taps your shoulder and asks if anything has started to hurt again. Quickly shaking your head, you unravel yourself from the foil blanket and hand it back to her. You spare one last glance back at Spencer and JJ, eyes immediately zeroing on their joined hands, his thumb gently brushing the top of hers.
Your feet trudge you back to where the team is set up, one look to Emily and she’s already excusing herself from her conversation. She walks over to you phone up to her ear, saying something about you. You’re not really sure, it’s all water noise.
“Anderson will be here in about five minutes to take you home,”
You nod silently, not willing to make eye contact. Emily could sense your turmoil from a mile away, chalk it up to the Pisces moon in her but behind the hard exterior she put up there lay Emily, your empathetic friend who just wanted to hug your shattered pieces back together.
“You’ll be okay?” The second time you’ve been asked, your answer is still unchanged.
No. “Yeah.”
She sighs knowingly. The reason the two of you were such close friends was because of your similar ability to remain emotionally bottled up until it was too late, resulting in an outburst enough to take out armies and yourselves.
Anderson honks the car as he pulls up, alerting you of his arrival. Emily looks from the car back to you, “I should go check on JJ.”
“Woman of the hour, it seems.” you chuckle under your breath.
Emily gives you that look, the conflicted ‘I’m sorry our friend made you feel this way, I still have to check on her.” look.
You brush her off, your casualness hopefully sending the message that the situation isn’t that deep. For her, you think.
The sound of the car unlocking rings through your ear as you hop in the passenger seat. Anderson tries to make small talk with you to no success, settling for the late night 00s radio station as he pulls up to your house, driving off as you bid him goodnight with a wave.
The breeze of your empty apartment greets you as you open the door, the air chillier than you’d expect for the season. You tug your shoes off harshly, placing your keys on the mail table next to the door. Your heart drops as you catch sight of a floral embossed card lying on top of your mail on the table.
Rossi’s wedding.
The one you were told to absolutely prioritize, the one in which JJ had helped you find a dress for, the one where you hoped you’d feel brave enough to tell Spencer how you truly felt.
You sigh deeply knowing you still had to show up and look presentable tomorrow despite being held hostage only 24 hours prior. But, maybe this is how you make a clean break. All this time you’ve been in love with Spencer and nothing has happened, despite all the signs you think you’re giving him. Maybe this is the opportunity to save Spencer from further tension, albeit unknown to him at this point, and let him finally be happy.
You knew about the Redskins game, how excited he was to go with JJ and yet it turned into something he hadn’t anticipated. You were new to the BAU at the time but your heart still ached for him, unable to understand how anyone would pass up on someone so special like Spencer Reid. It seems she’s finally come to her senses.
You take your dead phone out of your pocket to place it on the charger and you head into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot water loosens your tense muscles enough to prick tears in the back of your eyes, and you turn off the water before you can get too worked up. Once you’ve dried off you check on your phone on the bedside table seeing it’s turned back on, a flurry of missed texts and calls showing up.
11:14PM - Emily: Get home safe?
You heart the message and reply with a simple ‘Yes.’, scrolling to the next messages.
10:09PM - JJ: Did you get home?
10:10PM - Missed Call from JJ
10:15PM - (2) Missed Calls from JJ
10:24PM - JJ: I’m sorry, please let me explain.
10:25PM - Missed Call from JJ
You consider leaving her on read, not willing to entertain a conversation at this point, but you settle for an ‘It’s fine.’ for the sake of having communicated your safety.
10:13PM - Spence: Hey, where are you?
10:20PM - Spence: The EMT said you took off? Did you leave?
11:34PM - Spence: Emily just told me Anderson drove you back. You could’ve told me, I would have taken you home.
Your chuckle sadly at the text, Spencer hated driving but he would do it for you. It almost makes you think that your relationship could withstand the harsh weathering it’s been subjected to.
12:07AM - You: Sorry, phone died. I’m home now.
A response dings through a minute later.
12:08AM - Spence: I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get you a portable charger to keep in your bag. You should get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow for the wedding right? Well, the wedding that’s today seeing as it’s past midnight. You know what I mean.
A single tear falls down your face at his rambling words. Oh, how you’d miss this once he learns what’s really happened.
12:10AM - You: I’ll be there. See you tomorrow, or today? You know what I mean. Good night.
12:11AM - Spence: Good night :)
—
You smooth out your dress before going up the steps, making eyes with Penelope at the top. You’re wearing a silk chiffon dress in purple, deliberately picked for Spencer’s favorite color, some strappy heels and some dainty jewelry painting you in as the picture of elegance.
“Hey hot stuff, look at you!” Penelope exclaims squeezing you tightly, “You look sooo pretty, doesn’t she look so pretty?” she gestures to the two men behind her you now acknowledge to be Luke and Spencer.
“Like a dream.” Luke agrees.
“Yeah,” Spencer clears his throat, “You look…beautiful.”
Penelope the Oracle of All Time quickly senses the
atmosphere created and grabs Luke’s forearm, “Come on, you owe me that dance now!” She looks back and slyly gives you a thumbs up before dragging Luke further onto the dance floor.
Spencer slips into the vacated space to be right next to you, “How are you feeling?”
You know he’s asking about how you were held hostage at gunpoint, and not about how he’s about to become the loss of your life.
“ ‘M fine,” you swirl your champagne glass, “You?”
“Better now.”
A ghost of a smile creeps up on you, but you don’t let it travel further than that. He’s just being nice.
“Well, I’m just going to find the bathroom really quick.”
He holds a hand out for your glass, “Here, I’ll hold it.”
Your smile returns with bearings this time as you wander off in search of the bathroom. You’d feel embarrassed by how long it took you to find it but this place was massive, the Rossi money ran deep. Retracing your steps back to the main room you find Spencer and your glass not in the same place he was when you left. You scan the room looking for him and finally find him deep in conversation with—oh.
They’re too far for you to be able to hear them, but you can imagine that it’s the conversation. You watch JJ squeeze his forearm with affection and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. You couldn’t stand there and watch yourself become collateral in real time. Spencer turns at the sound of rustling up the spiral staircase followed by a door closing, catching the last glimpse of purple before it vanishes.
Spencer feels sick. He’s overwhelmed and overstimulated at the new information he’s learned about what really happened in the gas station. Then he comes to the realization of how walking in on him and JJ talking must have made you feel. His feet are carrying him up the stairs before he even realizes he’s made the choice.
He finds you at the end of the hallway and calls out your name with a firmness you’d never heard from him. But you’ve cut all the strings of sanity by now, and you whip around and snap, “What?”
He doesn’t like that tone. “JJ told me what happened.”
You snort and don’t meet his eyes, “Oh, did she?”
His brows furrow, “Yes, she did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
And what? Is he serious? Did you have to spell it out for him? It borderlines sadist the way he’s putting you through the ringer.
“What happens now, Spencer?” you exasperate, “Is this the part where you tell me we can’t be friends anymore because she finally confessed?”
Confusion colors his face more, “Why wouldn’t we be friends?”
A halfway scream—groan leaves your throat in frustration. “Spencer, come on.”
“Honey, I don’t understand—“
“That! See, you can’t just say things like that knowing what has to happen, and expect me to react like a normal person.” you exclaim with hands flailing.
“I’m really confused—“
“Because I’m in love with you!” you cry, “Now do you see why?”
Time all but stills in the hallway you’ve found yourselves in. You don’t know how long you’ve been up here. It’s a little farther down from the stairways so there’s no threat of evesdroppers, but with how worked up you’re getting the proximity renders itself useless. The faint muffle of animated conversations and lively jazz music fills the silence between you and Spencer, who looks like…well, actually for once you can’t decipher what he’s feeling.
He looks like he’s about to open his mouth when you both turn your head to the ascending footsteps—JJ looking for you, or Spencer probably, to come cut the cake. Spencer darts his eyes between the walls, a nervous tic you’d caught on to, before you realize he’s looking for a door and pulling you inside one. You yelp at the unexpected force and quickly quiet down again. The light switches on and based on the furniture you conclude that it’s a powder room, because of course Rossi’s venue has a powder room.
It’s a tiny room, big enough for a vanity table and a chaise lounge. Small enough to not have any room to leave without going past him. You stand an arm’s length away from him, the faint muffles of talk and music replaced by your sniffling. You shouldn’t have come, you start to realize. Having to say goodbye to him in person might actually rip you apart. Your chest weighs heavy with that familiar sad irony of mourning someone who hasn’t even told you they’re leaving yet. Preemptive measures that turned into routine practice.
You sniffle, “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, not that it ever did. I’m sorry I just sprung it on you like that, that was unfair. JJ…I thought JJ was my friend, I guess she is still but I’m not too sure now. But…she’s JJ and I’m just me and I know both of your pasts with each other so obviously it would be her. I’m making this too big a deal, I think. I just want you to be happy, in whatever capacity that looks like and I know it’s not with me so—“
Spencer stops your rambling by silently reaching out for your arm to pull you right in front of him, his hands reach to cup your face up to his, thumbs naturally swiping away the tears. He says your name like a coo, with a softness and delicacy you don’t feel you deserve right now. It hurts your heart entirely.
“Please don’t make this harder than it is.” you whisper through soft sobs.
You don’t know when it happens. Maybe in between scrunching your eyes or staring at your feet—but it happens. A cold pressure, then warmth, his lips are warm when he kisses you. A little surprising that he still tastes like Penelope’s sugary mocktail from earlier. A welcome pressure on your face as he holds you in place, as if you’d slip away further if he let go.
He stills in place, thinking he’s overstepped, until you finally remember that his lips are on your lips. You return the force back with as much as he gave you and let your arms loop around his neck, his own sliding from your face to take purchase on your hips.
That’s when Spencer starts kissing you. His hands grip your hips and tug you even closer as he deepens the kiss, plunging deeper back into the plush of your thighs to sit you on top of the vanity table. He slots himself between your legs, your hands wandering up to tug at the hairs on the nape of his neck. A soft groan leaves his throat and he detaches from your lips to amble down your neck, leaving a trail of lovebites in its wake.
This is wrong, like so wrong. You’re practically opening a salt box and pouring its entire contents on your wounds. But dammit, if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Spencer, you’re sure as hell going to make the most out of the fleeting moment.
He mumbles something in between kisses to your neck, you instinctively ask him to say it again not expecting a response, and you immediately regret it as you feel his presence get lighter as he pulls away.
One more kiss to the spot behind your ear, he feels you preening below him and makes note of this—amongst everything else—for later, he pulls back to meet your eyes again.
“I love you.”
Your face drops, “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not being funny.”
Yes he is, he has to be. Because the universe in which Spencer Reid allows a piece of—the whole of it according to him, unbeknownst to you—his heart to be fully yours is not this one. You’ve never had luck like that.
“Then you’re lying to me, and that’s worse.” your voice cracks, Spencer feels the same crack imprinted on his heart.
“Sweetheart, I’m not lying. I love you.” He says it again to your surprise, the tenderness of his touch returning as he deliberates how to disarm you. The defensiveness you have isn’t surprising to him, it’s the note of insecurity in your tone he isn’t ready for, like you are unable to even believe it could be you.
You’re a dandelion, he thinks, the puffballs teetering attachment to their base with one wrong move sending them astray into the wind. He’s wading treacherous weather but he finds that for you he’d do anything and everything eyes closed if he had to.
“…Really?” you ask meekly. He nods slowly, never breaking his gaze on you. “But…JJ.”
His eyes soften and he nods in understanding, “There was a point in my life where, yes that was all I was waiting to hear,” he starts, “But, I am no longer at that point in my life anymore. I’m here now. She knows that.”
You’re unconvinced, Spencer can see it clear as day. Maybe it’s more apprehensive than unconvinced, but no one could blame you. How are you to believe anything when you went through what you did in the last 24 hours? You look defeated if anything, like you’d accepted your fate of always coming second place.
Spencer racks his brain hard trying to think of a way to show you that the podium doesn’t even exist, it’s only ever been you.
He pulls out his wallet and rifles through the many things inside, finding what he’s looking for before handing it to you. You look up at him in confusion when you make it out to be a movie ticket stub from the Korean film festival you’d both attended a little after you started at the BAU, the first time the two of you ever spent time together. The edges are soft and smoothed out as a result of time, like it’s been held and comforted for many days.
“There’s more in my apartment.”
“Movie ticket stubs?” you ask bemused.
“Commemorations of you,” his fingers brush the span of your arm up and down soothingly, “I probably have something for every time we’ve ever hung out. If it reminds me of you, I have it.”
Tears well up in your eyes for the umpteenth time, a few spilling over rapidly.
“Hey no, you’re not supposed to cry at that.” he whispers softly between you, his thumb taking the rightful and familiar place under your eye to catch the tears.
You shake your head, “I don’t think I’ve ever been loved like this.”
His heart tightens, “No? Well, I think you have to get used to it now.”
“No choice?” you pout.
He catches the timbre of humor in your voice and smiles widely. He hugs you tightly, pressing your head into his chest, “I guess you don’t have to. Just because you’re not used to it doesn’t mean I’ll stop. If you’re like this now, wait till you see the box I have of our things.”
You sniffle again, your head reeling as your tears stain his shirt and the scent of him invades your being. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, just how you know Spencer to be. He doesn’t expect you to believe him right away, you’ve been through so much that it would be unfair to ask that of you. You don’t know what tomorrow holds, or even the rest of this night, but one thing you have learned is that to Spencer you are known, and therefore you are loved.
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader
summary: beth is coming back from hong kong and you feel like hotch’s feelings are slipping away, so you decide to do it first.
content/tw: brace yourself, it’s a long one! established relationship, beth’s coming back, jealous!reader, oblivious!hotch, dave being a father figure (love him), very angsty (at least my attempt), alcohol consuming (barely), lots of crying, happy ending, lmk if i missed something!
word count: 7.3k (stfu challenge level impossible)
a/n: based on this request! this one goes for my people who feel like they have to remove themselves from the situation for things to be okay. know that you are important, wanted and loved! if you ever had a girl crush, sending you an extra hug and much love! hope you like this one💗🪽
dividers by @uzmacchiato
masterlist
The smell of bacon and toast fills the air even before you step into the kitchen.
Aaron is there, scrambling eggs with his shirt still unbuttoned and his hair damp from the shower. He glances up when you step in, already dressed up “Didn’t have time to make coffee.” he explains, nodding to the empty coffee pot plugged on the counter behind him. You shake your head, squinting your eyes at his face.
“Aren’t you at least a little bit embarrassed?” you tease, already starting to brew the coffee beans. It has been almost a year since he bought it – following your suggestion – and he never even cared to learn how to use it. Not that he needed to, really. You were always there to do it for him.
He pressed his lips together in a mocking reflective expression, just to shrug his shoulders “Not really, no.” you just chuckle as the two of you move in sync to finish preparing breakfast.
Just as the eggs were ready, his phone rang all the way to his bedroom. As an old man who still hadn’t created the urge to be glued to his phone 24/7, you took over the bacon pan as he faded into the hallway to pick up.
You were so focused on your task you didn’t realize he was taking too long. It wasn’t until you filled both of your plates and mugs that you noticed he didn’t come back. Your first reaction was too tense, to go after him and check what was wrong, but soon after you heard his laugh, loud and strong, making its way towards you. So, no emergencies.
Sensing it was probably Sean, your boyfriend’s brother, or maybe Rossi with a gossip – something you learnt after you started dating Hotch: the two older men at the BAU were gossipers. Penelope Garcia level gossiper – you stayed back, giving them privacy to chat. Ignoring all the etiquette lessons you had, you started eating alone. At least one of you should enjoy the warm food.
Just when you took the last bite you heard him stepping back into the kitchen, a ghost of a smile still present on his face “Hey, you chatty” you teased. He chuckled, sitting beside you on the stoll and drinking a sip of coffee “Who was it?” your curiosity got the best of you, even though you knew he was going to tell you either way.
“Beth!”
Oh.
“Oh”
“Yeah.” he agrees, taking a bite of the toast, completely oblivious to the gut wrenching feeling taking over your senses “She called me to say she’s coming back. From Hong Kong.”
Oh (but harder).
“That’s… good?”
“It’s great! She got to transfer back for a promotion, with a higher salary and getting to be close to her family.” he explains, sounding way too pleased with himself.
“She rocks.” you cringe immediately, not knowing what the hell you meant by that.
“Right?” fortunately – or not, that’s up to the eye of the beholder – he remained completely clueless to your awkwardness. “Jack’s going to lose it when he hears it.” he said, chuckling to himself.
You hate how hearing this makes you twice as jealous.
“Y’think Jack remembers her?” you wonder, pretending to be unbothered as you wash your dishes in a way to distract yourself. He stays silent for a second, and you hope he’s not picking up on your selfish rotting for the worse.
“He does. Last time she face-timed me, Jack took over half the call.” he says, his voice suddenly closer to you. He takes the dishes from your hand, gently pushing you to the side “That’s on me.” he points kindly, taking over the dishes. You step away, hoping he didn’t feel the sound of your heart breaking.
They face-time each other? Is Jack a part of this? By the way he said it, it seems like a frequent occurrence. Where were you all those times? How could you miss that?
Is this cheating? Objectively speaking, if it was cheating he probably wouldn’t be so blunt about it. And he’s probably the most loyal person you know.
So why does it feel like cheating? Why do you feel betrayed? Why do you feel so jealous?
Trying to take a hold of the situation, you fight to appear normal, trying your best to hide your anxiousness and all of self-doubt, at least while you figure your feelings out. Otherwise you’d probably end up locked in a mental asylum.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It turned out the mental asylum would probably be a nicer place to be than your own head right now.
As the day passed by, you started to notice how excited Aaron was for Beth’s arrival. If you missed their calls before, you definitely weren’t now. Every other day you stumbled on him somewhere in the house, his phone balanced between his shoulder and his ear while he finished a task.
When it wasn’t the calls, it was the texting. He would send her pictures about things she liked and places she missed. She would always send a picture of everything that was different over there, ask silly questions about the job or about Jack.
And Jack was a whole other problem. Not a problem, actually. But his obvious adoration towards the woman made you bitter. You found yourself losing your appetite more often than not every time Jack asked about her in the middle of dinner or lunch. Which was a horror on its own, but it was even worse because every time he did it, soon after the meal ended Hotch would call her to tell her about it.
You felt like an outsider.
The worst part was that it wasn’t even their fault. Everytime you walked by him, he asked you to join the call, pulling you to sit with him and chat with the woman on the other side of the screen. She would ask about you, about your likes and dislikes. She would joke about Hotch, about his sleep myoclonus, about his ability to fall asleep in the first few minutes of a movie. You laughed with her, making fun of his antic habits as if sharing that with her didn’t feel like a knife in your gut.
When she finally came back, it was, somehow, worse.
Hotch insisted that you’d tag along on their catching ups, you hang with them as she went out with the team. You had playdates with her and Jack.
It was now safe to say: you hated Beth. And you were completely obsessed with her.
You watched the way she spoke, the way she dressed. How she smiled, how she laughed. The exact color of her lipstick, her haircut.
When her nails were perfectly made. She was so elegant. You started doing your nails weekly.
Next time you saw her, her nails were chipped and two of them were broken. She was so carefree. You cancelled your membership at the nail salon.
One would think Beth was a frequent character in Hotch's life. She really wasn’t. With all the cases, Jack and his relationship with you, he barely had time to actually hang out with Beth. But there was no point, and the damage was made.
Ever since he took that call, she made her way into your head, building her own little house with a balcony and a white fence. Even if she wasn’t around, your mind made sure to think about her. You hated hearing her name, but you secretly hoped it would come up in the middle of the conversation.
When his phone rang, you braced yourself, preparing for that gut wrenching pain you were oh, so familiar with. 9 out of 10 times, it wasn’t her. But 1 out of ten times, it was. And when you hear him calling her name, smiling easily at the speaker like she was seeing him, you felt your world fall apart, and what a comforting sensation that was.
You had no idea how you could crave someone as much as you craved her.
You wanted her gone.
The thought came to you out of nowhere, in the middle of the night. You were sleeping on his bed – almost yours by now – and his body involuntarily jerked. And there it was: another sleepless night. You were reminded of her, and now you were cursed to spend the rest of the evening wondering if she slept on the same side of the bed you were in, on how she would react. Would she laugh? Would she wake him? Would she pretend she didn’t see it?
It was maddening. It had to stop.
It wasn’t going to stop. You had to get out of this.
When the thought came, it stayed. You haven’t thought about it before, but you knew it. It had to be done. There was no way you would survive this. There was no way you could compete with this, with her. They understood each other to a degree you could never. They were the same age, and had the same references. They were both divorced, they had experiences you still haven’t had. You hated being outside of their inside jokes, even if said jokes were whatever was fashion in the 70’s.
Truth to be told, you wouldn’t even be with him if she hadn’t moved out of the country. And now she was back, reclaiming her old apartment, her athletic habits and his heart.
You weren’t dumb. You could see he loved you. But he loved her too. And you wouldn’t settle for half. Even if it killed you inside.
Besides being younger than Aaron – and Beth – you were very mature. Mature enough to understand that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. You knew, usually, the right thing to do was to talk about your feelings. To explain where you were coming from and make changes in order to keep the relationship alive.
But how could you go to the man you loved and beg him to not fall back in love with his ex? What exactly do you want to achieve by talking to him about it? He wasn’t doing anything wrong, you know that much. He would probably just stop talking to her ‘if it meant not making you insecure’, but you know very well how that would turn out. You didn’t want it to end with a fight, and you didn’t want to feel like you had to put up a fight to keep the man you love. You didn’t deserve that, and neither did him.
So, piece by piece, you started to make your way out of Aaron’s life.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You usually spent the majority of your time in his place. And you started to change that, slowly starting to spend more time in your rented apartment than in his. Piece by piece, you started to move back your clothes. First a blouse, then a pajama. Evolving to your dresses, shoes, and your products.
It was going by unnoticed, until after you moved almost all the products on your side of his bathroom’s cabinet. A wednesday morning, while getting ready to work, you opened it to find everything back where they belonged.
You stayed there, shocked for a few seconds, your heart racing. The toothbrush inside your mouth is frozen, the minty foam starting to burn your gums. Aaron stepped on the bathroom behind you, fixing his cufflinks and looking at you through the mirror.
“Oh, I saw you ran out of them.” he explained, casually pointing at the new stack of products, completely unaware of your mind short circuiting “You didn’t restock, but I remembered them from last time. I had to go to the drugstore anyway.” he shrugged, reaching for his cologne and stepping out like he didn’t just shatter your whole world.
Later, when your tears smudged your mascara, you just said you choked with the mouthwash.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
After a while, you’d spent so much time on your own place that Aaron started to miss you. Not only that, he questioned it. One specific morning, you were in the shared kitchen in the BAU mixing a bowl of yogurt with cereals and fruits when you felt a pair of large hands clinging to your hips. Yelping in surprise, you turned to face your boyfriend.
“Hey, you scared me.” you chuckled, picking up the bowl to put something between the two of you.
“I miss you.” he said, simply. He wasn’t whining, or complaining, or even trying to talk you out of your devious plan – not that he knew about it. He was just stating a fact, as clear as the day, the same way and tone he announced a profile or call a meeting.
Not knowing what to answer without breaking into tears, you stuffed a spoon full of greek yogurt, granola and strawberries into your mouth. While you did it, you mumbled something he couldn’t comprehend. Figuring you said you missed him too, he just moved on, leaning over your head to reach for the cabinet.
“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?” he asked, grabbing the freshly made coffee and filing his mug “It’s been a while since we left the house.”
You swoon at him, taking a deep breath before answering “It has. But I have plans.” you grimaced “Girls night.” you explained, chewing on the granola for longer than needed.
Aaron stopped for a second, his steaming mug already halfway to his lips. “Oh.” He wasn’t the kind of boyfriend to be in the way of your life, but he usually was aware of your plans. Not in a controlling way, but by knowing you, talking to you. And he was just realizing how it felt not knowing. He hated it. Not being a man to give up, he quickly came up with another idea “I can make you that BLT you like while you get ready.” not seeing you immediately jump with joy – as you usually do when BLT is mentioned – he suggested “Or we can stop at McDonalds drive-thru when I pick you up later.”
Your heart did a backflip and shattered in a thousand pieces with the sight of his puppy eyes, expectantly looking at you.
“Oh that sounds lovely. But the bar we’re heading it’s the one across the street from my building. We’re walking there.” you explain, placing a hand on his chest gently, fixing the lapels of his suit. He looked down at your hands, fighting the urge to pull you by his arms and lock you in there. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but his gut knew something didn’t sit right.
“Text me when you get there. And when you get home.” he says, more a statement than a request. Your safety was not negotiable. You nodded, stepping closer to him and giving him a quick peck on the side of his jaw.
“I promise!” and you meant it, winking at him as you move to leave the kitchen.
Just as you step outside the perimeter, you almost bump into Rossi, who’s just standing there with his hands buried in his pockets and his eyebrow raised so high it was almost blending his hairline. Not ready to handle his piercing gaze – knowing you’d crumble at the first couple minutes –, you just nodded and gave him one of your best polite smiles, speeding your pace all the way to your desk.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
After you knocked twice on the office door, you stared at the words “David Rossi” engraved on the metal platter in its center as you waited for him to open.
When he did, you were surprised to see his office drowned in low light coming from the lamp on his desk and the moonlight peeking through the widow.
“You wanted to see me?” it meant as a statement: he did ask to see you. At first, you were sure it had something to do with the case you were consulting, the topic you and him were talking about during dinner. What confused you was that the setting looked anything but professional, if the expensive bourbon bottle and the two glasses sitting on the table wasn’t enough of a tell.
“Yes. Come in.” he said, waiting for you to walk into the office to close the door. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for him to take the lead. Unaware – or, most probably, choosing to ignore – your startled state, he slowly made his way to the couch on the back of the room, filling up both glasses before sitting comfortably.
Taking one of the glasses, you sat beside him, pressing your lips together and trying not to bounce your leg to ease the tension.
“How was girls night?” Rossi asks, raising his glass to his lips. He didn’t even look at you as he waited for your answer, his tone almost mocking you.
Having absolutely no idea what he was going with this, you decided to play along “It was fun.”
He nodded “I see.” You took a sip of your drink, trying to keep your posture. It didn’t work. As soon as the burning liquid settled in your stomach, you turned to face him. Terrible idea.
“Dave, what’s going on? What is this?”
“You know,” he started, completely ignoring your question “People may think about profiling as a criminal study. They think we have to learn about psychopaths, stressors, geography, and criminal patterns. That it’s about getting in the mind of crazy people and figuring them out.”
“And it isn’t?” you blinked, drowned by his speech.
“Oh, definitely. But it’s not just that. It’s about studying people. Feelings, motivations. Learning, understanding their behaviour and using it to figure out their intentions.”
And that’s when it hit you: he knew.
“We have an unspoken policy in the BAU: not profiling each other.” he began, turning his body to face you.
“So why are you profiling me?” you asked, voice edging and uneasy, desperately trying to stop him from putting into words. He ignored it.
“You’re breaking up with him.” Not a question, not a suggestion, and definitely not a doubt. “I know what this is about. Who this is about.” your chewed on your bottom lip, deciding on what to say.
“Please, don’t try to talk me out of it.” you beg, hating how weak your own voice sounds. He took another long and lazy sip, and you watched as the liquid clinged to his lips, the wet reflecting the low light of the lamp.
“I won’t.” he stared at you, his eyes squinting slightly “I’m here to encourage you.”
You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together “What?”
“Yes. You really should break up with him. You know, if you’re in such an unbearable relationship.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back.
“Stop.”
“No, seriously. Do you think he’s what? Cheating on you with Beth?”
“What? That’s not what this is about. I know he’s not cheating.” you defend yourself, cringing at the topic of the discussion.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just…” your eyes burn with tears harder than the liquid on your throat when you down the rest of the bourbon before continuing “I’m not her.”
“You sure? Under this specific light I could’ve swore…”
“Dave!” you whine, and he chuckles.
“Yes, you’re not Beth.” you grimace at her name, not bothering to hide your feelings anymore “Why are you saying this as a bad thing?”
“Because it is. She’s back now and…” you feel a tear striking down your cheek as you gesticulate “She just fits. She gets him.”
“And you don’t?”
You sigh “You must think I sound really stupid.”
“Oh, you sound absolutely ridiculous.” you look at him, looking at a smirk on his face. Before you realize it, you’re laughing as well, but in a weak and depressed way “Love does this to us. Make us blind to the obvious. Clouds our judgement and turns us into…” he gesticulates towards you. You roll your eyes, but you’re not crying anymore “I have three divorces, so you’d think I know one thing or two about failed relationships. And let me tell you: yours isn’t one of them.”
“You’re just saying this because you’re his best friend.”
“I’m saying this because I love you.” he stated bluntly, and you widened your eyes in surprise, not expecting this. “And it'll kill me to see you do something I know you’ll regret later.” he leaned closer, looking at you with a paternal love that made you uneasy “Hotch loves you, kid. Don’t try to assume things. Let him know.”
“It’s hard.”
“I know it is. It has to be, don’t you think?” he smiles, the wrinkle on the corner of his eyes enhancing his passion towards the subject “Or else is not worth it. But talk to him. You know him more than I do, but I’m pretty sure you’re seeing things out of a place of hurt, probably past experiences.” he nod his head in a knowing gesture “From what I see, you’re out of your mind if you think that Hotch would ever consider living his life away from you.”
You only notice the tear streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall when his fingers gently wipe them away.
“Sorry.” you mumble, and he shakes his head.
“Listen, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t. It’ll be fine too. You’ll be fine. But just don’t let it all go to waste before at least giving him a chance.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It got to a point where you had to stop for a second to wipe the sweat out of your eyelids to see. By the time you reached your – Aaron’s – front door, your heartbeat had lowered to a normal rhythm and your skin was now cold rather than wet. You spent almost the entire night awake, tossing and turning on the bed. The night went so late it was almost morning, so you figured it made more sense to just get up and do something other than to lay in the dark with nothing but your loud and torturous mind.
Running, these past few weeks, were your loyal ally to your early mornings. That specific day, you just got back from an over two hour long run, finally feeling your limbs hurting more than your heart. As you walked in, you were surprised to find Aaron pacing around the living room, something crumpled up on one of his fist, a piece of paper in the other.
When he looked at you, his face was everything but stoic: he looked panicked, tortured, confused and, overall, hurting. “We need to talk” he said, quietly. If you listened closely, you could hear the way his voice wobbled in the middle of the sentence, like he didn’t actually want to talk. Like he wanted you to just be confused, and just ask what he meant by that, and that you weren’t being distant, he was just paranoid. Anything that could prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that you weren’t, in fact, leaving.
Despite all his silent wishes you just nodded, making your way to the couch “Yeah, we do.”
Hoping the sound of his heart shattering wasn't loud enough for you to hear, he made his way to the couch in front of you, distant enough for him to think clearly – as much as possible, under the circumstances. For a minute you just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid so heavy it could suffocate.
You glanced down at his hands, still not managing to understand what he was holding so tight on his fist. On the other hand, you could finally see what it was. Before you left the house that morning, already planning on staying out for long, you wrote him a note with the steps to use the coffee pot.
“Before we start,” he began, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat before continuing “I already know. So there’s no need to lie.” you gulp, shifting in your seat. You never lied to him before, but it was fair of him to point it out. You weren’t being exactly honest. And even though you knew what he was talking about, it still surprised you when he finally said it out loud “When exactly you were planning on breaking up with me?”
Your breath hitched, panic rushing through your veins. It didn’t matter that you still weren't sure about what to do, there was no point in lying. Not anymore. It hurt you to think about it, but actually admitting to him was a whole other level of pain.
“I don’t know.” you answer weakly.
He blinks. And then chuckles.
When he dips his head down, you stare at him confused. The only thing you catch is the way his head shakes slightly, his fists flexing but never letting go of your note and the other white soft – looks fluffy? Is it a stress relief ball? – thing. Aaron tilts his head up and his eyes are full of tears. They are shiny and reddish, and you want nothing more than to make it all go away.
“Hotch,” you try, because just watching him crumble in front of you is not an option.
“Jesus! Stop calling me that.” he spat, frowning.
“Your name?”
“That’s not my name. Not to you. Not in here.” he adverts, the pain muffling the anger in his tone.
You chew on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes. Sniffing as quietly as possible, you look at him “Do you think this is easy for me?”
“It must be!” he says, barely containing himself, “You’re doing it all behind my back, vanishing from my life little by little, until all I have left is an empty drawer with nothing but this shirt and a coffee pot I don't know how to use.” and you finally understand what he was holding on so tightly. It’s a plain silky pajama shirt. It’s the only piece of clothing because it’s matching short you – he – ended up tearing it in half on the first night you wore it.
“I left you instructions.” you point to the paper in his other hand.
“I don’t want to learn.” he looks disgusted at the paper, like it personally offended him “I’m not learning how to use it.” he emphasizes.
You try again “It’s not that hard.”
“I won’t.”
That discussion was pointless, anyway. It is something to cling onto while avoiding the main issue. Sighing deeply in order to avoid crying, you change the subject “Listen, it’s nothing with you. It’s me.” you snort at that, because it’s that old cheesy and shitty excuse. But it’s the truth. “I’m just…” it’s all you manage to say before the tears blur your vision and you have to dip your head down to try and wipe them away.
His voice filled your ears, making you glance up to face him again. “I noticed that you weren’t being yourself, but I figured you’d tell me. It was something from work, or your family. I didn’t think it was this. It was us.” his voice weakens, and he has to gulp before continuing “Aren’t you happy anymore?”
“I… there’s a lot going on.” you feel your nose burning, and you stop caring if he sees the tears streaming down your face.
“Tell me what I did.” his demeanor changes, and he doesn’t look sad and confused anymore. He sounds energetic, urgent, demanding and begging all together “Tell me where I got it wrong, i can change it. I’ll do it right. I’ll do it better.”
Hearing this, combined with the raw desperation on his voice, so opposite from his usual calm and steady behavior, only makes you cry harder, and you don’t even try to wipe them away.
“You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I don’t want you to change. I just…” a strangled hiccup interrupted your speech, and you feel ridiculous, weak, dramatic and lonely. You want this to end, but also you want this to have never happened. “I shouldn’t feel this way in a relationship.”
He nodded, thinking. When Aaron speaks again, his voice is much calmer. Resignated, even. “So that’s it, then? You have your mind made up? Nothing I say will change it.” and it’s not a question anymore.
“I’m doing this for you, I want nothing more than what’s best for you.”
“Bullshit.” he snapped, his words startling you “Why are you doing this? Is it the job? You said it’s not me. Is it Jack? Is this life too much for you? The responsibility of…”
“What? Of course not!” your heart aches thinking about it. It hurts that he thinks this, but you have no one but yourself to blame “I love Jack. I love our… this life.”
He stays silent for a second, as if analyzing your explanation — or lack thereof. “Is it someone else?” you stop, and blinks. This is it. You won’t lie straight to his face. He stiffens, and it doesn’t need another word from you to understand. “Who is him?”
“Him?” you frown in the middle of your tears, so confused you stopped crying. “What do you mean?”
“You said there was someone else.” he squinted his eyes at you.
“I didn’t, you did.”
“You didn’t deny it. Who is he?” he insisted, his jaw tensed.
“Who do you think I am?” you asked, actually aggravated at his accusations “I would never…”
“Who is he?” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes in your head.
“There's no he. It’s Beth.”
Hotch’s jaw is immediately unlocked at that, the anger and betrayal completely subsided by complete shock and confusion. “What? You and… Beth?”
“Huh?” you were the one left in confusion now. How did he get to that conclusion? For a second, you didn’t feel the excruciating pain and humiliation from admitting your feelings to him “No. You and Beth.”
“What do I have to do with this?” he asks, his confusion turning to aggravation once again “You don’t like our friendship? That’s why you're breaking up with me?”
Now, said excruciating pain and humiliation were back on its full force. You ignored the lump on your throat, taking a deep breath and explaining the situation in the most sober and objective way possible. “I realized you and her fit more together than me and you, and…” your voice faltered as you saw his outrageous expression “...the two of you only broke up because she moved away. You’re all happy that she’s coming back. I just figured…”
“What?” he interrupted, his voice sharp and edgy “That i’d break up with you to be with her?” asking like it was a ridiculous thought. You stayed silent, because that was exactly what you thought. He huffed an incredulous laugh through his nose “Jesus. Did I ever give you a reason to question me? Or my loyalty?” he accused, his voice showing more worry than anger.
“No. Actually I don't know if you’d break up with me. That’s why I saved you the trouble.” you shrugged, trying not to show how much it hurt you to say it.
“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, pintching the bridge of his noise “Are you even hearing yourself?”
“Stop talking like I'm insane.” you snapped, losing your patience “You’re the one making phone calls, facetiming and going on dates with your ex girlfriend. I saw you when the two of you broke up. I was there. You were in pain. How am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to handle this? How am I supposed to compete with this? Explain to me, Aaron. Because I have no fucking clue.”
The moment you stopped speaking, you realized you were almost yelling. It was the first time you let out your anger, your hurt. All the time you kept saying you were doing the best: for Aaron, for Jack, for Beth… Not once you stopped to think how much it sucked to be you, to deal with all of that. Yes, you could’ve talked to him sooner. But you shouldn’t have felt like that. No one should.
When you asked him to explain, to tell you what to do, it wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t sass. You were actually asking, begging for him, for someone, to tell you how to feel. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense to you. It was too overwhelming, and you just wanted it to be gone. You wanted to disappear.
You noticed too late you were crying, fully sobbing now, with one hand clutched to your chest, as if you tried to rip your heart out, and the other resting against your throat, trying to soothe the pain from talking so loud. You didn’t see how his expression softened, his anger melting into pure sorrow. He couldn’t believe he did that to you, that he, of all people, made you feel this way.
A few minutes had passed when he finally made a move. He got up from his couch and crossed the room, sitting right by your side. His knees were pressed against your thighs, his eyes filled with tears. His body and his soul were completely in surrender to yours.
“I’m sorry,” he said, simply. “I should’ve seen it before. I shouldn't have acted like this. Or at least, talked to you about it. I’m not trying to make any excuses for the way I acted, but I need to explain.” he cleared, his eyes scanning your face every 10 seconds, trying to find any hint of chance in your stance “The thought of someone other than you, in a romantic way, is so out of my reality that I didn’t even considered her a ‘threat’. Not that she, or anyone, is a threat. But I really didn’t see the situation as something that could’ve hurt you. And that was my first mistake.”
“She knows you in a way that I can’t.”
“You know me in a way no one can.” he argued “You were my subordinate, then my work colleague, my friend. Now you’re my best friend and my family. You’re the woman I love.” he gulped, flinching at his own words and feeling the hot streak of a lonely tear falling from his eye. The one he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t want you going back to being less than that.”
Your posture didn’t show any kind of surrender. But he didn’t see resistance either, and when you turned to face him, he noticed that you didn’t keep arguing and just waited to listen. Taking it as a good (the best yet) sign, he pressed further.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Beth. She happened to be the first friend I’ve had outside of the job for a long time, that’s all. I don’t know if it will help to hear this,” he tried, hesitantly “...but her leaving wasn’t the only reason why we broke up.” seeing your questioning expression, he kept going “We came to the realization we worked better as friends anyway, and it was just a matter of time for us to end things. The moving just happened first.” he shrugged.
You opened your mouth to speak, but he anticipated your argument “Yes, I did suffer. It was a change in scenario, how could I not? But as I said, we knew it was happening. So what it hurt the most was actually Jack. I felt like the worst parent from giving another sort of mother figure just to take it away from his life. Again.”
Before you could think properly, your hand reached out to his, squeezing in a silent reassurance. He always doubted his parental skills, and you were always making sure to remind him how amazing he was. Even now, with your heart broken and your relationship hanging by a thread, you still found a way to comfort him.
How could he lose something like this? Someone like this? How could he let you go? How could he make you feel that way? He had to press his lips together in a thin line to keep them from trembling, and to hold back the force of his grip when he squeezed your hand back, making sure he wasn’t hurting you as he not so subtly tried to hold on to you. To keep you from leaving.
“Honey,” he started, not even caring about his voice cracking. He couldn’t wait any longer, or lose any more chances. This was it. “I love you so much. I know this isn’t ideal, and I hate myself for ever making you feel this way. If not being with me will make you happier, then…” he gulped “...I’ll let you go. But if this situation is the only reason, please, don’t go. Please, give me a chance to show you how you’re the only one I want.”
You feel your tears running freely from your face, and you choke up a sob before speaking, your voice so weak it was barely hearable “I feel really immature.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. It sounds like he’s gone completely mad, like your admission was the water bottle after two days in the desert. It gave him hope.
“No.” he denied firmly, not letting go of your hand even for a second “Now that I think about it, if the tables were turned, I might’ve murdered your ex.” he whispered like a secret. It was so unexpected and so out of character of him that you laughed, surprising both you and him. He smiled from ear to ear at the sound of it. “I’m really sorry, I should’ve been more careful with the situation.”
“I should’ve just talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions.” you smiled apologetically. He ignores your attempt, looking deep into your eyes and calling your name with such a raw expectation that if you weren’t already seated, you would’ve fell.
“Did you change your mind?” you hesitate for a second, and he sees right through you “Tell me you have. I know you want to, I can feel it.” His voice is quiet, his words so soft spoken it feels like a spell. Only you know that you do want to be with him, now that is all cleared. “Please, give me a chance to make things right.”
You chew on your bottom lip as your eyes fill with tears again “I feel stupid.” you admit, and he wants nothing more than to cry his eyes out.
“Don’t say that ever again.” he leans in hesitantly, and when you don’t flinch or pull back, he wipes the tears from your face with the pad of his thumb. The other hand is still holding yours firmly “You were protecting yourself, as you should’ve. Thank you.”
“What for?” you snort between tears, not understanding what he could possibly be thankful for in this situation.
“Thank you for protecting and taking such good care of someone I love so much. Especially when I was too damn blind to see that she needed it.”
After that, there was no point of dragging this any further: you were completely and undeniably his.
He didn’t see it coming, his body jerking in surprise when you literally jumped to his lap, hugging him tightly and burying your face on his neck, sobbing and muttering apologies on repeat. His lips were glued to the crown of your head, kissing you repeatedly. His hands were all over you, touching from your feet to the strands of your hair, as if his body needed to feel you there, to make sure you were with him, for his mind to completely wrap up around the fact that you weren’t going anywhere.
Ignoring your words, he whispered his own, “Don’t you ever apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” and it’s the only moment his lips leave your skin “I’m sorry. I will never make you feel this way. If I ever hurt you like that again, and I won’t, I want you…”
“Don’t say it.” you cut him off. He ignores, once again.
“...to just shoot me in the face. Kill me.”
You chuckle weakly, lifting your head from his chest to face him properly “Dude, you gotta stop with the murder threats.” he arches his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.
“Dude? Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, and his finger tickles your sides as the stubble on his beard tickles your neck. Your body jerks and twitches on top of his while you laugh loudly, but never moving away from his.
When he finally feels you learned your lessons, his hands rested comfortably around your waist in its rightful place. You sigh, looking at him.
“Promise me that you will always talk to me, and be honest about your feelings. No matter how ugly you think they are.”
“I promise.” you say as you wipe the wet off his face, and it’s just then that he realizes he’d been crying all along “Promise me that if your feelings for me change, you’ll communicate.” he rolls his eyes so hard it feels like they’ll hit the back of his head “Promise.” you insist.
“I promise.” he says, seriously. When you relax, he starts again. “Matter of fact, my feelings just changed.” you squint your eyes at his playful tone “A few minutes ago I wanted to stop by your place to get back the clothes you took. But now, I’ve decided you’ll be spending the rest of the weekend with nothing to wear but that shirt.” he says, leaning – without moving you away from his lap – to grab the piece of fabric he left on the center table.
“I have to get at least underwear.” you argue.
“If you behave, I’ll let you borrow a couple boxers.”
“Jack will see it.”
“He’s a kid. And they’re the exact same size of what you call your casual shorts so I doubt he’ll notice the difference.” he points seriously and you squeal, slapping his chest slightly.
“That’s rude. And humiliating.”
“That’s what you get for stealing.”
Your mouth hangs open for a second “I didn’t steal! I didn’t take anything from your house but my clothes.”
“This house is ours.” he stares at you deeply, waiting for his statement to sink in before continuing “So is everything in it. From the bedroom to the coffee pot and, therefore, your clothes. So, basically, you stole from us.” he shrugged, like he made a perfect point. You just laugh, choosing to accept it.
“I’m sorry for stealing.” he nodded politely and you dive back into his embrace, sighing happily “Can we stay like this forever?” Aaron tight his arms around you, his whole body answering before any words came out.
“I’ll think about it. But before that, we have to eat. You're probably on the verge of dehydration right now.” he points, standing up with you still in his arms, and makes his way toward the kitchen. He settles you in one of the stools and hands you your shirt “Go change while I make us breakfast. Now that I’ve learnt how to use the coffee pot.”
You gasp, widening your eyes in a mock-threat. Jumping out of the stool with your shirt already crumpled on your hands, you stomp your way to where he stands behind the stove, pointing your finger to his chest. “You can cook whatever you want, but don't you dare touch the coffee pot, Aaron Hotchner.”
Aaron does just as you said, beaming while frying the bacon even when you’re upstairs in his shower. Your shower. And both of you know, somehow, you’ll be okay.
taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna
you let out a little giggle as you noticed the pink smudge of donut frosting on sirius' mouth. you reached out to wipe it off with your thumb, but he dodged it with a loud laugh.
"dude--quit! you've got frosting on your face!" you laughed, again lunging towards him.
"i'm saving it as a snack for later!" he complained, his tongue darting out to lick it away. "mmm, yummy--see? i can take it everywhere i go!"
"you're stupid," you stifled a laugh, not noticing the way his eyes lit up at the sight of your joy.
you were studying for exams with your legs propped up on sirius' lap.
"siri, what's the one potion that clears acne?" you asked, rustling through your bag of gummy bears. where were the blue ones? they were the only good flavor!
"i'll tell you if you give me one," was his immediate response. you rolled your eyes.
"no! remus gave it to me as a present!"
"please? come on, i'm so hungry!"
you let out a soft huff. "fine, but you can only have the orange or the yellow ones."
"maybe...maybe you can have a blue one too. if you want," you added reluctantly, quickly looking back down at your textbook.
"the moon looks quite beautiful tonight," sirius said softly, sitting down next to you on the cold marble floors of the astronomy tower. "what're you doing here all alone?"
"couldn't sleep," you shrugged lightly. "what about you? why are you over here so late?"
he paused, glancing over at you with a soft smile. "came to find you," he said simply.
he handed you a bar of chocolate, and you silently took it.
you couldn't help but giggle as you smeared frosting on his cheek, the crumbs of your wedding cake dropping onto your pristine dress. "you've got frosting on your face,"
"goodness, i wonder how it got there!" he grinned, flushed and giddy. "mrs. black, did you perhaps see the culprit?"
"i didn't," you couldn't stifle your laugh this time.
get it tongue-tied, tumble dry, and easy to please !
"kento, do you like these shoes?" your voice comes out in a gentle croon, his name rolling off of your tongue like syrup.
he feels his mouth go dry. his heart makes an embarrassing little lurch at your smile, and oh, he's falling for you all over again.
"...huh?" he says dumbly, but it's okay. somehow, you're already smitten with him despite how speechless he gets around you.
"the shoes, love." you giggle, and he finds himself leaning forward to be able to catch the sound better. something warm settles in his stomach at the sight of your bright smile.
it had been three years without you. one thousand and ninety-five days without you. twenty-six thousand, two hundred and ninety-eight hours. it had been too long living without you, and it was enough to make a lesser man go insane. every second without you was agony, but he would soon be able to rectify his biggest mistake: not being the man you deserved.
he thought he would be happy if he had his family, that he could learn to love his wife one day, but he was wrong. none of it meant anything if he didn't have you. you were the light of his life, his first thought in the morning and his last thought just before he fell asleep.
wake up, pat the sheets next to him in his half-asleep daze to check if you were still there. you aren't. you never are anymore. eat breakfast, miss your cooking and how you always made sure he was well-fed. go to work, his only distraction from you. come home, look down at the keychain you had given to him after a date at the carnival as he unlocks the door. eat dinner, yearn to be back in your kitchen and in your arms. you used to dance with him under the fluorescent lights as you waited for the food to finish cooking.
sometimes when he showers, he still feels the ghost of your fingers in his hair. and when he closes his eyes, the warmth of the water almost feels like you again. the water bill had never been higher.
and of course he had been keeping tabs on you throughout your time apart. he'd made you a promise, after all. he needed to be able to find you. you had become an art dealer now like you had always wanted, and, true to your promise, you waited for him.
you still live in the same house. you never dated anyone new. despite everything he had done to you, you waited for him. you're still waiting for him.
that fact was enough for him to gather the courage to come back to you again. he had waited long enough to be with you. the divorce with his wife had been finalized a year ago, but the last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your life while you were trying to move on.
he stands in front of your art gallery, nervously adjusting his tie and brushing away any loose strands of hair. he takes in frantic gulps of air, steeling himself as he walks inside.
he clasps his hands behind his back, trying to look every bit of the proper gentleman he aspires to be.
"hello, is there something i can help you find-" it's you. he feels his knees grow weak, the breath getting knocked out of his lungs. you're so beautiful. how did he go so long without seeing your face like this?
"-satoru," you say softly, a dazzling smile lighting up your features. just when he thought you couldn't be prettier, you're smiling. at him.
he's imagined your reunion a thousand times over. and he's dreamed about it twice as much, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. that knowing twinkle in your eye was something his mind never could have conjured, which makes this moment so much better.
he stands there like an idiot, his mouth gaping open. "i came back for you, baby. like i promised," he chokes out, his voice thin and breathless.
you stay silent, just grinning at him before you launch yourself into his arms. he catches you without hesitation, one arm around your waist and the other cradling the back of your head. like always.
he has a silent moment of gratitude to all the gods in existence, thanking them for leading him back to you. he's not a religious man, but as he stands there, with you finally back in his arms, he thinks that maybe he could be.
this is just a personal theory, but love is the most twisted curse of them all
wc: 1,891
pt. 2
it was stupid to have an affair with a married man. you knew he couldn't fully commit to you, and yet, like an idiot, you still went and fell in love with him. and like an even bigger idiot, he fell in love with you too.
you lay on the couch with him, enjoying another stolen moment before he's forced to go home to his wife. there's a lingering discomfort that settles deep within your bones, but you push it down.
"you're so pretty, you know that?" he says in a hushed tone, despite no one else being there to overhear him.
"i think i do know. after all, you say it every day, don't you?" you tease, nudging him playfully.
your smiles slowly fade as a familiar, high-pitched noise penetrates the air. but that chiming of his phone isn't just a noise. it's a special ringtone dedicated solely to his wife. it's the noise that shatters the perfect illusion of happiness that exists only in your home. because you can't be happy. not like this.
"i'll go wait in the kitchen. you should have privacy to talk to your wife," you offer him a tight-lipped smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as you stand up.
satoru cranes his head up, leaning as far into your touch as possible. it makes you laugh quietly, momentarily distracting you from the self-deprecating thoughts that swirl around inside your head.
you immediately busy yourself with making a cup of hot tea, not wanting to eavesdrop on his conversation. you knew you were just the other woman. maybe he loved you back, but he still had a wife waiting for him at home.
you had to be cool. you had to be the cool girl if you wanted him to stay. but sometimes it didn't even feel worth it anymore. what was the point in being cool if he couldn't be fully yours?
you stared down at your steaming mug, barely noticing his footsteps get closer and closer until you schooled your features into a mask of cheerfulness. "done already?"
"you don't have to fake your emotions with me, baby. i know you're upset, and i-i'm really sorry. i feel awful that you have to go through this." he says quietly, cupping your face and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.
"you clearly don't feel awful enough, seeing as you still haven't done anything about it." your tone is clipped and bitter, a pang of guilt settling in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have said that."
he winces, glancing down at his feet. "no, you shouldn't have to apologize. i-i know i deserved that. it's not that i don't feel bad, i do. it's just..."
"complicated?"
"i'm sorry." and he is sorry. but it's not enough for you anymore.
"of course it's complicated, satoru...but you told me you loved me. you told me you'd get a divorce. you told me that you wanted to shout from the rooftops about how much you loved me." your voice is embarrassingly fragile, and you hope he doesn't notice.
he rakes a hand through his silver hair, a gesture so familiar and endearing it aches. "i meant all of that, my love. i swear. i do want a divorce, but my parents won't let me,"
he reaches out for your hand, and you let him. he rubs the same soothing circles over your knuckles as he always does, but this time it does nothing to placate you.
"you're a grown man, satoru. you can make your own decisions now." you say quietly, tensing under his touch.
"i know that," he whispers, squeezing your hand. "but it's not that simple. they're my family. they wanted me to get married, and i can't disappoint them. their opinions are...everything, to me."
there's a slow dawn of resignation that comes to you, and it makes your shoulders slump with defeat. "i understand."
you stare up at him with a devastated look on your face you clearly don't cover up well enough, or maybe he just knows you too well. you allow yourself a selfish moment to engrave his face into your mind one last time. despite the numerous photos of him that sit in your camera roll, there isn't a single one of them that does his beauty any justice.
"please don't look at me like that, baby. please, don't..." he whimpers beseechingly, leaning down to your level with a pleading expression. "please, my love. don't look at me like i've already lost you,"
you take a deep, shuddering breath as you cup his face, trying to put on a brave face for his sake. "i know you're torn between me and your family..."
he shivers, looking so miserable you want to cry. he leans into your touch, desperate for any shred of comfort he can get. "i-i wish i could have it all, but i can't. but p-please, don't give up on me...please,"
"so i'll choose for you, satoru." you continue softly, leaning your forehead against his. you shut your eyes, breathing in his scent before the moment ends. every last one of his details needs to be committed to memory before you let him go. you need to let him go. it's for the greater good.
citrus, cedarwood, and mint. citrus, cedarwood, and mint. citrus, cedarwood, and mint. citrus, cedarwood, and mint.
"n-no, no, no! don't do this, please don't do this...please, don't do this to me," he pleads, his lips quivering. he grabs your wrists, refusing to let go as if you'd slip away from his grasp otherwise. "i'm begging you, please,"
"i wish it didn't have to be like this, satoru." you bite your tongue, determined not to cry. in this moment, at least one of you has to be strong.
"please, it doesn't have to be! w-we can fix this, please...! i can't lose you," desperation claws at his throat, his voice breaking as tears freely drip down his cheeks.
this man who is always so proud, so egotistical, is kneeling at your feet, hugging your waist and bowing his head into your stomach as if you are a goddess to be worshiped. he looks up at you pitifully with that yearning gaze you've become so accustomed to, as if you're his only salvation.
"satoru," you say softly, tracing a gentle finger over his cheekbone. "you'll be alright, i know it. can you promise me something?"
he shakes his head frantically, letting out a sob as he grips the fabric of your shirt. "n-no, no, i'll never be alright if you leave me, i swear it! p-please, please don't l-leave me, i'll do anything!"
"promise me that one day, if things ever become...less complicated, that you'll come find me. one day, if you have no other ties holding you down--no wife, no family you're worried about disappointing, i'd like you to come to me. i'll be waiting for you, alright?" you offer him a weak smile, the sight of his anguish too much to bear.
"i promise. i'm yours, a-always. i'll come find you, i swear." he whispers, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen as he slowly stands back up.
he envelops you in a hug, and for a moment, everything feels okay again. one arm wrapped around your waist, one hand cradling the back of your head to press you further into him. there is no safer space than in his arms, and it's a haven that you will soon no longer have access to.
"satoru...do you think we'd be happy in another universe?"
"so happy...we'd be the happiest...but not in this one. we're not meant to have our happy ending, are we?" he laughs bitterly, his arms clutching you tighter as if to mold your body to his.
"we might," you say halfheartedly. his cologne is stronger in this proximity.
citrus, cedarwood, and mint.
"still such an optimist, aren't you?" he laughs again, and it's a humorless, hollow sound that doesn't fit him at all.
"i know this is selfish, but...could i kiss you? one last time?" you whisper, your composure cracking as a single tear drips from your eye.
he instinctively brushes your tears away with his nimble fingers, not even taking a second thought to do so. "of course, my love. you can have anything you want. just ask, and it's yours. i'd give you...everything."
he sounds absolutely gutted, and it makes your heart shatter. how could this possibly be for the greater good if it feels so painful?
he kisses you the same way a drowning man claws for his last pockets of air--desperately, breathlessly, pleadingly. he kisses you like he's starving for your touch, and in a way, he is. he kisses you as if he's trying to remember the feel of your lips, the taste of your mouth in case he never gets to again, and you know he is--because you're doing the same.
he lets out a wounded noise as you pull away, chasing your lips. just to feel you one last time.
"i don't blame you for leaving. not one bit, baby. but i swear to you--i swear on my life, i'll find you again one day. and i won't be such a fool next time. i'll be the man you deserve, i promise." he lets out a shaky breath, resting his forehead against yours.
"i look forward to that day, satoru. i'll be waiting for you."
"i wish i could keep you forever," he whispers.
"i know. me too." you take a moment to breathe and collect yourself, knowing that if he stays for much longer, you won't have the strength to break up with him.
you cradle his face with your hands, memorizing the exact sensation of his hair between your fingers. "i love you," you speak into his skin as you press a lingering kiss on his forehead, almost hoping that he'd absorb your words and never forget how much you meant to him.
truthfully, you didn't really believe that he would come back to you one day. but as long as he could have his family, as long as he was happy, you would be fine.
he turns his head and brushes his lips against the inside of your wrist, a reverent act that makes your heart twist.
"goodbye satoru," you can't even muster up the strength to smile. satoru was your strength, your happiness, your love, your everything. and once he left your house, he would take all of that with him.
the sound of your front door closing is a white-hot spike driving into your stomach. it's so definitive, so final that you feel your heart break just a little bit more.
you watch him leave with a familiar ache in your chest, trying to ignore the way his shoulders shake, or the way he drags his feet. you try to ignore the way he turns back with a desolate expression, seeking your gaze one last time. you try to ignore the way his fists clench so tightly that blood trickles down his fingers. but you can't, so you close your curtains and turn away so you can cry properly.
he's not dead, so why does it feel as if you're mourning him?
an: major spoilers for the last chapter!! read more here <3
as soon as shoko comes out of the operating room, you run up to her, meeting her exhausted yet troubled eyes.
“can i see..?”
the sigh she lets out is a gruesome one, her eyes closing briefly as she throws away her dirty gloves and the mask before touching your elbow hastily.
“i don’t think you should—”
“please.”
shoko shakes her head, her expression turning impatient and somewhat pitiful as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
“listen, i know it’s hard for you, believe me, it’s hard for me too, but—”
she once again is cut off, but this time not by your pleas. instead, it’s him, emerging from the door as if nothing has changed and looking around in bewilderment before his eyes settle on shoko.
and then they move to you, widening in recognition and realisation.
you stare back at him for a second, horrified by the way he looks so familiar. like it wasn’t his body ripped in half, laying on the dusty ground with destruction surrounding it and snow falling over it; like the ugly sutures on his forehead, barely covered with the white strands of his hair is the most normal thing.
“satoru!” you breathe out, moving shoko out of your way to get closer to him, and she can’t find it in herself to stop you even though the clock is ticking. loudly.
you know it’s yuuta in there.
from the way he can barely get out a word, standing still a little awkwardly as if feeling out of place in a crowd of people. from the way his eyes don’t soften at the sight of you, only deepening with horror and pity when you step closer and look up at him as if you’ve seen the god.
from the way his fingers twitch but it isn’t an arbitrary response to your close proximity.
you put the side of your face against his chest, right where satoru’s heart is, yet the absence of a heartbeat or any kind of warmth opens the gates of your eyes, the tears falling down as you sob quietly into his shirt. arms wrapped tightly around his now whole middle, you grip the flesh in an attempt to grasp the reality of things that starts to sink in a lot deeper than you’d like.
“i know you hear me, satoru,” you cry in pure, uncontrollable pain. “i’m so sorry!”
you don’t see the way yuuta looks at shoko in panic, as both of them witness the will of gojo’s soul controlling his body momentarily; his arms that continue twitching until they embrace you snugly, one arm around your waist and the other heavy on your shoulders, pushing you closer to himself.
your breath hitches as you realise that the presence of satoru is so deep within his body that he’s able to connect with you even through the darkness — hugging the way only he ever does.
“i love you, my satoru, i always will.”
you place a small kiss on his chest, on his heart, barely able to peel yourself of off him, and step away shakily, shoko’s faint touch on your elbow grounding you.
“goodbye.” you smile up at him softly.
and while it’s yuuta’s eyes that stare at you through his, it’s satoru fingers that refuse to let go of yours as shoko leads you away.
Can you write something about James Potter and a ravenclaw reader already being in a secret relationship for quite some months in their 7th year but when they announce it and you know let the school population know, their relationship take a bit of down turn from involvement of third party and them having problems handling things....
The specific focus with lily Evans being suddenly very interested in james. In a period where the couple take a break to cool down from fights and have a level headed conversation, lily asks him out. You know not liking that he was off the market when she was there thinking that he is getting better, has stopped bulllying and all for her, she thought he will ask he out anytime now. But anyways after the sort of break she tries to up her games and make James see that if he can have her , why go for someone like reader. Someone lesser than the lily...
So basically I want lily in a bit of villian-esque. But at the end she just looses because reader and James are made for each other etc...
Totally understand if you are a lily fans or a jily fan and don't like to do such writing projects...just please let me know either way....
hey, sorry it took a while for me to get this out !! i've been a little busy this past week, but i hope you like it :) i also saw your other message in my inbox, so this is a male reader fic
come and get your love
"did you hear about james' breakup?"
"looks like potter's back on the market!"
"thank merlin! when i first heard he was dating y/n, i was actually so confused,"
those harsh whispers followed you everywhere you went, and it was a painful reminder of how happy you could have been. you had been the one to suggest going public with your relationship, and it had only gone downhill from there.
"hey, so...don't shoot the messenger, okay?" sirius black walked up to you in a ridiculous disguise, peering from side to side to ensure that no one noticed him talking to you. even with the fake mustache and obnoxiously large sunglasses, it was still obvious that the man standing in front of you was, in fact, sirius black.
"what?"
"lily's planning to ask james out to hogsmeade this weekend. and if you do believe in shooting the messenger, please just avoid the face! it's my moneymaker," sirius said quickly. he put his hands up in front of his face and scrunched his eyes shut.
"put your hands down, black. i'm not going to hit you." you rolled your eyes, an insecure frown beginning to overtake your face. he wouldn't accept her offer, right?
sure, the two of you were in a bit of a rough patch. and sure, he'd had a crush on evans for almost six years. but the two of you were just on a little break to cool your heads. and you'd make your way back to each other any day now...right?
it didn't matter if she was a girl and you weren't. it didn't matter that it would be seen as more socially acceptable if they dated instead. because he liked you. he chose you. didn't he?
"umm...i can feel you spiralling, so i'm gonna just...go," sirius gulped, slowly creeping away from you.
"honestly, i don't know what james was thinking, dating y/n. thank merlin they're broken up. i mean, he changed for me! he stopped bullying people for me!" lily complained, her cheeks flushed with anger.
marlene and alice shared a look.
"hon, i'm thinking maybe you should just...let it go?" marlene suggested, picking at her cuticles. "james seemed pretty happy with him."
"maybe, but they still broke up! marlene, whose side are you even on?" lily flashed a glare at marlene before continuing her rant. "it's my chance to swoop in, pretend to be a caring friend, and when he's all vulnerable, i can just....make my moves."
james sighed, his expression forlorn as he stared up at the ceiling. if he looked close enough and squinted just the right amount, he could see your face in the peeling paint. "i'm miserable without him, moony. i miss his stupid jokes. i miss his stupid face. i even miss when he'd try to be romantic and play with my hair, but he'd just end up tangling it and his hands would get stuck. you know, i almost had to shave my whole head because he fucked up my hair so badly. i miss him so much,"
"i don't understand why you're here complaining to me about it. go get him back. you're not broken up yet. not officially, anyway." remus shrugged.
"but...what if he doesn't want me back?" james said feebly.
"then you won't get him back. but if you never try, the answer will always be no."
"hey james, i-" lily's stride was confident as she walked up to james, an expectant smile on her face.
"not now, evans. i've got a boyfriend to get back," he quickly brushed her off, his eyes darting around in search of your familiar form.
"oh." her grin drops from her face, replaced with an irritated scowl.
you cock your head to the side, a breathless james coming to a stop in front of you. "potter?"
"don't call me that, please don't call me that." he begs, his warm hands enveloping yours. "call me james, jamie, dickhead, just...just stop being so distant with me. so just listen, okay?"
you feel your heart beginning to race, a familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. even after weeks of not speaking to each other, he still makes you feel so much.
"okay," you breathe out, a slow smile spreading across your face. you squeeze his hand.
the simple action is worth a million words-- i've missed you. i forgive you. i love you.
he squeezes back. i've missed you too. i'm sorry. i love you too.
hi! I was wondering if you could write something about a shy remus noticing he developed feelings for slytherin!reader (she's in their friend group) after they come back from summer break? she always sat next to him and was kind and lowkey feels the same towards him but he's just an insecure lil guy
i'm on it bro 🫡 idk if it's a little more angsty than you'd want but yeah i hope it's how you imagined it !
cupid's chokehold
what was it about you that made his heart beat so quickly? why did the very thought of you dilate his pupils to the point that they swallowed up the usual honey color of his eyes?
was it the way that your slytherin tie complimented your skin so well? you never judged him for being a werewolf the way your housemates surely would.
he loved the way you would sit next to him during meals, the way you'd casually press your shoulders against his. you'd lean into him as if it meant nothing to you, but it meant everything to him.
you would express affection with him so nonchalantly, playing with his hair and interlocking your arms with his. even the slightest touch would cause his heart to leap up into his throat.
"how was your summer, rem? i didn't hear from you at all. i was worried, y'know." you nudged him, looking up at him with that affectionate gaze he loved so much.
oh. oh. he loved you.
"i was busy with babysitting my younger cousins, sorry. i didn't have time to respond to your letters-- i was too tired from dealing with those kids all day." the lie sounded fake even to his own ears, but he hoped that you'd believe it.
your eyes flickered for a moment, your smile faltering before you quickly fixed your expression. "i know you're lying, but i'm sure you have your reasons. just let me know if you ever need to talk, okay? i'm here for you."
what else was he supposed to say? that he was trying so hard to deny his feelings for you he avoided you all summer? that he wanted to prove to himself that this was just a phase, and that the next school year he could be friends with you? just friends? nothing more, nothing less?
the very thought of that stung like salt on a fresh wound, but as long as you were in his life, he didn't care how. he didn't even care if you would one day grow to hate him. no matter what words spilled from your pretty lips, as long as they were directed at him, as long as your attention was faced towards him, his longing for you would be satiated.
but it didn't work that way at all. every waking moment, you had consumed his thoughts. he would smell your perfume in the wind and turn around, only to see no one there.
he had never met anyone who had bewitched him in such a way, made him feel so yearning. he would ask you out one day, once he was sure you felt the same.
but until then, he'd stand behind you like a loyal dog, content to stare at your back.
Sorry for the spam liking, your Vic's are truly amazing! <3
I was wondering if you could maybe make a yule ball fic with Regulus Black? Maybe how he asked her or the day of it ! 💗
no omg don't apologize for spam liking 😭 i truly don't gaf, it makes me happy to see that people are enjoying my writing :)
i hope you like it !!
heart burn
"no, that's stupid! stupid, stupid, stupid! why would she want roses? she has a pollen allergy!" regulus paced around his dorm, raking a hand through his now unruly curls.
once pristine, his anxious habits had caused his hair to become frizzy and tangled. his eyes were wide and bloodshot, his tie loosened and hanging limply down his wrinkled shirt.
"reg, who are you talking to- oh. should i come back later?" evan rosier poked his head into the room, hiding a laugh behind his hand. "why do you look like that?"
"shut up, i know!" regulus complained.
"does this have something to do with a certain girl? the yule ball's coming up-"
"you think i don't know that?!" regulus hissed frantically before clearing his throat to regain his composure. "excuse me. i was just trying to figure out a way to ask y/n out to the yule ball."
"that's easy, innit? just ask her. maybe some flowers, chocolates, i dunno. don't girls like that sort of thing?" evan shrugged. "anyway, i just wanted to come up here and tell you to shut the hell up. we can all hear you pacing around from the common room, so...."
sirius cooed at his little brother, pinching his gaunt cheeks. "my baby brother has finally come to me for advice on girls! i always knew this day would come! should i get balloons for this very special occasion?"
"don't make it weird," regulus rolled his eyes as he pushed sirius away. "it's just...a hypothetical situation, is all. how would one...not me, by the way....go about inviting someone to the yule ball? hypothetically, of course."
"well...hypothetically, what kinds of things does this person like? hypothetically, you should just center the invite around that person. i think you're overthinking this way too much, reggie."
"well, that's no help! obviously i should go for what she-- i mean...um, what this person likes. you've never had trouble with girls, so of course you wouldn't be able to offer any real advice..." regulus sulked.
sirius chuckled quietly, poking regulus' forehead. "c'mon kid, don't be like that. that's just the thing: it doesn't always have to be some big, monumental gesture. it's the quieter, more intimate stuff that they hold closer to their hearts. think love letters, buying that item they've been talking about for ages. to be loved is to be seen-- that's their favorite quote. that's why i told you to center everything around what she likes."
"you know, i don't care what everyone else says about you. you're actually pretty smart sometimes."
"thanks, reggie!" sirius beamed. "hey, wait a minute..."
"can i take you to the yule ball?" regulus blurted in the middle of your study date. "i-i mean, i had this whole plan, and sirius gave me advice and everything, but you just look so...pretty right now, so i just wanted to ask anyway. um, i'll just shut up now."
you let out a quiet laugh, the sound washing over him like warm ganache. "yes, reg. we'll go to the yule ball together."
"um...thank you." regulus cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "so...where were we? transfiguring candles?"
"h-hey," peter's voice cracks as he tries to speak, clearing his throat as a blush creeps up his cheeks. "i-i mean, hey."
his hands fiddle with something underneath his robes, his freckles slowly disappearing as his flush grows darker.
"hi peter, what's up?" you offer him a polite smile as you try not to laugh at how adorable he is.
"s-so i noticed that um...y-you're really good at, um, ch-charms. c-could you maybe...tutor me? i-i mean, i-it's fine if y-you don't!" he stutters.
he clears his throat again as he stares down at the ground. preparing himself to be slapped. for what? he doesn't really know. maybe for even daring to talk to you, let alone asking you for anything. why would he deserve to hold even an ounce of your attention?
"sure, that's fine. i'm free anytime, so let me know when you want to meet in the library," you shrug simply, your eyes widening in shock as he shoves 3 boxes of chocolate frogs in your arms.
"okay, thanks, bye!" he rushes off before you can respond, practically running away from you.
"um...bye, i guess?"
james
"merlin-!" your neck almost collapses as james places his elbow on your skull, casually using you as an armrest and leaning his full weight on you.
"has anyone ever told you how short you are?" he ponders, letting out a quiet oomph when you shove him off.
"get off me, you...ogre!"
"sweetheart, i'm hurt. anyhow, have you heard of what happened to malfoy? i set his mattress on fire," he looks at you with a childlike grin, eager for your approval. "you said he was insulting you behind your back, didn't you?"
"oh, that's not...that's not really a prank. that's just, um...arson." you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, your lips twisted into a weak grimace.
his smile dips slightly. "well, i didn't exactly consult the boys about it. was more of a personal project. for you. don't you like it?"
"um...it's the thought that counts, right?"
as dubious as your answer is, it causes james' spirits to lift once more, and he tackles you in a hug (which subsequently cuts off your air supply--who knew he'd have such a strong grip?).
"i knew you'd love it!"
sirius
"ahh, good evening, love. sitting at the fireplace all by your lonesome?" sirius says loudly as he plops down on the couch next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
"not anymore," you gingerly pick up his hand as if it's radioactive, tossing it aside and leaving it dangling behind the couch--but most importantly, away from you. "what are you doing, black?"
"you're so cold to me," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "you didn't notice anything new about me?"
"i'm heartbroken! devastated! anguished! inconsolable, even! i did all this to fit your tastes, you know!" he complains. "can't i have a little kiss to heal my shattered soul?"
he puckers his lips, leaning in with a hopeful expression.
"yeah, maybe in your dreams, black." you snort as you get up from the couch, moving as far away from him as possible.
he bites his lip as he watches you leave, idly rubbing his jaw.
"oh trust me, i'm dreaming...hell, i'll do a lot more than dreaming..."
remus
"i couldn't stay for break, so i wanted to give you an early yule present, if that's okay?" remus rummages around in his bag and hands you a strange rectangle.
upon closer inspection, it seems to be a (poorly) wrapped gift, but it's the thought behind it that warms your heart and causes an involuntary smile to spread across your face.
yes, too much wrapping paper was used, and there's tape in unnecessary places, but remus made a gift for you. who cares that it looked like it had been constructed by a blind toddler?
"thank you, remus," you say sweetly, your voice dripping into his ears like warm honey. "can i open it?"
"o-of course, and if you don't like it, i also have a sweater in my dorm for you. i um, remember how you'd always compliment my sweaters, so i thought i might get us a matching pair." he offers you a shy smile that makes your heart melt.
"you're so sweet, rem," you say softly. you delicately tear the wrapping paper, not wanting to ruin his hard work.
"it's my favorite book. i thought you might like it, and i annotated it. i highlighted the lines that made me think of you, and i also wrote little comments in the margins," he explains quietly, picking at his cuticles. "but now that i'm saying it out loud, it seems stupid..."
"it's not stupid, rem! i love it! it's really sweet and thoughtful! thank you," you say earnestly. "i'm really excited to read it over break. i mean it,"
