Latest Posts by whydoyoucare866 - Page 5

i biblically need this man.

Matthew talking about Reid.

Woo-Hoo! Go Reid! 🤓✊🏻

Sometimes "babygirl" is a 44-year-old man, and you have to accept that.

spencer reid my pookie...they could never make me hate you

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where  Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together. 

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can. 

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value. 

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush. 

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere. 

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes. 

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace. 

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly. 

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. 

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around. 

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other. 

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face. 

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity. 

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together. 

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

rip James Potter you would’ve hated finding out your grandchild’s name is Albus Severus Potter

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader

w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)

summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope

a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.

hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.

you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.

it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office. inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.

after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.

“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.

your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?

“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”

best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.

“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.

“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.

“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.

you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.

j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.

if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.

you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.

“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.

“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.

his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.

“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.

“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer.

you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”

you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.

paperwork it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.

you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.

“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.

you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.

you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.

“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.

“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.

your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.

“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.

“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”

“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.

“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.

you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.

“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.

“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”

you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”

just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.

“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.

“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”

before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.

as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,

“she brought penelope?”

had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.

“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like an arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.

“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.

you’re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.

“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.

“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone more confident than before, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”

time stops.

“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.

“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”

your heart breaks even more, if that’s even possible, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.

he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.

you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?

“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn’t come over for movie night that weekend?”

your heart cracks even more at his question, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.

“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.

“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.

“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.

his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.

“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.

as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.

“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.

it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.

spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.

“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.

the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.

“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.

“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.

“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

i need ppl to yap to😔 pls anyone hmu to be friends

i just read THE BEST tom riddle fic EVER and im feral about him now, the only reason i haven’t wrote abt him is bc i know if i start another fic i will never finish my jason fic and i really really want to finish it

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

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

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

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

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

lorenzo zurzolo the man that you are🙈

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

THE FINN WOLFHARD HYPE IS COMING BACK AND OH EM GEE YALL DONT KNOW THE HOLD THAT MAN HAS ON ME HES BEEN MY OBSESSION SINCE 2016 I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . anakin skywalker

🎬//

teaser:

BUT I JUST MISS YOU,

AND I JUST WISH YOU

WEREEE A BETTER MAN...

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ : modern! anakin x fem! reader

warnings! :

swearing ,, angst

SUMMARY: the last person you expect at your door is your unofficial ex boyfriend of 3 months, in need of a favor... in need of a date.

based off this request (hope you like it ❤️)

〰️

the microwaved mac and cheese, laying pulled apart on your plate, was left completely uneaten. you weren't necessarily hungry, and you knew it even while making it, too. but maybe you did so just to grasp onto the semblance of a routine you still had. the incandescent, dim glow of your overhead light normally cast your small, cramped dining room into somewhat of a cozy aroma, but now, it brought shadows of hollowness along with it, much like your empty stomach.

watching the metal of your fork dig lazily into the small noodles, you leaned back in your chair, free hand on your thigh, and heaved an elongated and heavy exhale. your pinned up hair might've been collecting dust considering how long you had been sitting there, staring. night was slowly luring your town into its cave and pinching the wick of its candle until the flame kneeled and gave up.

biting your lip, you finally stood, pushing the chair from your legs, grabbing your mac and cheese and fork and walking the short distance to your kitchen. you emptied the contents of your plate into the pullout trashcan and turned on the sink, giving the water a moment to heat up before running the glass and metal beneath. when your house murmured with the shrill tune of the doorbell, you nearly rolled your eyes in disgruntlement, then straightened in confusion. who on earth was at your door on a random tuesday at 7 pm? setting the plate and fork onto the bottom of the sink, you shut off the water and shook your hands semi-dry, walking the hallway to your front door.

you patted your palms onto your jeans before you unlocked the entrance, turned the knob, and pulled the wood open. remembrance in a coat stood on the other side. almost immediately, your heart seized in your chest, the weight of memory hitting you in the all the wrong places. him. him. sweat collected in your palms, and a feeling of slight horror followed behind the shock. what was he doing here? what was your unofficial ex boyfriend doing here? when was the last time you even saw him? how many months ago was it that you had given up and packed your bags, leaving his empty house without so much as a goodbye. thinking so foolishly that maybe, if you fled, he'd chase after you. he'd care again. but no. you hadn't talked since. you didn't need to. prior to your undeclared breakup, there had been so much incessant fighting, that he must've known it was over the second he came back to his completely vacant house. no closure was needed, either. he didn't go after you, even if you wanted him to. that was that.

and yet, there he was. standing in front of you. staring. it was quiet a moment. he looked more shocked that he was there than you were. in fact, you didn't look shocked at all. your face was void of any emotion. the only giveaway that you were surprised was the slight raise of your eyebrows. and he... he was just as you recalled him to be. dark, blue eyes, framed by long lashes and low-set brows. soft curls that fell in waves over his forehead. the face you recalled late in the night. in your dreams. when you'd wondered why you had left in the first place, when you considered so thoroughly, just going back. going back to him. even if it meant the first thing you'd be doing in his vicinity would be screaming.

rain pattered on the roof. he did look a bit damp. "y/n," were the first words spoken in 3 months. it wasn't a question. and it certainly wasn't said in that desperate, breathy tone the men in movies laced into their words, proof that they'd spent hours dreaming of the holding of a hand or a kiss on the cheek. it was a statement.

"anakin," was your first response back. his name on your tongue seemed to snap the sense back into him. he shifted on his feet for the first time since you'd opened the door, and finally, anakin seemed to register just what was happening. you pursed your lips, gripping the knob until your knuckles turned white. "why— why are you here, anakin." not a question, either.

"i need—" his chest stuttered, "—a favor."

---

"no." your eighth word to anakin. no. what a powerful word. a simple, one syllable, two letter word that had the power to completely rip apart a whole spiel of pleas, a paragraph or two of asking. by saying just that one word, you killed a whole night's worth of planning and courage-building. but you weren't thinking much about that fact, then. no.

anakin stared incredulously at you. because he was definitely feeling the weight and wrath of that one word. he felt it like a nuisance. it was the silence that followed and the look of vacancy on your face. finally, he inhaled through his mouth, looked away. an annoyed expression enveloped his face, which was honestly laughable. "look—"

"no." 9th word. next, just to rub salt in the wound you'd formed with that one word, you bit out a humorless, horrible laugh, shaking your head and looking away. you didn't even know why you'd let your unofficial ex boyfriend into your house, sat him down at the table, and let him explain this "favor" of his. "you should leave, anakin. please."

his face hardened, shifting with your movements as you stood, expecting him to follow after. he did indeed, but stopped in front of you instead. "if this is about what happened—"

"i don't want to talk about what happened. ever. i thought you got the memo." rubbing a hand over your brows, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head again.

"okay, fine. i won't bring it up. not once. after it's over, in fact, i'll leave you alone and never talk to you again, because that's what you want, right?"

it was mockery. anakin was mocking you. you stopped shifting, looking up at him with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes boring into his as if he was just joking. "y'know, you have some real nerve, coming to my house and expecting me to accommodate to your needs—which are some really stupid fucking needs—even after what happened. some real nerve. get out, anaki—!"

"i know! i know i do!" his hands flew out at either side of him, hovering, and thick brows knitted together, casting his face into madness. he was mad. he had the audacity to be mad. you were reminded again of why you left in the first place. you couldn't go 30 minutes without bickering. "do you think i'd be here if this situation wasn't drastic?! my mother will stab me in the eye if i show up to this dinner without you. literally stab me—!"

"your problems stopped being mine 3 fucking months ago. get out, anakin, or do i have to start screaming bloody murder until my neighbors call the cops?"

he shifted on his feet in that way that angry mothers did in movies, as if unbelieving of what was happening. even though he had brought it upon himself. "i know you hate me, y/n, for... for— what happened. and i know you blame me too. i understand it, but i have reason to hate you just as much. you might despise me, and i might despise you, but you need to understand just how important this is to beru. to my family. so can we please just— just..." the anger in his eyes shifted. so did something in your chest.

"i do. and i'm telling you no." you turned on your heel, walking down the hallway, opening the front door, and motioning him outside. he still stood at that spot in your kitchen. you inhaled deeply, your chest rising. "i don't care about you or your shit anymore, okay? i stopped fucking caring because you didn't fucking care. get out." he did not budge. groaning, you abandoned the door and walked back down, leaving it open. "you're still as egotistical as you were 3 months ago."

"and you're still as stubborn as you were 3 months ago."

"you're the one who refuses to get out of a woman's house."

"fine, you hold grudges just the same as you did 3 months ago."

"text me the fucking information and get out!" you snapped, and he didn't so much as flinch. because anakin knew what he was doing, wearing you down until you gave way.

relief washed over his face. you wanted to rip it clean off. what you didn't want was to give him the satisfaction. maybe it was petty. not maybe. it really was. standing here, in the same room as him, was like torture all over again. it brought back memories of days you thought you'd buried. but at the same time, what happened happened, and you couldn't make it go away by making him the villain. he was right. you hated to admit it, but it wasn't solely his fault after all. maybe it was meant to happen. and plus, how many times had he saved your ass when you asked for it? you owed it to him. you owed it all. so why was it so hard to say yes? cause you liked knowing he was desperate and you liked the way it felt, to turn down a desperate man just because of a past that was not solely his fault?

"maybe not as stubb—" you raised a hand as if to hit him and it was what sent him into a quick thank you and departure.

---

and so, because you blurted a hasty and angered approval with little to no actual thought behind your words, you sat at your small vanity and pinned your hair into an updo a week later, on an airy, wednesday afternoon. much too pretty an afternoon to be worrying over things like celebratory dinners. you didn’t even want to think of what would happen in the following hours, surrounded by a family you still knew every fault and strength of. next to a man you, of course, still loved. you also didn’t want to think about what you’d have to do to keep up this… act of dating with him in front of his sister and parents. there were too many things you didn’t want to think about.

the skin of your neck still whined about the burn you had acquired trying to curl your hair, which you were embarrassingly horrible at despite being good at styling hair otherwise. already you were annoyed and none of the actually annoying parts of the night had commenced yet. you'd given yourself an hour to get ready and with the curling iron incident and the trouble to pick out an outfit, you were just barely on time when you rushed out the door and drove off.

"thanks for showing up," were anakin's first words, leaned against the wall a few feet off from the entrance of the restaurant. but it wasn't a thank you. it was sarcasm. he stifled the butt of the cigarette between his fingers on the brick beside him and flicked it to the ground.

"you're welcome, and also very lucky," came your reply, gripping your black leather handbag in front of you and nervously looking around. even in your navy blue, satin gown, you felt poorly dressed. it was the best part of town and the restaurant not 3 feet from where you stood had only received good word and input.

"oh, yes. you've absolutely graced me with your presence." anakin pulled a hand from the bag and lifted it to his mouth, but you lightly—unfortunately—swatted at his face before he could kiss it.

"i'm actually hoping to un-grace you as soon as possible. let's get on with it, please and thank you." your eyes flew to the opening door, and the extravagantly-dressed couple that walked out laughing together, hand in hand, the sound of soft jazz and chattering words stumbling out after them. rich patchouli rode the air, and you breathed a handful of it in.

when you looked back, a bit confused as to why anakin hadn't answered with his own, snarky remark, you almost immediately got your answer. he was staring at the mark on your neck. fuck. you forgot to cover up the burn. his eyes were driven over with starkness, looking almost black instead of their usual blue. "curling iron." your free hand insecurely prodded at the burn, eliciting a sharp wince from your throat. "and stop staring at me, you creep. get on with it." your fingers fell and instead motioned to the door, telling him to lead the way in silence. anakin snapped out of whatever spiral he fell into and cleared his throat.

he turned fast enough to miss the prickle of redness that coated your cheeks.

---

the dinner went as expected.

beru's stomach bulged from under her overcoat, and she touched it almost every second. her eyes wore the tired and worn stare of a soon-to-be mother, and yet, she seemed ecstatic. you could tell she had not acquired much rest, and the same went for her boyfriend, owen. you'd met him maybe once or twice, and he seemed worthy enough of your almost-sister, though, in truth, you felt no one was worthy enough.

shmi was as she was three months ago. her hands still held their gentleness and her smile was just as soft and delicate. cliegg was no different, either. no one was different, in fact. so similar you felt you'd completely dreamt your breakup with anakin, that this was just another day, in love with him.

it appeared not.

"so, how are you two?" forks clanked against plates. bubbles of champagne popped and crackled in their cardigan of glass. your steak scraped your throat as you swallowed and met your unwelcoming stomach, your appetite gone. depleting further when the question was asked. "it's been so long since we last had a dinner like this." shmi's supple fingers rested atop cliegg's arm, her expression lightening as she looked to her husband and back to you. the two of you.

"it's been a long time in general," beru chimed. anakin leaned back from his plate, clearing his throat.

"yes. it has," he agreed. you straightened, pushing back your shoulders and nodding once.

"we've—" you looked to him for a second, the tender glance of a lover, as if you couldn't keep your eyes off of him for one moment. when he faked a smile, you did too. "we've been good. all the same, in the least."

shmi nodded her head, and beside her, cliegg leaned over the table, both arms on either side of his plate. "you talked about that orchestra last time we met, did you not?" the woman asked, cocking her head. "how's that going for you?"

"oh, it's all good." you never tried out.

"you'll get in," beru reassured.

"i'm sure she will." anakin reclined forward, meeting your eyes and smiling softly. you resisted the urge to scowl, resisted the urge to run away screaming, and in your haste, responded stupidly.

"don't jinx it." to your fortune, shmi laughed, and then beru, and then, everyone else.

"and anakin doesn't bother you too much, yes?" cliegg chimed in, eyes on yours. you shrugged, conjuring up an actually-thought-through answer.

"i'm still here, right?" more laughter. you chuckled yourself, delicately taking your champagne glass from the table and closing your still-smiling lips around the rim. you smiled as the bubbles clambered and fought for space in your mouth, and you smiled as they did the same all the way down your throat, the tangy citrus tasting more of poison on your tongue.

when you leaned back in your chair, you slyly spoke to the man beside you, "ice cream."

he looked to you then, confused, and you rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply. "my favor. you owe me ice cream. i don't know when, but you owe me ice cream."

anakin grinned then, and it made your empty stomach twist. "i thought you'd ask for a second life or my soul. maybe a genie lamp, knowing you. something undoable."

"lets not forget that i have the power to tell your whole family that your pathetic ass turned up at my door after we broke up 3 months ago, asking me to fake date you. i would watch your tone if i were you. something undoable." he shut his mouth, and your pride was short-lived upon realizing beru was staring strangely at you. quickly, you turned and captured his lips with your own. just a peck. you made sure to smile when you pulled away, and pinched him when the only thing on his face was surprise.

"nice going dumbass. you're blowing our cover," you said through a tender smile.

"since when have you cared about covers," he countered through his own.

"since ice cream was on the line."

---

soon, it became all unbearable.

anakin's presence beside you was the log in your throat and the death that loitered too often. everywhere. it was worse that you had to kiss him and hug him and love him like nothing but happiness was what your relationship was built off of. his lips were the nausea in your stomach and the worry in your brow, each bite of your steak like consuming toxin and tightening the noose around your throat further. you'd lost your appetite just by breathing his air.

"s'cuse me." you turned to him, lightly touching his arm and pulling him from his conversing, though you left before you could see the curiosity that combed through his blue eyes.

your time in the bathroom was spent fanning yourself off—it was, for whatever reason, sweltering hot in the restaurant—and staring at your reflection in the mirror. not to any surprise, even the bathroom was extremely expensive-looking, yet no one but a few, equally expensive-looking woman sauntered in and out while you were there. you earned looks, of course, but you also didn't care much. you needed a break and a cigarette horribly.

you were maybe 6 minutes into your isolation when the door opened and heels clicked. leaned over the sink, you watched the entrance and the woman step in through the mirror, but she was not just any woman.

"y/n?" beru's curious eyes met yours, and she quickly walked fully in and let the door close shut by itself behind her. you straightened, turning and clearing your throat.

"beru, hi," you breathed out. she cocked her head, brows pinning together.

"everyone's wondering where you are. you've been in here the whole time?"

"yea, sorry. just... period cramps." your eyes followed her stout figure as she knowingly nodded and reached into her purse, rummaging through the contents.

"i think i might have so advil in here," she mumbled more to herself than to you. "i never leave the house without it. y'know how it is." quickly, you paced the distance between you and her and rested a hand on her searching arm, stopping her. beru's gaze strayed to yours, having to crane her neck a bit, and she gave you a confused look.

"no, that's fine. i dont— i'm fine." more skepticism than confusion now. she eyed you down for a moment before retreating her hands and resting them beside her.

"alright..." a moment of staring. you awkwardly rubbed your hands down your lap, turning and pretending to fix a loose strand of hair in the mirror. silence passed. finally, her hand on your shoulder. you looked to her in the mirror, her gaze fixated on your reflection.

"are you okay?" it caught you off guard.

"yea— of course. why— why do you... uh— ask?" you sputtered, squirming.

beru pursed her lips, looking straight into your eyes in a way that made your body alert. "i don't know. there's tension, i've noticed." she stared a moment longer before walking to the sink beside you and leaning into the glass, fixing her makeup. "i thought you guys would be the next, y'know." her eyes flickered to her stomach. you gulped. "i guess... you know he loves you, right? i can tell." your stomach twisted, something you wished so badly wasn't tears pricking your eyes. the words hurt more than anything, because they made you think. they plunged you into that feeling, actually, forced thoughts you had worked to leave behind right back into your mind, erasing all those nights you turned away from that turmoil.

"if you need to talk, i'm always free." she turned her head to you, then walked over, squeezing your arm. you opened your mouth, searching for words you knew you wouldn't turn up with. "you're my friend. my sister. it doesn't matter if you aren't yet. you know i love you. you know everyone in that room loves you. but i've never seen someone love as much as anakin does you. it's something i can't fathom. sometimes, i think he might not deserve you, but then i see the way he looks at you. with hope. with emotions i thought could only be grasped in books and plays. he does love you, in case you ever doubt it."

those same tears threatened to slip down your cheeks as she leaned in and kissed your cheek. you thought. you thought so much, so distantly. so distantly you did not bother anakin the rest of the dinner. so distantly you almost forgot to say goodbye to shmi and cliegg. so distantly no one questioned it.

---

"fuck!" your shoulders slumped inward, every single emotion physically leaving your body except for lingering anger, which intensified and intensified and intensified. it quickly switched into worry.

the streets were not empty, of course. you could call an uber, but then you'd have to sit out here for a while, where it was cold and brisk and much too unwelcoming. you cursed towing companies and their stupidity, and cursed yourself for being late and not noticing you'd parked in a restricted area of the street. no car. no way home.

you turned away, surveying the roads across and exhaling deeply. "damn it. fuck. of course this happens to me." and so began the long walk back down to the restaurant, in hopes you'd find a taxi there, where it was much more populated. soon, your feet were throbbing in your heels and your handbag might as well have weighed 100 pounds.

"just a bit more," you spoke to no one but yourself and the loitering darkness, whispering and murmuring all around you. "a little longer—" headlights. a car turned on the road and clambered up the street, and was that... anakin. you stopped, and it stopped, and the engines noisily protested, but still, he rolled the window down and gave you a curious look.

"my car got towed," you explained, borderline panting. anakin raised his brows, and you half expected easy quips and a car driving off, but no.

"get in."

you paused, wondering if what had come out of his mouth had actually come out of his mouth. just to be snarky, you looked around a moment, then back at him, pointing to yourself. "a— are you talking to me— or do you do just casually drive up to women on the road and tell them to get in your car every night?"

"the latter. get in." rolling your eyes, you near-stomped up to the car and opened the door, slinking into the familiar seats. the smell of pine and rich bark filled your nose, and it brought back memories of so many things, that the scent seemed more foul than sweet.

"how unoriginal," you nodded to the tree-like car refresher hanging from the rearview mirror that was the whole reason it smelled this way.

"really, 'cause i remember you picking this out for me. said something along the lines of, 'now your car will smell good'."

you shut your mouth and looked out the window as he hit the pedal and started driving away from the street. in fact, you shut your mouth the whole ride to what you assumed was your house—unless he was planning to axe murder you, of course—and only opened it when you actually thought he was planning to. instead of keeping straight, he turned onto your town's main road and started through the many shops and stores.

"this is not the way dumbass."

"you think i forgot? it's only been three months. and you never told me to bring you home," anakin countered, looking to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"well i doubt you're any good at kidnapping, so where are you bringing me?" you studied the lines of his face, the way the shadows carved his cheeks and jaw and the stop lights brightened his eyes. your stomach twisted, and beru's words came rushing back. you wondered if you still looked at him in that way. hopefully. lovingly. stupidly.

"ice cream, dumbass.'

"i don't want ice cream anymore, dumbass."

"well too bad, 'cause i want it, dumbass."

---

"get me a—"

"i know!"

---

despite your earlier claims, you devoured your chocolate ice cream like it was the last thing you'd ever eat on earth, unknowing of just how hungry you were now that you didn't have any food to eat. the rich delicacy coated your tongue and bit into your throat, chilled and soft and so so lovely. you held anakin's pecan ice cream in your other hand as you walked out the small yet cozy shop and opened the car door—not without a struggle—slinking inside. you were a bit damp, as it was slightly drizzling out, but the rain was not what you cared for.

"how'd you remember my order?" anakin asked indifferently, his voice laced with easiness as you handed him the cup between your rapid licks.

"it's only been three months," you quoted him in a mocking tone, but was too fixated on the sweet treat in your hands to catch the look of annoyance he gave you. "shit. i don't think i don't even remember the last time i had ice cream. i forgot how good—" a lick, "—it is."

anakin chuckled. "it's not gonna run away. slow down."

"dessert waits for no one," you countered in a smart-ass tone, finally pausing to look his way. he stared incredulously at you, his lips parting and even more laughter gracing your ears and filling the chocolate-and-pecan tainted air. "what?" you pursed your lips, and his fingers came to his own, pointing.

"you uh—" laughter, "have something... everywhere."

"yea, thanks for the details, jackass. have something where," you mused with a slight smile.

anakin only laughed, trailing his mouth with his finger and watching you wipe at your face.

"there. is it gone?" you found yourself speaking in between your giggles.

"ice cream can never be that good," he teased, watching you finally pull down the mirror and inspect your lips. you gawked. it was everywhere. truly. even on your nose.

"yea, you're a great help, anakin."

"anakin?" he cocked his head, and you briefly looked to him, raising a brow. "i don't think i've heard you call me that yet. dickswab, yes, maybe shit-face."

"i hate you," you laughed, shaking your head and turning back to the mirror. "and if you don't eat that soon, i will." you gestured to the pecan ice cream in his hand that you'd only seen him manage two spoons of in your chocolate frenzy.

his eyes trailed your figure as you wiped and wiped and wiped, that perfect smile seemingly stuck to his lips. how long had it been since you last saw it, anyways? too long, you decided, as you turned and pushed away the mirror, meeting those stupidly blue irises with your own. yes. much too long.

"and you're the one who said you didn't want any," he quipped one last time before taking the spoon and digging it in, coming up with pecan-littered smoothness. his lips wrapped around the plastic, and your smile died as you watched him. silence fell. you stared and stared for what seemed like hours. "you're drooling."

"over the ice cream, duh," came your half-thought reply. but ice cream was a long-forgotten thing. he chuckled, eyes straying from the bowl, to your own. you gulped. again, quiet. it fell so easily. too easily. too calmly. but silence wasn't calm at all. it was s wild, unruly thing, and you could feel its chaos leeching the worry from you. feel it everywhere. the way he looked at you. hopefully. like in the books. beru's words came rushing back to you, and suddenly, the silence was not a good thing. it was horrible. it was death. you swallowed down thickness and lingering chocolate, your heart twisting in your chest as you thought back on what she said, and turned away.

"i— i'm tired." the mood immediately changed. "can you just bring me home now?"

his throat bobbed. "sure.." anakin must've felt the shift too, too, because a moment's stare at you longer and he was dropping the bowl into the cup holder and turning on the car, backing out and away from whatever had conspired in that moment.

as the stores hid behind the bend he turned on to your house, the unease that gripped your throat morphed into something bigger. something greater. anger. he had let you leave. no person who loved you as much as beru said he did would just let you leave without a fight. why hadn't he fought, anyways? he didn't love you. maybe at some point, but not nearing the end of your relationship. and maybe you were the one that left in the end, but it was never because you wanted to. it was because you wanted him. you wanted him back. you thought maybe, if you left, he'd see the impact you had on his life. he'd leave his differences behind, just to get you back. you thought he'd change. how stupid. how ironic. you almost laughed at it, too. because he would never. the whole reason you fought was because of his tendency to push you away. to isolate himself. to torture his mind with his thoughts. it drove you crazy, and it was what led to your relationships' demise.

"are you okay?"

"yea." you shrugged, staring out the window and tucking your hands between your closed thighs. but your tone was harsh and rude. he knew something was up, and to his credit, didn't question any further.

when, finally, he pulled into your driveway, tears were pricking your eyes. ones of anger, firstly, but sorrow for what could've been secondly.

"i'll walk you to your door," anakin offered as you unbuckled your seatbelt, doing the same.

"it's fine," was your only reply as you harshly opened the door and stepped out, squeezing your handbag like a lifeline. rain pattered against your skin, but you didn't seem to care. not as your hair soaked through and your dress clung to your body. you roughly shut it behind you and started walking the length up to your entrance, heels clicking on the concrete, when the loud thud of his own door shutting sounded beside you. you ignored him, even as his footsteps drew nearer underneath the sound of the rain.

"can you hold on for one moment?" anakin's voice called, then, his hand on your arm. you shoved him off of you, not even looking him in the eye.

"leave me alone." water slid down your face, and you were glad for it. glad the tears streaking your cheeks looked more like the precipitation than your feelings unraveled.

"what is your problem?!" he hissed, hair clinging to his forehead and liquid dripping off his lashes. "what did i even do?!" a demand.

you stopped, whirled around, and conjured up the nastiest look known to man on your face. "not what you did, anakin. what you did was hurt me, what you did was shut me out, what you did was pretend your own damn girlfriend didn't exist. but maybe that would've been excusable. it's what you didn't fucking do."

he shut his mouth, shriveled. you hadn't talked about it, and right now, you were. it was like an unspoken rule. don't speak of the breakup. but now... he stared into your hurt eyes.

"what you didn't fucking do, was go after me. how can you say that you love me, and then let me leave you?! do you think i wanted to go in the first place?! do you think for one second that i'd just leave you like that because of some stupid fucking fights?!" you cried over the rain. your sobbing was evident now. the rise and fall of your chest, the plea in your voice, hidden by anger, your face, twisted in frustration and pain. "answer me, anakin!" you hit his chest, and hit it again, your bag falling to the ground. "do you think for one fucking second, that i meant it when i said i hated you?! do you think i would just abandon you after 3 years of loving you because you turned away?! you selfish bastard!" you hit, and hit, and hit, and still, he did not budge. it infuriated you more.

your fists collided with his chest over and over again, and anakin just stared down at you, his face crumbling but still upright. you wanted it to fall. so badly. "you broke me! you fucked me up, asshole. i thought you'd go after me, i thought you'd care again, and you didn't! you didn't give two shits. and i don't hate you, but i hate you for what you didn't do for me. i hate you for not fighting, and i hate you for thinking that i wouldn't fight!" with each punch, you became slower. your arms became heavier. rain claimed you in its grasp, but you didn't care.

"say something, anakin," you begged, sobbing and stopping your fighting altogether. you stumbled back and your arms circled around your middle. he did not answer your plea. did not say anything at all. just studied you. finally, you bent and grabbed your slippery bag in your hands, staring at him a moment more and willing him to speak, before turning, heart heavy, to your door.

your hand was on the knob when his voice sounded. "i wanted you to leave." you bristled, and everything within you stopped. sadness, and then... "because i did not deserve you, and it hurt to know. it hurt to watch you linger around me, when i knew you could've done much greater things with your life. it hurt to know i was the one holding you back, that it was my fault you were in such pain. i couldn't... i couldn't handle it. i couldn't handle knowing you deserved a better man. someone who would hold you but not hold you back, someone who would care but not be overly careful. i was hurting you, and it hurt me. i wanted you to leave, not because i didn't want you, but because i knew you shouldn't have wanted me."

the words struck you like a bullet to the chest. your back was still to him, but your surprise was evident in the way your shoulders tensed, just as your heart did beneath the safety of your ribs. you stared at a crack in the wood and thought. the tears stopped, but rain still pattered across your face.

"and i know it is selfish. i know i'm a selfish bastard for hurting you in the way i did and deeming it for your own good, but it was killing me, too. loving you was killing me, because i loved you too much, but i knew no matter how much i did, i'd never deserve your love in return. and i should've told you, and i'm so sorry that i didn't, y/n, and i'm so sorry that i hurt you like this, and i know it's too late—"

"it's only been three months," you quoted. he had not noticed you turn around, looking so intently at anything but you, but now, his eyes were fixed on yours, and you were staring, and he was staring. and for a moment or two, rain was the only sound, his blue eyes were the only sight, and an eternity and a half later, he was kissing you.

back against the door, soaked hands in soaked hair, and the taste of weather on his lips. it was a kiss for three months lost, and it was everything. soft, then fervent, fervent, then soft, as if to make up for time long gone, and it really did. you felt every inch of him part against every part of you, and pressing, and pressing, and pressing. when you parted, you pulled a few inches away from him.

"there is no better man. there's only you, anakin." you whispered. "you're selfish and stupid, but only because you can't realize that. you can't not deserve someone who loves you, because it doesn't make sense. they chose you, so obviously you're worthy. and i hate you for not telling me, too, but i hate a lot of things." you shrugged. "so.. it's okay. i forgive you, and... i guess i'm sorry for hitting you... or whatever, but you deserved it for being stupid."

he laughed, and with red eyes you now knew were from crying, stared back into yours. "i hate you too, and i guess i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner." anakin's head cocked to one side, inspecting your wide smile. "and i see why you like the chocolate. it tastes good." he tasted it the rest of the night.

.

RED = TAYLOR REFERENCE AND I'LL BE PUTTING THEM IN ALL MY WORKS FROM NOW ON 🤭🤭

thanks for reading!! ik its a bit lengthy but i was grinding the shit out of this fic soooo

anyways, hope requester liked it! requests are always open ❤️❤️

@blairwaldrfsworld

real

i may or may not have a type….

Jason “daaaarlinggg guess who just escaped the psych warddddd” Todd

How do I love Thee?

Requests:

Wonka being embarrassed and thinking you'll leave him if you find out he can't read. Angst to fluff pleeasee

&

Something sweet with Wonka please

Wordcount: 3.5K+

Masterlist

Description: Mr. Wonka is a wonderful chef that you can't help but fall in love with until he starts to avoid you and you wonder if only you are in love.

A/N: Hey. I had fun writing this. I love love writing with Wonka. As always my Wonka takes place in the 20-50s so they often speak a bit strange I'm not sure. haha. I am nervous about workshop today, so I wanted to post this before class. They gave me Jack and Rose vibes so I added that picture don't worry they don't die.

Warning: Angst to fluff. Adorable couple. In love. First love. Jealous suitor. InsecureWonka. Kissing. Takes place before the events of the film. Unedited.

“Excuse me, chief. Do you happen to know which one of these doesn’t have cheese in it?” You asked the chef on the boat that was facing away from you.

Wonka smiled turning around only to gasp when he made eye contact with you. His eyes widened and his face flushed brightly. You were beautiful, the most beautiful person in the world and he felt his hands grow sweaty.

“Umm. Without cheese, you say, miss,” he said wiping his hands on his pants.

You smiled sweetly at him nodding. “Yes, my grandfather can’t have cheese, but he is in love with your cooking,” you said with a laugh.

“Hold on just one second please,” he said, walking back into the kitchen area; but he froze when he looked at the two containers and the labels. He bit his lip and had no idea what they said. He glanced back out of the kitchen into the area where you still stood. You made eye contact with you again, smiling widely and he felt his heart beat faster.

With no other option, he decided to just remake the dish without eggs for you. Well for your grandfather. He was doing this because he wanted one of his shipmates to have something yummy to eat for breakfast. That’s all, nothing more. It has nothing to do with his pounding heart.

“Here you go, miss. I made a fresh serving without cheese for your grandfather. You can never be too safe,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that for us,” you said, grabbing the plate from him.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t be a very good chef if I didn’t take care of everyone,” Wonka said.

“Well, you are very sweet, Mr. Wonka. Thank you very much,” you said. You were adorable and it would be a lie to say it was just your grandfather’s food that had you coming over to him. You thought he was lovely and wanted to have an excuse to see him. “I will let you know what he thinks,” you said, before telling him your name.

  “I will look forward to seeing you again…Umm, for your grandfather’s review,” he said blushing.

  You laughed and felt your cheeks heat up. “I look forward to seeing you again as well.”

After your first meeting with the chef, you saw him around a lot more. He always made sure you and your grandfather’s food was perfect and was more than happy to walk you back to your room each night. To say you were smitten would be an understatement. The feeling was definitely mutual. Wonka was completely flustered around you. He could barely speak, and his hands were always sweaty. He didn’t want to say he was in love, but he was in love. You spent almost every day together that you could for the last 3 weeks.

Tonight, you two were taking a walk around the ship. With your arms linked together you both stopped at the rails and took in the night sky. You were cold and Willy quickly took off his coat and wrapped it around you.

“Oh, thank you, Willy,” you smiled hiding in his jacket a bit to hide your flaming cheeks. “Won’t you get cold, though?” You asked.

“No, I will be okay. I quite like the cold,” he said softly.

You nodded but still moved closer to him. “Shall we still share? Just to make sure.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes. I-I.. umm yes that be great.” Moving closer to you, he wrapped his arm around your waist and snuggled closer to you. “Is this, okay?” he asked.

“Perfectly okay. More than okay,” you said. “So, tell me about your plans in the city?” You asked.

Willy's eyes widened and his tone filled with passion and excitement as he talked about his dream of owning a chocolate shop at the Galleries Gourmet. He went on to talk about his mother and how much chocolate meant to them both. You couldn’t help yourself, he was just too adorable, leaning forward you kissed and pecked his lips.

His eyes stretched even wider, and you flushed looking down at your feet. You couldn’t believe you did that. Your grandfather would have your head if he realized you were out-kissing boys that you were not courting.

“What was that for?” He whispered.

“Umm. I don’t know. You just looked so cute, and your passion is so infectious, and I just like spending time with you, Mr. Wonka,” you said looking up at him before looking back down.

Willy was quiet for a while. Too long actually. You were starting to think you had messed everything up between the two of you until his grip tightened on your waist and he pressed you against him and crashed his lips back onto yours. Your hands moved up to grip his shoulders and you pulled him closer.

You two kissed passionately and sweetly until the sun started to kiss the horizon and you had to get back to your rooms for a few hours of sleep before he needed to prepare breakfast and you needed to escort your grandfather. You two walked hand and hand back to your room. Silly grins on both of your faces the whole way. When you arrived you, both turned to face each other.

“So, this is your room,” he whispered.

“Yup, this is it,” you said making no move to go into the room.

Wonka grinned leaning down and pressing his lips to yours for another quick kiss. “I like kissing you,” he concluded when he pulled away.

“I very much enjoy kissing you as well. Your lips are soft and lovely.” You chuckled pushing some of his hair behind his ear.

His eyes closed and he snuggled closer to your warmth. You grinned he was adorable, and you loved him so much. Cupping his cheek, you kissed his nose. His eyes popped open, and his green eyes sparked with happiness.

“I will see you in the morning, Mr. Wonka,” you said, taking off his coat and trying to give it to him, but he just pressed it into your hands.

“How about you keep it and return it tomorrow?”

“Is this a ploy to make sure I see you again,” you teased.

“Yes,” he said shamelessly.

“We always see each other,” you pointed out but took his coat.

“Then allow it to keep you warm tonight.”

You nodded, leaning forward once more kissing him into your breath ran out. He pulled away, kissing your hands before stepping back waiting for you to go inside before walking back to his room.

The next morning you had a bounce in your step as you walked with your grandfather to the dining area.

“What has you in such a good mood?” Your grandfather asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just excited for breakfast,” you said, dreamingly thinking about Willy.

“Hmm. It has nothing to do with a certain chef that has a penchant for chocolate?” He asked with a knowing look.

You flushed and turned away from him. “You won’t tell Mama, will you?”

“You are young and in love. I remember being the very same with your grandmother. When I was in the army, she was a nurse. Love at first sight. When I got hurt, she took care of me, reading books to me and nursing me back to health. I told her that the day the war was over I was going to marry her.  And I did. We married and ran away together to start our lives and I never regretted it,” he said. “When you meet the one you just know, puppet,” he said, glancing over at a nervous Willy. Who stood in the window from the kitchen into the dining area scanning the room. The moment his eyes connected with yours, he smiled widely and waved happily.

You smiled and turned back to your grandfather kissing his cheek. “I think you are quite right about that.”

When you made your way over to Willy, you smiled and kissed his cheek. His eyes widened but he didn’t complain. “I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk after breakfast?” he asked.

“I would love. I will walk Grandpapa back and then meet you outside the kitchen?”

“Sounds wonderful. Perfectly wonderful,” he said happily.

Willy walked back into the kitchen and couldn’t help but grin and hum happily to himself as he finished breakfast. Everyone that worked in the kitchen could clearly see that he was smitten, and they were all happy for him all but the one other person that longed for your affection.

“Willy, I see you have caught the love bite?” Amaro said, sliding next to Willy.

Willy frowned looking at his arms. “I don’t believe I’ve been bitten by anything?”

Amaro laughed and slapped him on the back. “I mean you are in love with the sweetest person.”

“Oh”-Willy flushed and looked back down at the batter he was making- “Yes, I adore her a lot. She is very sweet. A little bonbon,” he said unable to not gush about you.

“That is lovely. Do you think you will ask her to go to the Galleries with you?”

Willy thought about it a lot last night. He actually thought about it since the first time you two started to get close. He knew about your dreams of meeting people and recording their stories as it fascinated you and he thought you could do that with all the people in the Galleries, but he was too nervous. “Do you think I should?” He asked.

“No,” Amaro said.

“No?” Willy repeated. “Why not?”

“Well, have you told her about your issue? You can’t read Willy. She loves reading. Her nose is always in a book. You’ve met lovely people thus far, but it is a hindrance.”

“You think she would care?” He asked worriedly looking out into the dining room and seeing you sitting across from your grandfather eating but a book was open on your lap.

“Of course, she’ll care. What if she wants your help with her travel log? Wants you to read over them? Reading is clearly important. What if she hated chocolate? It is the same,” Amaro said with a no small amount of joy.

“I suppose you are right. Who would want to be with a man that can’t read?” Willy said dejected.

“I’m sorry, Willy,” Amaro said, walking away with a grin on his face.

After walking your grandfather back to your room, you waited outside the kitchen for Willy excited to spend so much time with him. You wanted to know how he felt about you. You needed to know if he felt the same.  You kissed him you hoped he didn’t think you were the sort to go kissing people without deep feelings. You hoped he wasn’t the sort to. So, you stood and waited. And waited And waited. You frowned and looked down at your watch. It had been an hour of you waiting for him and you got worried. You hoped he wasn’t overwhelmed with work or gotten hurt. You were just about to run into the kitchen when the door swung open and Amaro walked out.

“Oh, Amaro. Have you seen Mr. Wonka? I was supposed to meet him, but he hasn’t shown up yet. Is he inside? Is everything okay?” You shot off worriedly.

“Oh, Willy left a long time ago. He said he had important business in his cabin. I’m sorry, he must have forgotten,” he said.

Your shoulders sagged and you frowned. “Oh.” He forgot about you. You couldn’t help the way that stung. You thought he was just as excited about seeing you as you were to see him.

“Oh, don’t be sad. Maybe it was something very important. We are close to where he will be leaving us. He is probably preparing for his departure.” Amaro went on.

“That is true. We are a day or two away. He is closer to his dream. I suppose that is important more important than a silly little meet with me,” You said, ignoring the crack in your voice.

“Would you like to go to the top deck with me? I found this fascinating book and I think you would love it,” He said.

You perked up slightly. “A book you say?”

He nodded wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Yes. I know how much you love reading and I saw it at our last stop and had to get it.”

“I would love to see it. Maybe it will cheer me up.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said leading you away.

At the same time, Willy paced around his room. He knew it was wrong to miss your meeting, but he was frightened. He loved you, but would you still enjoy his company if you knew the truth about him? Would you want an illiterate partner? He can’t see why anyone would.

He paced and paced and paced. “Willy, you should at least tell her you are sorry for standing her up,” he told himself. “It’s rude. She’s lovely and…. And maybe she won’t care about my not being able to read.” He perked at the thought. Of course, you wouldn’t. He quickly ran out of his room, bumping into people in his quest to find you. He was told you were seen on the top deck and raced to get to you. He was out of breath when he got to the top only to stop when he saw you. Hunched close to Amaro, a book between the two of you as you both read something.

His heart dropped at how happy you looked. You smiled widely and pointed at something in the book that caused Amaro to laugh. Then he turned the page and pointed something out to you that had you throwing your head back laughing freely.

That would never been him. He couldn’t share that joy of a good book with you. He felt tears in his eyes and he was quick to run back down the stairs and all the way back to his room with a broken heart.

Your heart was equally in pain as the next two days, Willy avoided you. He never peeked out of the kitchen anymore. He was never around when you tried to look for him. Amaro assured you that it was not about you, that he was just excited and focusing on leaving. Which didn’t make you feel any better.

Were you not important enough to speak to anymore? Was he really going to leave without speaking with you? As the hours pass you get less hurt and angrier.

You still had his jacket. It mocked you as it lay on your bed and with only hours before you made port and he left forever, you grabbed the jacket and stormed out of your room all the way to his. You knocked on the door harshly and with no care if he was asleep or not.

You knocked and knocked and when you got no answer you almost screamed. Instead, you kicked it and headed towards the top deck. You walked to the railing and grabbed it tightly. You wanted to toss the coat into the sea. You wanted to be rid of it, but you know how much it meant to him. Even as upset as you were, you couldn’t toss it.

“You heartless chocolatier,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” Willy said from behind you.

Gasping, you turned around and clutched the coat close to your chest. “Mr. Wonka. How long have you been up here?”

“A few hours,” he said walking closer to you. Your traitorous heart sped up and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he grabbed his coat. And your heart sinks.

“I’ve been meaning to come get this from you. I am sorry if it has been bothersome,” he said, looking at the coat and not you.

“Yes. It has been most bothersome to me. So bothersome, just sitting in my room mocking me. Making me think about you when it seems you have not given a thought about me at all.”

“What?” He shouted. “No. That isn’t true, you are all I think about.”

You scoffed. “Really? You haven’t spoken a word to me in days,  Mr. Wonka. We were supposed to meet, and I waited for you for over an hour and you didn’t show. I-I.” You stopped and looked away feeling tears in your eyes. “I thought we had a connection. I thought… I meant something to you,” you said sadly.

Willy's bottom lip wobbled, and he was quick to touch your face gently making you look at him. His eyes were dull and sad. “Of course, you meant something to me. Mean something to me. I care for you very much.”

“Then why have you ignored me? Avoid me?” you said letting the tears fall down your cheeks.

“Oh dear. My sweet Bonbon,” he said, wiping your tears. “I am no good for you. You should be with someone else. Someone like Amaro. You two get along and have so much in common.”

“It is not Amaro that I love,” you said, slapping his hands away. You were sobbing because of him. You were in pain because of him. You were in love because of him and all he can think about is how well you fit with someone else. “Do you not think that we have a thing in common?”

“Not the things that are important to you?” He said sadly taking a step back and putting his coat on.

“What things are those?”

It was his turn to look away. His eyes filled with tears and he’s hands became clammy.

“Well. Don’t I deserve to know why I am being rejected.”

“It is not you who is being rejected, Bonbon,” he said quietly.

“Well, it quite feels like it is.” This time, you moved into his space and touched his cheek. “Please,” you pleaded.

“I cannot read,” he said embarrassedly.

“You cannot read?” You repeated confused.

“No. I have never learned.”

You huffed and kissed him.

Willy was taken back and froze again your lips. You sighed sadly and pulled away. “Did you not hear me?” He asked.

“I read you perfectly well.”

“But you kissed me.”

“I did. And you did not kiss me back.”

He blushed. “it isn’t because I don’t want to. I am just confused.”

“What is there to be confused about? I love you, Mr. Wonka.”

“Still?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t because you wouldn’t read?”

He gave a curl nod.

“Oh, you foolish man. I do not care. I can’t make a lick of chocolate, but do you hold it against me.”

“Well no. Of course not. But reading is different.”

“Not to me. I don’t care if you can read, write, or cook. I like you as you are.”

Willy's heart swelled at your words. “It truly doesn’t bother you. You love reading. And I saw how happy you looked when you were reading with Amaro. I just... I can’t do that with you.”

“Yes, you can,” you chuckled. “I can read it to you. I don’t mind. Or I could teach you if that is something that you want.” You wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to learn.

“You would teach me? Be with me even though I will struggle?” He asked looking up sheepishly.

“Yes. I would be more than happy to teach you. To be with you. I am very much in love with you. I think I’ve said it thrice now.”

Willy smiled and took your hands in his. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Je t’aime. Te amo, ti amo, Ich Liebe dich, salanghaeyo, Aishitemasue. That is it in every language that I know,” he said affectionately.

You laughed softly hugging him. Willy grabbed you tightly and buried his head into your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should have gone with my  gut and came in and talked to you.”

You nodded pulling back from the hug to stare into his eyes. They were sparkling with love and happiness, and you melted slightly. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was, but I saw you with Amaro and you reading together and I thought about what he said?”

You furrowed your brows. “What did he say?”

“That Women wouldn’t want to be with a man that can’t read,” he said playing with your fingers.”

“He is wrong. At least about me. I don’t care. Mr. Wonka.”

He smiled and quickly pressed his lips to yours. His hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer as he kissed you frantically. You happily kissed him back burying your fingers in his curls and giving them a little tug.

Willy moaned into your mouth and then pulled away in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry. That was embarrassing,” he said.

“No. It’s okay, really. It’s cute,” you said, grabbing his hands.

“Can I ask you to come to the Galleries with me,” He asked. “I understand if it is too soon, but I just don’t want to be apart from you.”

“I would love to go with you,” you said excitedly.

“Really?” He asked just as excitedly.

“Yes, really.” And then he was kissing you once again.

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i just watched wonka again and jesus christ the things that man does to me

shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott. 

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far. 

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy. 

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.” 

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst. 

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!” 

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso. 

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?” 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.” 

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.” 

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.” 

You huffed. “That makes two of us.” 

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively. 

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?” 

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?” 

“He deserved it.” 

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?” 

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.” 

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?” 

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?” 

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.” 

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?” 

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury. 

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.” 

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.” 

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go. 

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick. 

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.” 

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.” 

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence. 

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you. 

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer. 

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.” 

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.” 

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?” 

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. 

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!” 

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.” 

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.” 

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up. 

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…” 

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?” 

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control. 

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.” 

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was. 

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?” 

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest. 

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once. 

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.” 

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.” 

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.” 

Because at least you were thinking of me. 

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved. 

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.” 

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?” 

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field. 

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on. 

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin. 

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.” 

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?” 

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed. 

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive. 

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning. 

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night. 

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place. 

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way. 

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died. 

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste. 

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth. 

“Need some help, love?” 

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. 

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat. 

Then he fucking moaned. 

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again. 

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What are you saying, Theo?” 

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.” 

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.” 

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.” 

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future. 

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you. 

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?” 

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.” 

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on.” 

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.” 

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.” 

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down. 

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.” 

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.” 

“I bet you are, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.” 

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off. 

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?” 

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?” 

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.” 

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.” 

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.” 

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.” 

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.” 

“Yes ma'am.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

Another day another 9k read instead of studying

i wanna write a tom riddle story so bad, but i know that i won’t ever finish my jason fic if i do, or maybe i will, who knows

zach justice is so fine man

hey guys im sorry i haven’t updated, i literally got evicted from my house and had to sleep on my car on a supermarket parking lot with my family yesterday, i still don’t have internet at my new house so idk when ill be able to upload again, love yall

hello! I really love your work and I was thinking if you could write a one-shot of theo inspired by the song " Open Arms by SZA ". but somehow make it a good ending? idk 😓 ( like a slow burn or something ) reader had to let theo go but theo is kind of begging..? for reader to stay in his life and so on! idk if I explained it good enough but you can search up the song and take a look at the lyrics, you'll see what topic I'm going for!

thank you if your write this! you're an amazingg writer ‼️

never leaving

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: your insecurities push you to break your friendship with Theo, only to realize you were wrong all along.

a/n: hope this matches your expectations, I'm sorry if it didn't<33 (also I feel like I'm apologizing in every a/n)

You could say that Theo took you in, he was the only person in your life that ever made you feel too comfortable. When you were on the train, he had befriended you and he never let his friendship falter.

Theo was everything, he was all you could ever need and it scared you how much you were dependent on him. You had never needed anyone, always doing everything by yourself but you could see that changing.

Friends weren't a usual sight in your life and Theo had changed that, but you still had your doubts and maybe that's why you had decided to tell him.

You always had a lingering feeling, that he was taking pity on you because who would willingly spend so much time with you, call themselves your best friend, he had no reason to do it.

You spotted Theo in the hallway along with Mattheo and Enzo. The former two were smoking, and Theo's eyes met yours, and he immediately threw down his cigarette, crushing it using the sole of his shoe.

His eyes stayed on you while yours diverted here and there, ashamed to even meet his gaze. You wanted to be with him, but he was ruining his life for you, he was way too enamored and you wanted to help him.

You reached the group and scrunched your nose at the nicotine smell, Theo noticed this and dragged you away. Why does he have to be sweet and make this harder? you thought.

"Theo, I-" You questioned yourself, he was the only person who knew you but it would be too selfish to make him stay, so you continued, "I don't think we should be friends anymore"

Maybe friends wasn't the right word to describe you two, you weren't dating but he never dated anyone else and it's not like you could. You always hoped it was because he harbored some feelings for you but that had been a foolish fantasy.

"Y/n, I'm sorry sweetheart, I won't ever smoke again, I mean this was the first time in weeks, I really am trying" what? he thought this was about him smoking?

"No, Theo it's not about that." you simply stated trying to make him understand about you suddenly pulling away. He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but really could find the words.

"You can't do this, you cannot wake up on a random day and decide to remove me from your life as if I'm a pawn in your chess board" he was almost yelling, Theo had never yelled at you nor had he ever gotten angry at you, it was always you being mad and him picking up on it.

You remembered a scenario from second year and how different times had gotten now, you had changed and him not so much but you guess it was for his better.

"Where's y/n?" The twelve year old Theodore Nott asked his friend and said friend just shrugged in response before saying, "She hasn't been talking to anyone."

You're mad, he knew you were you always shut everyone out when you were, falling silent and Theo knew just how to better your mood and so he headed in your direction.

Your flashback stopped when you saw a tear fall from his eyes, you had never seen Theo cry either, only once and that too not intentionally. He was showing every emotion of his and you stood there unable to think, mumbling a sorry before leaving him stranded in that hallway.

Theo was shocked, hurt, angry and was feeling all these emotions at once. He had known you for six years and you had left him in six minutes. He loved you and you couldn't see it.

He knocked on your door for the fifteenth time, and you finally opened it. Your eyes were red and puffed up, you were crying.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked in a small voice unlike the one he used in the hallway, he was scared to lose you.

"You don't need to take anymore pity on me, Theo, go live your life" you said with a sniffle in the end and your statement had only made him more confused.

Pity? he had never taken pity on you, and it hurt himself that you believed that nonsense. "You can't replace me y/n, I'm forever, no matter what."

You so wanted to believe him, you so wanted to be in his arms right now, you so wanted him to stop as he was doing right now but you just couldn't.

"I'm sorry Theo, but I have to" Those were last words to him before you shut the door and Theo couldn't sleep that night.

It had been 2 months, 18 days of you ignoring him and he thought he might go mad, you were driving him crazy, you not being there was so much worse than he had anticipated.

It was late in the night when he spotted you leaning against a railing, breathing hard, and when he got a bit closer he noticed you were crying.

He went to stand beside you, you flinched but then sort of relaxed when you noticed who it was. You laid your head in your hands and started crying even harder and without missing a beat or saying something spiteful, Theo took you in his arms.

It was much later that you realized that you could not live without him, he was your Theo. Your tears wet his shirt but he didn't seem to mind, he never seemed to mind.

"You won't leave again, would you?" He asked as if he knew you were coming back and he was right. "You could try, but this time I won't let you."

You smiled at him, god he was the only person in the world who would never make you feel bad about what you did, and you realise it was only your insecurities holding you back from him.

He kissed your forehead lovingly and hugged you even tighter, "I love you" he whispered, half hoping you didn't hear him, but you did.

baby, won't you be my girl?

author’s note: theodore nott, the man that you are. this saucy fic was inspired by this song. please enjoy my favorite flirty yummy slytherin boy 🐍

Theodore Nott was not the jealous type. 

Jealousy required emotions, which Theo found so terribly unrefined. He was a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Not some hotheaded Gryffindor incapable of keeping his anger in check. But as he glared daggers at the back of some pathetic little beater who was currently flirting with you across the common room, Theo couldn’t help but feel downright murderous. 

The worst part was that he could’ve prevented all of this. If he had just manned the fuck up, Theo would’ve been the one pressed close against you, whispering his signature suggestive comments in your ear and making you smile. 

But Theo—absolute tosser that he was—didn’t realize his blunder until it was too late. 

Earlier that week, the two of you had been studying in his room. Well, you were studying. Theo, on the other hand, was smoking enough pot to sedate a hippogriff. He inhaled deeply, watching with a slight smirk on his face as you frowned into your Charms textbook. You were laying on your stomach at the edge of his bed with notes strewn all around you. The combination of your slightly unbuttoned white blouse, dangerously short black pleated skirt, and green and silver high knee socks affected him more than the drugs he was currently inhaling. 

There was something incredibly sexy about a beautiful woman laying in his bed and completely ignoring him in favor of a dusty old tome. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, Theo found everything about you quite sexy. Even your infamous lectures regarding his drug habits, which you were due to give him in three…two…one….

You huffed indignantly, the action ruffling the feathers on your quill. “I will never understand why you voluntarily choose to put that rubbish into your body.” 

Theo shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “It’s relaxing.” 

“What could you possibly be stressed about, Teddy?” 

He smiled at the nickname. If anyone else called him that, Theo would’ve hexed the life out of them, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. Especially when you were a little bit annoyed at him. 

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, love.” He took another drag and sighed dramatically. “Being rich and handsome is incredibly tiring work.” 

You snorted. “You’re an absolute twat, you know that?” 

Theo held the blunt between his slender fingers and plopped down next to you. “A rich and handsome twat.” 

“A rich, handsome, and dead twat if you don’t get that blunt away from my textbook.” Theo smiled sheepishly before putting out the cigarette on the ashtray by his bedside table. You rolled your eyes and tapped the end of your quill against his chest. “You should really quit. That shit’s terrible for your lungs.” 

Theo turned, cocking his head at you. His sage green eyes bored into yours as a smirk curved against his lips. “What will you give me if I do?” 

“Theodore Aurelius Nott,” you chided. Despite the blush creeping into your cheeks, you managed to keep your voice steady as you glared at the perfectly coiffed prick. “Do not make me stab you with my quill.” 

He grinned. There was nothing Theo enjoyed more than making his best friend flustered. “I’ll take a light stabbing if it means that you’ll start paying attention to me again.” You laughed at his childish pout. “What are you studying so hard for anyways?” 

“We have a Charms exam on Friday and you know how brutal Flitwick is.”

“Scheduling an exam on the same day as a Quidditch game should be a crime punishable by wizarding law.” Theo complained with a groan. “A game against Gryffindor, no less.” 

“Not everything revolves around Quidditch, Theo.” 

“Try telling that to Malfoy,” he said with a sigh. “The bloody git’s been running the whole team ragged. For the past three weeks, Draco’s been forcing all of us to wake up before sunrise. I’m losing my precious beauty sleep, Y/N.” 

You pouted, pinching his cheeks. “Poor Teddy bear. How will you ever recover?” 

"Smartass," Theo said with a smirk.

"Top of the class, baby." You rolled over and winked at him. "I really am that witch."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, love."

"In your dreams, Nott."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely rubbing off on you." Theo snatched the quill out of your hands. "Enough studying. I'd rather talk about how I'm going to crush those Gryffindor brutes, which I can only do with you cheering me on from the stands."

You took the quill back, tapping its feathery edge against Theo's nose. “You know that watching all that flying makes me nauseous. Plus, I can’t even enjoy myself because I’m too worried about you taking a bludger to the head.” 

“I promise not to let anything ruin my pretty face. I know how much you enjoy the view, after all,” Theo said with a wink. “If you promise to come.” 

“I don’t know, Teddy…”

He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Y/N. I need my good luck charm. Plus, you look cute in my jersey.” 

“My eyes are closed half of the time from sheer terror,” you pointed out. Theo watched as you fiddled with the end of your quill. “Besides, wouldn’t it be weird to wear your jersey and cheer you on?” 

Theo’s brows furrowed. “Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you said matter-of-factly. “Those are things a girlfriend would normally do.” 

“Well, yes, traditionally. But you’re my best friend,” Theo explained. “It’s not like that between us.” 

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Theo knew it was the wrong thing to say. You stiffened beside him, your body language turning as tense as a bowstring. 

“Right,” you said in a tight tone. “It’s definitely not like that between us.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—I mean you’re not like the other guy’s girlfriends. We’ve known each other for ages. We just don’t see each other that way.” 

Theodore Nott, idiot extraordinaire. If looks could kill, he’d be at the bottom of the Black Lake waiting to become a delicious feast for the merpeople. 

“Of course not,” you said with humorless laughter. “We’re just friends. It would be mental for anyone to think that we’d ever be in a relationship, right?” 

There was a challenge behind those words. Despite the fact that his dorm was deep within the dungeons, Theo could hear a slight ringing in his ears, like the howl of the wind as he raced past on his Nimbus, heart beating against his chest as he prepared to hurl the quaffle with all his might. Only now his target wasn’t a goal hoop.

It was you. His best friend. The girl he had been head over heels in love with since the moment you pushed Adrian Pucey into a bush at Malfoy Manor for making fun of five year old Theo’s lisp. 

He should say something, anything, but for once in his life, Theodore Nott had no witty comeback in his arsenal. Stupid, pathetic coward that he was, all he could manage was a nod. 

“Right,” he licked his lips nervously. “Just friends.” 

The disappointment in your eyes felt like a punch to the gut. Worse than when he’d broken his arm in third year. Worse than when Mattheo dragged him into a brawl with those brawny Durmstrang guys in fourth year. He would have gladly taken another meaty Bulgarian fist to the face rather than face you right now.

Theo watched helplessly as you rolled off the bed and stuffed your studying materials into your leather satchel. “Wait, Y/N. Are you leaving? I thought you wanted to study?” 

You slipped your shoes on, averting his gaze. “I do, which is why I’m gonna head to the library. I’m more focused there, anyways.” 

Theo was still utterly confused as he scrambled after you. “Let me at least walk you to—”

“That’s really not necessary,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll see you later, Theo.” 

Theo, did not, in fact, see you later. 

If avoiding him was a sport, you would’ve won the bloody Triwizard cup. The fact that you memorized his schedule for him since he couldn’t be trusted to actually remember to show up to class probably helped. Theo didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you around until you weren’t there. 

When Enzo obliviously rebuffed a Hufflepuff’s attempt to flirt with him at breakfast, Theo turned to your usual spot beside him to nudge you only to find the space empty. When Potter & Co. prattled on about whatever martyr cause they’d picked up that week, Theo found himself searching for you across the Potions classroom to share an eyeroll, but caught a glimpse of your retrieving back instead. The last straw had been when Elizabeth Burke’s portrait refused to let him into his own dorms because Theo couldn’t remember the passcode. He never had to since you always came in together.

In other words, Theo was absolutely fucking miserable. Even the team’s win against Gryffindor failed to lift his spirits. He knew that it had only been a week, but he missed you so fucking much that it actually hurt. 

The sight of you walking into the common room filled him with instant relief. For about half a second. Until he saw that you weren’t alone. 

Then, Theo had reverted back to his sulky self, choosing a shady spot amidst the raging party to drown his sorrows with a bottle of firewhisky. He had gone through at least half of the Ogden’s while chain smoking like a Hungarian Horntail. 

“Oi, what’s got your wand in a twist?” Mattheo asked while snatching the cigarette out of Theo’s mouth. He took a deep inhale and blew a puff of smoke directly into Theo’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating our victory? Why’d you look like someone pissed in your soup?” 

“Fuck off, Riddle,” Theo muttered in response as he took back his cigarette. The smoke made the room hazy, but not enough to block you from view. 

The beater—the fucking twat—leaned in to whisper into your ear. Whatever he said made you burst into laughter, which once again filled Theo with pure, unadulterated rage. 

“Someone’s in a mood,” Enzo remarked, plopping down on the sofa beside Theo. A circle of third years hovered at the edge of their group, but as usual, Berkshire remained utterly oblivious to their presence. Bloody hell, he was even worse than Theo. 

“I bet ten galleons that Nott bashes Murdock’s head in before the end of the night,” Draco said.

“Murdock, is it?” Theo grunted. “What do we know about the prick?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Absolutely nothing. He’s not even worth gossiping about,” he announced dismissively while sipping his drink. Imported French wine, probably. Zabini would never partake in something as common as beer. 

Mattheo’s lips curled in amusement. “Besides the fact that he’s making a move on Theo’s girl.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Theo said defensively. 

“Really?” Malfoy drawled, raising a pale blonde brow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Y/N to dance?”

“Don’t even fucking think about, Malfoy.” 

The Slytherin boys laughed. For them, the week had been amusing as all hell. They had never seen Theo this wound up before. A few days without Y/N and their usual sassy, sarcastic mate had turned into a complete basket case. 

Pansy sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, Theo. Either man the fuck up or stand down. Y/N deserves to have a good night, too. Who she has it with is entirely up to you.” 

Pansy Parkinson was a pain in the arse, but she was also right. 

With that, Theo put his cigarette out on the ashtray and stood from his place on the sofa. It only took three strides for Theo to get to you. Four for you to startle as he casually put his arm around your shoulders. 

“There you are,” he whispered into your ear. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You froze in place as Theo pulled you close. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve flown straight into the fire that was Theodore Nott, but tonight you were in no mood to get burned. You’ve already endured enough pain and humiliation from your last conversation. 

Just friends kept replaying over and over in your head like a broken record. You felt like an absolute pillock. For years, it felt like the two of you had been teetering towards…something. All that shameless flirting, the lingering touches, the late night conversations. You had been stupid enough to believe in the possibility that Theo felt for you what you felt for him. 

But maybe it was all in your imagination. 

“Theo,” you said, slinking out of his reach. Hurt flashed in his eyes as you faced him. “Congrats on the win. Christoph said it was a good game.” 

“It would’ve been better if you were in the stands,” Theo said softly. 

“I was busy.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he eyed Christoph with disdain. “Listen, can we go somewhere and talk? I haven’t seen you all week.” 

You crossed your arms. “We just got here.” 

Theo was not well pleased by your use of ‘we’ as if you and Murdock were suddenly now a thing. He barely spared the sodding prick a glance. You couldn’t actually be attracted to this prat, could you? He was all wrong for you. Murdock had a stocky beater build and short blonde cropped hair. You hated beefy guys and you were definitely not a fan of blondes. Case in point: Draco.

No, you liked tall sarcastic brunettes with messy hair and a slight nicotine addiction. 

You liked him. 

So Theo stayed put, meeting your gaze with equal intensity. There was no way in hell he was backing down. 

For good measure, he pouted slightly and fixed his eyes on you. “Please, Y/N.” 

He saw the exact moment when your resolve broke. Your expression softened and your shoulders relaxed, slumping in defeat. You sighed before turning over to Murdock. “Do you mind giving us a moment?” 

Christoph nodded. “I’ll fetch us some more drinks.” 

Theo watched him walk away, or rather, he glared at his back until Murdock was out of sight. 

“Really, Y/N?” Theo asked incredulously. “You're slumming it with that benchwarmer?” 

You wheeled towards him, eyes blazing with fire. Oh, he was truly in for it now. “First of all, I’m not ‘slumming it’ with anyone and even if I were, it’s none of your bloody business. Second of all, Christoph is actually a really nice guy.” 

Theo scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re suddenly into really nice guys now.” 

“Well maybe I got tired of hanging around pricks.” 

Ouch. That one definitely hurt. Even if it was well deserved. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” Theo asked, stepping closer. “You’ve been busy with Murdock?” 

Merlin’s beard, Theo was ridiculously tall. He towered a good foot over you, cornering you against the wall. His eyes were stormy and dark like a predator watching its prey. 

“Careful, Theo,” you warned, meeting his gaze. “You almost sound jealous.” 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Neither one of you were backing down from this little standoff. Theo braced himself against the wall, his face inches away from yours. 

“What if I am?” He challenged, his eyes dipping to your mouth. “What if I told you that it’s taking every ounce of self control I have not to rip Murdock to shreds?” 

A shiver skittered down your spine. Theo wasn’t a violent person. Sure, he’d been in a fight or two, but that was mostly Mattheo’s doing. Your best friend wasn’t the aggressive type, so to hear him threaten Christoph took you by surprise. 

“You have no reason to be jealous, Theo.” You countered. “After all, we’re just friends.” 

“No, we’re not,” he said. “We’ve never been just friends, Y/N.” 

“Then why did you—”

“Because I’m an idiot and a coward,” Theo said with a sigh. “Because I had a beautiful girl in my bed and I had no idea how to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since I was five.” 

All the anger and hurt you’ve been carrying around for the past week instantly dissolved. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “You’re in love with me?” 

“I thought that much was obvious, love.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. “Theodore Nott, infamous playboy and shameless flirt, is in love with me. What an interesting development.” 

Theo groaned. “Now is not the time to be a smartass, Y/N.” 

“I think it’s the perfect time—” 

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence. Suddenly, Theo’s lips were on yours. He tasted like peppermint and whiskey, and he kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into his mouth, melting against his touch as he cupped the side of your cheek. This was definitely not a just friends kiss. It was a butterfly inducing, head in the clouds, sweep you off your feet kind of kiss. 

Theo's hands snaked around your waist as your fingers found purchase in his shaggy brown hair. He pulled you flush against him like he couldn't get enough. Merlin's pants, Theo really knew how to kiss. His lips were soft against yours, but there was a roughness in his actions that told you that his restraint was hanging on by a thread.

Like he'd been waiting for this for far too long.

You knew the feeling all too well.

"Darling, if you keep kissing me like that then this party will receive a show they didn't ask for."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "You started it."

"Shall I end it too, love?"

"You're an absolute twat, Theodore Nott." You rolled your eyes, kissing the tip of his nose affectionately. “A rich, handsome twat that I'm in love with."

Somewhere across the room, the hoots and hollers of your friends ignited a deafening cheer. Mattheo and Enzo clapped Theo on the back. Blaise raised his glass in approval. Draco smirked and exchanged galleons with Pansy. You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

“Fucking finally,” Mattheo remarked. “Notty boy here has been impossible to deal with this entire week. I never noticed how much of a wanker he can be when you aren’t there to balance him out, Y/N.” 

You chuckled. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Enzo grimaced. “You weren’t on the receiving end of his quaffles,” he said, eyeing Theo. “He nearly took my head off.” 

That only made you laugh more. “Teddy bear wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, it’s true. Nott went absolutely mental.” Draco confirmed, draping an arm around your shoulder. “I’ve never seen him play like that. He wiped the floor with those pathetic Gryffindors. You should ignore him more often, Y/N." 

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t. Looking at his miserable face put me off my meals for an entire week. I couldn’t even bear to eat any of my special Belgian chocolates. I missed out on Belgian chocolates, Y/N!” 

“You lot are overexaggerating,” Theo said, pulling you in by the waist. “I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Please, you were an absolute mess without Y/N,” Blaise added. 

“More like an absolute wanker,” Mattheo supplied. 

“An absolute supreme mega wanker,” Draco agreed. “Even by my standards.”

“It was pretty brutal,” said Enzo. 

Theo glared at all of them before taking your hand. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’d rather not stand around and get insulted all night.” 

“Sure thing. But I should probably tell Christoph that I’m…indisposed.” 

Mattheo grinned mischievously. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Murdock.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What did you do, Riddle?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he said innocently. “The boys and I just let him know that he should set his sights elsewhere.” 

“We also might have implied that we’d turn him into a horned bullfrog if he ever hit on you again,” Enzo said with a smile.

“The audacity he even had approaching you is frankly insulting,” Malfoy remarked. “Everyone knows you’re off limits.” He smirked. “Unfortunately.” 

Theo fell right into Draco’s bait. “Don’t hit on my girl, Malfoy.” 

Blaise raised an amused brow. “Oh, she’s your girl now, is she?

“Of course she is,” Theo said. He linked his fingers with yours and flashed those pretty eyes at you. The perfect mixture of blue and green, just like the ocean during a storm. “If she’ll have me.” 

You smiled, wide and bright. “Come on, Teddy. Your girl wants to dance.” 

The Night We Met

PAIRINGS:

Titans! Jason todd x reader

SUMMARY:

Bruce has taken in Jason Todd as his youngest son and the new robin some months ago, Bruce's goddaughter also came back to Gotham after being away for a year.

Some months after meeting Jason she starts a friends with benefits relationship with him, suddenly Jason has to move to the Titans tower and two weeks later Bruce sends her too, but, why is Jason ignoring her and acting like he doesn't know her and why does it get worse when Rose Wilson arrives to the tower??

A/N: I finally figured out a song to base this chapter off, I’m sorry I went so off with their conversation and didn’t really get anywhere with it, I just really want them to bond and I don’t think ahead of writing I just start and see where it takes me, I know this can be really boring but I want this to be a LONG fic and a slow burn and that can’t happen if the whole plot happens in two chapters so bare with me please!

TWS: slow burn, angst, blood, canon violence, mentions of death, anxiety, jealousy, friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers?, maybe death of a main character (haven't decided yet) change of plot

Keep in mind that English is not my first language, I also know nothing about guns, human anatomy or fighting in the language so I'm sorry if I make a lot of mistakes

Gif credits to Titanstv on Pinterest

Story Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You felt a throbbing pain in your head and started slowly opening your eyes and becoming aware of your surroundings, you were trying to figure out how long you had slept for since according to the sky it was night now and you didn't know if it was the next day now or if you had just slept some hours, now that you think of it, you didn't actually remember falling asleep either, well thats what happens when you cry too much after not sleeping for two days i guess, you decided that you would really love a glass of water right now and started making your way to the kitchen, you hoped no one was awake or at home, after your whole emotional moment with Bruce and Alfred you realized how embarrassing it had been to cry your heart out in front of someone who did not even know you and how much of a big deal you had made things that seriously were not that deep, then you cried more of embarrassment, and then you realized how much of a baby you were being, and realized you were really sleep deprived and really needed some sleep.

You arrived to the kitchen and just as luck would have it, there was no other than Jason Todd, the guy who had to awkwardly witness a girl he didn't know sob her eyes out but while thinking about it you realized that making it a bigger deal than it was would only make it actually embarrassing and would probably ruin any chance of friendship with that guy so you decided that you would let it go and it had never happened.

Jason didn't acknowledge you at all, he was too concentrated on eating what he had cooked for himself earlier and honestly he didn't seem like a very social guy so you just let him be.

You reached for a glass but then decided that maybe you should grab a thermos so you could bring it to your room and not have to make your way over to the kitchen every time you were thirsty, the noise made Jason acknowledge you but he just gave you a nod while he looked at you and you just returned it, you went to fill the water and you could still feel Jason staring at you, the environment was really awkward and Jason looked like he wanted to say something, or maybe he just wanted you to leave, well, this was your chance to talk to him, if he didn't want to talk to you back then you would just let him be, no harm in trying to make friends in your own home.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there with Bruce?" you asked him

He shook his head and pointed to his ribcage "got stabbed, Bruce wouldn't allow me to go back out there"

"Huh, how'd you get stabbed?" you asked not being bothered by it, you were used to these kind of things

"Harley" he said nonchalantly

"Oh" you said and nodded at him

"Mhm"

"I thought she hadn't been active in a while?" I said, Dick had told me before he left Bruce that Harley hadn't made an appearance in almost a year and it looked like she might want redemption.

"Yeah but Joker was put back in Arkham some months ago, we thought they had broken up but turns out it was just an act and she was just plotting something to try and get him out or get revenge or something like that, and well i may be skilled but Harley is Harley" he said taking bites of his food.

"Yeah I get you, even I am scared of going against Harley"

"You are? haven't you beaten her like a lot of times?"

"Yeah but miss girl is not just crazy and skilled but she's also in LOVE like not cutesy love, but maniac love that's a dangerous combination" you said in an exaggerated way to get your point across.

"I wouldn't call that love" he said while shaking his head before taking another bite of his food which you had no idea what it was.

"Then what would you call it?"

"Obsession I guess, she's like obsessed with him, she would throw herself against chemicals that will probably kill her if he asked for it... oh wait she already did"

"Yeah, poor girl would give her life for someone who just manipulates her and uses her”

"I mean yeah, but I wouldn't call her poor she's still a psycho" he shrugged.

"Maybe, but she's in love, even if you wouldn't call it that i think i would, its not a healthy love but she just loves him in a really obsessive unhealthy way, also if you see it in a way, we are psychos as well" i say before taking a sip of my water.

"What do you mean?" he asked as he sipped what must be coffee from a mug and looked at me curiously.

"Well, what kind of people just beats up other people every night?"

"Well yeah, but we only beat criminals and people who deserve it, they actually kill" he said trying to defend his point.

"I mean, yeah they may kill and we don't, but what's worse? dying or being paralyzed and basically tortured for life?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned and tilted his head a bit, he was intrigued in the conversation now.

"Well do you honestly think everyone will just be fine after being thrown around and beaten up until the point where you know if you give one more punch they'll die? I mean even professional fighters get brain paralysis or quadriplegic or like vegetative state from a bad blow and they have like precautions in those fights, now imagine in a fight where there's no precautions and the only stop sign is either them going unconscious or them not being able to move or them being a step away from death keep in mind that the criminals that you beat sometimes aren't trained or don't even know how to fight like regular thieves and shit, im obviously not talking about criminals like Ivy or Harley and stuff and a lot of the vigilantes have actually killed at least one person, maybe not intentionally but yeah" I explained to him.

"Huh, I guess if you think about it like that you're right" he nodded and took one last bite out of his plate

"Of course I am, I"m always right" I smiled at him

"Sure you are" he rolled his eyes in a playful way and stood up to wash his dirty dishes.

"I am!" I say pretending to be offended

"Uh huh, whatever you say" he smiled at me, "well, uhm its pretty late and I guess I should try to get some sleep, so see you tomorrow, I guess" he said before starting to head out of the kitchen.

"Sure, goodnight" I said to him.

"Night" He replied before finally leaving the kitchen.

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