#PLS ONE CHANCE GEORGE
Text
bfiafl george
#PLEASE OH MY GOD#george daniel#the 1975#bfiafl#being funny in a foreign language#atvb#satvb#at their very best#still at their very best#PLS ONE CHANCE GEORGE
181 notes
·
View notes
Text
UHMMM YALLLL????? GEORGS HAIR 😨😨😨😨
BRO HAS LUSCIOUS CURLS OH MY LORDDD
#GEORG ONE CHANCE PLS#I LOVE YOU GEORG#LEMME BE YOUR WIFE#😇 i love him#georg listing#georg listing edits#georg listing smut#georg listing x reader#georglisting#tokio hotel edits#tokio hotel smut#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel fanfics#tokio hotel#gustav schäfer#tom kaulitz
318 notes
·
View notes
Text
IM GOING CRAZY PLS BILL I NEED YOU SO BAD ITS NOT A JOKE ANYMORE
#tokio hotel#bill kaulitz#bill kaulitz being sexy as hell#pls#i need#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz#gustav schäfer#georg listing#bill give me one chance#BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHENS IT GONNA BE MY TURN DONT FORGET ME😭😭😭
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.
episode thirteen :: RIBBONS & TEA.
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔the groupchat returns, and while lewis is feeling a bit funny, y/n casually gives everyone a heart attack and calls it a surprise.
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.
lewishamilton
♡ liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 9,149,394 more.
lewishamilton 📍🇬🇧
tagged: y/n, tommyhilfiger.
3,294,204 comments.
username goodnight.
username since fuckin when???
username had to double check if this actually lewis’ account
username no roscoe in sight, oh he’s serious serious 😧
username watch ur back sir hamilton v3rstabben is *allegedly* loosing his mind 🫢
username now why are you 🫵 a man 🤨 posting MY wife
username imagine being in a situationship w y/n y/l/n 😩
username ur so fucking lucky mercedes boy.
[liked by lewishamilton]
username i SCREECHED when i opened insta what the fuck.
username babe js propose to her atp.
username I KNOW the dilf gc is in SHAMBLES rn.
username oh u brave BRAVE 😧
username 49392919283 meters away from MY girl sir lewis
→ lewishamilton can you even count that far?
→ username oh ur bullying ur fans now?
→ lewishamilton idk am i?
→ username “i”. enough said.
→ username no bc why is he typing in all lowercase 🤠
→ username y/n’s influence is crazy
username but when EYE say they’re dating.
username fernando alonso is typing…
username oh you’re so father for this 😩
landonorris ..d-dad?
→ lewishamilton ..son?
→ landonorris what are we.
→ lewishamilton you have been promoted, you are now one of my elite employees 😁
→ landonorris thanks dad 🫶🏻
→ username LEWIS WHAT THE FUCK.
→ username LANDO OPEN UR FAT MOUTH U BITCH
→ landonorris ﹫lewishamilton cult lh are bullying me
→ lewishamilton okay let’s leave my son out of this.
→ username YOUR WHO?
→ lewishamilton that’s enough internet for next month
username WHAT IS COMMENT SECTION.
username IM SOOOOOOOO.
username im assuming we too have to accept lewis as our dad if lando is doing it 🙄
username ARE WE GONNA IGNORE LANDO’S COMMENT????
→ username ﹫y/n SAY SOMETHING.
y/l/nestate
♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 13,593,204 more.
y/l/nestate behind the scenes 🍾🎀 fun things coming very soon ⭐️🩷
4,395,394 comments.
username she’s SO fucking beautiful what in the FUCK
username wowowowowowowowow
username one chance PLEASE
lewishamilton pretty
→ y/n heyyyy
→ username 3 Y’S. GIRL STAND UP
→ username i genuinely think we lost her.
→ username enD MY SUFFERING I CANT 💔💔💔
username FACE CARDDDDD 💳💳💳💳💳
username PLS SAY THE ALBUM IS COMING.
username me if you care
username SHES SO 🎀⭐️🩷🫧
username BOUNCING OF THE WALLLLLLSSSSS
username if she drops an album out of nowhere i will bang my head against the wall 🩷🩷🩷🩷
username mercedes doll 😍
→ username LEWIS I KNOW ITS YOU MF.
→ username log out of this acc lewis 🔥
→ username you too need to stand up 🫵😧
→ username let him stay down it’s Y/N Y/L/N
→ username point made 🤷🏽♀️
username bratz doll irl 🧎🏽♀️
username 😍😍😍
☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.
honey badger: avengers assemble.
honey banger: i have easily the most important tea to spill today.
y/n: “hear yee! hear yee!” ahh text
girlfriend kika: LMFAO
babygirl alex: hear yee 😭😭😭
honey badger: it’s about max
girlfriend kika: i ain’t laughing no more 🗿
chal eclair: what does he want
chili!: no bc after the shit his team pulled i don’t think i wanna hear from anyone abt him
angel carmen: wait is it important
honey badger: it’s abt the billboards incident
princess george: oh.
my baby lando: oH?
yukino: 🔪?
honey badger: might be necessary this time
alabono: he is personally involved isn’t he 😐
honey badger: yep.
my baby lando: wait oscar needs to see this
MY BABY LANDO added PAPAYA BABY #2
papaya baby #2: i love it here already
wifey lily: oh i’m so sat
honey badger: i was ‘hanging out’ with max before the suzuka race to make it seem like we’re chill. i wasn’t there to hang w him i had a mission.
my baby lando: okay okay
chal eclair: 🤨
honey badger: i managed to get ahold of his phone then i waited until he left his drivers room
honey badger: then i switched my phone case with his to make it look like i was on my phone while i was going through his
y/n
y/n: i would like to apologise, visa cash app driver, i, indeed was NOT familiar.
girlfriend kika: LET BRO COOK 🔥🔥🔥
chili!: oH HE IS COOKING ALRIGHT
honey badger: so i go through his messages and find a deleted group chat. a group chat with the employees that red bull fired.
chal eclair: OH HELL NOOOOO 😭😭😭
honey badger: he INSTRUCTED them to burn the billboards. specifically the ones with y/n on them.
princess george: i know he thought this was IT
alabono: bro thinks he’s him
papaya baby #2: who let bro cook
honey badger: not only that
y/n: THERES MORE?????
angel carmen: hELLO?
honey badger: he made sure to tell horner to cover for him
PIERRE GASLYYYY: no fucking wonder the fia’s investigation was wrapped up SO quickly
yukino: and their corny ass apology said it all
yukino: “team principal christian horner apologises” since fucking when
babygirl alex: ^^^^^^ REALLLL
y/n: setting up a zoom call rn we need to brainstorm
y/n: im also adding lew, seb and nando because they’ve been PlISSSSEEEDDD
chal eclair: “lew” and “nando” and i’m still waiting on my cute nickname
y/n: be grateful i love you and your fuck ass pasta 🙄
papaya baby #2: i love it SO much here
chili!: don’t get too comfortable oscar
y/n: i’m not gon tell you to leave that baby alone one more time 🗣️
papaya baby #2: thanks mum 🫶🏻
y/n and y/l/nestate
♡ liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 44,294,293 more.
y/n and y/l/nestate surprise lol 🎀 champagne, sex & anxiety 7/10 🥂 considering the amount of people i worked with on this album, it’s truly a fucking miracle that i managed to shut the fuck up abt it and not say anything so here u go i guess 💗🩰⭐️ no more sad songs LETSFUCKINGO !!!! i personally call this one my mona lisa and i BEG u to love it as much as i do when it comes out 🍾🤍🏹 also no twitter jumpscare this time ur welcome lmaooo :)! love u to death 🧸🫂💘
9,204,394 comments.
theweeknd my excitement exceeds the english language.
username CAN YOU BE NORMALS ABT ALBUM DROP JS FOR ONCE (1) ☝🏽 PLS.
username WAHTS FOIBG ON ????????
username WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKK Y/N
username wHY THE FUCKCKCKCKC IS SHE STILL ALLOWED TO DO THIS SKSKSKSKSKS 😭😭😭😭😭
username “no twitter jumpscare” AN INSTAGRAM JUMPSCARE ISNT ANY BETTER Y/N
lewishamilton honoured. proud of you doll 💗
→ y/n proud of u ml 🩷⭐️
→ username “ml” GIRL.
→ username OMFG ﹫mercedesamgf1 YOUR EMPLOYEES ARE FLIRTING TAKE THEM TO HR ITS ILLEGAL
→ username HR 😭😭😭
→ username GET THIS MALEEEE AWAY FROM MY WIFE 💔💔
username ITS MIDNIGHT MATE DID YOU LOSE IT
landonorris WHAT.
carlossainz55 WHAT THE HELL
danielricciardo IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT
username ARE WE ALL CONFUSED RIGHT NOW
charles_leclerc UHM YES??????
username YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
y/l/nrecords love when y/n drops music out of nowhere 🔥
→ username LMAOOOO
→ username REALLLLLL
username i’m so genuinely shocked i’ve been sitting here in silence for the past ten minutes
→ username you’re a stronger person that me i screamed so loud my neighbour broke my door bc he thought i was being murdered
→ username DAWWWGGGGGG IM WEAK 😭
username WHY IS LEWIS TAGGED ON ME & YOU
→ username SOMEJENE ANSER MER
username THESE SONG NAMES ARE GIVINGGGGG
pierregasly what in the ratatouille bullshit.
francisca.cgomes WHAT THE HELL 🔥 🔥
lilymhe YESSSSSSS
alexalbon ??????!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!!
mercedesamgf1 i literally cant wait 🤩
username yesss gaga
oscarpiastri we’ve all been on this call for four hours and we don’t even get a heads up ??
→ username CALL??
→ username “WE’VE ALL” ?????
→ username FOUR HOURS HELLO SIR.
username what in the literal fuck is going on.
username ,&/&;&2929(92&:’fwlsoqlfjje MA’AM.
username STOP THID MADDNEDS LDLE
username Y/N PLEASE
scuderiaferrari ?????????
username i can’t do it. i js can’t do it man.
username BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL
username WHY WIULD U ANNOUNCE IT LIKE THAT
username Y/N ISTG.
☆ IMESSAGE with : Unknown Number
xxx-xxx: hey
xxx-xxx: can we talk?
#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#f1 x y/n#f1 fanfiction#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lewis hamilton x reader#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#george russell x reader#yuki tsunoda x reader#pierre gasly x trader#oscar piastri x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
maahi ve !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're so in love and they make it everyone's problem.
or
for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
social media au // mick schumacher x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - this is so short but i HAD to post idc i hope u all liked it <3 more parts of desi!reader soon but before that how u get that girl so yeah !! i love u so much <3
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 678,527 others
yourusername maahi ve ( love )
tagged mickschumacher
7,827 comments
username SCREAMING
username they're the blueprint
username me when.
username IM IN LOVE WTFFF
carmenmmundt 🫶🏼
*liked by yourusername*
lewishamilton miss you both 💜
-> yourusername cannot wait to see u this week <3 !!
username FEED US THE BF!MICK CONTENT QUEEN
username she's doing god's work
-> username literally and figuratively bc yk.......
-> username SCREECHING
-> yourusername omg
mercedesamgf1 give me my son back - toto wolff
-> yourusername no can do dorothy
-> mercedesamgf1 don't call me that - toto wolff
-> yourusername sorry
-> yourusername dorothy
username ok so who was gonna tell me that y/n calls toto dorothy AND gets away with it
username someone sedate me pls
username AHSJSJSJAKJSJDJSKSKS
username beautiful ethereal breathtaking beauty hot angelic gorgeous pretty cute adorable alluring elegant lovely all nice things adjectives
-> yourusername mick's burner acc js dropped
-> mickschumacher oh my god
mickschumacher baby 🍒
-> yourusername y the cherries
-> mickschumacher i love cherries
-> yourusername 🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒
mickschumacher can i have your number pls
-> yourusername i have a bf
-> mickschumacher who ?
-> yourusername my boyfriend carmenmmundt
-> carmenmmundt that one song "i could be a better boyfriend than him" is so true
-> mickschumacher wow.
-> mickschumacher pick me up please mercedesamgf1
-> mercedesamgf1 don't bully our reserve driver - toto wolff
username babe wake up mom and dad are being cute again
username i love them so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 799,627 others
mickschumacher this is my sexie girlfriend and when i look into her eyes i see god
tagged yourusername
9,628 comments
mickschumacher i did not write the caption
-> yourusername WOW
mickschumacher my girlfriend had my phone
-> yourusername okayyy pinocchio 🤥
mickschumacher please believe me
-> yourusername U LITERALLY WROTE THIS AND RAN AWAY
username HELP THE CAPTION
username so real
username no bc if she was my girlfriend i would be the same
username ONE CHANCE
username lord when will it be me
username on my knees for y/n y/l/n and y/n y/l/n only
lewishamilton the caption is 100% by mick
-> yourusername THANK YOU
-> mickschumacher it's NOT
-> yourusername okayyy stay delulu
username mick it's okay to embrace ur inner simp ❤️
username what have i done to NOT deserve this kinda love
username no bc english lang is so funny u say true love and it translates to y/n and mick
username MY generation's icons
susie_wolff adorable ☺️❤️
-> mickschumacher ❤️
-> yourusername SUSIE I LOVE U
-> susie_wolff i love you too sweetheart ❤️
-> username susie the supportive mother in law and toto the reluctant father in law
-> username that's so real
-> username george and lewis the annoying brother in laws
-> yourusername see now THAT is real username
-> lewishamilton and to think i took your side
-> georgerussell63 you're banned from visiting
-> yourusername no im not carmen loves me more
-> carmenmmundt true
username these comments section are fucking chaotic omg
username in love
username don't post me unless the caption is "this is my sexie girlfriend and when i look into her eyes i see god"
landonorris you genuinely said "fuck me" last night when you saw her at the bar. this is nothing
-> mickschumacher LANDO
-> username OH MY GOD
yourusername i love u bb <3
-> mickschumacher i love you more ❤️
yourusername bf
-> mickschumacher gf
yourusername we make a hot couple
-> mickschumacher that we do
-> username sigh
-> username time to hug a sign board at 257 mph
#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 imagines#social media au#fake instagram imagines#mick schumacher blurb#mick schumacher imagines#mick schumacher imagine#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x y/n#mick schumacher x you#mick schumacher instagram au
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
CAN WE TALK ABT GEORG IN THIS PHOTO!?
pls georg moritz hagen listing just one chance 😮💨
#georg listing#tokio hotel#bill kaulitz#gustav schäfer#tom kaulitz#bill kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz x reader#tokio hotel x reader#tom kaulitz x reader#2000s#georg listing x reader
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 SOFT HARD LAUNCH
✮˚. ᵎᵎ summary :: george isn’t a fan of soft launches
✮˚. ᵎᵎ faceclaim :: dina denoire
✮˚. ᵎᵎ author’s note :: this is my first fic/smau !!! if you have any requests for any future smau’s or even fics, don’t be afraid to askk :))
──────────────────────────────────────
yourinstagram
liked by gkbarry, maxbalegde, taliamarr and others
yourinstagram i don’t know about you, but i’m feeling.. 🪷🌿🌷🦋🎶🧚🏻♀️
view comments…
user YOU’RE SO UNREAL
user i envy your beauty
taliamarr real life fairy
⤷ yourinstagram i adore you
user i’m so inlove with you
user bae, i need to know when the new vlog is?
⤷ yourinstagram tomorrow my lovely
⤷ user OMD YES YES
user god i love women
user pls one chance is all i’m asking for
maxbalegde i love men i love men i love men
⤷ yourinstagram andrew_spanndy i wouldn’t have this behaviour
⤷andrew_spanndy it’s an honest reaction tbh
user the way i’d literally kill to be her
chrismd10 yeah yeah photo cred where
⤷ yourinstagram deepest apologies christopher
yourinstagram posted to their story
yourinstagram
liked by georgeclarkeyy, chrismd10, arthurnfhill and others
yourinstagram weekly bff date
tagged :: arthurnfhill
view comments..
user best duo
user god i wanna be her so bad
user bae whos in your story?
user we gonna address the whole ass man she had dinner with
arthurnfhill we are so cool
⤷ yourinstagram fax
user we <3 arthur
user she addicted to pizza just like i’m addicted to her
georgeclarkeyy enjoying that pizza
⤷ yourinstagram i did actually 10/10
user every photo i see of her i fall more in love
user is that photo on her story not just arthur?
⤷ user it might be
arthurnfill
liked by chrismd10, olifoxmusic, yourinstagram and others
arthurnfhill i probably could have written romeo and juliet but shakespeare couldn’t write dead in the disco (disco wasn’t around in the 1500’s)
tagged :: yourinstagram, georgeclarkeyy, chrismd10, arthurtv
view comments..
user romeo and juliet (arthur’s version) would read tbh
user um 7th slide?? wut
user the cheerleaders outfits are honestly a vibe
user y/n is so breathtaking
user shakespeare has nothing on you
georgeclarkeyy never seen prettier cheerleaders
⤷ arthurnfill they wish they were us
⤷ yourinstagram not ones who fall off bikes
user y/n who is your man
user every picture i see of y/n in someone elses instagram she is always eating and i don’t blame her
user yourinstagram where is your outfit from in the 3rd slide
⤷ yourinstagram revolve
georgeclarkeyy
liked by yourinstagram, arthurtv, wroetoshaw and others
georgeclarkeyy i don’t believe in soft launches
tagged :: yourinstagram
view comments..
user i-
user i am lost for words
user GEORGE WHAT
user right, wasn’t expecting this
user this has altered my brain
yourinstagram i love youuuu
⤷ georgeclarkeyy your face isn’t saying the same thing
⤷ yourinstagram you ruined my cute soft launch, even dragged arthur into it
⤷ arthurnfhill can confirm she did
user the second photo, shes adorable
yourusername but in all seriousness, whos that handsome guy
⤷ georgeclarkeyy some charming gentleman
user no cause they are cute
user i never knew i needed this
user does this mean george may feature in a vlog?
arthurtv now i can finally announce my disgust when im with you both
⤷ yourusername salty behaviour cause i get to kiss george fr
⤷ arthurtv wow 😐
⤷ yourusername we all know its true
user i can’t even be mad that shes taken cause george is ultimate bf material
#georgeclarke#meiscoven#arthurhill#youtuber#dina denoire#arthurtv#chrismd#george clarke x reader#george clarkeyy#smau
253 notes
·
View notes
Text
all i want for christmas is you ft. ‘colormytree’ website
warning: platonic relationship!
in which you sent each drivers on the grid the ‘colormytree’ website url and asked for xmas messages. here are some of their responses:
max verstappen
named his puppy ornament ‘MAX’
“hey y/n, so how’s spain nd everything? just thought that i would text you a merry xmas gif later today:) too bad they do not have that option here. btw it’s lovely to know that i’m the first one to hang an ornament on your tree, did you text me first, if so i must say that i’m really honoured:)
anyway merry christmas and happy new year, looking forward to see you in jan!!”
lando norris
named his santa claus-on-a-ski ‘doubtinglife’
“my twin flame✨🍀💥💐 ya must have miss me so much huh??? happy merry christmas to you and to little eilie too!!! i’ll back in monaco this thur, do you wanna catch up w me?”
“ps: ooops lo siento i forgot you are still in spain. pick a day and pay me a visit then, you owe me a fancy dinner!!!”
george russell
named his wrapped present with red ribbons ornament ‘gr’
“this is honestly kinda cute, really giving me your vibe mate. so uhm… for today only i will say nice things. merry chrismas y/n, i wish u all the best. let’s have a fearless life and maybe got urself a bf or a gf who will madly love you next year. nighty🌛”
charles leclerc
named his polar bear ‘🎄’
“hi y/n merry christmas, wanna take a guess on who am i? btw love this idea of yours, the tree is sooo beautiful and i love the doodles ornaments too, well i might make myself a tree later:) i’ll send you the link first!
and i heard that you are in spain? stay safe while visiting barcelona, the guys their are a bit wild in my opinion😂 anw hoping to see u asap🫶🏻”
carlos sainz
named his kitten face ornament ‘hotsummernight’
“ciao ciao, merry xmas to you ms. silly disney princess. don’t need to write a whole paragraph here, do i? i have prepared a present for you, pls come over at 7pm for dinner! but hey i still need u to text me later, u know, for a confirmation:)
have a g’day then, see you!!”
oscar piastri
named his orange ornaments ‘theawardshow’
"nice try from you to steal my attention. so how have you been? hope things don’t mess up with u.
merry christmas and happy new year, i’m grateful to have you as my friend this year, you’re like a gift. and not the kind i’d return for store credit:)
that’s it, enjoy urself and have fun.”
“yikes i hope that no one can read this thing but you, if this message got revealed to the others so there’s a good chance that i might quit racing next year, too embarrassing honestly.”
#formula one fanfiction#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#fi x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#george russell x reader#formula one x you#max verstappen x you#charles leclerc x you#carlos sainz x you#lando norris x y/n#female reader#oscar piastri x you
206 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii could u pls do sleepovers with the whole of tokio hotel in 2003-2005 pretty pls romantic or platonic idm!
(ps i adore ur style of writing)
Synopsis: You are having a sleepover with Tokio Hotel at the studio and a lot of things are about to be coming your way. (2004)
Content: Fluff.
Notes: Thank you so much! This was funny to make. Much love.
° . ● . ★ ° . * ° * . : :●. *° :●. * °
Fun, chaotic, and more fun!
“You be a good kid alright?” My dad said for the fifth time as he parked in the driveway of the studio.
“Yes, I know.” I groaned, “Can I go now?”
He gave me a pat on my shoulder and let me leave the car. I grab my sleeping bag and pillow from the back. I also grab the bag of chips and mini sodas I picked up at the market.
“If anything happens let me know.” My dad said out of suspicion. I mean who wouldn't be afraid to leave their 15-year-old daughter with a group of teenage boys?
“I'll be fine Dad!” I smiled at him and closed the door.
I enter the building and see no one. “Hellooo?”
“Y/N!” Bill came running out of the hallway. He came up to me and gave me a tight hug making me drop my stuff on the ground.
“Hi, Bill.” I giggled. I tried hugging him back as he suffocates me. He looked at my stuff that was on the floor and noticed the snacks. “This is perfect!” He snatched the snacks and ran to the lounge area where we were going to be sleeping.
I grab my other things and head over to the room.
“Hey everyone!”
“Y/N, I'm glad to see you.” Tom walked up to me to hug me. Gustav waved and Georg came to the side to hug me.
“So what are we doing tonight?” I asked them.
“All-nighters, movies, and some good old-fashioned hide and seek,” Tom said mischievously.
“Isn't that for kids?” Gustav implied.
“We are kids.”
Bill came in with the chips poured into the bowl and some other snacks they brought, “Let's eat first before we play.”
An hour later munching
“I'll find you guys,” Tom said rubbing his hands together swiftly.
He turned around and started counting. Georg hid behind the couch. Gustav went to hide behind some curtain. I went inside the studio room under the desk pushing my body to the corner. I thought it was perfect since the lights were off and it felt empty. That's when the door opened but I could hear Tom still counting.
“Who's there?” I whispered.
“It's your fav!” Bill whispered back, “I can't find anywhere to hide, and looks like someone beat me to the spot.”
“I was here first now go away!” I tried shooing him away.
“185... 186...” Tom said louder.
“Please! He's close to 190, let me hide with you.” Bill pleaded.
“Fine! But if you get us caught it's over.”
He jumped and clapped his hands together. He came under the desk with me squishing right next to me.
“190! Here I come.”
I and Bill sat there trying to not make any noises when we heard Gustav scream. He was found easily. It was a while till he found Georg. But being in this cramped space was making me sweat.
“Are you getting hot?” I started fanning my face.
“A little.” Bill fanned my face with me.
Tom still couldn't find us and me and Bill started chatting about random things. But I heard a sudden creak of the door opening. I covered Bill's mouth midway through his talking. Tom came up to the desk and before he could bend down...
“Tom, I think I see one of them outside!” Georg yelled.
And Tom ran out the door like a maniac.
I looked at Bill and he just stared at me. “Sorry!” I uncover his mouth. “It's okay.” Changing the mood he leaned his head on my shoulder and held onto one of my hands.
But footsteps ran into the room and Tom flashed us in the faces with a flashlight, “Tch, should've known.”
Bill left the corner and slapped the flashlight away, “I got my chance.” Tom followed him out the door. I sighed and left the room to go into the lounge area.
“Are you getting hungry?” Georg looked at me.
“Yeah, unfortunately, we are all the snacks.”
“Don't worry I made sure to get us some delivery. It should be coming anytime soon.”
“You're the best Georg.” I kissed his cheek making the other boys scoff at us.
“I want one too!” Gustav blocked Georg out of the way facing his cheek at me.
“Of course, anything for Gustav.” I pecked his cheek. The twins looked at me like they were waiting, “No both of you ruined Hide n Seek.”
Georg and Gustav laughed at the both of them.
By the time the food delivers
We were sitting at the table eating our Chinese food. Tom sat next to me with his box of noodles. “Would you recreate a romantic noodle scene with me?”
“That's with Italian food stupid.”
“Just one time.”
“If I wanted to kiss you I would.”
Tom complained and set his box down. He sat there with his arms crossed like a kid he was. Bill started talking to everyone about what their future work might bring for the band. “Y/N.”
“Yes, Tom what do you need--” I turned around and he placed a kiss on my lips.
Bill let out a gasp and Georg jumped over the table and sent both of them to the ground. Gustav joined in too. Bill held onto my head saying, “Everything is going to be okay.” If I were traumatized. It was going to be a long night.
° . ● . ★ ° . * ° * . : :●. *° :●. * °
#tokio hotel#tokio hotel fanfic#bill kaulitz#tom kaulitz#georg listing#gustav schäfer#fluff#imagine#x reader#boy bands#tokio hotel x reader#2000s
239 notes
·
View notes
Text
i get so genuinely sad when i see people hating on alex. like come on, give him a chance :(
i get that if you're a woman or like play as a woman he can be like weird ig, but thats literally because he just isnt straight (ik they're all "technically" bisexual, but like... be so fr for one second pls). i don't believe for a second that he is intrested in women beyond friendship or that he know" how to be a "straight man" so he just does whatever he thinks a straight man would do. genuinely he probably never had any close friends outside of haley, his dad was definately no proper influence, and by the time he would've gotten to stardew george would he too out of sorts to even show him "how to be a man" or whatever
like, the isolation of his former housing enviroment definately fucked him up and despite likely being a "pretty boy jock" and relatively popular in school, he had no friends and never learned how to actually like "be a person" because of it
ill prolly deletr this later or clean it up and repost it, but RAHHHH I DO NOT TOLERATE ALEX HATE!!!! HE IS MY BABY WABY DO NOT INSULT HIM!!!!! tbf... it mostly comes from mfers whos fave ever is shane so like point immediately invaild tbh
57 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you pls do an f1 race summary from this weekend i'm literally living for your f1 lore stories
ABSOLUTELY
ok so while i will not go into Everything from this weekend (cause there was a lot) i will do my best to talk about the last 10 laps because wow.
so!
here's what you need to know:
heading into the last race of the year (abu dhabi), the standings for the constructors championship were as follows:
red bull: 822
mercedes: 392
ferrari: 388
so while redbull had secured the win several races ago, ferrari and mercedes were still duking it out for 2nd (keep in mind, were talking several million dollars difference in prize money here)
heading into the race the two teams were about even. charles leclerc was starting p2 on the grid with his teammate carlos sainz starting an abysmal p16 after crashing in practice (this is the same guy who ran over the manhole cover in vegas and narrowly avoided getting royally and permanently fucked). on the mercedes side george russell was starting p4 (mostly thanks to lando norris fucking up his qualifying lap but landos abu dhabi race is another story entirely) and lewis hamilton was starting p11.
heading into the final 10 laps the two teams were neck and neck for second in the constructors championship. but, carlos sainz had once again been fucked over by ferrari strategy because while he had already pitted once, he was on hard tires both times (you have to run two different compound tires during the race as per rules) so he still needed to pit again to put on a set of medium tires. so while he was hovering around p10ish, ferraris baller strategy of "wait for a safety car to pit" was looking grimmer and grimmer as no one crashed into each other and therefore there was no safety car. so heading into the last 10 laps, it was pretty clear that carlos was not getting any points to help the team (points are scored if you end p10 or higher), leaving it all down to charles leclerc.
sainz ended up pitting on the last lap and finishing in a horrendous p18 (tho technically it was a dnf because of the tire thing).
charles leclec was chilling up in p2, about 16 seconds off of max verstappen (the least important person in this story). behind charles was george russell, lando norris, then sergio perez.
lap 47. perez tries to pass lando norris. he is unsuccessful and they bump into each other. its kind of unclear who causes the accident (the announcers debated fiercely over it) but lando gets pushed off the track, still ahead of perez. race control debates it and end up giving perez a 5 second time penalty.
perez passes norris, then moves on to pass russell. hes now in 3rd. but, he still has the 5 second time penalty, meaning that if he wants to be on the podium he needs to be at least 5 seconds in front of george russell. perez zooms on, now trying to pass leclerc.
lap 58. the last lap. george russell is in 4th (but will end 3rd because of perez's time penalty) and hamilton is in 9th. this will put mercedes just 3 points ahead of ferrari and they will take second in the constructors championship. charles leclerc, who has been getting fucked left right and center up the ass with a fork by ferrari strategy all season long says fuck it what do i have to lose. he has no chance in hell of passing verstappen (who is still 16 seconds ahead of him) but he may have a shot at knocking russell back to 4th (with perez's time penalty) and if he knocks russell back to 4th, ferrari will just narrowly take second in the constructors championship.
so, with all the rage of a man who was deemed ferraris golden boy but hasn't won a single race all year, charles gets on his radio and says the following:
"tell me the gap between checo (perez) and russell. if theres less than 5 seconds ill give him the place (?) and i will let us switch for the last sector. hes got 5 seconds anyway."
the gap between russell and perez is 2.7 seconds. at this rate, russell will still get third and mercedes will take second.
ferrari doesnt exactly tell charles to let checo take p2, but they also don't tell him to not let checo take p2. and boy, charles has already been through the wringer this season, its the last race, he might as well give it everything hes got.
and right now, everything hes got is to let checo pass him, increasing the gap between him and russell. because, 5 seconds will be added on to checos finishing time, and, if he is more than 5 seconds ahead of russell when he finishes, this will keep russell in fourth place. charles will still take p2 with checos time penalty and if all goes according to plan he will be able to singlehandedly secure ferrari second in the constructors championship.
its so genius that you wonder why the ferrari strategists didnt think of it themselves.
but alas, the plan does not work. checo only finishes about 3.7 seconds infant of russell, meaning that with his penalty russell still takes p3, and allowing mercedes to come second in the constructors championship by only 3 points.
charles, rightfully, is fucking pissed. hes done the job of himself, carlos, and the strategists and it still isn't enough to pull out p2.
after the race is over and charles curses spectacularly that they come in 3rd overall, he thanks everyone at ferrari for "this difficult season" (he doesnt sound very thankful at all) and ferrari don't really even acknowledge him
if you want to hear his radios from the last lap they are here
#rip#f1#charles leclerc#abu dhabi gp 2023#not a tag#from saph#man LITERALLY JEPORDIZED HIS OWN RACE FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM#whos doing it like him literally no one
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hold On
Summary: When a case hits a little too close to home, it’s time for Aaron to face the music and be honest about his feelings after the breakup
Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Hotch x Beth mentioned, Emily Prentiss x mentioned oc (aka @leftoverenvy)
Word count: ~12k (the girl cannot shut up) (it’s closer to 13 but it’s worth it I swear to god it is)
Warnings: hotch pov, case-compliant violence/injuries, mentions of suicide, mentions of pregnancy & pregnancy scares, domestic actions without fluff, relationship talk/references to relationship, angst angst angst, deep delving into their feelings, this is basically a case study, I once again leaned way too heavily on song lyrics so pls listen to it
A/N: As Taylor Swift said…. Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. Mwahaha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. Massive shoutout to @munsons-curls and @doctorstethoscope for fixing my many mistakes and validating me, and to everyone who has let me take them on this little ride. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed writing this fic, or how excited I am to write the epilogue
Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3
Prev part | Next part | Series masterlist | My masterlist
—————
There's so many dreams that we have given up
Take a look at all we've got
And with this kind of love what we've got here is enough
So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it'll be alright
'Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone
Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go
Once upon a time, Aaron had considered himself lucky. He had a steady job, as dangerous as it was fulfilling, with the BAU. He had a son, energetic and joyous despite all he’d been through. He had you, beautiful and strong and endlessly supportive of him. He had a version of the life he had always wanted, the normalcy of family game night and someone else making Jack eat his veggies. It had been perfect.
But then, he’d screwed up. Hadn’t he? He had opened up, just a bit too much, and told you something you didn’t want to hear. Scared you off.
Instead of spending the rest of his life with you, as he’d planned, Aaron found himself alone. He tried not to blame you, tried not to feel bitter about the inevitable result of finally opening up to someone so wholly.
He bit back every thought of how conditional your love turned out to be, every scathing remark about how Biometrics was one of the most useless departments in the Bureau. He pretended not to care when he overheard that you were dating again, courtesy of JJ and Prentiss’ water cooler gossip.
He’d done what Aaron Hotchner always did; he’d buckled up, lifted his chin, and done what was expected of him. He’d found a nice girl, one that fell for him quickly, and he wished he could return the depths of her affection. He’d continued to work, putting away bad guys with Morgan and Reid while missing the easy way you’d always been able to read his mind in the field.
He moved apartments as soon as it became apparent that the ghost of you would never leave; he just wished that it hadn’t followed him, haunting him with thoughts of you dancing around the new stainless steel kitchen, or flopping onto the brand new suede couch.
He’d done what you asked him to, two years ago when you’d walked away from him and left him to pick up the pieces of his son’s broken heart and ignore his own.
Everyone has a breaking point, though. Aaron, to his credit, hadn’t reached it many times in his life.
There was the first time his father hit his little brother; the first time Aaron fought back. Open-handed slaps, broken noses, Sean screaming. He had never regretted it, not even when he wound up in the hospital that night.
There was George Foyet, dead on the blood-soaked carpet after a blur of a fight. Bloody knuckles, blurry vision, Haley’s blood flecked on her killer’s face. He’d do it a hundred times over if he had the chance.
There was the breakup, the one that simultaneously snuck up on him and had been inevitable. Crumpled flowers, Aaron yelling, you packing your desk. If he hadn’t snapped, would you have stayed?
And then there were the breaking points Aaron never expected to reach.
Leaving for a case the day you broke up with him, only to return to a half-empty apartment. Empty closet, the ‘hers’ sink from the his-and-hers themed bathroom scrubbed clean, your favourite mug left in the dishwasher. He had shattered the mug, thrown it off the balcony where you liked to drink your coffee in the mornings.
The first time you’d come along on a team outing after the breakup. Laughter, avoiding glances, ignoring how good you looked. He had taken home the first woman who caught his eye that night, learned her name- Beth- and given her a place in his life, like that would solve anything.
No matter how many breaking points he experienced, Aaron could never be sure about when the next one would occur. His saving grace through it all was that at least he could keep his composure at work.
Where Aaron failed, Hotch wasn’t allowed to.
Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when the team gets news of a bombing in New York, just days after Emily’s wedding, and Hotch nearly keels over at his desk.
You’re in New York.
— — —
The drive to the airstrip is a blur; the whole team is worried, of course, but Aaron can hardly see straight until he’s on the plane with a file in his hand and Emily is squeezing his arm.
He remembers giving a quick and quiet order to Garcia, to call you and find out if you’re okay, and it doesn’t help his nerves that all she could tell him was, “Her phone is off.”
“She’s okay, you know,” Emily murmurs, discreet enough that no one else can hear. “It’s a big city. She’s just fine. We’ll catch this guy, and then you can see her. We just need to work the case first.”
Aaron- Hotch, now- takes a deep breath and does his best to hide that those words are exactly what he needs to hear right now, even if he doesn’t plan on seeing you. She’s right; they just need to work the case. “Alright. Okay,” he says a little louder, “What do we know?”
“Not much,” Morgan frowns at the file in his hand. “A bomb went off at The Vessel. It was a structure, I guess, but no one was allowed inside and that’s where the bomb was. Makes sense with the casualty numbers- Seven wounded, two dead.”
“Probably nearby tourists, taking pictures with it,” Prentiss says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s sending a message to outsiders, but didn’t want a high body count.”
“That could be it,” Rossi agrees. “‘Stay out of my city’.”
“There’s been no communication to any news outlets so far,” JJ chimes in. “I don’t think we’ll learn much more until we get there and have a chance to check out the scene.”
Reid adjusts a few papers so they align, most of his attention focused on the task. “You know, most seemingly random bombings have a high chance of being followed up with a string of serial bombings, for a number of reasons. Sometimes the unsub gets addicted to the attention, or the feeling of killing, or the initial bomb doesn’t impact the intended target,” he continues, not noticing the look Rossi is shooting him.
Hotch takes a deep breath and tries to push back the feeling in his chest that resembles a brick being crushed into his sternum. “Alright. JJ is right. There’s not much more we can do with no signature and no other bombings. Everyone, just try to relax; I have a feeling we won’t be getting much rest in New York.”
He watches as the team follows his instruction. The tension is palpable but they know there’s nothing they can do; the waiting is everyone’s least favourite part of the job. Still, they try to relax. Morgan pulls on his headphones and closes his eyes, JJ and Reid start to play cards, and Prentiss and Rossi re-open their file folders to review case details.
As much as he’d like to do the same, Aaron can’t bring himself to move. He sits there, head against the window, and he wonders if you’re okay. Were you caught in the blast? Did you become one of Reid’s bombing statistic numbers? Or are you perfectly fine, content somewhere in the city with no idea that Aaron is on his way there?
He wonders, briefly, against his will in a moment dripping with guilt, which potential is worse.
———
Aaron Hotchner is something of a practiced master at hiding his agony. Maybe that’s why his voice is so level when the plane starts to descend, and he finally speaks to do the one thing he knows how; direct his team.
“Morgan and Rossi, go to the bombing site. See what you can find. Prentiss, head to the hospital with Reid and start talking to victims, and JJ, see if any news outlets have been contacted yet. We’ll meet at the station later.”
As though on cue, Garcia’s computer screen against the wall of the jet lights up. The tech analyst looks a bit paler than usual, and Hotch crosses his fingers and chalks it up to bad lighting until she speaks.
“Sir, there was another bombing. Three minutes ago, in a grocery store near the Village. There’s no casualty numbers yet.” She looks like she might cry now, and it’s not hard to figure out why.
“A grocery store is a serious escalation,” Rossi says, opening the file folder he’d just closed. “There’s locals, long-stay tourists, families shopping. Big jump from a tourist trap.”
“So we know he’s not possessive of the city. At least, he isn’t just trying to get rid of perceived outsiders,” JJ offers, and Morgan shakes his head.
“If this guy is looking for the homey-cozy ‘love thy neighbour’ deal, he’s not about to get it in New York no matter what he bombs,” he points out.
When the plane jostles them all a little, Hotch takes the moment of silence to re-assess assignments. “Garcia, is search and rescue at the second bombing site?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. The team is split between doing recovery at both locations,” she says, and one nod from Rossi means Hotch doesn’t hesitate to reassign.
“Morgan, you’re with me at the new site. We’ll be assisting with search and rescue before anything else. Rossi can handle the first scene by himself. Everyone else, stay as assigned.”
“Hotch, are you sure about that? I might be able to…” On what was probably going to be an offer of how he can assist at the original scene, Morgan falters. Of course he does. There’s nothing to be done when the bomb’s already gone off.
“I’m sure. There are people out there, and they deserve to be saved.”
———
When the plane hits the tarmac, his team is ready. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine, the way they pair off and head off to their assigned zones. The only pause is between Aaron and Rossi, when he grabs his friend’s arm on the way off the plane. “Dave…”
“I’ll tell you if she’s there,” Rossi promises, and then he’s gone in a black SUV while Hotch climbs into one with Morgan and heads to the Village bombsite.
“So, search and rescue,” Morgan says, raising his voice to speak over the sirens that Hotch has turned on. “Are we heading in, or assisting from the sidelines?”
“According to Garcia, the ambulances aren’t able to make it out to the grocery store. There’s too much rubble blocking the roads that aren’t under construction, and it’s New York traffic in addition to the media outlets swarming the place.” Hotch lets out a concentrated breath. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. Look for survivors, get them to an ambulance.”
“Got it.” The second Hotch throws the car into park, Morgan is sliding out of his seat and onto the sidewalk. Both men make their way through the media storm, past the ambulances that managed to park closer than they did, and into the store.
Search and rescue is there already, along with the SWAT team. They’re moving debris, lifting fallen shelves, and occasionally carrying people out to the ambulances waiting for them.
Hotch sets into motion instantly. He breaks off for the frozen food aisle where he doesn’t see anyone searching. “Is anyone over here?” He calls out, but there’s no answer.
The bomb must have come from across the store; there’s less debris here, but the shelves are twisted and collapsed all the same. Shattered glass from the freezer doors covers the ground, and he tries to avoid it as best he can as he walks down what once was an aisle.
He steps around stray items- a warped metal freezer door frame, a pile of frozen pizza boxes, pints of melting ice cream- while keeping his eyes trained for any sign of another person anywhere.
When he finally does see something, it makes his adrenaline spike. It’s a leg, poking out from under a freezer shelf. If he has to venture a guess, he’d say that someone is pinned under the bent freezer frame, but whether they’re merely unconscious or dead remains to be determined.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Hotch raises his voice a little and gets closer to the figure. He can see the leg a bit more clearly now, and a hand poking out from under the side of the freezer. The fingers twitch slightly. Thank god.
The sweatpants the person is wearing look vaguely familiar, and Hotch can’t place them until he sees the image of Nemo on them, and it clicks. As soon as he realizes, his stomach drops. His hands go clammy, the blood rushes from his face, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.
When the dizziness hits him, he wants to throw something and scream and maybe sink down onto the floor and cry, but he can’t.
He can’t, because he remembers when Penelope made sweatpants out of quilts for everyone on the team four Christmases ago. He can’t, because she’d had more than enough Disney quilt for two pairs, and had given you and him matching pants.
He can’t, because he recognizes those pants because they’re in his closet at home, but the only other person who owns a pair like this, obviously handmade, from a quilt covered in Disney characters, is…
It’s you.
Aaron can’t help himself, couldn’t stop it if he wanted to; he turns his head, bends over, and throws up on the grocery store floor, on layers of glass and rubble and thawed boxes of Pizza Pops. Right there, staring at your leg and hand, Aaron almost breaks.
But where Aaron has chinks in his armour, Hotch has none. Hotch is the one who takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth and straightens up, the one who uses every bit of strength to lift a warped freezer shelf up and reveal you, with a mangled wrist but looking generally otherwise unharmed.
You look terrified.
Not that Hotch can blame you, of course.
“It’s alright. You’ll be okay,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s Hotch or Aaron talking, because he sounds calm but he has no idea what happened or how hurt you are. “Were your neck or back hurt? You need to answer me.”
You’re looking up at him, gaze half-lidded, and he doesn’t know if he should be scared or relieved when you shake your head and croak out, “They’re fine.”
He knows it’s risky, knows he should call for Morgan or a member of SWAT or anyone with a gurney to transport you safely. But you’re in front of him, dazed, grimy and half-conscious with your wrist bent at an angle, and all he can do is pick you up and hold you close to him. “Hold on,” he instructs, and he feels your arm wrap around his neck.
“Aaron…” you whisper, and he strains to hear you as he makes his way towards the doors with you in his arms. No words follow, though, and he looks down to see you crying against him, silent with tears slicing through the coat of dust on your face. Your arm starts to slip, and he squeezes you a little.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” he promises, “But you need to stay with me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so don’t close your eyes. Hold onto me, tight. I’ve got you.”
When your grasp tightens again, he resumes moving towards the exit. The first breath of fresh air must invigorate you, because he feels you tighten your grip even more. “Aaron,” you repeat, less feeble than before, but he doesn’t want you wasting an ounce of energy.
“I know, but it’s going to be alright,” he shushes you as gently as he can until you arrive at the ambulance, and he passes you off to two paramedics who slide you onto a gurney.
He tries to step back but your hand shoots out and grips his dirtied suit with more strength than he thought you had. “Will you visit? At the hospital?”
The correct answer is no. No, there’s a case to work. No, you’ll be fine. No, we broke up and that’s weird. “We all will,” he promises instead without a hint of regret. “Just let them take care of you, and we’ll be by when we can.”
Relief shines in your eyes, and it’s the last thing he notes before your grip loosens on him and you’re wheeled up into the ambulance.
A minute or so passes before Aaron senses someone behind him and turns to see Derek, who’s watching the road the ambulance disappeared down. “She’s gonna be okay,” he says to Aaron, offering him a nod of support.
Hotch doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure.
— — —
They reconvene at the station a few hours later, and Aaron sits mostly silent while his team discusses victimology, motives, and the chemical makeup of each bomb. He tries to contribute once or twice, but he falls quiet every time he recalls the way you’d looked up at him.
There had been fear in your eyes, of course. You’d been in a bombing, and he knows how natural fear is after traumatic events. But there had been recognition there too, a solemn kind. He wonders to himself if you wish anyone other than him had found you and brought you to safety, or if he’s worrying about nothing.
You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. Even if you recover and stay in New York and Aaron never sees you again, at least you’re safe.
Who is he kidding? He can’t go along with never seeing you again, safety be damned. And yet…. He clenches a fist, ignoring Morgan and Reid’s discussion about chemical compounds. And yet, you’d been so close to dead. An aisle or a footstep away, and you could have been ripped away forever.
It makes him sick to think about.
He’s thinking so hard about it that he’s got no idea how long he’s had his gaze fixed on the table before JJ’s sharp “Hotch!” breaks through and gets his attention.
He clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I was… elsewhere.”
“Did you hear what Emily said?” She asks, and he shakes his head. When he makes eye contact, JJ’s features soften. “You should go see her.”
“No. No, that’s unnecessary. We have a case to work,” he says, and Morgan scoffs at that. “We need to work it like any other case.”
“Any other case? Hotch, you carried her to the ambulance! It’s first aid 101. She could have had a broken spine, and you threw protocol out the window,” Morgan says, staring his boss down. “This isn’t any other case. You guys were in love, man. Go see her.”
Hotch sighs, wishes that the floor could open up and swallow him. Of course he wants to see you, buthe needs to catch the person who did this, first. “It’s not my priority. There are people dying, and we need to stay focused on that. I told her that we would all come visit her after the case is closed.”
“We are focused,” Emily points out. “You aren’t. You’re not helping anyone like this. Just go talk to her, see how she’s doing.” When Aaron opens his mouth to protest again, she cuts him off. “I’m not saying you should live at her bedside or propose to her, but just go say hi. It’s going to help both of you.”
When he looks to his right, Rossi has one eyebrow up. “You know you aren’t winning this one, right?” he asks, and Hotch sighs again. “Bring the girl some flowers, too.”
Aaron closes his file and stands up. “I’m not bringing her flowers,” he mutters. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. If anything else happens, keep me updated.”
——
When he gets to the hospital, flowers in hand, Aaron finds your room almost immediately. He knocks twice on the door, is greeted with a soft, “Come in.”
“Hi,” he says gently, leaving the door open. He watches, waits while you do a double-take like you can’t trust your own vision when Aaron Hotchner is standing at the door.
“You came,” is your response, and he can’t decide if your voice is coloured by exhaustion or disbelief. Maybe it’s both, but he doesn’t like the idea of not being seen as dependable to you, even now.
Encouraged slightly, Aaron takes a further step into the room. Maybe you do want him here, and you weren’t delirious when you asked him to visit. “You asked me to; of course I came. How do you feel?”
While he waits for an answer, he observes you. You’re in a fresh pair of clothes, and before he can enquire about it you’re speaking.
“I’ve been better.” You hold up one arm in a cast. “But I’ve just got this and a concussion, so it could be worse. Remember that case in Kansas where I broke my leg? That was way worse.”
Aaron shakes his head, wanting to scold you for speaking so lightly of an event that had very genuinely terrified him, but he stops himself. It’s not his place. In lieu of conversation, he raises the vase of flowers slightly.
“I, uh, brought you these.”
In the two long years that you’ve been gone, Aaron has never stopped reading human behaviour. More than anything, he has experience with your body language, and he looks over you with a familiar eye.
He sees the tension in your shoulders, your eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the arrangement, and he knows that you’re remembering the last time he brought you flowers. “Thank you,” you say after a pause that’s almost too long. “What kind are they?”
“They’re Gladioli,” he says, and the words are fully out of his mouth before he remembers that he should have lied.
When you were dating, he had always brought you flowers. On your birthday, when you solved a case, when you just felt down; Aaron was there with a bouquet, one that always meant something. Celebration, or supportive love, or some other flower language message that he knew you would understand even when he couldn’t say it out loud.
He’s pretty sure that by the time you broke up, you had memorized the whole flower dictionary. But it’s possible, he hopes, that you never came across the Gladiolus flower. Hope. Love. Remembrance.
Why he bought them, he can’t say for sure. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he wants to know what you’d do if you recognized the flowers.
When you finally speak, it’s with an indecipherable voice. He’s got no idea whether or not you know what these flowers mean. “They’re beautiful. Can you just put them there?” You point one finger at the windowsill, and he follows your directions to place the vase down.
“Of course.” He sets the flowers down in a beam of sunlight, adjusts them this way and that until he’s satisfied. Once he stops moving, a heavy silence falls over the room.
What is there for you to discuss?
He’s racking his brain looking for something, anything, to talk about, until you speak bluntly.
“What do you know about the bomb?”
“What?” He hadn’t even considered that you might want to talk about the case. You’re a former agent of his unit, so ethically, it’s fine to discuss this with you. Still, he’s concerned about the trauma to your body and mind. Before he can speak again, or protest, you’re already talking.
“The bomb,” you repeat. “Do we know who it was placed by? Is it connected to any other bombs? What was it made with?”
This is familiar. This is okay. This is something Hotch knows how to talk about, even when you’re laid up in a hospital bed and he’s only talked to you a handful of times since you broke up two years ago.
At least it’s not awkward anymore. He can read it in the way you sink back into the bed, and how his own shoulders release a bundle of tension that’s been there since he initially heard that there was a bombing in New York this morning.
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he admits. “It was made with the same chemical compound as the one that blew up The Vessel this morning. It was a homemade compound, nothing that could have been acquired naturally without extensive knowledge of bombs.”
“The Vessel? That’s a tourist attraction.” You sit up, but Hotch shakes his head.
“A closed one,” he corrects. “People just go there to take pictures outside the structure, now. That’s why there’s such a low body count.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not just closed. The Vessel is the attraction that closed after a string of suicides,” you say, and Hotch’s head snaps up in attention. “It was a big thing on the news. Have you looked into anyone related to any of those suicides?”
“No, we haven’t.” He’s already fumbling for his phone. “I’m going back to the station. Just… keep us updated on your condition, okay? We would all like to know how you’re doing.”
“Absolutely not.” Hotch can’t decide if he’s more annoyed, impressed, or concerned when you stand up. “I’m coming with you.”
“You aren’t a part of the BAU anymore,” he reminds you. “You made that choice.”
“Yeah, well, there weren’t any lives at stake. He went after a grocery store, Aaron! What’s next, the Empire State Building? Times Square?” You grab your bag of possessions collected from the bombing and rustle through for your purse. “Did you drive here?”
“You can’t come with me. You’re in the hospital for a reason.”
“For a concussion! People are dead.” You stride towards the door, holding your purse and jacket in the hand that doesn’t have a cast around the wrist. “Can you bring the Gladioli, please?”
Is he caught? Do you want to bring them because you know what they mean, or just because they’re nice flowers? With a sigh, Aaron picks them up and pulls his car keys out, knowing that you’ve won this one. “We aren’t putting your name on any reports,” he warns, taking your jacket and bag of possessions in his other hand. “Strauss would kill us both if she thinks I’m borrowing agents from other units.”
“I don’t need credit. But we need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else.”
———
When Aaron gets back to the station, he thinks that his agents probably expected him to come back with something like Thai food, or information about a new bombing.
They likely weren’t expecting him to bring you with him. Or maybe they were, because the response of greeting waves and murmured ‘hello’s are less surprised than he had expected.
“How are you feeling?” Prentiss asks casually, but Hotch can see the flicker of panic in her eyes when she glances at your cast.
“I’ve been worse. Listen, Aaron told me about The Vessel…” you start talking to the team as Hotch calls Garcia to loop her in, and suddenly everything feels more normal than it has in two years.
When you’ve finished filling the team in, Hotch starts to speak. “Garcia, we’re going to need history on the deaths that occurred there before it was closed down. Rossi and Prentiss, go through medical reports. Reid, I want you going through any written notes or other evidence found with the bodies.”
While he talks, he notices you slipping out of the room out of the corner of his eye. Morgan grabs his phone and calls Garcia, trying to help her comb through articles for a list of suicides that occurred at The Vessel.
Hotch sits down with Reid, paging through suicide notes and crime scene photos sent by Garcia until he feels like his head is spinning.
That’s right around when you come back, your presence subtly announced with a cup of tea placed in front of Hotch and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as you pass.
When he brings the cup to his lips, he smiles. It’s English Breakfast tea with a dash of sugar in it; his beverage of choice when it’s too late in the day for coffee. “Thank you,” he says, and you just give him a grin before going to assist Rossi and Prentiss.
After a few minutes of idle work and murmured discussion, Derek shushes everyone and puts his phone on speaker. “Okay, baby girl, tell us something good.”
“None of that, crime fighters. After a truly depressing deep dive through news articles, I’ve got 37 names belonging to people who… you know, died at The Vessel.”
“That’s not workable,” JJ remarks, “We need to narrow it down.”
“We said he has a protective, low body count style. Could be the family member of a suicide victim. One who doesn’t have the guts to cause the maximum amount of carnage,” Rossi suggests.
“That’s good,” Hotch hears himself say, like he’s hearing it from a distance. “A parent would show aggression. Garcia, look for suicide victims with surviving siblings in the area. Focus on the ones with older siblings.”
The click-clack of her keys is the only audible sound before she reports, “16 left. Still too many names.”
“Do any of them work in auto mechanics, or in proximity to cars?” Reid asks. “There’s a specific compound in the bomb that’s almost impossible to come by unless you have access to garage-grade chemicals or a specialized lab, and the lab is unlikely for him.”
“Two names. Anything else?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch sees you perk up. “Did any of the victims work at that grocery store?”
“Uhh…. One! He wasn’t on our list of two, but his name was Jackson Moyer.”
“Wait, I’ve got something here.” Reid sorts through papers- suicide notes and similar images sent from Garcia, and Hotch doesn’t know when he had time to get them printed out- until he pulls out a sheet of paper. “Jackson Moyer. It says in the note that his girlfriend broke up with him on the same day he got fired.”
Emily leans over to look at the note. “It’s dated nine months ago.”
Nine months. “She was pregnant,” Hotch blurts out, and a heavy silence falls over the group.
Moments later, Garcia gives the confirmation. “Nora Carr, Jackson’s girlfriend, had the baby…. Three days ago, but she gave it up for adoption,” she reports.
“Right before the bombings started.” Rossi’s observation sits heavy for a second until you speak again.
“Back to the victim. Does he have a surviving family member matching the description?” You hold the end of a pen in your mouth, worrying it between your lips while you look at your files. “A sibling or close cousin, maybe.”
There’s a moment of typing before Garcia says, “Bingo. His older brother, Jeremy. It looks like they were really close growing up; same sports teams, friend group, classes, you name it. He doesn’t work at any kind of auto shop, though. He works in retail.”
“He felt betrayed when his brother killed himself,” Hotch starts.
He’s caught off guard when you continue his train of thought for the first time in two years. The ease with which you take over his idea is one that he’s missed; sometimes, when he’s having difficulty going somewhere with a profile, he misses working with you. It’s like you hold the other piece of the puzzle.
But now, even if just temporarily, you’re here and you’re fitting the puzzle piece into place
“And he saw giving away Jackson’s child as the ultimate betrayal. Does he have a boyfriend or girlfriend with access to the chemicals used?” You ask.
“Yep. Her name is Erica Harmon and she’s a grad student at Columbia. She’s a TA in a load of undergrad chem classes, too.”
“He’s got access to the chemicals through her,” JJ says, frowning at her list of materials found in the bombs. “Almost all of this is lab-grade, and the rest of it wouldn’t be hard to find at a supermarket.”
“And he’s probably going after Jackson’s ex-girlfriend next,” Morgan says, already grabbing his gun as the rest of the group stands up.
Prentiss looks at her boss. “Where do you want us?”
“You and Reid, head to Jeremy’s house. Rossi, Morgan, JJ, I want you at the ex-girlfriend’s apartment.”
“Where am I going?” You ask, using one hand on the table to steady yourself when you stand up and wobble slightly. “I need a gun.”
“No, you don’t. You need to stay here, and I’ll stay with you.” Aaron sits back down, pulls you into your own chair with both hands on yours while he ignores the team’s stares.
“Hotch, are you sure?” Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn’t even look over.
“Go.”
He hears the sounds of rustling to his side, his team leaving as fast as they can while Garcia says something about sending them the addresses, but he can hardly focus. “Are you okay?”
“A little…” You bring a hand to the centre of your forehead. “A little dizzy, that’s all. Are they going to be okay?”
“They’ll be just fine. We profiled that he targets the buildings themselves, not the people in them. He won’t be able to take a hostage successfully.” Aaron promises.
He hopes he’s right.
He hopes he hasn’t lied to you yet again, especially when you give him a hopeful smile.
“I missed this,” you say, so casually that his heartbeat falters before you continue to speak, giving him clarification that he doesn’t want. “Working with everyone, being on cases. Biometrics isn’t nearly as interesting.”
The confession cracks his face into something resembling a smile. “Never a dull moment here,” he agrees before the two of you fall into a silence that he can’t decipher.
Should he have said something else? We missed working with you, or I missed having you around, or Biometrics is practically an entry-level unit. Maybe even, Are you thinking of rejoining the team?
He still doesn’t know why he lied to you on the day of the breakup, why the words ‘it’s not reversible’ had ever left his lips. You could have come back to the BAU at any time, Strauss be damned. Of course, it would be his head on the chopping block, but still. You deserved to know.
He doesn’t say anything.
“How’s Beth?” You blurt out, and he wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that question before you asked it.
He wishes you hadn’t asked. He has a moment of panic, gives you a reaction he already hates himself for before he does it. Instead of answering, he stands up and picks up his now-empty mug of tea. “I’m going to get another. Do you need anything? Some water?” He suggests, brushing the back of his hand on your forehead the way he does when Jack is sick.
The look in your eyes is unreadable when you slump down into your seat further, staring at the table. “I’m okay,” you mumble, and Aaron hates himself even more for the familiar way he caresses your hair before he walks off.
His return a few minutes later finds you curled up in one of the large office chairs, your head leaned back while you speak into your cell phone. “… not sure when I’ll be back,” you’re saying, and you glance up when he enters the room. “I’ll call you back later, okay?”
You hang up and tuck the phone under your leg before you look up at him. You don’t say anything.
He doesn’t say anything.
You don’t say anything.
“I brought you tea,” he blurts out.
Aaron Hotchner, ex-prosecutor, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, well-known in more than one elite circle for his nuanced understanding of the human mind and what makes it tick. That’s him.
Or maybe it’s not, because after two seconds of awkward silence he’s offering you the mug of tea he made for himself.
“I thought you went to get yourself one,” you say, but a barely-trembling hand reaches forward to accept the mug nonetheless. Thank god he’d grabbed a clean one.
“You need it more. How’s your arm doing?” He asks, and you shrug.
“It’s been better, but it’s been worse. Hurts less when I don’t think about it.”
Aaron has always prided himself on giving you what you need. If you’re telling him that you don’t want to think about it, he can work with that. He can distract you. “Who were you on the phone with?”
It’s excruciating, the length of time that he sits in silence before you answer. It feels like he’s waiting for a signed murder confession. He sits there and waits for what feels like days, weeks, maybe a month or two to hear you say, “My friend.”
“Garcia said you were visiting a friend. That’s why you bought the onesie, isn’t it?” He guesses, remembering that awkward run-in with Beth and Ella at the museum gift shop.
He can’t believe he brought it up. Can you see the shame for it on his face, or the tips of his ears red with embarrassment?
It had been a great day. He had had a rare day off, and he and Beth had taken the kids to the park. They’d gone out for ice cream afterwards, and finally for a tour of Jack’s favourite museum that ended with the museum gift shop. It’s almost a perfect memory, a day that he would fit into a snow globe to preserve if he could.
He knows that if he did that, somehow preserved the day in a sphere full of glycol, he would just remember the look on your face in that gift shop. He still can’t put a name to the emotion other than ‘torn’.
Aaron Hotchner; the master of understanding every human mind except yours.
“She just had a baby,” you respond, and he blinks twice before he remembers that you aren’t in the gift shop anymore and that he asked you a question.
You’re here in front of him now with a broken wrist and a concussion and you finally seem to be opening up to him, and he doesn’t want to risk missing it by staying in his own head.
“Boy or girl?” He asks while you sip the tea. It's an English Breakfast with nothing but a bit of sugar, but you don’t seem to mind.
“He’s a boy. His name is Tristan and he’s cute, too. Do you want to see a picture?” You’re already eagerly reaching for your phone, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you now whether he wants to see the pictures or not.
When you show him the screen, a part of him wishes he had stopped you.
The baby is tiny. Tristan is swaddled in a blanket, the top half of his head poking out just for tiny eyes to squint at the camera. Aaron can see the top of a scrunched nose, maybe the beginning of a cry or a yawn. He examines the details, the obviously-plush blanket with grey-blue floral detailing.
Aaron does his best to fixate his attention on Tristan and ignore the fact that the photo is of you holding the baby, looking almost maternal and definitely happy and…
He looks away.
He can’t help it; he hardly stops himself to consider whether it’s rude of him to actively dodge the photo. Instead, he clears his throat. “Very cute,” he agrees, “You’re right about that.”
“Yeah. He was born a little premature, so I thought I’d take some time off of work, come up and help her out for a little while.” You look down at your cast and let out half a scornful laugh. “Some help I am. I don’t even think I could hold him now.”
“I’m sure you’ve been plenty helpful,” he assures you without a thought. After all, for years you had as much of a hand in raising Jack as Aaron did. “It just might have been cut short a little.”
“Yeah, a little. I’m probably going to have to head home after this. It doesn’t make sense to stay when I can’t do anything.” You look glum at the prospect, and without a thought Aaron reaches a foot out to bump against the roller wheels of your chair. It’s a gentle tap, one that just serves to get your attention.
“Talk to your friend,” he advises. “Maybe you can still cook, or help her clean up around the house. There’s no need to cut your time off short just because you can’t hold a baby.”
Your head tilts just a bit, and your eyes narrow as though you’re looking at an equation in the air that Aaron can’t see, let alone guess the factors of. He hopes you can solve it, whatever it is. “Maybe,” you say, and that’s when he hears the conference room door open.
“Hey, double trouble.” Morgan has a trademark grin from ear to ear as he sits down at the table, and Hotch swivels in his seat to face the team as they file into the room.
How did it appear to them? Him close to your chair, you tucked into it with one leg under you and the other hanging off the side. Did it seem uncomfortable, like you didn’t want to be there? He wishes he could have taken a picture of the two of you, somehow, something he could study and examine and hope to understand.
You’ve been alone in a room for… well, he’s lost track of time, but it’s been a while and he still can’t tell if you’re comfortable or not. He’s got no clue until you pipe up and wheel your chair closer to the table.
“Dibs on being ‘double’. You can be ‘trouble’.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, and Hotch does his best not to smile. There’s no use in encouraging you, after all. Still, he can feel some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the light tone; you’re happy to be here, happy to work on this case and to talk to him.
“Actually, you can’t assign nicknames based off of a group nickname when the name itself is a play on how many members there are,” Reid corrects as he sits down with his case file in hand. “You can only do that if each nickname is a separate title.”
Morgan groans out loud at that and reaches over to swat Reid’s arm. “C’mon, man, you’re taking all the fun out of it,” he complains, leaving Reid with a mildly perplexed look on his face.
“We can try again,” Prentiss offers, slipping out of her bulletproof vest. “Hey, sugar and spice.”
Aaron can feel your reaction before you can even open your mouth, and he beats you to it by a half second by warning, “Don’t say that I’m spice.”
The look on your face tells him that that’s exactly what you meant to say. He pushes away thoughts of Look how well I know you in favour of We’re at work.
“How did takedown go?” He asks. The debrief usually happens on the jet, but it feels wrong to discuss the case without you now. Debriefing is an essential part of each case for everyone who works on it, and he does his best to make sure that each member of his team- past or present- can leave each city with a sense of closure.
If anyone needs closure on this case, it’s the woman wearing a cast who hasn’t had to face the horrors of the BAU in two years.
And maybe Aaron, because it’s just as important to him that you feel okay after the events of the last day. Maybe you need to know that the unsub is behind bars, but Aaron needs to know that you know.
Dave, who has been smirking ever since he saw Hotch quickly wheel his chair away from yours upon the team's arrival, speaks first. “Nice and easy. We caught him while he was assembling a bomb in the apartment complex's boiler room. Taking a hostage never crossed his mind.”
“He didn’t even go to Nora’s apartment. She had no idea what we were talking about when we tried to interview her,” JJ says. She hasn’t sat down yet, and is already working to gather up the metric ton of paper covering the conference room table.
Maybe Hotch should have thought to do that.
“Good. And Erica, the girlfriend?”
“She had no idea about any of it. Morgan found a copy of her keys on the unsub’s keyring, and her best guess was that he copied them right out of her purse.” Prentiss passes JJ a stack of papers and sighs. “I feel bad for that girl. She had no idea what was happening right under her nose.”
“She had no way of knowing that her boyfriend would be pushed over the edge like he was. She’s gonna need help after this, for sure,” Morgan says thoughtfully, and the group mumbles out a collective agreement.
“Either way, mi bellos,” Rossi stands up to clasp his hands together, “The case is closed and we’ve got someone in cuffs. All’s well that ends… well, you know.”
It catches Hotch off guard when his stomach pangs at the thought of leaving. Boarding the jet and heading home. Leaving New York, leaving Jackson and Jeremy and their girlfriends in the past, leaving you to deal with the aftereffects of being injured on your own.
He can’t stop himself from speaking, even if just to re-think his words before they become law. “We can stay the night.”
There’s no subtlety to the rise of Morgan’s eyebrows, or the glance that Prentiss and JJ exchange. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. The words are out there. It’s already done.
“Why would we do that?” Reid asks, always one to voice the question no one wants to vocalize. Hotch has always loved his curious mind and his need to understand every aspect of something.
Even if he kind of wants to throttle the kid right now, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?
“Because you all did some good work today,” he answers after a painfully long minute, “and deserve a night off. We can all go out for dinner and be on the jet early in the morning.”
That answer seems to satisfy the room, and Aaron ignores the look Rossi is giving him as he glances over at you and drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” you promise. “Do you, you know, maybe have an extra seat at that table?” You look nervous; he can read that clear as day. The idea that this could put you on edge almost makes a laugh bubble up in his stomach but he shoves it down in favour of a smile.
“I’m sure we can pull one up,” he assures you in a murmur. “We’d love to see you a bit more before we leave.”
“Oh.” You sound almost surprised, and he’s glad that he thought to hide behind the royal ‘we’. “Okay. Can I ride there with one of you?”
“Of course.” Aaron stands up and pulls your chair away from the table so you’ve got room to stand. Unnecessary chivalry; he has to remind himself to cut it out. “We can take a taxi.”
—
That’s how, fifteen minutes later, he finds himself in the passenger seat of a cab with you, JJ, and Garcia squished together in the backseat.
He wonders what you’re talking about back there behind the partition in low whispers, the occasional giggle, and one or two sharp “Shh”’s. The taxi stops too soon for him to find out, and your little group finds the rest of the team at a table already.
You slide into a seat and Hotch unconsciously moves to take the seat farthest from you- a habit he’s built in the last two years- only to find Morgan already sitting in it. “Sorry, Hotch. You snooze, you lose,” he defends with a wide smile.
By the time he turns to see what other seats are free, the only one left is right next to you. “Aaron, over here,” you say, and with all eyes on him there’s nothing to do but come around the table and sink into the stiff chair.
The waitress comes by to take drink orders a minute later, and Hotch orders himself a water. He’s here on official business, and he refuses to get drunk. It’s what his father did, and that always ended up in violence or big scenes made in public. Hotch does everything he can to avoid that side of himself, especially when he’s representing the government.
“What kind of wines do you have?” He hears you ask, and he turns his head to see the waitress produce a menu from what must have been thin air.
“She can’t drink,” he says loudly, putting out a hand like he can stop the menu from making its way to you. “She has a concussion.”
Speaking around you, to you, for you, is a dance, as Aaron is slowly learning.
You frown, and he hopes he hasn’t overstepped. You don’t say anything, and he holds his breath. You finally look up at the waitress and order a water, and he sighs in relief.
“Thanks, it slipped my mind,” you murmur once she’s walked away, and he gives you a tight smile before getting dragged into an argument between Morgan and Reid.
Dinner, for the most part, passes in a blur of quiet conversation and polite laughter. It isn’t until everyone is eating dessert, half the team feeling the effects of the wines they’ve been indulging in, that everything goes to hell.
He really shouldn’t be so surprised. The evening has gone without a hitch so far- Aaron’s left arm occasionally bumping your right when you try to eat at the same time has really been the only obstacle- so he figures that you’re about due for something to go wrong. Some event to stir up the peaceful bubble he’s stumbled across.
It happens, as many things do, in the form of Emily Prentiss opening her mouth. She leans over you to speak to Aaron, and it’s like he’s watching the train crash in slow motion when she says to him, “So, how’s the single life?”
He can feel the way you stiffen up next to him, white knuckles on your fork, peering out of the corner of your eye. Do you want to hear the answer? “Prentiss, please. That’s hardly appropriate.” His voice is being held together like it’s wrapped in duct tape, but it comes out steady enough.
Emily sighs at the scolding. “I just wanted to know,” she grumbles, pushing a piece of cheesecake around on her plate. “You and Beth broke up a week ago; I’m just curious.”
“Good question,” JJ says. “Have you talked to her since? Wait, is that why she wasn’t at the wedding?”
“You told us she was sick, but statistically this is the least likely time of year for someone to experience cold or flu related symptoms.” Spencer frowns down at his rootbeer. “Did you lie? You could have told us that you broke up. We could have helped.”
“Same way I got over the second Mrs. Rossi,” Dave jokes, lifting his glass in a salute. “I don’t think I left the strip club for a month.”
“Please,” Aaron repeats, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t appropriate.” He directs it primarily to Emily, who started this whole thing, and he notices the shell-shocked look on your face out of the corner of his eye.
“I just wanted to know,” Emily repeats, as petulant as a stubborn child.
She wanted you to know, more likely. Aaron has been careful about not talking about his relationship- Emily only knows because he developed a case of drunkenly loose lips the night of the wedding and overshared to her wife, Katie- and now you know the one thing he didn’t want to become widespread. There’s no way that wasn’t intentional.
“I should…” You push your chair back with a ‘screech’ and stand up, hurrying out of the restaurant in the direction of the lobby without further excuse.
Hotch watches you go, lets out a groaned “God.” while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to- I’ll be back.” He tosses down his napkin and takes off in the direction you exited.
“Now, that wasn’t too nice,” Derek points out, and Emily shrugs.
“I didn’t like the tension. At least now they’ll talk.”
Meanwhile, Aaron finds himself rounding the large fountain display in the lobby to talk to you. “Are you leaving?”
When you look up, there’s vague surprise on your face. Did you think he wouldn’t follow you? If there’s one thing Aaron knows about himself by now, it’s that he would follow you to hell and back.
“I think I should. I think that would be best.” Instead of looking at him, you fiddle with your keys and look everywhere else. The chandelier, fountain, reception desk; everywhere except at Aaron himself.
“Just… just hold on, a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to upset you, by not saying something. I thought it would be… easier.”
That gets a reaction. Your eyes snap to his, and he can see something like hurt swimming in them. “Easier?”
“Yes. You didn’t have anything to do with it; why should I have to tell you?” He challenges, even though it’s half a lie. You weren’t faultless in the breakup, but he’s not going to be sharing that fact.
“You don’t think I would want to know?” You take a small step towards him. “Even just so I could be there for you?”
“That’s not a good idea,” he counters. “I have friends I can speak to about breakups.” He regrets his words the second that he sees the pain in your eyes. Oh, because you’re supposed to be friends now. That’s right; his last breakup was with you.
Three feet away, perched on the edge of the fountain, an older woman is watching the two of you intensely. She’s obviously listening, and that’s something that Aaron doesn’t want to deal with. “Look,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “Will you come up to my room? We can talk there, but I’m not doing this in public.”
The conflicting emotions on your face seem to be going to war until you take a deep breath and take Aaron’s hand, your fingers wrapping around his as you board the elevator.
He hopes you don’t notice David Rossi standing near the elevators. He hopes you don’t notice the thumbs up that the older man gives him, or the middle finger he gives in return.
The elevator ride is silent and long, almost excruciatingly so, and he’s half relieved once you get into the hotel room and take a seat on separate beds facing each other. His suitcase is against the wall, zipped up, and the desk is covered in various writings and readings that he doesn’t even know when Spencer had time to unpack.
You break the silence first, your face expressionless like it’s an interrogation. It feels like he’s on the wrong side of the interrogation table for once when you speak. “You and Beth broke up.”
“We did,” he agrees, and that’s when he wonders if he made a mistake bringing you up here. He doesn’t want you to hear the whole story; why not just confirm the breakup in the lobby and send you on your way?
Well, he couldn’t have done that, and he knows why. It’s still a half-decent alternative to this, though.
“Why?”
“Why… did we break up?” He clarifies, and you nod. “We wanted different things.”
Finally, emotion crosses your face; a flicker of anger. He doesn’t blame you, especially when he remembers the sacrifice you made. “Different things? So, she didn’t want more kids? Or was it work-related?”
He isn’t going to get through this without telling you the whole story; he can see that now. As hard as it is, he knows you aren’t letting this rest until you get a comprehensive answer.
“She had a pregnancy scare.”
Your sudden bark of laughter is hardly a surprise, but it makes him wince all the same. “You broke up because you don’t want to have another kid? Are you serious?”
He tries to answer. Instead, memory hits him like a brick wall, wraps its arms around him and drags him down into it.
“Aaron? Honey, where are you?” Beth’s cheery voice entered the room before she did, and Aaron looked up at her with a smile.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” He asked. He hated this domestic part, the part where he had to pretend to be just as in love as she was.
But love grows, he knew. Just as flowers could blossom from cracks in the pavement, love could develop with time and affection. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to not return the open affection she gave him.
He always wondered why it never felt easy or effortless, why he often felt like he was just a young boy playing at being in a relationship, instead of an adult who was actually in one.
“My day was good,” she said, a barely-contained smile on her face. “So, you know how I’ve been under the weather lately?”
That was an understatement. She’d thrown up more than once in the last couple of days. Love or not, Aaron cared enough that he was on the verge of taking her to the emergency room himself. “Of course. Are you feeling any better?”
“Not really. But my period was late yesterday, so I thought, why not?” Why not, what? She wasn’t making any sense, and it wasn’t until Aaron saw the little stick in her hand that the pieces flew together for him, like a puzzle begging to be solved. “And, well…”
He stared down at tanned hands presenting him the stick, two tiny lines deciding his future for him. “You’re pregnant.”
“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brought both arms up to hug her- a facade of excitement, even though his face would certainly betray him if she were to look at it. “Isn’t that great?”
“That’s… wow.” It was as honest of an answer as he could give. “Are you going to see a doctor to make sure?”
“Of course I am.” She pulled away just enough to kiss him, but he broke away soon enough. “Aaron? This is great, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited?” There was an edge in her voice, one that told him that his face- expressions of shock, uncertainty, certainly no joy- was giving him away.
He couldn’t dodge the direct question, the look in her eye. She already knew the answer before she asked the question, and they both knew that this was his chance for redemption.
He didn’t take it.
A week later, the doctor confirmed the false positive. Aaron couldn’t have brought himself to be upset if he tried.
The same afternoon, Beth packed up hers and Ella’s things, and they were gone.
He wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel heartbroken. He wanted to punish himself, for knowing that he had missed out on the closest chance he had had to a real family in years.
It was the reason you left; your sacrifice, the heartache you’d both been left with, everything you’d both gone through was deemed useless in the deciding moment. It was his one chance, and he hadn’t taken it.
He just felt numb.
“Aaron.” Your voice, pitched sharp, manages to pull him out of his trance. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He wants to know if you’re okay. He wants to apologize, to fall to his knees and hold onto you the way he should have two years ago.
“I’m fine.”
“So, Beth had a pregnancy scare,” you prompt. “And that’s why you broke up?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
He hesitated too long.
“Why?” You ask.
He knows that you’re only pushing it because you know him.
You know him better than anyone; you know that he doesn’t walk away from things that he wants, not when he has a choice.
And wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Beth, more children, a family of his own?
“Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, and it goes unanswered.
“Why did you break up? Aaron… come on.” The desperation in your voice kisses his ears. It reminds him that you’ve been hurt at least as badly as he’s been. It tells him that you aren’t there as a concerned friend; you’re there as someone who deserves the answer to the question you asked. Someone who’s a part of the twisted equation, who fits into the formula of the last two years. Someone who’s been hurt by him, for him, only for him to throw that sacrifice away.
He replies by just saying your name, the name he’s spoken so many times. He’s said it before with love, playful annoyance and affection. After the breakup he said it less often, and it was often delivered with spite or tears of proportions that he didn’t know he would, or could, shed.
This time, when he says your name, he thinks he sounds… broken. His voice cracks, his face flushes, and he looks down at his feet. He’s still got his dress shoes on, and he counts the eyelets- 3, 4, 5 pairs of them, black laces looped neatly through- without saying another word.
Your name, as broken as it is between his lips, is an admission of guilt. It’s a confession, an entreaty for you to stop pushing, and it contains unspoken defeat.
“Aaron.” Your voice is firm when you repeat his name, and his eyes snap up from his shoes- 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5- to meet yours. “Don’t I deserve to know?”
You do. He knows you do. The ‘don’t I deserve?’ angle is never something you’ve used, and he knows this is a last ditch effort to get the truth out of him.
You do deserve to know.
How can he say it? How can he tell you the truth? How can he possibly look into your earnest eyes and pretend that he can defend himself and the decisions that he’s made?
He can tell you that more kids doesn’t make sense; he knows that, in a factual sense. He wasn’t around enough when Jack was little, is hardly better at being around now. The job is priority; he could get hurt or worse, and leave behind a widow with more mouths to feed than she can handle. He could become a twisted version of his father, pitting his children against each other. He’s too old to run around with toddlers for the next ten years.
He can tell you any number of things that make sense, but you won’t accept anything less than the truth. That, at least, is written plain as day on your face.
“She isn’t you.”
His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. They slap you so hard that you have half a mind to bring a hand up to your cheek and check for sore spots. “Aaron-”
“It’s true. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you wanted the truth and that’s it.” His breathing sounds more ragged now, like he’s fighting to stay collected.
He doesn’t know what he was thinking, telling you. He isn’t trying to get you back. You made your choice, you walked away, and that’s that.
“Aaron. You want a family,” you remind him, your voice cracking. How can he not remember? How can he throw away the last two years, disregard your sacrifice like this?
Hadn’t that always been his dream? A positive pregnancy test with a woman who loved him? And yet, in the final hour, he’d walked away. He’d made a choice, one that he has to face now, with you.
“I know. God, I know, but it just… it couldn’t happen.”
“Because she’s not me? Are you serious?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, fraught with disbelief and maybe a hint of fear at the potential weight of his answer, and you wish that Aaron were speaking even quieter when he responds. You wish you couldn’t hear him at all.
“Because there’s no family without you.”
The dry scoff that escapes you is answer enough, especially once it’s paired with your head dropping into your hands. “Then what the hell have we been doing?”
“I tried,” he defends. Desperation is poured into every syllable, filling in the spaces of the things he can’t say like resin on wood. “I gave it a chance, she was happy. But when I saw that test…”
Neither of you knows if he’s stopped to figure out what he should say, or if it’s because he can’t say it. He looks small, appears defenceless in a way that he never lets himself.
“I couldn’t do it,” he finishes. He spreads his hands out, a placating gesture. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want a family with her. When I saw that test, I was scared. Terrified. A baby is a commitment, and I don’t- I can’t- see myself making that commitment with anyone but you.”
“You know how I feel about kids.” For a moment his eyes flicker down, to where your phone sits on the bed, and you have half a mind to wonder if he’s going to bring Tristan into this.
Maybe he’s settled more into this conversation. Maybe he’s realized that he doesn’t have much to lose here. For whatever reason, his rebuttal to you, perched facing him on the opposite bed- worlds away, yet only mere feet- is more of a challenge than a question. “When did I ask you to have any?”
“What?” You tilt your head the slightest bit, stray hairs illuminated in the yellow-grey light, and he thinks his heart skips a beat when you blink.
“I didn’t ask you to have kids. I never asked for that.” He knows it for a fact; that simple thought has been his port at sea more than once, on the nights where he wondered exactly how things had gone so wrong.
You blink again. ‘I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.’ Those were his words, spoken so passionately two years ago.
But there were other words, too, and they fly back into your mind like they’re trying to haunt you. Words that circle you, remind you that you were the reason he couldn’t have that life.
‘I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids.’
‘Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.’
‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.’
You remember him confessing what he wanted, so earnest and unexpecting of you to go along with it.
Phrases swirl your head, sentences that haven't done so since the breakup.
Sentences that you hadn’t let yourself understand until now.
‘I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening.’
‘I want us to go back to normal. How we were.’
‘You’re all I need. I mean it.’
“You want a family. That’s what you want.” Your protest is weak, and you don’t know if it’s a protest for your self-protection or his feelings.
Maybe it’s both.
“You were my family. You and Jack. I was so happy with you.”
“Not as happy as you could have been,” you counter. Aaron visibly hesitates, a moment of back-and-forth sway before he crosses the room to sit next to you on the other bed.
“You…” the breath he takes is deep and rattling. “You made me happier than I could ask for.”
You move back and he does too, kicking off his shoes to mirror your crossed legs. The two of you sit and face each other. The headboard sets the scenery behind him, cheap hotel wall art behind you. When you take a breath, so does he.
“You walked away,” you remind him. It isn’t a show of blame; it’s a reminder, pure and simple, that he wasn’t happy with you.
“No, I didn’t.” He reaches out, one of his hands trembling as it grasps yours. “I wouldn’t have.”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he watches as his hand wraps around yours, squeezes it once.
He’s just about to let go when you squeeze back.
“You told me to go,” he whispers, staring down at those linked hands. If he looks you in the eye now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “It’s what you wanted.”
You laugh, and the sound is humourless and dry. “What I wanted? Aaron, you only stayed past that first day for me, to make me feel like I wasn’t ruining your life. I didn’t kick you out; I let you go.”
“I didn’t get a choice. I chose to stay, I chose you above a bigger family, and you didn’t let me,” Aaron says, and your hand tightens on his. “I tried, okay? I- I found Beth, we moved in together. For God’s- Ella called me ‘dad’. I did my best to have that life. I tried. It didn’t work.”
“I don’t know what you want,” you confess, and he hates himself a little more when he sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “I just want you to be happy. I thought I was giving you that.”
Aaron shifts himself, moves a little closer to you. He thinks he might be about to say the wrong thing, the thing that destroys whatever tentative relationship the two of you have built.
He doesn’t care.
This relationship, this dance of overdoing and understepping and caring too much without saying enough? He doesn’t want it.
He doesn’t care about throwing it away.
“Nothing,” he vows, extending one hand to raise your chin when you look down, “Nothing has ever made me as happy as you did. That’s all I wanted. You.”
You avert your gaze, and you feel your face grow warm. It’s been a long time since he looked at you like this, with all of the care and attention in the world somehow pouring from the gaze of warm hazel eyes locked on yours.
“What do you want me to say?” You ask after a stretch of silence. Not even the sound of breathing dares to disrupt the quiet; neither of you want to make the wrong move right now, not when you can see the crossroads ahead.
“Whatever you want to say. Just not what you think I want to hear.”
That’s what it’s come down to, at the root. Both of you lying, sneaking, saying and doing whatever you can to protect the other’s feelings and do what you think is best. He’s tired of it.
You did what you thought was the right thing, and let him go. He did what he thought was the right thing, and chased the life you made possible by leaving. But neither of you are happy, and he can admit that now.
“I still don’t want kids.”
“I’m still not asking you to have any.” He waits two beats, unsure if he can even bring himself to ask what he knows he has to.
“Does Jack count?” He’s breathless as he waits for the answer. You could have found freedom in the last two years, after several spent living a mother’s schedule. Maybe you don’t want a hand in any child’s life, and he won’t begrudge you that.
“He’s… no,” you say, and Aaron exhales in what might be relief. “But that doesn’t mean I want more. You want more.”
“I want you,” he corrects, the same way he did two years ago. Maybe this time you’ll listen, and accept his words for the truth that they are. “I had more. I didn’t want it, not without you.”
Your breathing, shallow and timid, hitches at his words. He notices the slip-up in a heartbeat, wants to trip over himself and correct it. Before he can, you say, “But the future-”
“The future,” he interrupts, clasping one of your hands in both of his, “My future, it only matters if it’s you.If you’re happy with Jack, I’m happy. You’re what I need. You’re all I need.”
“Aaron, please.” Your voice is small, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been trailblazing this conversation with hardly a thought about what you want. Maybe you’ve moved on, or fallen out of love.
He doesn’t think you have, though. Between your conversation at the wedding and the fact that you’re still here, both hands now holding onto his, wide eyes peering into his own, he thinks he’s made a safe bet.
“Please, what?” He murmurs. He can defer to you now, let you approach this at your pace. He’s said his piece.
It’s not until he sees your eyes squeeze shut that he remembers your concussion, and he’s sure that this conversation isn’t helping what must be a painful headache.
“I… it’s getting late. And I really should sleep. My head...”
Every instinct in Aaron’s body is well-honed, trained to take opportunities that might pass him by otherwise. It’s what got him Haley, what got him into the BAU, and now it’s what might get you back.
Every instinct is screaming not to let you leave.
“Do you want to talk more about this later?” He offers, his right hand releasing your left. The other two stay linked, his fingers brushing the cast, and you make no move to loosen them as you nod.
He waits. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he waits.
You close your eyes, already on the verge of rethinking before you speak. But you’ve got instincts, too, and they’re all telling you to stay in this room. Your future is in this room, and you aren’t about to close the door on that. Even if the conversation can wait, you know exactly how it will end.
It’s clear to you now that Aaron only left because he did the same thing you did, tried to protect your feelings. He never would have left if you hadn’t forced his hand and left first, and the thought of the time that you lost makes your chest seize unpleasantly.
It’s not too late to undo old mistakes, though.
“Can I sleep here? It’s not really safe, getting a taxi this late.”
Aaron lets go of your other hand first. “Of course, you can.” He’s half situated to go to sleep already, just has to take off his tie and loosen his shirt. He doesn’t get off the bed, and that’s why it surprises him when you lay down in the same bed, on your side.
“So you don’t have to share with Spencer when he gets here,” you explain through a yawn, and his heart hurts when he sees the way your nose crinkles. He’s missed it, missed you.
Sleep comes quickly, somehow. The exhaustion of the day, of the conversation, overtakes you both in what feels like mere moments.
-
When Aaron wakes up, it’s with his arms around you and his nose pressing into your neck. He holds on for a moment before he has to let go; you’ll have time later, and the team is waiting.
Getting out of bed, Aaron finds the other queen bed- Spencer’s- empty, untouched.
When the two of you arrive at the jet, late with your suitcase, he says, “I stayed with Morgan and Rossi. We thought you could use some privacy.”
You let go of Aaron’s hand to reach out and ruffle Spencer’s hair, ignoring the look he gives you when you mess up his curls. “Thanks, Spence.”
If the team is anything, it’s ‘respectful when the time calls for it’. No one says a word when you and Aaron sit next to each other. No one blinks when your hand slides home into his.
His fingers lace around yours. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back. As the jet takes off, soaring towards DC and your new future, you hold onto him. It’s going to be alright.
Once upon a time, they always said that you and Aaron were the lucky ones. Maybe they were right.
Tags: @crowfootwrites @abschaffer2 @jaspxr @angelfxllcm @spacecowboyhotch @ssamorganhotchner @sadgirlml @sunshinemunchkin @wheelsupkels @ashhotchner @laurensprentiss @hotchnerxo @strange-mischief @helmihotchner @dontcallmekittens @ssacharcoalgrey @allthefandomstogether @pandorasdreamings @hotched @scargarcia-magshotchner @multiverse-mxdness @nevillescomslut @queenofthepouges @ivanaplvc @itseightbeats @justreadingficsdontmindme @jareauswife @reidselle @rousethemouse @mojo366 @anlin2058 @realdirectionx @feedthemadness-sweetie
Series tags: @riot—ing, @jori21, @simpingfortoomanypeople, @mynotesapptbh
Join my taglist here | Check out my masterlist
Tell me what you thought/yell at me <3
#my writing#aaron hotchner x fem reader#Aaron hotchner x female reader#hotch x female reader#hotch x fem reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction#hotch fanfic#hotch fanfiction#cm fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#aaron hotchner angst#hotch smut#hotch x reader angst#aaron hotchner x reader angst#hotch hurt/comfort#Spotify
405 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thinking about Fred and George’s reaction to overhearing someone from Hufflepuff quidditch team talking about Y/N and just the boys jealous reactions they would have hearing someone talk about their girl like that……and then that causing them to play extra hard and rough during the game and when they get off the pitch the poor reader is confused and innocent, but they just want to make sure she knows that she is theirs and only for them and img I can’t pls feel free to use this idea I need it
Here you go! ☺️
A cool February breeze brushes your shoulders as you climb the stands that surround the quidditch field. It was the first time since last year that you’ve been to a game. The Triwizard Tournament did take over all of the school events, but that didn’t stop the house teams from wanting to play against each other. After a discussion with Dumbledore, he gave the OK for there to be unofficial matches that anyone could attend.
You wrap your wooly black and gold scarf around your neck tightly and lean over the edge to try and catch a glimpse of the teams. It was Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, which means you finally get to witness the Weasley brothers back in action. Slowly the crowd trickles in around you, murmurs of conversations that are immediately pushed to the back of your mind as you scan the field.
Your heart leaps to your throat as the pair of fiery haired twins come into sight. They were chatting with the other Gryffindor players with big smiles across their faces. The Hufflepuffs follow behind Cedric, who you are surprised to see. You had expected him to opt out, considering all that the Tournament put him through thus far. Yet he looks in high spirits, as always, with his head held high and strutting forward.
They pause at the edge of the field, their brooms in hand and standing proud.
—-------------------------------------------------
“Are you sure he won’t show?” Angelina Johnson asks Fred for the third time today.
“I’m sure,” he responds hastily.
They can hear the low murmur of the crowd from above as they reach the edge of the field. Clear skies with a slight breeze - a perfect day for quidditch, even if Harry didn’t want to join.
After the brothers hounded him for hours over the past week, they finally gave in once Hermoine lectured them. They knew he had his hands full with the tournament, but so did Cedric Diggory and he decided to play. He was their best chance at getting the snitch, and having Katie Bell replace him was not exactly increasing that percentage.
Angelina sighs and rubs her creased forehead. “I just thought he’d have a change of heart.”
“We tried to wear him down,” Fred says with a shrug. “Asked him about a million times.”
“Maybe even a million and one times,” George adds, then nudges his brother’s shoulder with his.
Once making eye contact, George gestures to the stands with a quick nod. Fred follows his gaze and catches a glimpse of you leaning over the stone barrier. A mixture of excitement and happiness swells in their chest as they both look at you. Your hair and scarf blowing in the wind, your arms tight against your torso. You never liked the cold, yet here you were, out to support them both. It meant more than they could ever say.
A few of the Hufflepuff players began snickering. Anthony Rickett and Michael McManus hold their brooms out, slowly rubbing the tips of them suggestively. “What I wouldn’t give to -,” the rest of the words were washed away as the crowd gave an encouraging cheer.
“Merlin’s beard, I’d give my last Galleon,” Michael laughs.
This was a background noise for the brothers, until the keyword of ‘Y/N’ is said. Both of their heads turn in automatic unison towards the conversation.
“As if you even have a Galleon,” Rickett retorts and shoots another hungry look your way. “I bet you Y/N would pay me after I’d have my way with her.”
Fred and George are both scowling, looking directly at the boys who continue laughing amongst themselves.
“She wouldn’t even look at you,” Michael taunts and swishes his hair from his forehead. “I bet you my last Knut that I could easily have her before you.”
Fred clenches his jaw, George mirrors him with closed fists. The rush of anger was beginning to rush through their veins the longer they eavesdropped. The excitement and happiness they felt just moments ago was melting away and being replaced by something else - something that made them want to run forward and smash Michael and Rickett’s head full force with their brooms.
“You really want to make that bet? I’ll try after the game,” Rickett says with a cocky smile.
Michael shakes his head. “You can try, but I’ll be sure to have her screaming my name behind the greenhouses before then.”
George’s breath catches in his throat as the imagery of you and Michael hits him. This boy’s greedy hands all over your delicate curves. Him tasting you. Him knowing how you sound when you’re trying to hold back moans. This was sacred. You were sacred to them, and he only ever wanted him and his brother to know these intimate things.
“You’re on,” Rickett snorts. “But who knows, if she’s as easy as I think, maybe she will take on both of us.” This time they both erupt with laughter, which almost sends Fred forward but George promptly stops him with a stiff arm.
Fred curses under his breath and digs his toe into the ground like an angry bull. Anger travels through his veins, his face a shade of red not too far from his hair. His pupils are tiny and fully focusing on the two who dare to speak about Y/N like that. He knew they couldn’t have you. That was never a question. But to stand there and make bets on who gets to capture you. Who gets to have you.
The twins look at each other, an understanding between them at once.
They’re going to pay.
—----------------------------------------------
The players are lining up now. You rub your hands together, breathing into them to try and bring back some warmth. Two of the boys from the Hufflepuff team kept periodically staring up your way. Surely there’s for someone in the crowd that they’re waiting for. It’s odd though, you could swear they’re looking directly at you.
Your mind drifts off as you focus back on the Weasley twins, both standing tall with an expression of determination across their faces. You take notice that they seem more serious than normal, but their competitive nature always brought out that side of them.
With a call from the announcer, both teams scatter off into the sky. The golden snitch is released and the game has begun. Rocking from the balls of your feet to the tips of your toes, you watch with a slack jaw as both brothers go rocketing across the field with their bats held with whitening knuckles.
Not too long after it starts, George hits a bludger off of a post and misses Michael McManus’s head by inches. Still trying to comprehend the close call, Michael was almost thrown off his broom by Fred who slams into the side of him.
“Watch it!” Michael yells shakily, then takes off to prevent Angelina from scoring.
The bludger finds Rickett this time as Fred hits it directly at him, making contact with his ribs. There is a loud thump and the announcer audibly groans with the crowd.
The ball wasn’t even on that side of the field, yet he was chasing down this now injured player who was desperately trying to flee.
George on the other hand was with Angelina, safely allowing her to score a point. The students around you burst out with a mixture of applause and booing. You clap and jump up and down with the fellow Gryffindors, leaving the Hufflepuffs eyeing you with judgment.
George zooms by so close that your hair blows like mad and curtains over your face. You quickly shake the knotting strands out of your sight just in time to see him practically kick Michael off his broom. Your attention is then immediately brought back to Fred, who was red faced and charging at a screaming Rickett. In the middle of the field was a dumbfounded Angelina, who was watching this unfold with wide eyes.
For the rest of the match, the players were just merely blurs. The Weasley twins are smacking bludgers left and right at the Hufflepuff players, leaving them very little time to plan. From the short period of times the messy haired gingers go stationary, you could see their eyes narrow and focused.
You hold your breath as Katie Bell dives and grabs the snitch in one quick swoop from right under the nose from Cedric. The Gryffindor student erupts into cheers. You join in, clapping and calling out to Fred and George who ceased chasing the Hufflepuff beaters.
They were getting closer. You assume they probably want to take in the applause, they earned it after all.
It isn’t until their brooms were only a few feet away, you realize that they were staring directly at you. Your chest blooms with excitement as they dismount their brooms and push past the crowd to meet you. With their arms outstretched, you run to them and fall into their warm arms.
“You were great!” You exclaim while smiling up at them.
Fred’s eyes dart to your lips and he dives in for a kiss. His soft hair brushes your face as he tilts you back, deepening his hungry kiss. The students around you holler and clap, making your cheeks turn scarlet red.
Once he pulls back, George takes you by the hips and replaces his brother’s mouth with his. You gasp from surprise, and he responds by rolling his tongue gently against yours. You fall into him completely, not caring what anyone else thinks.
Fred makes eye contact with Rickett and Michael and tilts his head with a devilish grin. Their jaws drop and they quickly fly off to the other side of the field.
You ask once George breaks the kiss, “what’s all this for?”
“Because we wanted to,” he says sweetly, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“And we wanted to thank our good luck charm,” Fred adds.
You rub your flushed cheek as you look between them. “Oh,” you say simply, falling short of any words that would cover how much you love hearing that.
“And,” Fred says, taking your hand in his shaking grasp. “Now everyone knows that you’re ours.”
Your mouth runs dry. Your heart pounding in your chest almost deafens the loud chattering around you. “Yours?”
“If you’ll have us, that is,” George says with a snicker. You take him by the collar of his shirt and stand on your tippy toes to kiss him. His lips are inviting and intoxicating, forget that there’s an audience until he stops you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
You roll your eyes and look between the two of them. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Perfect,” Fred beams, giving you one last kiss before walking to his broomstick with George following behind. “We will catch up to you soon.”
“There’s something to attend to, and I believe it will leave us with a few extra Sickles.” George explains with a wink.
They take off in the same direction as Rickett and Michael, leaving you confused but with your heart filled to the brim with happiness.
#fred and george weasley#george weasley#fred weasley#george weasley x hufflepuff!reader#harry potter fanfiction
152 notes
·
View notes
Note
IJUSTSAWYOURRETURNANNOUNCEMENT AND AAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can I request Aemond Targaryen with the song Did you Hear the rain by george Ezra? PLS PLS PLS :)
Did You Hear The Rain - Aemond Targaryen
Authors Note: That was hella quick, but I'm on it! Send in more requests, I'm already loving them!
Word Count: 1638
Warnings: Angry Aemond
Description: Aemond himself is a storm // Did you hear the rain by George Ezra
Make a request like this one! Look at this post here
Enjoy!
Whoa
Why do you treat me so?
Whoa
Why do you treat me so?
Well, you cause me to weep
And you cause me to mourn
You cause me to pack up my bags and leave home
Whoa
Why do you treat me so?
You were such a foolish brat. That was the only thing Aemond could think of as he hurriedly packed his travel pack, ignoring the searing feeling in his chest at your betrayal.
He needed to get home as soon as possible, ruining any chances for his families alliance with the Baratheons for he would not be marrying one of that mans daughters, not if his brothers message was to be believed.
‘Y/n has been found with the starks.’
He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. He had told you to just wait until he settled this matter and it would all be fixed. Why couldn’t you just fucking wait? Or maybe he just didn’t listen enough that last night he was with you, hadn’t you told him how afraid you were? Didn’t you tell him that you didn’t trust his family? That you were sure they were conspiring against you?
His chest ached as he threw on one of his riding boots, swiping the stray tear from his eye as he rushes from the room. He would get to you. He had to.
“They want me to meet with the Baratheons, try and form a marriage alliance with one of his daughters to give us an upper hand in the war.” He whispers, tracing his fingers along your cheek as you refuse to look at him, the tears falling from your eyes stabbing at his heart.
“So there is to be a war then?” You seethe, the tears beginning to fall faster.
“If they want to keep my brother on the throne then-”
“What of you?” You snap, finally looking at him. “Do you wish your brother to be on the throne?”
“Of course.” He seethes, his body flushing with anger as you stare at him.
“Aemond. Think about it-” Your hands grab at the leather of his vest, pulling him closer. “My family is of high allegiance to Rhaenyra, they have already announced it. They will not let me marry you if you are in allegiance to your brother, and never mind your mother-”
“What of my mother?!”He snaps, hand grabbing your chin harshly.
“She conspires against me…..against us.”
“They have no say in it-”
“They do. And I fear for my life the second they find out just how much I have given you.”
Oh, did you hear the thunder
Or the rain?
Means I'm coming home again
Means I'm coming home my friend
Everything. You had given him everything.
Your heart, your body, your soul, your name. You had given him anything he asked for, and he had wanted to give you anything you needed or wanted. But he hadn’t, instead he followed instructions and went to the Stronghold, ignoring your fears and pleas, ignoring your tears.
The rain was heavy on the wings of Vhagar, but he was desperate, so he pushed the dragon. Screaming at her to go faster, Move dammit, faster faster FASTER.
The sharp feeling in his chest made it hard to breathe, the panic hurting his ribs as Vhagar roared under him.
He silently begged the gods to just wait. Make sure nothing happened before he got there, to keep you safe before he lost you forever.
Thunder snapped beside him and Vhagar was pushed off the path, Aemonds body whipping off the saddle as he grunts in pain.
“It will be fine,” He smiles, nudging his nose against your forehead.
“If you leave it won’t” You seethe, pulling your head back. “So don’t”
Oh, did you steal my name?
Oh, you Jack of all trades
You're the master of none
Oh, the race has begun
I was born a champion
I was born to jump and run
You had both planned it out, wrapped in the sheets of his bed as he kept you close to him, kissing along your spine as you talked about your little fantasy. You had spoken of marrying him, and running off, taking Vhagar and going to see the world.
You and your lovely knight in shining armor.
He wanted to give you those things, he needed to give you those things. You would carry his name and his child if there was anything to say about it.
So he bites down on the pain and pulls himself up, the rain hitting his face sharply as another crack of thunder hits close, but he bared his teeth and yelled another order to Vhagar.
He was Aemond One Eye, a skilled swordsmen, bloodthirsty. There was nothing and no one that would be able to stand in between him and what he wanted. He would get to you.
His heart began to beat wildly in his chest. You wanted to marry the stark boy? Aemond would destroy you before you got the chance.
Oh, did you hear the rain?
Oh, the rain, woo
You can try and run and hide
Tearing at the chain
Oh, Lucifer's inside
It was like something was eating at him from the inside out, like a beast was tearing through his own flesh, finally exposed. A monster releasing itself from the chains Aemond has kept it inside for so long.
If what he heard was true he would burn everything to the ground.
You would regret this. You would regret him.
Oh, did your siblings tell you
I was wasting up your time?
Oh, now you're wasting mine
You put me back in line
And I'm counting every link
And I guess you think that's fine
He remembers your sisters telling you to stay away from him, which at the time only seemed to work out in his favor, he remembers their warnings. Stay away, stay away from Aemond the queens monster.
They had told you that there was no use getting to know him, he would never be yours. They warned you that you would be married to the proper alliance. But you had persisted, and you had fallen in love.
But now it was him who was worried he had wasted time, he needed you. You were the air he lived and breathed.
He would tear the place to the ground brick by brick and once he had you everything would be fine. You would run off, and find somewhere quiet, he would go back to normal.
Oh, did you hear the rain?
Oh, the rain, woo
You can try and run and hide
Tearing at the chain
Oh, Lucifer's inside
Before he knew it the bricks of the Winterfell were coming into sight, and he didn’t give Vhagar a chance to land properly before he was climbing from her and launching to the ground. The stone bites at his feet as he dashes through the keep, snapping at any maid or servant that crosses him.
He was storming into the feast hall, the rain that had been clinging to his skin was beginning to freeze under the Winterfell chill, his jaw tense and fists clenched.
The hall itself seemed to freeze as he made his way in, all the men standing to attention as his eyes found yours.
Oh, did I send a shiver
Down your spine?
Well, I do it all the time
It's a little trick of mine
Did I make you shake your knees?
Did I make him spill his wine?
Lord, I'm spreading like disease
Lord, I'm all up in your mind
Oh, Lucifer's inside
Oh, Lucifer's inside
He felt like a demon, like a beast prowling for it’s prey. His eye narrowed in on you and he was proud when he saw you shiver and step back as he stepped forward. He loved making you shiver, and by the time he was done here he would have you shivering at his every touch.
The Stark boy stood with you, knocking over his goblet of wine onto your wedding dress so he could grab your hand tightly, pushing you behind him as most the men in the room pulled out their weapons.
Aemond didn’t mind the threat, he was craving blood, and the people of Winterfell seemed just as desperate for it.
“You have five seconds to give me the girl, or I tear this place apart.” Aemond announces, drawing the sword at his belt.
“I give you my final warning to leave now… Princeling.” Lord Stark calls and Aemond all but sneers. Vhagar roars in the distance and then it begins.
Oh, did you hear the rain?
Oh, the rain, woo
You can try and run and hide
Tearing at the chain
Means I'm coming home again
Means I'm coming home my friend
Oh, Lucifer's inside
Oh, Lucifer's inside
He couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t think straight. A vision of red filled him as he slashed through men like they were nothing. The beast was out, the beast would kill anything.
You were screaming by the time he reached you, and he reached to drag you closer.
“AEMOND NO! PLEASE!” You sob, but he doesn’t listen, pulling you into him as you scream and scratch to get away. He drags you across the now empty hall. Dragging you through the blood and guts strewn on the floor, you struggle, falling into a nasty puddle and staining your hands. “Aemond please please please-”
“Please WHAT?!” He screams.
“Please don’t kill me-” You sob, holding yourself as you try to crawl back. “I’ll do anything- I won’t say a word about this-”
“I am not going to kill you….” He snaps, snatching your hair and pulling you to him. “I’m going to keep you.”
Lucifer's inside
#Aemond#targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond one eye#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#aemond angst#aemond x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon
229 notes
·
View notes
Text
HEARTBREAK SYNDROME
episode four :: REMINDER.
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴max verstappen x ex!y/n
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n was always right.
fc – wonyoung jang (aged up to 28)
꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕none, more messy behaviour.
y/n
♡ liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 10,284,958 others.
y/n show her these 🕷
2,294,103 comments.
username fell to my fucking knees.
francisca.cgomes 😩😩😩
francisa.cgomes one chance miss y/l/n
→ y/n u get all the chances you want
username YESSSSSSS OMFG 😍
username ABS MA’AM HELLO???
champagnepapi oh.
→ username ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE
→ username HELLOOO ????
username this is my religion, amen. 🙏🏻
alexanderasaintmleux not looking respectfully 😮💨
→ y/n they’re for ur eyes only bbg 🤭
→ charles_leclerc the grip YOU have on MY girlfriend is crazy
→ pierregasly i think we can all agree with that
username HOOOOOLYYYYYYYY
→ carmenmmundt what you said 🗣
→ username OMFGGGFIDKSKSK
username what god do i have to pray to 🧎🏽♀️
bellahadid pretty pretty girl 😍
username i folded like a pretzel
thv 😍😍😍
→ username WOAHHHHHHH.
→ username tae just like me fr
→ username OHMYNGOD
username ONE CHANCEEEE PLSSSSS
lakeithsteinfield wow.
→ username WHATS GOING AWNNN
→ username ain’t noooooo way.
→ username BRO.
miumiu 💐💐💐
username if i was max i’d be begging and crying for her to take me back
→ username i’d lick the ground she walks on
username MA’AM.
username I’m.
username GAGGED THE GWORLS
username max is probably screaming at his phone rn
username she’s an icon, she a legend and she is the moment 😩
username max probably wants to die
username sHOW HER THESE
→ username I KNOWWWWWW
→ username 4+4
→ username DEVOURED
→ username head spun.
username the only girl to ever.
☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.
babygirl alex: OMFGGGJDISKQW
babygirl alex: THE PHOTOS Y/N POSTED ???
y/n: omg alex stop 🤭
y/n: are we gonna kiss rn
girlfriend kika: I KNOWWWWWWW
wifey lily: MOTHERRRRRR
y/n: PLSSSS
angel carmen: we are NOT worthy.
angel carmen: LIKE
angel carmen: one chance pls 🧎🏻♀️
y/n: YOU GET ANYTHING U WANT
CARMEN 😍‼️
wifey lily: i might propose actually
y/n: I SAY YES 💍‼️
girlfriend kika: i audibly gasped
y/n: do i make u nervous babygirl 🤭
babygirl alex: i sat there staring at my phone for an hour
PIERRE GASLYYYY: i sometimes wonder who’s dating who
alabono: i been saying like ??
chal eclair: no bc how does y/n make them react like this 😀
princess george: i’ve never posted a photo and gotten this reaction out of carmen
my baby lando: y/n’s just that bitch
my baby lando: like she’s so iconic let’s be real
honey badger: she’s an icon, she’s a legend and she is the moment.
honey badger: she’s everything and we’re just existing in her world
honey badger: she’s mother
honey badger: she’s cunt
babygirl alex: daniel gets it
wifey lily: daniel >>>>
girlfriend kika: holyshit is danny a bigger stan than me 😟
angel carmen: daniel 🔛🔝
chili!: y/n is just very slay in general
y/n: omfg 😭
y/n: you’re actually my favourite people
i love you so much ???
y/n: danny, carlos and lando 🔛🔝 frfr
y/n: wait
y/n: do the french mfs think i’m not slay 🤨
alabono: not me y/n i stan and stream on a daily basis 😁🙏🏻
PIERRE GASLYYYY: i just want my gf back 😭
chal eclair: me too 😭
chal eclair: wait i’m not french >:(
babygirl alex: if y/n says you’re french, then you are french. you become french even if you’re not french. figure that shit out 🤷🏻♀️
chal eclair: 😟
wifey lily: what she said 🗣
chal eclair: my own gf ?????
y/n: she’s my gf now 👹
kellypiquet added to their story!
kellypiquet
♡ liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and others.
kellypiquet two years with you 💕
tagged: maxverstappen1
comments on this post have been turned off.
#f1#f1 fanfiction#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#alex albon x reader#yuki tsunoda x reader#pierre gasly x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#max verstappen x reader#smau
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cosmic-espero
Ghost Types My Beloveds
kanona3j
歌音(かのん)
pjm-wallpaper
juju
weekesent
NEW ARTIST ALERTS
