Some Cute Syzoth Headcanons

Some cute Syzoth headcanons 🦎

A cuddly boi. Filled with affection that is just waiting to be released. Once he finds the right person to love, they will be smothered in his love.

He's a biter. Both in and out of bed. It's totally affectionate. Sometimes he will just see you and be filled with so much love he just glomps. You're wearing a tank top and exposing your shoulder? Chomp. You're bending over and your ass is in the air? Chomp. You're cuddling with his head on your chest and your boob/pec is right in front of his face? Chomp. He's just a chompy boi.

He likes to 'nest'. While he will sleep in a normal bed, he prefers to build a nest from pillows, cushions and blankets. And if you want to sleep in his nest with him, he will go crazy with happiness.

If he could, he would be naked 24/7. He doesn't really understand humans obsession with covering up (a lesson he learned after he found he could shape shift) , but he will respect it and wears clothes in front of others. But when he's at home, the clothes are gone. He will be delighted if you would indulge him and be nude with him. It also makes it easier to lead to other things 👀

Obsessed with how soft his S/O is. He prefers his mates on the thiccer, chubbier side (a little part of his animal brain telling him they make good mates) so he can cuddle and grab them whenever he sees them. Loves to bury his head in your chest and tummy.

He does the gator rumble when he's happy. It can be pretty scary the first time he does it, especially if you aren't expecting it. But sometimes when he's with you, he gets so happy or excited, he just can't help it. 🐊

His reptile form may be huge and intimidating, but don't be fooled! With you he is basically a big scaly puppy. He will let you pet him and explore him as much as you want, he will literally roll onto his back for you. LOVES it when you brush his scales with a scrubbing brush. He will do happy wiggles when you brush his scales, especially on his back. This leads to lots of rumbles too!

In conclusion, this man has so much love to give, so please give him all that love back!

This fucking lesbian

---

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

---

POOKIE

---

the labyrinth - chapter one

a/n: do you guys have any idea how hard it is to get my friends to beta for saltburn?

warnings: farleigh being farleigh, which includes underage drugs, drinking, cigarettes and sex 18+

fic summary: ariadne gavin and her childhood best friend turned enemy return to saltburn for the last time

Ariadne is twenty-one now, and can hardly recall the last civilized conversation she had with Farleigh Start while sober. Everything about him is grating. She can't even imagine how he used to be her best friend.

He bites his lip as he throws an arm around his girl-of-the-week, whose name has come and gone from Ariadne's mind so quickly it was like she'd never heard it at all. Alicia? Felicia? She doesn't know and doesn't care. She doesn't. And she absolutely cannot smell the mix of his citrus and sandalwood cologne - a signature scent that they had picked out together when they were twelve, and yes, hers was the matching, feminine version of the same collection - and the sharp tang of cigarettes. She is not looking at his hair and thinking about how he's using the wrong conditioner because it's frizzing, and probably not even wearing his durag since he's waking up in a different bed every morning.

She's not paying attention to any of that.

She sits comfortably on India's lap, laughing breathily at whatever joke the girl just made. She doesn't know and doesn't care, but India tightens her grip and presses a red lipstick print into her neck, she takes another hit off of her blunt and waits for Farleigh to fade away.

Ariadne and India aren't dating, but they are fucking. Poor replacements for the two boys at the table, but replacements nonetheless.

Besides, if Ariadne had learned one thing during her education, it was that boys got off on girls making out. She liked it personally, but she knew some girls did it just to catch Felix's eye. Their loss, Felix didn't find Ariadne hot so he found none of the girls she kissed hot either. India has yet to learn this lesson.

Felix is talking about how some nerd was his hero or something because of the flat tire on his bike, Ariadne doesn't know and certainly doesn't care when the nerd himself catches Felix's eye.

Ariadne takes one look at the man and knows that Felix is going to string the poor boy along for months without even realizing it. Or, maybe he did. Ariadne doesn't care. She doesn't care much about anything these days, and when she does, she takes another hit, another shot, another something until the world fades again.

When she's sober and has no homework, she remembers to care about Farleigh, so she makes sure those two states never occur at the same time.

Against her will, she notes the way Farleigh's jaw tightens when Oliver Whatshisface approaches the table. This must be Oliver "Thus" Quick from his tutoring sessions.

Ariadne snorts as Farleigh shifts in discomfort and sinks back again as the conversation turns to who Ollie is, what college he's in, and other shit she wouldn't even care about sober.

Her attention tunes back in when the shot chant begins.

"Jagerbombs!" She and Farleigh demand at the same time. She shoots him a look of annoyance.

Farleigh makes a low rumble in his throat that only she knows to watch for. "It's your round, man!"

"I should go to bed," Oliver mumbles, suddenly green.

Farleigh shakes his head and curls entrancingly, so much so that she almost forgets to pay attention to what he's saying. "No, no, no, no. You can't snake out of your round."

Oliver squirms in his seat. Something about him is offputting, now that Ariadne's finished her blunt and is coming down from the high. "I'm not," the boy mutters.

"It looks like you are." Farleigh laughs, but Ariadne knows he's not joking. She knows that the alarm bells in her head are going off in his, and even more so, she senses his competitive streak flaring up.

The table boos except Felix, who seems to sense Oliver's unease. Ariadne rolls her eyes. Ever the angel, their Felix.

He's going to get himself killed that way. It's unnatural to Ariadne that anyone could be as trusting as he is.

"Okay, okay." Oliver concedes. Maybe Ariadne's imagining the way he seems to sneer at Farleigh as he gets up.

Oliver manages to get to his feet and heads for the bar, and Ariadne's final assessment begins to click into place. This kid was a gold-digging little weasel, but probably too weak to do any real damage, except for Farleigh, who seemed to be pissed off by the dude's very existence.

"Farleigh," Felix scolds.

"What?" Farleigh fakes innocently. She sees the way his round eyes widen and his lips open just enough that even India's head falls onto her palm in adoration. There's no denying that Farleigh is pretty.

"Just cut him a break, mate." Felix pleads.

It's not going to work. Whenever Felix asked any of them to be nice to his strays, they always got meaner. Her and Venetia included.

For example, poor old Eddie last year.

"What?" Farleigh repeats lower.

He'd never liked receiving orders from the Cattons. When they were younger, she might have soothed him back down, but it was no use now. She couldn't even if she wanted to.

The crack had become a canyon, just like her dad had foretold.

"That round's gonna cost a fucking fortune." Felix continues.

"Pub rules, Felix." Farleigh grins.

Silently, she agrees, but she decides she can't be here anymore. Farleigh's pretty, white and fox-like smile, had very suddenly become too much for her.

"I'm off." She declares suddenly, sitting up. The group groans and complains good-naturedly, and she watches Farleigh stare at her with an intensity she had grown used to.

She sits in her car for twenty minutes, smoking a cigarette and trying to pretend every time she's with Farleigh she can't feel him in her skin when she hears a tap-tap-tapping on her passenger window.

The man himself, grinning his evil grin.

She can't help herself. She unlocks the car.

"There you are, pet! I looked out the window and I saw you hadn't even driven away! How weird is that, hm?" He teases in that tone which he only takes with people he can't stand. She'd never imagined she'd be on the receiving end of it.

She takes another long drag of her cigarette. "You used to hate when they called me that. You almost broke Felix's nose over it."

"Pass." Farleigh demands. She hands him the cigarette and he puffs it gently. "You gave a shit about me then too. Venetia called me a dog and you fucking bit her. At fourteen."

"I was a weird fucking kid," Ariadne mumbles.

"What the hell happened to us?" Farleigh asks. His long fingers twist a ring, which she deciphers as nerves. She hates that she knows that. Because she wonders, if they aren't friends, and they aren't lovers, why does she know him better than she knows herself? Why does she think about the little things he's done since they were children and worry about his health? Why does she make sure with a glance that he's eating well?

What the hell happened, indeed.

Ariadne knows exactly what happened to them. She had a crush on someone incapable of loving her back and took the lowest of all low roads in her envy. She doesn't say that. She just shrugs. "I dunno, Far. I really don't."

Farleigh leans across the console, palm resting on her cheek, and kisses her.

For a moment, Ariadne sinks deep into the feeling. How many years had she craved his affection? How many times had she let him ruin her life just for a chance of this? His soft, plush lips on hers, their foreheads pressed against each other, his hot, warm tongue twirling with hers. It felt beautiful and religious and, above all else, right. Just fucking right. Like this was how it ought to have been all along.

But then she realizes that this isn't what she was waiting for. She pulls away, gasping.

"My dorm or yours?" Farleigh asks breathlessly.

Ariadne wants to cry. She doesn't want this. She wants him, but she wants all of him, not a night like he gave everyone else.

She shakes her head. "I can't. I can't, I-"

She scrambles for anything to say that isn't "I like you, and I've had a crush on you since we were seven."

"You can't cheat on Alicia." She settles on instead.

"I don't give a fuck about Alicia!" He huffs.

Ariadne sobs. "I know! I know and that's the problem, Far. You used to be so sweet. You used to love everyone and you would never hurt someone's feelings without a reason and I don't even recognize you anymore!"

Farleigh stares at her. "Is that why you stopped talking to me? Because I'm too mean, because newsflash, princess, you're not exactly all sunshine anymore either."

"I stopped talking to you because of Arabella Vaillancourt." She whispers before she can stop herself. Why would she say that? He's going to know exactly how immature and obsessed she is and-

Farleigh scrunches his nose. "Who?"

Ariadne bangs her head against her steering wheel. "You don't even remember. You shattered my worldview and it was so insignificant you don't even remember."

"I-"

"Get out of my car, Farleigh," she begs. She wishes it had venom in it. She wishes she had yelled or something. Instead, all there is left is exhaustion and heartbreak.

He doesn't argue, and that hurts even worse.

She doesn't speak to him again until graduation. Steals glances at him sometimes, after he breaks things off with Alicia, and shares twin looks of annoyance every time Oliver does something irrevocably stupid, but never words.

She misses it. Even arguing with him had been better than not having him at all.

Until, suddenly, on the last day of term as she packs her things, Farleigh bursts through her door.

"Felix invited Oliver to Saltburn." He says like he's announcing a death.

Ariadne groans. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Start."

"He's worse than Eddie from last year," Farleigh complains, throwing himself on her bed like they're fourteen again.

Ariadne nods. "Like, times ten. Am I the only one who can tell that this kid is fucking insane?" She whines.

"No," Farleigh hums competitively. "I know it too."

"Shut up, this isn't about you," Ariadne commands.

Farleigh holds his hands up in the air in surrender before he gets distracted by her bookshelf.

"Is this that old copy of Pride and Prejudice I got you?" He asks.

Ariadne shrugs. "Yeah. I wasn't going to get rid of a perfectly good novel just because I was mad at you."

"Was?" Farleigh grins.

Ariadne sighs. "Am." She amends. "You are a mistake and a scourge on the earth."

"And," he licks his lips, "The first friend you ever had."

She doesn't dignify that with a response and sets about finishing packing her clothes.

"Do you ever miss Bel-Air?" He asks suddenly.

Ariadne closes her eyes and can almost smell the sea salt of Malibu Beach. Remember the small staff of her home rather than the expansive staff at Saltburn.

She also remembers her and Farleigh's mothers at the mini-bar drinking themselves into oblivion and her father yelling at her to be perfect and finds she even misses that too.

"Every day. You?"

"Yeah," Farleigh says, suddenly sounding very small.

He perks back up. "Arabella Vaillancourt was the girl I lost my virginity to at prep school," he declares proudly.

Ariadne bites back a smile. "Good. Now prove to me you've changed since then."

Farleigh practically skips out of her room.

Later that day comes the six-hour night drive back up to Lowick from school. Ariadne cherishes the drive. It's the only time she spends with the Cattons now when all of them are sober.

Venetia stretches her arms, as catlike as ever. "So, what're we going to do about the O-word?"

"Orgasm?" Ariadne guesses.

Venetia smirks. "Maybe for Felix, but I meant Oliver."

"Dad didn't get you the flat in town so you could be a bloody spy, y'know." Felix huffs.

Venetia pats his cheek. "But he never said it wasn't."

"I don't want to fuck him," Felix says sternly.

Venetia raises an eyebrow. "Then why the fuck did you invite him?"

Ariadne sighs. "I wish I fucking knew, Vee."

"Ari and I agree; the dude's a fucking creep," Farleigh says.

"I swear to god I saw him watching me change. And did you know he almost fucked Annabelle but he kept bringing you up and that's why she stopped hanging around?" Ariadne complains.

"Wait, what was that?" Farleigh raises a hand.

Ariadne doubles back. "He tried to fuck Annabelle. Little weasel-freak."

"I think he meant the part about Ollie watching you change, Pet, which I don't believe. He's gone through a lot. Did you know his dad died last week, right before exams?" Felix sighs sadly.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "He's such a little snake I wouldn't be shocked if that was a lie. And I'm not kidding, I straight up saw him outside my bedroom window just staring at me."

"God, he deserves a good fuckin' punch, maybe it'll set him straight," Farleigh mutters. He's seething, and for once, Ariadne can't even tell why.

"Well, clearly not straight if he's hanging off Fi like you guys say," Venetia snickers.

They all laugh - even Felix- and the topic shifts to god-knows-what.

Ariadne scoots closer to Farleigh in the backseat, feeling like she did that first summer on this road.

On the first day at Saltburn, while they await Oliver-the-Golddigger's arrival, Ariadne holes herself up in her room to avoid running across the Weasel.

Ariadne only ever reads Pride and Prejudice at Saltburn. It is her yearly reminder that love is fickle and takes time and sometimes cannot be seized at all.

On her eighteenth birthday, she had gone with Vee to get the words "from admiration to love; from love to matrimony," along her wrist. Once, she had told Felix that the only people who understood her were him and Elizabeth Bennett.

A knock at her door has her scrambling up. "Dinner's in an hour."

She's shocked Farleigh came for her instead of Vee or Felix.

Farleigh leans against her doorway, already in his slacks and button-down, though his bowtie is disastrously loose.

"How'd you know to get me?" She hums, opening her closet.

Farleigh shrugs. "You always read when we're here. Figured you might lose track of time."

Sometimes she thinks that he must observe her as much as she does him.

"Is this a part of me telling you to show me you've grown?" She asks, pulling her tee-shirt off to slip on the black, floor-length dress for dinner.

Farleigh whistles lowly. "Maybe. Or maybe I thought it was unfair that Oliver saw you naked before me."

"You jealous bitch." She snarks. "Zip me?"

He strides across the room towards her - it doesn't take long, because he's always been much taller than everyone except Felix - and slowly zips her dress up. His fingers barely ghost over her skin and her whole body shudders.

"You look good, Gavin." He mutters.

She turns and fixes his bowtie. "Back at ya, Start. Y'know, you'd be gorgeous if you could keep your mouth shut."

"How will I lick Uncle James' boot, then?" He hums sarcastically.

She kisses his cheek. "You're improving, you should know." She pats his chest.

She walks past, but she knows he pumps his fist in the air from the sound of his clothes rustling.

Loveable damn idiot.

Dinner is an absolute bore. Elspeth gushes over Oliver, Poor Dear Pamela retells her sob story, and Venetia takes two bites of her dinner. Oliver is wearing one of Felix's suits. she can tell, the arms are too long, and the cufflinks are some old ones he had gotten for his sixteenth birthday.

She says nothing but shares a long glance with Farleigh. He rolls his eyes and she snickers.

Farleigh follows her up to her room. She was expecting it, to be fair.

He undoes his tie and throws it across the room before releasing the top few buttons of his shirt.

"Zipper." She reminds him. His lithe fingers are skimming her waist and her back, all the way up to the top of the zipper, and then back down again.

She throws on a tee shirt. "Go grab some house clothes from your room." She huffs. "Your hair has been bothering me since Oxford 'cause you've been doing it alone, I've got to do something about it."

He exits and returns in a tee shirt of his own and a pair of Fila sweatpants.

Ariadne missed this more than anything. The feeling of churning her fingers through his scalp. The way he simply relaxed into her palms. She loves it. She loves him.

Oh. Oh fuck. She loves him. She doesn't just like him, or have a crush, or want to fuck him out of her system, as she had been insisting since she was a kid. She loves him.

She breathes deeply, finishes his hair, and wraps it up in his durag. "When your curls pop back tomorrow, you'd better thank me."

He snorts. "Yeah, sure. Night, Ari."

"Night, Far." She watches him close the door to his room across the hall and scrambles over to Venetia's, swinging the door open.

Venetia is on the bed, painting her nails. "What?"

"I'm in love with Farleigh," Ariadne whispers, still shocked.

"Sorry," Venetia said automatically.

Ariadne slows her breathing to be heard. "I'm-"

"No, I heard you." Venetia interrupts. "I just think it's unfortunate."

Ariadne lays down beside Venetia and allows the girl to pet her hair. "What am I going to do?"

"Seduce him," Venetia says simply, petting and swirling a curl off Ariadne's head.

Ariadne groans, rolling away. "It's not that simple and you know it! I don't just want to fuck him, if I did I would have said so."

"So what, you want to marry him? Because I'll tell you now that's a bad idea." Venetia hums.

"No! Well, maybe? I don't know!" Ariadne whines

Venetia pins Ariadne to the bed. "Do not do anything stupid until you've decided what you want from him. I mean it, Pet."

Ariadne shrugs her off. "I'm not going to hurt him." She mumbles.

Venetia giggles. "Wasn't him I was worried about, Newmo."

Ariadne climbs off the bed, flipping off Venetia. "I'm going to sleep. Night, Vee."

"G'night Pet!" Venetia grins.

When the morning rolls around, Ariadne stretches out of bed at first light, throwing on a pair of house shorts and a cropped tank top. She would never have the old money urge to waste her nice silken robes on a simple breakfast at Saltburn.

She waves hello to Miss Portia, the maid, as she makes her way down.

"Morn' Liam, Joshie." She grins.

The two footmen wave to her. "Good Morning, Miss Ariadne."

Liam clears his throat. "Your boyfriend's already at breakfast."

"Oh fuck off, you nosy little-" Ariadne starts, but silences before Felix can pass them.

"Enjoy Breakfast, Ma'am," Liam grins.

Ariadne scrunches her nose and blows a raspberry at him before she makes her way to the table.

Farleigh's curls look decidedly better, she notices smugly, and she knows he's aware. He's already holding a cup of coffee and is probably the only one in the house who takes coffee instead of tea beside her.

"G'morning, guys." She hums. Everyone gives her similarly apathetic greetings. Felix looks like he fell out of bed.

She's halfway through her scrambled eggs when Oliver makes his way down the stairs. "Morning."

She waves, zoning out. Weasel.

"You sleep well, mate?" Felix asks, leaning a little over the table to look at Oliver closely. From an angle where she knows at least Farleigh and Felix can see her, she pokes her cheek with her tongue and pokes her finger in the air, mimicking a blowjob. Farleigh snorts so hard that coffee almost shoots out of his nose.

"Uh, yeah," Oliver mumbles. He's so mumble-y. It's grating.

"Hey, Oliver, have some breakfast." Felix coaxes.

Ariadne looks at Farleigh and rolls her eyes hard. She watches him smirk and feels a flutter of pride at the effect.

Duncan places Felix's boiled eggs on the side of his breakfast platter and retreats quickly.

Ariadne raises a hand and awkwardly points to her coffee cup, and a maid - Amelia, she thinks, the nice ginger one - pours her a new cup and then places the appropriate amount of creamer in it.

Ariadne silently mouths thank you and shakes her hands in a prayer-like stance. Amelia blushes and disappears from the room as if she were never there at all.

"Can I have a full English breakfast too, please?" Oliver asks quietly.

Ariadne looks at the table housing the food, and then to Farleigh, and then at Oliver the Weasel, and then to Farleigh again. She watches his eyes follow the same path and dip down to the magazine in his lap to keep from laughing again.

"Breakfast is on the side, darling," Elspeth says helpfully. "Just help yourself."

"How would you like your eggs?" Duncan asks, returning.

"It’s fine. I can get them." Oliver stammers. She rolls her eyes. Didn't he just see Felix's eggs delivered onto the plate?

"Not the eggs. The eggs are made for you." Farleigh corrects.

Felix gives him a sharp look, but in Farleigh's defence, he wasn't even being mean that time.

"Exactly. And everything else is on the side." Auntie Elspeth finishes.

"Fried over easy, please," Oliver says queasily.

"Ollie, we were just talking about the Shelley biography." Felix interjects, sweeping in to rescue the weasel.

Ariadne was sure they were, but she surely wasn't paying the conversation much mind. Until Oliver's arrival, she had been at peace, shockingly enough.

"Shelley who? Shelley, Belinda’s sister Shelley?" Poor, dear, idiot Pamela asks. Ariadne looks at Oliver. Pamela was Oliver's best future. A leech and an idiot who couldn't help but overstay their welcome.

"Oh, Percy Bysshe Shelley. The poet. The Romantic poet." Sir James explains as though speaking to a child.

"Oh." Pamela says simply because she is simple.

"Do you know the story about Shelley’s doppelgänger?" Venetia hums, hidden eagerness just below the surface of her tone.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. She couldn't count the amount of times Venetia had brought this up since she'd learned it.

Sir James, clearly sensing his daughter's nefarious tone, looks at her warily. "His doppelgänger?"

"Mmm. Shelley’s housekeeper was cleaning one of the rooms when Shelley walked past the window and waved at her. So, she waved back before she realized that Shelley was in Italy. And she was on the top floor of the house." Venetia had always had the perfect voice for telling a scary story.

"Oh, Vee. Stop, stop, stop. I won’t sleep." Felix balls up his fists and covers his ears.

Felix had always been a bit of a wimp, though Ariadne meant it in only the most loving of ways. Over countless summers they had held bonfires and told scary stories, and without fail, every time they did, All of them had to sleep in Felix's room because he was too scared to go to sleep. Ariadne is never annoyed by it though. It's a reminder of how sweet and pure their dear Felix is.

It was a stark contrast to Venetia, their resident investor in the macabre and overall gloomy and grotesque.

"A few hours later," Venetia continued, undeterred, "he drowned."

"Oh! Oh, that’s just given me goosebumps. Look, Pamela." Elspeth says dramatically.

"Oh, no." Pamela sighs in the same dull tone she says everything else.

"Look, Fi, the only important thing about Shelley was that he was married to the mother of science fiction." Ariadne comforts.

"I heard he fucked his sister, so there's that too," Farleigh adds helpfully.

Ariadne snorts, and so does Venetia.

"Oh, for God’s sake!" Sir James chides.

The weasel pokes his evil little head up. "I think that was Byron."

"Fucking English majors." She mouths to Farleigh. He gives a slight smile and nods.

Pamela and Elspeth talk nonsense about people Ariadne doesn't care about, so she reaches over the table, snatches Felix's apple from his plate, and bites in.

"What the hell, pet?" Felix whines.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "You don't even like apples that much!"

Duncan delivers the eggs to Oliver's plate. "Thank you so much," he says, big blue eyes darting around like a frightened animal. then, the eyes peer down, and Oliver grimaces at the eggs.

"Is everything okay, Ollie?" Felix asks, that sweet, tentative sound in his voice that, when directed at the right person, could make you spill your deepest secrets and greatest fears.

The way he calls him Ollie, the way the Cattons always take to nicknames for their pets, makes her jaw tick. It's such an odd but effective way to claim possession over someone, and it didn't even occur to them that they were doing it.

"Er, ‘course, yeah. It’s just. Runny eggs. I get a bit sick from them."

Ariadne can't resist the urge. she whistles, quietly. Duncan is going to be pissed. The Cattons, especially Elspeth, will be horrendously embarrassed. The whole kitchen staff will have their asses handed to them.

"Sorry." He says as Duncan clears his plate of eggs, and again when Duncan leaves for more.

Farleigh smirks into his magazine. "Well, I'm goin' up to my room." He declares.

Venetia nods. "I'd like to head back to sleep an hour more."

Ariadne snorts. "I'm sure you can show Oliver to the pool by yourself, right Fi?" She grins wickedly, making a good show of yawning.

Farleigh waits in the doorway for her, and she flicks him in the chest as she passed him. He sets to follow her, undeterred. "Later, losers." She hums as she swings out.

---

Everyone’s Replaceable👥

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Black!Fem!Reader (romantic to platonic), BAU x Reader

Category: angsty anti-reader

Summary: Reader wakes up from a 6-month coma and comes back to work, but what happens when she learns that she’s been replaced?

Content: mentions of medically-induced coma, being shot, blood, near-death, depression, suicidal thoughts

Reader Behavior: I usually don’t add descriptions but reader is a bitch in this story (rightfully so). She’s angry about the circumstances and will lash out at anyone (except Penelope). *adding this bc if you feel like that’s not how you would react in this situation, it might be hard to ignore her behavior.*

*reader has a job in the B.A.U. that I created specifically for this story called a case advisor. a case advisor is basically someone that takes the cases that JJ doesn’t deem a priority. they’ll provide advice and assistance to the police departments as to what step to take next, but they won’t fly out to every location to do so— they have an office where they provide assistance over the phone.*

I always had an outfit for every occasion. Dinner dates, girls nights, sleepovers, work, etc., but I never picked an outfit for coming back from the dead. The metaphorical dead, that is. I figured that something casual would work, since I didn’t expect to be thrust into a case on my first day back. After sifting through my somewhat extensive wardrobe, I settled on my F/C sweater and some jeans, before adding a cute pair of Converse to finalize the look.

My outfit was unprofessional, but since there wasn’t a Pinterest board for outfits fit for this specific occasion, I had to improvise. A little makeup and some jewelry topped off my less-than-acceptable outfit for the day, but it was too late to change, so I grabbed my keys and hurried out of my apartment.

I felt an oddly nostalgic feeling as I drove to the B.A.U. building, and I even took the long way to allow myself more time to get my thoughts together. I should’ve been happy to see my friends and my boyfriend again, but instead, all I could feel was the slow and steady anger bubble inside me. I had been in a medically-induced coma for the last six months after sustaining seven gunshot wounds, and four out of the six months I spent on life-support, I was alone in my hospital room, my only visitors being the endless number of nurses, doctors, and specialists coming to see me.

When I woke up, I was told that, in the first two months, my coworkers flooded my room in between every case they tackled, sitting at my bedside and discussing their favorite memories of me with one another. After the second month was over, my regular guests whittled down to one blonde woman with fun glasses and a kind smile— Garcia. My doctor also told me that she would send me one, large, vibrant bouquet of flowers in the months that she couldn’t come and see me. Of course, I appreciated the kind gesture, but what I couldn’t wrap my head around was why no one else— including my boyfriend of eight months— hadn’t come to see me.

At first, I chalked it up to busyness. “He’s busy,” I thought. “Maybe he tried to make time for me and got sidetracked.” Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Spencer clearly didn’t care enough about me to visit me while I was inches away from death. Once I came to this realization, I allowed myself to cry and wallow in my grief for a couple of months I even attempted to convince myself that I didn’t need him, but lying to myself would only make it worse.

Once my sorrow subsided, I was left with anger. I marched myself down to the hospital and asked for a copy for my medical documents, including my visitor logs and information on who paid for my life support. At first, the nurse was reluctant to hand over my medical information, but a quick flash of my F.B.I. credentials changed her mind. Of course I felt guilty, but I needed to see the logs. I needed to confirm that one of the most important people in my life was absent when it was hanging in the balance.

I exited the hospital that day with a tan file in my shaky hands, and I couldn’t wait until I got home to open the file and gingerly remove its contents. My eyes scanned the logs, and the name ‘Spencer Reid’ stopped showing up after two months, which meant that the doctor didn’t lie. I thought I was done wallowing, but I couldn’t stop the hot tears from sliding down my cheeks at the thought of laying half-dead in a hospital room without my boyfriend by my side.

My thoughts came to a halt when I pulled into the parking lot of the large building, and I could swear my heart audibly dropped into my shoes. A shaky breath rattled my lungs as I checked my hair and makeup one last time. Here goes nothing.

I pushed the glass doors of the B.A.U open and walked inside, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Part of me wanted to spin on my heel and walk back to my car, but my feet, having other plans, carried me forward. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for someone to spot me. Garcia gasped and dropped the stack of files she was holding and let out an ear-piercing scream. Without warning, she ran over to me and threw herself onto me, wrapping me in a tight hug. I quickly returned the favor, a sigh escaping my lips. “I’ve missed you,” she croaked. “I know, I’ve missed you, too,” I replied, holding her at arm’s length. We exchanged weak smiles before hugging again. While we hugged, something caught my eye. The nameplate outside of my office read ‘Samantha Bridges’ and not Y/N L/N. “Penelope,” I said, releasing her from our hug. “Yeah?” “Who’s Samantha Bridges?” I inquired, my gaze trained on the nameplate. “The new case advisor,” she mumbled. What?!

There’s a million things I could’ve said in that moment, but all I could manage was “What?!” Garcia nodded, looking down and away from me. “You’ve been replaced.” “Yeah, I can see that,” I snapped. I instantly regretted it but I couldn’t control myself. “Where is she?” I demand. “With Reid at his desk.” Now I knew why he didn’t come to visit me. He had moved onto my replacement. I have Garcia a short hug before telling her that I wasn’t angry at her. She nodded and watched as I stormed over to Spencer’s desk, where he was happily chatting with a girl that, surprisingly, resembled me. “What the hell?” I exclaimed, a look of disgust on my face. The two turned to me, faces painted with shock. “Y/N,” Spencer whispered. “I-I didn’t think y-you’d come back.” “Yeah, I can fucking see that,” I snapped again without an ounce of regret in my body. “Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Sa—” “I don’t give a fuck who you are,” I replied harshly, to which she dropped her hand and looked up at Spencer, who looked like a puppy that had been kicked too many times. The thought of him suffering the consequences of his own actions brought a genuine smile to my face.

“Y/N…” he started. “Why didn’t you visit me, huh?” I interject. “I… I got—” “Busy cheating on me with other girls,” I finished. “Spence, who’s this?” Samantha asked him. “You’re not talking to him, you’re talking to me,” I told her, causing her to turn her gaze towards mine. “I am— I was —his girlfriend.” If she could get pale, she would’ve. I turned my focus back to Spencer, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. “I take seven bullets for this team and land myself in a medically-induced coma for you to cheat on me with my clone from Wish.” “Y/N, please, can we talk somewhere else?” Spencer begged. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I replied harshly, watching the hopeful twinkle in his eye disappear. “You cheated on me while I was on life support. I thought boyfriends were supposed to visit their half-dead girlfriends in the hospital.” By then, JJ, Morgan, and Emily had gathered around us, and Garcia followed suit.

“If I knew that sacrificing myself for this team would cost me six months of my life, I would’ve never joined in the first place,” I told them, a single tear slipping down my cheek and causing my voice to tremble. “I-I can’t even comprehend this betrayal.” “Y/N…” Samantha whispered. “I don’t wanna hear shit from you,” I barked, causing her to shrink away from the anger that radiated off of my body as I spoke. “I got a copy of my visitation logs from when I was in my coma, and I saw how the visits from everyone that wasn’t named Penelope Garcia stopped after two months.” “In fact, she even delivered me a bouquet of flowers every time she couldn’t come see me, as well as paid for my life support.” I turned to look at her, my eyes filled with unshed tears threatening to spill if I didn’t finish my speech. “Penelope, I owe you my life,” I said, watching as she offered a small smile and nodded, her own tears in her eyes. “Anything that you need me to do, I’ll do it.” I looked back at the team, who’s eyes were all glassy with tears formed from the hatred that filmed my body. “As for you all,” I announced, watching as they hung on to every word in anticipation for what disheartening blow I would deliver next. “I thought family looked out for one another, but it seems like no one returned the favor. Waking up in a strange new world with no one to guide you through it is something I would never wish on anyone, even you guys.” “If I knew that my team would turn their backs on me and my boyfriend would cheat on me, I would’ve forced myself to live out my fantasy delusion I lived in when I was in the coma. A delusion where Spencer and I got married and had kids. That’s just what it is— a delusion. If I were to live it out, I would’ve flatlined, and who knows? Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing after all.”

“If I knew what was waiting for me when I arrived, I would’ve spared you all the pain of seeing your former teammate that you abandoned, and instead, written a resignation letter. Since I didn’t come prepared,” I grab a sticky note off of Morgan’s desk and took a pen, scribbling down a note and thrusting it into JJ’s hands. “Give this to Hotch,” I demanded. “What’s it say?” Emily asked quietly. “‘I quit.’” Everyone’s faces fell as they all looked at me with expressions full of pain. “You don’t have to do this,” Morgan said. “Yes, I do, Derek.” The harsh use of his first name caused him to hang his head in the shame felt by the entire team. “There’s nothing left for me here. I can see that you already have your Black female in power, and it’s clear as day that you don’t want another one.” “Y/N, I’m so sorry for what happened,” Emily whispered. “I really am.” “I believe you.” Three words caused their faces to change to looks of hope, and four words took them away. “But, it’s too late.” I turned around and walked over to Garcia, wrapping her in another hug. “You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice filled with pain that brought a fresh set of tears to my eyes. “Yeah. We’ll talk, okay?” “Okay,” she mumbled, pulling away to sniffle and wipe her tears. “There’s nothing I have to say to you guys,” I told the team. If it was possible to look even more defeated, they did. “But Samantha,” I said. She perks up and looks at me with her face all red and blotchy. I had no idea why she was crying, seeing as this would’ve been a good thing for her, as it meant that she wouldn’t lose her job. “Remember that everyone’s replaceable.” All Samantha did was sniffle and blink away the stray tears. “And Spencer,” I called. He feebly looked up at me, his eyes already a bright shade of red from the tears. “Go fuck yourself.” It hurt to say, but the pain lessened when I reminded myself that he deserved it. With nothing else to say, I spun around and marched out of the building for the last time.

---