Hi Ives

hi ives <33 i missed you sm SORRY I HAVEN’T BEEN ACTIVE FOR A BIT :(( congrats on 800!!

be mine - (mutuals only) i’ll assign u something that i love (pleaseee <3)

hiii honey <3 ok so for u i assign the feeling turn the page in a notebook and it’s all blank and fresh and stuff <3

i’m sobbing.

hii jade are u going to write something about hotchner!reader and spencer any soon?

—You panic when Spencer’s late for a date. He makes it up to you as best as he can. fem, 2.6k

cw implied past child abuse

You weren’t young when you were adopted, so you were instilled very quickly with the need to be grateful. How lucky you were to be given a second chance at a family. How you owed it to your new family to be the perfect daughter and sister to a father who didn’t like you and two brothers your senior. 

Family for you is complicated. It always has been. You didn’t get the unconditional love you’d hoped for in all of them, but you have one older brother who loves you as though you and him are two branches of the same tree, and maybe that’s enough for anyone. 

“Yes!” Aaron cheers, jumping up from the bench. 

You spin around with a grin that’s half shy, half ecstatic. “I did it!” 

Jack runs up to your legs. “You got a strike!” 

You pretend to give him a karate chop. “Boosh! Double strike.” You grin as Aaron sizes up the pins down the long ally. “Think your dad can get one before we run out of turns?” 

“No!” Jack laughs. 

You laugh at his easy answer. His father, determined now in the face of your disbelief, picks up a number twelve ball and stands at the arrows to take his last turn. You brace your hands on Jack’s shoulders and wait for the line to be put down again. 

You’re pretty sure he’s throwing his turns to let Jack win. You’d not done the same until you realised the yawning gap in the scores, and maybe you’d feel embarrassed for not noticing if Aaron ever made you feel bad for anything, but he doesn’t. 

Your phone rings as he pulls back his arm. You ignore it. “Good luck, dad!” Jack says under your hands. 

It’s that good luck that gives Aaron his strike. You cheer with Jack as the ball glides straight into the first pin and veers on a spin toward the third, creating a wave of noise and action as the pins go flying back toward the baseboard. 

Aaron turns around with a huge smile. “Jack!” 

“You did it!” Jack cheers back. “Not first, but you did!” 

You grab your phone from your pocket. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron picks Jack up from the floor to hold against his chest, pointing at the screen with love. “Look at that, buddy, you won! Can you see that? You got the most points!” Aaron kisses his cheek, high on happiness. “Wow!” 

You have two missed calls from Spencer. To Aaron’s begrudgement, you and Spencer are actually going steady. The first attraction didn’t fizzle, the dates turned to dating turned to exclusivity; Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, and he’s supposed to be taking you out to dinner in ten minutes. 

“Everything okay?” Aaron asks, creeping closer to you, Jack still in his arms. 

“It’s fine, he’s just running late.” You notice his small frown. “His mom’s doctor wanted to talk to him, that’s all.” 

“How late is he thinking?” 

The plan was you’d go bowling with your family and then meet Spencer outside to eat at the Chinese restaurant just across the parking lot, but it’s not seeming so sure now. 

“He said half an hour. I’m pretty hungry,” you say, “he’s gotta speak to a psychiatrist about something. I can’t eat though, right? That’s rude.” 

“That’s not rude, honey. You can’t help being hungry as much as he can’t help being late.” As you’d noticed his, he notices your small frown. “You can’t go hungry,” he says with a shrug, “so you’re gonna have to come and eat something, but Spencer can join us when he’s done.” 

“Right, because you’ll love that.” 

“I’ve been on more dates with him than you have.” 

You take Jack as he opens his arms toward you. “I forget. I always think of you as his boss, and not his teammate.” 

Aaron grabs Jack’s backpack off of the bench, and your empty cups off of the table to throw away. “I am his boss. Okay, Jack, what do you want for dinner? What sounds good?” 

You, Aaron and Jack leave the bowling alley and end up in the Italian restaurant opposite of your originally proposed restaurant. You carry Jack on your hip and text Spencer with your open hand, content to let Aaron guide you through what little foot traffic there is to your table. Aaron sits on one side of the booth with Jack, and you slide into the other side. 

Spencer’s texts are getting more and more convoluted. He says he’s sorry, and then he says he has to call someone else, and then he needs to talk to his mom. You nibble your fingernail. 

“You okay?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… Yes, everything’s fine.” 

“Is Spencer okay?” 

“I think he might cancel.” 

Aaron flattens his menu. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think his mom is having a bad day…” 

“What else are you worried about?” 

Jack saves you for a moment, “Dad, can I have juice?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll get you juice. Apple juice?” 

Jack presses his cheek to Aaron’s arm, earning himself a hug. 

“Are you tired?” Aaron whispers. 

“No.” 

“Okay. Hey, there’s a table over there with some colouring pages and crayons, do you see that? Do you want to do some colouring?” 

“Can I go get some?” Jack asks. 

“Yes. Don’t bump into anybody, okay?” 

The table isn’t far enough to worry, but Aaron splits his attention between Jack and you fairly evenly, just a tad more worry following his son. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks. 

“You don’t think Spencer would lie, do you?” you ask. 

“Lie about his mother? I doubt it very much.” 

You trust Aaron, and you trust Spencer too, but Aaron has earned that trust over years and years where Spencer has been gifted it. He hasn’t done anything to break it, but he hasn’t proved he should have it yet either. And really, truly, it isn’t actually about what you believe of Spencer. 

You feel a bit nauseous, but your brother is the best person in the world, so you tell him why without preamble, “I’m worried that he’s going to get sick of me.” 

“Why would he do that?” Aaron asks. 

You scratch at the menu beneath your hand rather than meet his eyes. Because you’re awful. That’s what your father instilled in you, and it’s what you’ve come to learn. Eventually, the people who love you get tired of you. Everyone except Aaron, and isn't that proof of something? He’s the only man good enough to pretend you’re someone worth caring about. 

If he could hear your thoughts he’d probably cry. It’s why you’ve struggle to tell him. 

You rub your thumb into the side of your index finger, feeling the texture of your skin. “I think people just do.” 

Jack returns quickly, with paper and a huge fist full of crayons, though there are four colours altogether. “Well,” Aaron says, helping Jack back into his seat, crayons rolling released from a small fist every which way, “I don't. And Jack doesn’t, Haley doesn’t. I see no reason why Spencer would feel that way.” 

“What don’t I do?” Jack asks, frowning at his dad. 

“You don’t think Aunt Y/N’s bad at bowling, do you?” 

“You’re great at bowling!” Jack's eyes go wide. “I’m gonna make us a photo, to remember. We got strikes!” 

You let your face fall into your hand as Aaron strokes hair up the side of Jack’s head. It’s a soothing thing to see, you know the soft touch of his hand well, having been petted and patted through a hundred different bad moments. 

Spencer probably isn’t lying about why he’s late, but he could be. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“She’s very good at bowling,” Aaron says, hugging Jack to his side. “And so many other things, that’s why we love her. Should we make a list?” 

He used to love doing that, too. 

Your father wasn’t a nice or kind man. Aaron doesn’t know how it escalated, only knows what happened to him, and how he’d come to see you and you’d burst into tears the second he asked how you were. 

If Aaron knew how bad it was at the time he would’ve forced you to leave, but you never told the whole truth. He assumed it to be a mixture of everything —school was awful, dad was worse, and you were more isolated than most. 

Make me a list, he’d say. 

The first time you didn’t get it. You were a teenager sitting on his couch, his wife in the kitchen, a weight on your chest. What for? 

A list of the stuff that’s bothering you. 

Do you need a list? you’d asked. He had a knack for knowing more than you could say. 

I think we should make one. 

You realise now it was a strategy to calm you down. If you could quantify the things that were depressing you, you could begin to understand it, and hopefully dismantle some of the bigger problems. It didn’t always work, but it didn’t matter. It made you feel better just to have you and Aaron on the same couch with a notebook and a number two pencil. Don’t see my brother enough, he’d written with a sad face. 

Brother, you’d thought with a secret joy. He’s your brother. 

Jack and Aaron make a list they won’t show you. You order drinks and then dinner, waiting for a phone call or a text back you don’t receive. It’s disheartening, and when your pasta arrives, you can barely eat. 

“Honey,” Aaron says, “why don’t you go call him? You can see if he’s alright.” 

You poke at a shell with a tightly gripped fork. “What if he doesn’t want me to call him? It sounds serious.” 

“Maybe that’s why you should call him. I think he’d appreciate it.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, but ultimately, he doesn’t. “Take a minute for yourself, if nothing else. Everything’s okay, I promise.” 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” Jack asks. 

You smile regretfully. “I’m just feeling confused today, babe. What about you? Are you confused about where your mouth is?” you tease lightly. 

Aaron gasps a laugh and reaches over to wipe Jack down with a napkin as you slip from the booth. You take your phone, worrying that Aaron’s eyes are on your back as you pass by the host booth and back out onto the street. The breeze kisses your clammy skin. 

Why do you assume that no one really likes you? It’s difficult to comprehend. Your thumb hovers over Spencer’s contact photo, debating, and debating. Should you call him? He might be preoccupied, upset even, and what if you make it worse? But if you don’t call him, you can’t reassure yourself that you’re not in trouble. 

He answers on the third trill. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hey!” There’s a sound like something heavy has been put down. “Hey, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be sorry!” you say immediately. “It’s okay. Are you okay?” 

Spencer’s voice is a little high and fast, but beside that, he has a nice tenor. When he’s calm and feeling up to it, alone at night with nothing else to do, he’ll read to you from one of his infinite books, his syllables catching and tripping over air as you rub your nose into his arm. 

“I’m fine! There was a mixup with some medication at the sanitarium and they realised my mom’s dose of one of her antipsychotics has been charted higher than she was really taking, so she’s been having a hard time, it’s a total mess but I think we have it figured out now. How was bowling?” 

“Spencer, are you sure it’s okay?” 

“It’s fine.” He laughs softly, not a hint of condescension or derision for you, but an emotion you can’t name. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not okay. I know you can’t help yourself sometimes, but you don’t have to tell me it’s fine if it’s not fine.” 

“Uh–” You cough around it. “No, it really is. You can’t help it. Family is important, right?” 

“It’s so important. Listen, where are you right now?” 

“I’m just standing outside of the Pasta Factory by the bowling alley. I tried to have dinner ‘cos I’m starving, but… I think I lost my appetite.” 

“What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m having one of those days, I guess?”

“What kind of day?” 

His voice is bouncing strangely, as though he’s talking near you. You pause, turning on your heel to look down the few stairs into the parking lot asphalt. 

Spencer’s walking up them, a bouquet of roses in his hands. 

“Hi,” you say, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

Spencer puts his away. “Hi. 

His hug is full, all-encompassing and warm as he wraps his arms around you, the bouquet a cacophony of crinkling against your shoulder. He smells like aftershave, his Tom Ford one with the woody tinge that has you pressing your nose into the top of his shoulder to just breathe. Your phone digs into his spine. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly, giving you a similar swaying, back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to call them, but it wasn’t fair on you.” 

“Spencer,” you say, holding him tightly. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t sound so unsure.” 

“No, but. We can be flexible, right?” 

“Of course we can, but I’m still sorry.” He peels back to smile at you, his eyes gently squinted. “So what’s wrong? What’s making it one of those days?” 

You can’t explain it to him. He likely doesn’t need you to. 

You’re expecting him to pull away —you’re in a public place and affection isn’t his usual expertise— but he doubles down. New boyfriend or not, this hug feels like it’s from somebody who’s loved you for years and years. 

“What’s making it a bad day?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know…” You rub your nose self indulgently against his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have no appetite? Maybe that’s what it is? Stuff tends to feel bigger or more upsetting when we’re hungry because low blood sugar prompts your body to release more hormones that affect your cortisol level, and cortisol plays a big part in how your mind interprets your emotions.” Spencer pulls away, his hand sliding up your shoulder to hold you in place. He grins. “So I think you should still let me take you to dinner. Especially if you didn’t eat much.” 

Why would Spencer lie to you? you think, relieved. He wouldn’t. And the idea that he’s going to get sick of you, that’s rooted in bad lessons from a poor situation. It’s not a reflection on you. 

“We will,” you decide, “I just have to get my stuff. I left my bag, and Jack’s writing me a list.” 

“What list?” 

“A list of stuff I’m good at.” 

He doesn’t waver. “Really? Can I add stuff too?” You turn your nose up in an unsubtle prompting, satisfied when Spencer gives you a quick, smiling kiss. “Sorry,” he says, though his apology is distracted by a fond undertone, “I missed you.” 

You receive a few more gentle kisses for all your worries, and you begin to feel better. Spencer presses the roses into your hand and encourages you into the restaurant with his hand spread behind your back. 

Can school just not

ALIVE?

HIIII I DONT KNOW IT YOU REMEMBER ME BUT IM ELLA I HAD TO DEACTIVATE FOR A WHILE HUT IM BACKKKK IM SO HAPPY I FOUND YOU 😁😁😁

HI ELLA OMG <33

i look to you and i see nothing (i'm a liar)

the way i loved you ✰ m. riddle

➻ pairing: reader x mattheo riddle, brief reader x cedric diggory

➻ genre: angst/fluff

➻ summary: after a hard breakup, you had finally moved on and found your perfect man. he was everything you could’ve asked for, but the lingering thoughts of your ex take a toll on you

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, borderline betraying cedric :(

➻ word count: 1.8k

➻ a/n: if it’s not already completely obvious, i was listening to the way i loved you by taylor swift when i thought of this lmaooo i couldn’t fight the taylor references so there is a couple in here, it’s just my deep rooted swiftie mindset

“hey baby. you look beautiful today,” cedric smiled, sitting down at the slytherin table next to you, a bold move for a hufflepuff, but everybody thought he was far too good looking to say anything. well, some people.

mattheo riddle had the absolute nerve to speak up, as if he hadn’t completely ruined your life only months before.

“alright, diggory?” he snorted, looking your boyfriend up and down with disgust. he and cedric probably could’ve gotten along just fine if it wasn’t for the clashing common interest that seemed to have mattheo spitting as many nasty comments as he could - you, “i see you’re still pissing about with her.”

he didn’t even bother to say your name when he was talking about you. twat. you felt your anger starting to pool up in your stomach, a force threatening to take over until a soft hand placed itself on your hip.

“just ignore him, okay?” cedric smiled down at you, encouraging you to do exactly what he was doing. you nodded.

“it’s fine. he’s just… yeah,” you sighed, scrunching your eyes a couple times before continuing to eat, doing your best to ignore mattheo’s presence on just a couple seats down.

—

“he’s perfect,” pansy sighed, practically drooling over your relationship.

you had shown the girls the card he had made for valentines day, which was honestly the smallest thing he’d done for you on the day. he had a tendency to show his affection as much as he possibly could, making you experience every single love language at least once a week.

“that’s adorable, oh my god,” daphne gushed, reading the card over and over. it was a sweet message where he described his love for you, and it definitely warmed your heart, “i’m actually so jealous of what you guys have, it’s not even funny. astoria, come read this.”

astoria made her way over to the group and took the pale pink card from her sister’s hands, her eyes scanning the words that practically formed a letter with how many cedric had written. the three of you watched as her face contorted into an expression of admiration and light jealousy, her cheeks slightly pink.

“stop it, you’re going to make me cry knowing that i don’t have a man that loves me like this,” she whined, punctuating her words with a small laugh.

cedric was your ideal boyfriend. he was attractive, sensible, smart and kind. he got along with your parents and siblings, and always made sure to compliment you in some way every time he saw you. he said everything you ever wanted to hear, and was just perfect for you, so why couldn’t you get mattheo out of your head?

“i need to ask you all something,” you blurted out, a little annoyed at yourself for doing so, but also relieved that you could get it off your chest.

the trio looked over at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for you to continue.

“what is it?” pansy murmured, her head tilted just slightly as her eyes studied you.

"okay, let's just say... hypothetically, you have the most perfect, incredible boyfriend and could never ask for anything better, but… there’s this pesky little lingering thought about a certain past endeavour that you can’t get out of your head.”

the girls looked at you a little confused, though daphne’s expression quickly hardened. she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“please tell me you’re not still thinking about riddle,” she groaned in disappointment, shaking her head whilst running her hands over her face. the other two expressed disapproving noises and sighs, looking at you as if you’d just told them you were going to kill someone.

“it’s mattheo, what do you want me to do?” you mumbled defensively, helping it would support your case a little, but it just made them give you a glare.

“i don’t get what you see in him. he’s a boring, lazy prick who skips every class he possibly can to smoke weed and get plastered with his equally as boring and lazy roadman gang,” astoria huffed with a small shrug, looking at you with more concern than anything, “all you guys would do was scream at each other and cry about it all, and then go and make out in the rain or something, which i suppose is pretty hot, but it doesn’t make up for all the arguing.”

“you go insane when you’re with him. i didn’t even know it was possible to feel that much, but you definitely proved that it is,” pansy snorted, though it was clear her comment wasn’t really a joke.

you just sighed and brushed it off, promising that you wouldn’t do anything. it was just something on your mind, right?

—

you were walking in the corridor on your own, cedric just having left to get to his class, which was on the complete other side of the school to yours.

“rare to see you without prince charming these days. have you broken up already?”

you knew who it was when the first word was spoken, and after days of trying to get him out of your mind, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“do you have nothing better to do than terrorise me and my relationship, riddle?” you spat, turning around to face the boy, though your expression quickly dropped when you saw crimson blood spattered across his face, “why am i not surprised?”

“wow, last name basis now, princess?” he chuckled, brushing off your comment about his injuries with a small huff of either annoyance or amusement, you couldn’t really tell.

you tried to walk away, not wanting to involve yourself in his antics when you couldn’t trust yourself to not snap without somebody nearby to warn you not to. it was hard to control yourself around mattheo for some reason. probably all the pent up anger you had from the relationship and its ending.

“just piss off. i honestly can’t be bothered with you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head. his face dropped at that, seeming much less entertained now that you had say that you genuinely didn’t want to speak to him. he didn’t like that.

“no, absolutely not. what you’re not gonna do is act like a bitch because you’re in a mood about something,” mattheo scoffed, grabbing your wrist to pull you back, leaving a faint, bloody handprint on your skin, to which you groaned at.

“can you not?” you murmured, trying to wipe it off, but only smearing it across your arm further. at this, he sighed and pulled you into the prefect’s bathroom, the nearest place with a sink.

“here, since you apparently need everything done for you. i see some things haven’t changed,” he tugged your arm under the sink and lightly rinsed it away, rolling his eyes as he did so, and taking the chance to wash his own hands, “you’re a real piece of work, you know that? especially these last couple months. i don’t even know what’s happened, but it’s annoying.”

“what happened is we broke up. i’m not going to be your sweet little angel every single day, riddle,” you retorted, shaking your head and patting your arm dry with a paper towel.

“i still don’t get why we ended things,” the brunette shrugged, as if the comment he had just made meant absolutely nothing, “i mean, you’d probably be sat in my lap cleaning me up right now if we hadn’t.”

his words were a harsh reminder of how much things had changed. if he had come to you battered and bruised when you were together, which he had done multiple times before, you would end up sitting in his lap whilst cleaning off all the blood, reprimanding him for getting into fights again whilst trying to fight the incessant butterflies that flapped around so aggressively in your stomach. you were feeling those same butterflies now, too.

“well… we’re not, so you’ll have to settle for some water and a paper towel. maybe you’ll get a plaster if you can find one somewhere,” you scoffed, trying to act as nonchalant as he was.

“come on, princess, don’t be like that,” mattheo groaned, looking at you with a frustrated expression. you didn’t get why he was still calling you princess. he’d taken the pet name he loved using for you so much and turned it into a mocking insult. that hurt you, you had to admit, how he took something so precious and made it into a nickname only used for when he wanted to be rude.

you glanced over at him, meeting his eyes. those eyes. those perfect, dark eyes that, when in the sunlight, turned into a gorgeous, flowing blend of various chocolate shades that sparkled and told so many tales in such little space. you had to chastise yourself for thinking about him so fondly when you swore you disliked him so much.

“why are you doing this to me? acting as if everything’s just perfectly fine and like there isn’t so much shit between us?” you sighed, running your hands over your face out of pure annoyance. why was he acting like this? why were you okay with it?

“i know you. i know every single facial expression you make. every single word you say,” he muttered, studying your face rapidly, “and i know that half the smiles you show off when you’re with diggory are fake. he’s boring you, i can see that clear as day. at least when you were with me, it was fun.”

you shook your head at his words, a soft huff of disbelief forcing itself out of you. deep down inside of you, you know that everything he was saying was true, but you couldn’t admit that. cedric was your boyfriend, you loved him, didn’t you?

“stop it, mattheo,” you pleaded, looking up at the blood-drenched face of the boy you didn’t know whether you adored or despised.

“i was your first… everything, princess. you can’t just deny that what we had was special,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he was getting annoyed again, his soft facade crumbling.

“what do you want me to do? apologise?” you breathed out in disbelief, looking at him as if he was insane, “if that’s what you want, then this is me standing in front of you and saying that i’m sorry for what happened that night, and it hurts my pride to say this, but i sometimes find myself wishing i could change my mind. is that what you want from me? i’m sick of these games.”

mattheo seemed to pause at your words, each syllable playing over and over in his head as he registered what you had just admitted. it was as if his entire body just glitched, every muscle coming to a standstill, though his eyes flicked back and forth as if he was reading the words from a book. it took a moment, but he eventually cracked a small smile, his head tilting.

“did you just reference a taylor swift song in your apology, love?”