Scripted | S.R x Reader

6 | Aftermath

"Y/N." Andy sat down next to you. "You can run around with your sunglasses and heels looking as scary as you want, but I know you're still the teenager with the ridiculous hairstyles I met 5 years ago."

"Don't get sappy," you murmured.

"You have spent your adult life in the public eye, and you have never once showed any fear. It's okay to—"

"I'm not afraid," you snapped. "This stupid rumor isn't taking over my stupid life!"

Andy grinned. "So..?"

"I'm doing this goddamn movie; I don't care if it makes every last person who left a comment furious. Good! I hope it does!"

He smirked. "I'll see you on set, Y/N."

"Yeah, you will!" You wait until he shut the door behind him before sliding to the floor, burying your face in your arms, finally letting tears flow.

"She's here," Emily whispered to JJ, who looked up from her computer.

You wordlessly walked through the doors, the sunglasses you hadn't worn in days due to heavy gloom and rain returned—though it was still raining outside.

"Miss L/N," Hotch said. "Dr. Reid is just finishing a seminar and will be back soon."

You nodded, walking into the round table room and sitting in there, staring at the wall.

"Knock knock." Penelope appeared in the doorway, holding a mug. "Do you like tea?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "Penelope."

She stopped, turning around. "Hm?"

"Thank you."

Penelope smiled. "Anytime."

"Oh, Garcia. Is she here?"

Penelope nodded, motioning to you in the chair.

Spencer walked in. "Hey," he said softly.

"Even Dr. Dark Ages knows...god, who doesn't?" You laughed sadly.

The genius slowly sat down. "It'll blow over."

"Either way my reputation is ruined."

"It isn't that big of a deal—"

"And what do you know?" You glared at him. "Tell me, please."

"No need to get hostile."

"Enlighten me, Dr. Reid. How is having the entire world calling me a home wrecking whore not a big deal?" You stood up. "You think I don't care that I wake up to floods of messages about losing brand deals, comments telling me to go jump off a bridge, and tweets digging into a fake background of myself? Oh no, whatever! It'll blow over!" You slammed your hands on the table. "Bullshit!"

"Y/N."

"Don't fucking call me that!" You fired back.

"What?! I'm not good enough to use it?"

"My friends use it! Not people who tell me that it's fine to get shit for breathing!"

"Well my bad, Miss L/N!"

"Hey, what's going on in here—"

"Not now, Morgan!"

Derek crossed his arms. "Leave."

Spencer got up.

"Not you, Reid. Jesus." Derek sighed. "Her."

You grabbed your bag. "I was just going." You brushed past them, tears pooling under the dark shades over your eyes.

"She's a piece of work," Derek muttered.

Spencer took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah she is."

You attempted to get out of the car near your agency's office, a flood of reporters bombarding you.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

"Over here!"

"Y/N! E News!"

"Y/N!"

"Y/N, Y/N?! Did you know Tristan was engaged when you began the affair?!" A microphone was shoved into your face.

You looked around at the mob of cameras, the flashes blinding your eyes. "There was no affair."

Booing and murmuring.

"Denying it is useless, Y/N—"

"You didn't let me finish," you stated bluntly. "There was no affair because I am seeing someone."

The crowd went silent.

"I've been seeing him for 8 months, and I have no intentions of having an affair. I was with Mr. McPhale for discussions about a possible collaboration campaign. Thank you." You walked inside, mobs still bombarding the doors.

"Y/N..." Anissa stood at the entrance. "You don't have a boyfriend."

"I know."

"Then what are you telling the people?!"

You exhaled. "I'll figure it out."

"Y/N!"

"I have everything under control!" You shut the door behind you, exhaling. "I have nothing under control."