heart to heart

i picked 3 sports for each of them there are definitely some that fit better than others lol

🏆 CASSIE HOBBES

🏅── volleyball. duh i had to say this bcuz of the heated rivalry au but idk bro i just think she has the Volleyball Vibes

🏅── softball. cassie looks like she would play softball as a kid (if she had ever stayed in one place for a long time lol)

🏅── track. sprinter cassie............................do i need to say more

🏆 DEAN REDDING

🏅── football. dean litchrally lifts weights bro put him on the damn football team 😹😹 have you ever been in a weight room with football players its actually terrifying i fear

🏅── wrestling. i think he'd be good at it

🏅── lacrosse. ive never played boys lacrosse (i am not a boy) but they're big on the speed stuff i think. dean would make a good defender imo

🏆 MICHAEL TOWNSEND

🏅── baseball. this is sorta random but you can imagine him as chad in high school musical 2..... lol elena stop talking

🏅── dance. NOT WHOLLY AS A JOKE bruh he'd probably get really into it and actually be like a good dancer. shocking everyone.

🏅── cross country. yes this is long distance running (#mysport) i think he'd be pretty ok at it. and all cross country boys are at least a little bit fruity you didn't hear this from me tho

🏆 LIA ZHANG

🏅── volleyball. DUHHH this came from the heated rivalry au but i think she would be a formidable force on the volleyball court

🏅── cheer/gymnastics. she's very very flexible. she can fake optimism easy. it's obvious

🏅── lacrosse. ykw i think she would be good at girls lacrosse probably as an offense player. she would probably get yellow cards or something for trash talking though

🏆 SLOANE TAVISH

🏅── soccer. idk in another life sloane is a soccer girl.... she'd honestly be good at taking shots i think cuz she'd know the best spots on the field with the best angles and whatever

🏅── volleyball. I KNOW I KNOW I HAVE SAID THIS TWICE but sloane would ALSO be good at volleyball

🏅── tennis. bruh she'd always know the exact spot to hit it to to make it difficult for the ball to be returned or something like that... im just saying

🏆 CELINE DELACROIX

🏅── swimming. this is basically canon if you squint. i think she would be a good swimmer (i mean im sure she is why else would she be swimming laps in bad blood...)

🏅── track. she would probably run the middle distances like the 400 meter and the 800 meter (#formertrackkid)

No. That didn’t seem right. That wasn’t part of the plan.

But every day, it couldn’t help wiggle its way into his routine. Briggs’ eyes lingered on Sterling’s longer than his pride would let him admit, as they always did. The name ‘Ronnie’ lingered on the tip of his tongue, begging to escape from behind his teeth. His heart wrapped around itself, choking in silence. For just a moment, tomorrow meant nothing. He looked into her eyes from the doorway, watched her long, beautiful lashes as she blinked once at him. And all of a sudden, it was 7 years ago.

The world seems a little brighter. ‘Pretty’ is an earthshaking compliment. Holding hands is the pinnacle of PDA. Veronica wears a smile more. That smile, more often than not, is directed at him. Tanner spends days sitting inches away from her at the academy, desperate for her presence, and nights laying in bed beside her. The sound of her pleased laugh as she outsmarts him rings in his ears, clear as the day he first heard it. There’s less of a weight on her shoulders, less chains around her lungs, less caution in her tongue. Every moment shapes itself so the sun shines to frame her face. Ronnie’s smart, impossibly so, and as much as it annoys him, it makes him fall even harder. He wants a ring on her finger, his hand in hers, his life inseparable from the rest of hers. Tanner sees her — in a slicked back ponytail, in a bun, with her hair cascading down her shoulders; with her lashes done, bare faced, with a full face of makeup; in an FBI uniform, in a prom dress, in his old tee-shirt from his high school football team that went down to her thighs — and in his head, only the word perfect comes close to describing her.

She blinked once more at him. Dean looked up at him from talking to Cassie.

Right. Back to the routine.

Drop the cappuccino in front of Agent Sterling. Nod hello to Judd. Go down to the basement. Come back upstairs. Try not to make eye contact with Ronnie. Hop in the car. Drive to work. Spend the whole drive trying his hardest not to think of her. Not regretting. Just wanting to stop himself from wanting.

Maybe tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Veronica Sterling spent a lot of time in her head. She spent a lot of time reflecting on the past. It was crucial to being a profiler— what someone wants to come next, who they’d call first, what kind of thing they’d give priority, in what danger they found themselves in their childhood, what they get for dinner— and that did not exclude her.

Veronica just used the past to hide, not show her potential future to other profilers.

It wasn’t something she needed to explain to Dean and Cassie, she knew, but she did anyway. That the direction of childhood friends could determine the direction of a person. That parents' actions shaped a child, whether present or not. That nature was often times trumped by nurture, especially in high stakes environments. That people often changed as a result of their new circumstances, and that the way they changed spoke volumes to who they were inside. That they needed to be each other's support, no matter what. That if you looked deep enough into someone's eyes, you could see their mistakes weighing down on them. And if you looked even deeper, you could see your own reflecting back at you like a broken mirror.

No. She was thinking that last part to herself. And she was also staring into the deep pools of Agent Briggs' eyes.

It came with the territory. And by 'it' she meant his presence. She was his coworker. She slept in what once was his office. She worked with children who had, essentially, become his kids. But every morning for the past Judd-knows-how-long, Sterling met Briggs' eyes as he stood in the doorway and paused. She saw the stubble she once told looked good on him. She saw tense shoulders that once struggled to fill out his suit, and now strained against it. She saw the two cups in his hands— his bitter Americano in his left hand, her cappuccino in his dominant right— and felt a deep pang of something she wasn't in the mood to dissect behind her ribcage. And all of a sudden, it was 7 years ago.

The world seems a little more saturated. ‘Handsome’ is an earthshaking compliment. Holding hands is the pinnacle of PDA. He makes her laugh. That laugh, more often than not, is shared with Scarlet. Veronica spends days tangling her legs with his under the table at the academy, and nights feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her palm as he sleeps. The sound of his quiet whispers, the special ones reserved for her ears only, ring in her ears, clear as the day she first heard them. There's less of a shadow under his eyes, less falsified confidence in his gait, less holes in his heart. Every moment shapes itself so the buzz of the world pauses as he enters a room. He can, surprisingly, keep up with her, and as much as she though it would annoy her, it makes her heart beat even faster. She wants her name in front of his, her hand in his, her past aligning with his in a way that makes their futures intertwined. Veronica sees him — with bedhead, hair disheveled after hunting, hair gelled back to meet her father; wearing a borderline smirk, eyebags puffed up, face flushed after a night spent together; in a too-big suit, in gear, in nothing but ratty old shorts — and in her head, only the word perfect comes close to describing him.

He broke eye contact for a split second. Dean nodded hello in the corner of her eye.

Right. Back to the lesson.

She went back to talking, as if she hadn't seen her past flash in front of her eyes. Briggs set her coffee gently in front of her. Sterling turned back to Cassie and Dean. Words spilled out of her mouth. She wasn't sure they meant much. She wasn't listening. She was trying to push the past as far back as possible. It didn't work. It never worked. She told herself it would work one day.