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y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

Am I ready throw it all away for Max Goodwin from New Amsterdam??

Yes. Yes I am.

Hi, this is Brittany 12 hours before my shift!

12 hours after my shift

buck merril in an average dallas fanfic being forced to listen to y/n getting their guts completely rearranged

All I want for Christmas is Matt Dillon oiled up in my bed 😔

IV Injuries

This is a new James Wilson (House MD) imagine that I hope you will all like, any feedback would be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) helps the team look after a patient who takes a shine to her, but when she gets injured, it's her husband's turn to take care of her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A rush of adrenaline sparked through (Y/n)'s stomach when she walked into the cafeteria and her eyes immediately landed on a familiar face. Coffee in hand, (Y/n) made a beeline towards James and let her fatigued frame flop down in the seat next to him.

She saw the way he tensed for a brief moment before he realised who it was plonking down next to him, and a soft smile pulled at his lips.

He watched her set down her take out cup of coffee before she turned towards him, curling her hands around his upper arm before she let her forehead fall onto his shoulder. He leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips against the top of her head, moving his hand to card his fingers through her hair for a few moments.

He hadn't seen her since they arrived to work this morning and subsequently parted ways to their different departments. James knew (Y/n) was supposed to be working in A&E today, but something told him she hadn't spent her morning there after all.

"Dare I ask how your day's going?" Eventually he turned his head back and took a bite of his sandwich. Lunch breaks weren't very long when they both worked in a hospital and he had skipped breakfast.

"House had a patient in A&E who took a shine to me… to cut it short, I've spent all morning with House."

(Y/n) was no stranger to Gregory House, she knew all his quirks and his strange ways and medical practices. But actually working with him was a lot different to having him come by her and James's house or drag them out for poker night. It didn't help when all his assumptions turned out to be wrong and no one had any clue what was happening to the patient.

When the patient- Adam- let (Y/n) take his blood, run urine samples and give him overall checks, but then wouldn't let House's team do anything, House dragged her from her post and back to his department for the day- or the foreseeable future depending on what was wrong with Adam.

Staying back in A&E would have been a lot more preferable to working under House, but (Y/n)'s dedication was to the patient and she couldn't leave him arguing and fighting with Cameron if he would cooperate just fine with her.

"Hm, if you're working with House you need to eat something." James pushed the other half of his sandwich towards his wife, raising his brows when she tried to shake her head. "Eat, you can't survive on coffee."

The look in his eyes made (Y/n) relent and take the sandwich, a grateful smile on her lips as she mixed some sugar into her coffee. House wasn't easy on breaks, not even lunch breaks or a ten minute breather to get a drink but (Y/n) had scampered off while the patient had visitors so she could refuel on some strong, sugary coffee. And James knew what it was like for those who worked for House, he didn't want (Y/n) becoming like them, tired and strung out and lacking a much needed rest.

"Do you think if I went back to A&E, House would come and drag me back?" It was tempting to just head back to her original post and if anyone asked, she was just needed on a consult or to help calm down a patient. No one asked questions when House walked in demanding. But if she went back and Adam continued to prove difficult, the team would most likely come looking for her and beg her to come back and help.

"Most likely. If he gets too annoying just go hide in my office."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) kept one arm looped around James's upper arm and leaned her cheek on his shoulder while she took small bites of her sandwich. She would prolong lunch as much as she could and scrape together as much time with her husband as possible before she had to go back to the team.

But it was comforting to think that if House got too demanding or she was fed up being ordered around by him or the team, she could just sneak across to James's office and hide out there. She knew if she only asked, James would take her with him to any consults he had and just say it was for training or to have a calming female presence in the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair while she finished writing up her notes, leaning against the nurse's station. It was almost the end of her shift and she didn't care what House said, she would be leaving on time today. She wasn't technically part of his team so he couldn't force her to extend her shift and help.

She could barely contain her relief and excitement at the thought of leaving and heading home with James. But the satisfaction that was dwelling in her stomach slowly changed into dread when she looked down behind the counter she was leaning on and saw a flashing red light.

There was a code on room 107. Adam's room.

She thought about turning and running, James's office was only round the next corner, she could make a break for it and hide away in there so she didn't have to deal with this code.

(Y/n) had already taken three blood samples, a scratch test to see if he was allergic to anything. Checked his eyesight, set him up on three different antibiotic drips and done a lumbar puncture. And each time she did something new, Adam would grow continuously distressed, even when (Y/n) was the one doing the test. He was paranoid about something and he didn't want any more tests being done on him when he didn't understand what they were for or how they would help.

He had even started to get distressed when (Y/n) left the room, demanding to know where she was going and why she wasn't staying. It made her feel guilty even when she had no reason to, she felt like going to get a drink or going to consult with the team was almost a bad thing.

When the code continued to flash and a distinct crashing sounded, followed by Adam's high pitched shouting, (Y/n) sighed to herself.

She gathered what little strength and willpower she had left and sped down the hall towards Adam's room.

He was no longer sat up in bed, but rather stood near the window with what could only be described as fright written across his face. His pupils were blown wide and his breathing was erratic and he was holding the IV hook in front of him like the tall metal pole would provide some sort of cover or protection. He was glaring at Cameron, but when (Y/n) walked into the room, she swore his lip curled into a snarl in her direction.

"Adam, you okay? What's wrong?" Her eyes darted between him and Cameron, needing to know the situation since it was clearly escalating fast.

"She's trying to poison me."

"He needs an MRI, his liver is failing and he won't let me give him a sedative." Cameron moved her hand near (Y/n) to show the needle she was holding that contained a sedative. She knew Adam wasn't calm during any procedure and thought if he was sedated he would be a lot calmer and would let them do the scan but he wasn't having any of it.

"Adam, will you let me take you for the MRI? If your liver is failing we need to know why so we can help you."

(Y/n) tried to take a few steps closer to him but he only moved the IV line again so it was right in front of him and he was backed up towards the window. This wasn't just panic or paranoia, this was some sort of psychosis for him to believe they were going to hurt him. He had come to A&E willing and ready for help and now he believed they were here to hurt him.

"She wants to kill me, everyone does! I'm not doing anymore stupid tests. You hear me, none."

"Then will you get back into bed so you can rest?" If he wasn't going to cooperate then he may as well sit back down and try to calm down until they could figure out their next steps.

"So you can tie me down? No." He tutted and laughed cynically but the look in his eyes was manic. Despite their yellow undertone and blown pupils, his eyes were jittery and full of panic. Matched with the way he was jumping from foot to foot, ready to charge at any given moment, showed he was very ill.

"Adam, what do you want from us? If you won't let us help you and your liver fails, you could die." Cameron's words were meant to be reassuring but they had no effect on him.

He wasn't leaving them many options if he wouldn't go for the scan and he wouldn't even sit down on the bed and try to talk this through. They needed to sedate him and find out what was wrong before the mysterious illness destroyed his liver and killed him.

"You're just trying to scare me so I'll let you hurt me but I won't do it-"

"Cameron can find someone for you to talk to, you could speak to Doctor House, or the dean of medicine. And while she does that, you can sit in the chair over there and I'll wait with you. There's nothing on that chair that I could tie you down with and I don't want to do that Adam."

Looking to her right, (Y/n) locked eyes with Cameron and nodded at her to get her to agree. It was the only thing they could do that didn't involve pinning Adam down and sedating him so they could run their tests and prevent him from harming either himself or one of them. He hadn't met Cuddy yet, she could talk to him and give him the reassurance he needed whereas House's methods wouldn't be as gentle if Adam wanted to see him again.

When he didn't back away or start to scream, (Y/n) slowly took tenative steps towards him with her palms open at her sides to show him she had nothing to hurt him with. She wasn't trying to trick him or harm him or upset him, she just wanted to help him.

Cameron stepped over the threshold, about to go off and find Cuddy when a tortured sound left Adam's lips and he lunged.

He pushed the IV to one side and latched his fingers around (Y/n)'s throat tight enough to instantly cut off her air supply and send her stumbling backwards in shock.

Her hands came up to latch around his and she dug her nails fiercely into the back of Adam's hands to try and get him to relent but he was shaking with rage, too far gone to care or understand. The veins in his neck were throbbing and she could hear his teeth grinding down together as he forced her backwards until her lower back bashed into the bedframe.

She wanted to scream from the pain in her back and neck but all she could do was open her mouth and gasp while her eyes snapped closed and tears rolled down her cheeks.

He leered over her, snarling and spitting until a look of shock overwhelmed him and he suddenly let her go.

(Y/n) slumped down to her knees, croaking and gasping for air but she managed to look up through her tears. Cameron had given him the sedative while his back was turned towards her.

Grabbing up at the bedframe, (Y/n) used it to hoist herself onto unsteady legs but she wasn't quick enough to stop Adam from lashing out lashing the back of his hand across Cameron's face. The force sent her stumbling back and once she was off him, Adam backed away from both of them, shaking on his feet when his vision started to blurr.

(Y/n) wanted to speak, she wanted to tell him to calm down and sit down before he fell and ended up hurting himself. It was too late for him to panic and rage now because the sedative was going to come into effect within a minute, if not less. He was only going to end up in more distress and pain if he didn't try and listen and stop his tantrum of rage. But she couldn't speak.

Her throat was coarse and dry and her lungs were burning like they were on fire. She needed a drink, she needed to sit down and clear her foggy head.

"Adam!"

(Y/n) was in too much of a daze to realise what Adam was doing and Cameron wasn't quick enough to reach him before he lashed out.

His hands grabbed the IV pole and as quick as anything, despite his blinding rage and foggy mind from the sedation, he swung the pole. The thin metal caught the side of (Y/n)'s head like a beam of lightning striking her down and sent her to the floor in one swoop.

Everything turned to static in her ears and she didn't feel herself collide with the floor, even the pain she expected to feel in her head wasn't there. All she felt was numb as a sheet of blackness dwelled in front of her eyes, despite (Y/n) knowing she was still somewhat conscious.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there before her mind rebooted itself and everything came back to her in a slow, awkward order. The bright lights beaming down on her made her squint and blurred her vision into blobs of grey and yellow. Cameron's panicked voice and the sound of someone else saying her name came flooding through her ears like distant voices carried on the wind from far away. She could barely feel hands rummaging over her skin, trying to check her injuries and move her so she was lying on her back instead of her side.

But when the pain came back, it hit her like a train.

Her head felt like it had swelled ten times its size and the whole left side of her skull was on fire. She could feel each blood vessel throbbing in her head and pounding to the area that hurt the most. She could feel agonising tendrels of pain crawling along her head like snakes tracing all across her head. And thudding along with the blinding, splitting bolts in her head, her neck was aching and pulsing like it was starting to swell, but maybe that was just her imagination.

She didn't realise her hand had moved towards her head until her fingertips ever so gently grazed the sight of the pain and she coiled her hand back with a screech.

"(Y/n), can you hear me?"

"Hm," (Y/n) let Cameron and the other nurse in the room gently sit her up and let the blood drain back down from her head to the rest of her body.

"I should take a look at that for you," Cameron reached over to try and inspect the wound but (Y/n) caught her wrist before she could and threw it back at her. She didn't want Cameron or anyone else trying to patch her up.

With the help of the nurse, (Y/n) grabbed her shoulders and slowly fumbled up onto unsteady legs that were trembling and buckling beneath her but she forced them to stay upright. She needed to get out of here. Adam needed his MRI and (Y/n) wanted to be as far away from him as possible because this wasn't his fault but her anger was already being directed towards him and that wasn't right.

"(Y/n) where are you going, you need to be examined-"

"I- I'll find James."

(Y/n) didn't want anyone else but him. He was more than capable of examining her head and stitching it up, if indeed the wound was bad enough to require stitches. She didn't want anyone else watching over her or touching her. She just wanted her husband.

Besides, the sedative wouldn't last forever and with Chase and another nurse already in the room getting Adam hoisted back onto the bed, they would need to take him quick for his MRI. They had to be fast so they could start treating him before he woke up and started another fight.

Everything inside her told her to cradle her head, touch the wound or apply some sort of pressure in case the bleeding was substancial, but she couldn't. Touching it would cause blinding pain and she didn't need the added pain or stress or the threat of passing out, not until she had located her husband and was safely sat down with him.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do with her hands so she stuck with rubbing at her bruised neck and using her free hand to scale the wall and keep herself upright.

Her feet were bending and scuffing beneath her and her jelly legs were barely moving forward but at least her vision wasn't blurred anymore so she could see where she was going. It also meant that she could see the odd looks she gained from colleagues she passed and she adverted her eyes to the floor while she reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner.

Thank god James's office was close by.

Reaching his office struck a knife into her gut when she realised he could easily be examining, treating or consulting with a patient right now and therefore not be in his office. She would have to find someone to page him if he wasn't in and sit waiting in his office. Hopefully her minor wound wasn't extensive and would be fine if she waited a while for James.

Relief had never felt so good when she weakly tapped her knuckles on the door and heard a polite 'come in' from the other side.

"James, hun, it's me."

"Hi sweetheart. Did House actually let you leave on time?" James glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist before he glanced over at (Y/n) who quietly shut the door behind her before she walked over to him.

The smile on his face slowly started to fade when he took in her state; trembling limbs, unsteady steps, shallow breaths and blown pupils.

"Are you okay?" He turned his chair to the side when (Y/n) advanced towards him behind the desk and his eyes widened when she wasted no time in sitting down on his lap and curling her arms loosely around his neck. But it was the fact that she wasn't looking at him that put him on edge. That was, until his eyes raked over her face and noticed a large gash on the left side of her head that was oozing blood into her hair. "What happened?!"

His hands cupped her face in an instant and carefully turned her head to the side and tilted her chin down so he could get a better inspection of the wound.

"Sweetheart what happened?" His thumb brushed across her cheek but his eyes were focused intently on her head. It didn't look bad enough to require stitches, thankfully, but it still looked bad.

"House's patient had a psychotic episode. He caught me with the IV pole."

(Y/n) could feel the storm raging inside her head but when James went to touch the wound, she cried. Her fingers scratched into the back of his neck and her eyes screwed shut as she tried to compose herself and stay still so he could take a look.

"Christ, he took a good swing to do this… what else did he do?" His eyes scanned down (Y/n)'s face and stopped over her neck that was starting to bruise and turn a nasty shade.

"Nothing,"

"Yeah, that looks like nothing," There was a knowing look in his eyes and the way he pursed his lips told (Y/n) he wasn't going to push the subject but he wasn't happy about any of this either. He could easily see what had happened but if she wasn't talking about it then it wasn't something horrid or as bad as he would first assume. "I'll go grab something to patch you up."

He trailed his hands down her sides until they landed firmly on her hips and he gently manoeuvred her off his lap so he could stand up. There was nothing in his office he could use to clean the wound, he didn't usually have accidents in here and considering he worked in a hospital, there was no need for equipment in his office.

To (Y/n), it felt like James walked out the door and then straight back in again, she barely dropped her head into her hands before he was back in a flash. Maybe she did get a concussion; the whack must have been harder than she thought.

"(Y/n)… (Y/n)." James crouched down beside the desk and rubbed one hand over (Y/n)'s thigh while the other cupped her face and tilted her head to see if she had or was about to pass out. His voice was gentle but firm and (Y/n) managed a small groan as a response but she could feel herself smiling when his fingers moved to her pulse.

Her eyes followed his finger from left to right without him needing to tell her, she watched closely and continuously until he was satisfied she was able to focus and wasn't at risk of passing out.

"Can you stand, I need you on the couch?"

"Yeah," Her hands locked on his outstretched arms and she was grateful when he let her lean her weight onto him while he guided her over towards the couch beneath the window.

The relief washed over (Y/n) instantly when she sat down and let herself slump into the cushions. She wanted to tip her head back and go to sleep but she forced herself to keep her neck straight and her head up so James would be able to see what he was doing to patch her up. He sat on her left side, smiling when she reached across to hold his thigh.

"This will sting,"

(Y/n) tried to brace herself but just the feel of the cotton wool dabbing at her head made her go dizzy and sent her stomach reeling. She resorted to closing her eyes and squeezing James's leg until her nails were almost merged into his skin and her neck started to shake from how tense she held herself.

James was careful dabbing the antiseptic across the wound before he held some gauze gently to her head to stem the last of the blood. When he was certain the bleeding had stopped, he cleaned the rest of the blood from the side of her face and the little bits that had dribbled down into her hair.

"You don't need stitches thank God, give it ten minutes and I'll get you a cold compress. Do you feel sick?" He didn't dare put a compress on her head now in case it gave her shock or made her blackout. When he knew she had calmed down and relaxed, he would find a compress to stop any swelling and relieve a small amount of pain she must be feeling.

"A little,"

James briefly stood up and headed back to his desk to grab the small paper medicine pot and the paper cup of water he brought back with him. He took the liberty of stopping by the chemist on the way back up and grabbed some painkillers and something to reduce any swelling.

"Take these, they'll numb your head for a bit."

"Thank you,"

The cold water felt soothing on her sore throat that no doubt would be tender for the next few days but not as bad as her head was going to feel and she groaned just at the thought.

Once the tablets were washed down, (Y/n) slowly twisted round until she could lay down with the good side of her head resting on James's lap. She coiled her knees up to her stomach and took the liberty of grabbing his hand so she could bind his arm against her chest. It was soothing to feel his fingers raking through her hair and see him smiling gently down at her before she closed her eyes.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"Always."

spencer + textposts that reminded me of him

what a loser 😔😔 (affectionate)

please i NEED more luke danes x reader fics

its like looking for water in the sahara

Out of Time // Part 3

Summary: “The Revelation” is followed by a ton of apologies, reassurances, and grovelling. But is that enough for you to decide to stay at the BAU? Or will you leave after all? 

Pairing: BAU!Team x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: feeling left out, feeling unneeded, being excluded, self worth issues

Part 1 / Part 2

---

After the revelation the previous evening you hadn’t done anything but driven home and gone to sleep. You hadn’t been in the frame of mind to deal with it. And frankly, you just didn’t want to. Hotch had promised to hold the position on the team for you. And after everything that had happened, they could damn well wait a few days longer, you decided as you stayed wrapped up in your bedsheets the next morning. Still not feeling ready to deal with the situation. You logically knew that sooner or later you had to. But right now, later looked like the more promising option. So, you stayed at home the entire day, fixing yourself several cups of your favourite drink, watching random TV-Shows, and pointedly not thinking about the entire mess.

You had fully intended to spend the next day in a similar fashion, but you were ever so rudely interrupted by a doorbell ringing. Disgruntled you wrapped yourself out of your blankets and wandered over to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone. Slowly opening the door, you were surprised to see Rossi standing in front of you. He was holding a casserole and gifted you with a small smile.

“Bellissima, it is good to see you. I tried to call to see if you were up for a visitor, but you didn't pick up. So, I thought I’d just come by and see. I also brought lunch, it is my Nona’s famous family recipe for lasagna alla Rossi. If you’re not up to seeing anyone I’ll just leave you the lunch and be on my way”, he shifted a little, unsure if he was welcome or not.

The lasagna smelled delicious and out of all the people that could have dropped by you were glad that it was Rossi. Your heart warmed a little at the thought that he had made food for you especially, and despite all still left you with an opening to decline his visit. You took a few steps back to let him in and lead him towards the little kitchen area in your apartment. You were slightly embarrassed at the state it was in since you had only stacked your dishes on top of each other for the last few days. Neither of you spoke while Rossi busied himself warming up the food, except for his little comment that it would be a crime to warm it up in the microwave, and you tidied up the kitchen area and the blankets in your living room. You set two places at your small dining table and waited for Rossi to finish with the food. It turned out that he also had brought a delicious looking garlic bread to go with it. You decided to pour both of you a glass of red wine, the last bottle you had left.

You had expected the silence between you to be awkward and loaded with things waiting to be said. Surprisingly it wasn’t. It was a comfortable silence that was broken once Rossi brought out two plates with Lasagna and garlic bread. It seemed that you both had silently agreed to talk about the serious topic once lunch had been eaten. And so, both of you tucked in.

“This is by far the best Lasagna I’ve ever eaten, Rossi. I’ll never be able to eat the premade ones ever again” you complimented once you had tasted it. You had barely refrained from embarrassing yourself with a moan at the first taste. It truly was one of the most delicious dishes you’d ever eaten.

“Nona will be glad to hear that”, Rossi chuckled slightly. “She absolutely detests premade pasta dishes.” You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Your grandma is still alive?”

“Oh yes. Fierce little puffetta, that one. She barely reaches my shoulder, and she can’t walk very well anymore, but I’ve never seen men more afraid that when faced with her wrath.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the childhood stories with his grandma that he told you. Your favourite one was when she’d chased him through the entire town to drag him back home by his ear to apologise to the poor girl he had insulted by accident.

“Well, I know who taught you your manners then”, you winked at him, which made him chuckle.

“Si, Bella. And I can assure you that I still feel like a little boy every time I see her. The last time she admonished me about my shoes. Said that I had all that money and still didn’t know how to shine my shoes properly.”

He told you some more about his Italian family while you both finished your food, and you cleaned the dishes. You insisted since he’d already premade and warmed up the food. You were also very gratified to see his surprised face when you asked him if he wanted an espresso or some other drink with coffee while motioning to your high-end portafilter coffee machine, which you had bought with your very first BAU paycheck. You were a bit of a coffee addict. A few minutes and one espresso and one latte later, the two of you were back in your living room again.

“When you came over yesterday and you complimented the house, I realised that, in all your time on the team, you hadn’t been there before. And while I was preparing the food and wondered why that was the case, I realised that I had never actually invited you. Dolcezza, I am so sorry. I have no excuse, at least no good one, and I am sorry that I have caused you pain.” His face and his voice were solemn but genuine, and you were surprised that he had started your conversation like that. You shrugged slightly, not quite sure how to react to his words.

“It’s fine, I know that none of you wanted to hurt me”, you awkwardly muttered, which caused Rossi to lean forward and encase your hands in his. His calloused fingers gently rubbed warm circles into the back of your hands.

“You’re not fine, cara mia. You didn’t know that you were excluded by accident. But even so, it should never have happened at all. We all should have noticed, and we did in some way, but never questioned it. If only one of us had deigned to ask you why you weren’t with us after one of those team outings, all this wouldn’t have happened. But none of us did and the fault lies with us. We’re the best profilers of the country and yet we didn’t even notice we were hurting one of our own.”

“I didn’t want you to notice. I didn’t want anyone to feel bad about it.”

At that Rossi chuckled sadly, scooting a little closer and releasing your hands in order to cup your face.

“But it wasn’t your job to protect us from our own stupid and careless mistakes, Gioia. You had, and still have, every right to feel hurt. The fact that no one of us intended to hurt you doesn’t matter. We did, and you have dealt with it all on your own for a long time. The fact that you didn’t want anyone to know that we had hurt you, so we didn’t feel bad about it, says a lot about your character. As does the fact that we never noticed about ours.” His thumb gently brushed away a tear you hadn’t noticed shedding and his soft eyes never left yours.

“You have helped all of us so much and made a lot of things easier for us with all the little things you did. Sei un raggio di sole, Y/N. But even a ray of sunshine needs to be nourished. We clearly haven’t. And I can understand if you need and want to search for another place where you can find that nourishment, because you deserve it. I would truly miss you terribly, but I want you to fly, passerotta.”

By now tears were streaming down your face, which still was carefully held between his warm hands. You felt pathetic, but you hadn’t noticed how badly you needed to hear someone acknowledge that they made a mistake. Yes, Hotch had said that as well, but it hadn’t really registered then. Deep down you still had felt that it had been your own mistake. That you should have said something or that there was something wrong with you, that you were just unlikable like that.

But Rossi never said anything he didn’t mean. That was his one rule, for which you had always appreciated him. Yes, sometimes that meant hearing the harsh truth in uncomfortable situations. But it also meant that you never had to worry about some hidden meaning or little white lies. And it was the reason that you started to feel like maybe there was a way to work past all this.

Your heart ached at the truth and compassion in his voice and the earnest and determined gaze with which he still gazed at you. Gentle fingers softly caressing your cheek and tucking single strands of hair behind your ear. God, you really didn’t want to lose Rossi in your life. You’d never before had a person of such pure comfort in your life. Even in the past year Rossi had always been the one who had offered you a gentle hug and an open ear if things at work had gotten bad. The pain in your chest grew at the image of a life without him and his steady support and comfort. Just thinking about it had you squeezing your eyes closed and swallowing hard.

“Cara mia…”, you heard his soft voice again and couldn’t help yourself. You blindly threw yourself in his arms, which instantly wrapped around you in a secure hold.

“I don’t want to leave the team”, you muttered between sobs. “I don’t want to lose you.” You buried your face against his neck, hands gripping onto the fabric of his suit. His arms tightened around you and one of his hands came up to cradle your head protectively against his neck, the other one tracing small circles against your waist.

“Oh Y/N…”, he said softly, voice full of emotions. “I don’t want to lose you either, Dolcezza.” Your body trembled in his arms, and he gently swayed the two of you, humming a gentle tune under his breath and softly resting his head atop yours. It was only some time later that you bashfully moved back to your own chair again.

“I think I ruined your suit”, you muttered, feeling bad about the expensive Italian garment. But Rossi just chuckled in response.

“It’s just fabric. You’re more important.” You couldn’t help the small smile appearing on your face at his words. Being vulnerable had never been your strong suit and you felt a little awkward sitting opposite him after your emotional outburst. Rossi however was always one to help in such situations and grinned at you:

“I think after this we both deserve some dessert to make us feel better.”

“You brought dessert?”

“Might have hidden it in your fridge”, he winked and moved to get it and to give you a moment to sort out your face, before coming back with two portions of Tiramisu.

“Also your grandmas’ receipt?”, you asked before trying the first bite, which was absolutely the best bite of Tiramisu you’d ever had.

“No, this one is actually my father’s receipt. He would burn down the kitchen trying to make the lasagna, but when it comes to backing and desserts no one can beat him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that and continued to enjoy your dessert.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening on your couch, talking and enjoying the rest of the wine you had opened for lunch. Only once it had gotten dark outside did Rossi say his goodbyes and made his way home. You helped him to collect his now clean casseroles as well as his jacket and followed him towards the door. Before he could go though, you felt the need to tell him something.

“Rossi?”, you called after him once he had passed the threshold. He turned around, looking questioningly at you.

“I forgive you”, you said softly, feeling a bit ridiculous to say it. Feeling like the words were too big, because it hadn't been all that bad. But once you saw his shoulders relax and the tension leave his body with an unconscious breath of relief, you knew you’d done the right thing. A gentle smile took over his features.

“Thank you, Gioia.” He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead before moving towards his car. You just nodded and smiled, waving after the retreating vehicle.

---

After your talk with Rossi you had felt better, but you had also realized that you needed to talk with the other team members if you wanted to make a decision. And so you agreed, when two days later Derek texted you and asked if he could come by for lunch. This time your flat was appropriately tidied up and you were freshly showered and felt a lot more prepared to deal with everything.

You still felt nervous and a little apprehensive though. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you resolved to just let the conversation happen and to see where it went. You had just finished setting two places at your dining table, a little déjà vu to Rossi’s visit two days prior, when your doorbell rang. Taking a deep breath you moved towards the door to open it. In front of you stood Derek in casual ware and two huge bags of food in hand.

“Hey Derek! Have you invited anyone else or are you planning on feeding us into a food coma?”, you grinned at him. For a split second he appeared to be surprised by your usual casual greeting, before he grinned back at you and waggled his eyebrows:

“Just you wait until you’ve tried Mama Jones cooking. You’ll complain that I haven’t brought enough.”

You laughed and stepped aside to let him in, relieving him of one of the bags as he walked past you. He toed of his shoes and followed you to your little dining area, where you were already unpacking some of the food, which appeared to be different kinds of barbeque and really did look mouth-watering.

“It does smell really good”, you conceded. “We’ll see if it can keep up with Rossi’s lasagna.”

Derek started unpacking the remaining food from his bag, chuckling at the comment.

“Aha, I’m not the only one that came bearing food. I see how it is.”

“At least you came with a warning and thus have the luxury of a clean flat and a representable me. But I see that Rossi hasn’t sacred you away with exaggerated tales of our meeting”, you jokingly said.

“Nope. Rossi didn’t tell us anything, just that he went to see you. Actually, he might have told Hotch something, but nothing to the rest of the team.” Derek was smiling, but you heard the underlying sense of seriousness that conveyed that they were taking the whole situation to heart. And you felt undoubtedly relieved that Rossi hadn’t said anything. Not that you had really expected him to, but it was good to know either way. You smiled back and went to get some drinks for the two of you, asking Derek what he'd like.

A few minutes later the two of you were eating and thoroughly enjoying the food.

“You weren’t kidding about the food. You need to tell me where I can get this, I don’t think I can live without it in my life anymore.”

“I’d never joke about Mama Jones food, Darlin”, he drawled in an overexaggerated accent which made you laugh.

He told you a bit about his newest project, a lovely old house a short distance from the city, which he was currently deconstructing to turn it into a gem. He was planning on upcycling a lot of the old details and structures but there still was a lot of work left. In exchange you told Derek about your upstairs rooms which you had remodelled on your own. Your bedroom had been done for some time. There was one huge room though, which was the reason a lot of people didn’t want to have the small house since they thought the layout was whacky, which you were currently transforming into your very own library. You were pretty excited about it, since your own In-house library was one of your childhood dreams. You talked about which woods you were going to choose and how to best use the available space. Derek had a few ideas which you happily took into consideration as well as his offer of help once you had decided on your final plan, which you gladly accepted. You were far from helpless and were pretty sure that you could do it on your own, but it would definitely be faster with help, and you were sure that Derek had a few tricks you could learn from.

Afterwards you stacked the dishes in the kitchen and offered Derek some dessert and another drink. You settled on the couch with some self-baked cookies and two coffees just a few minutes later.

“So, onto the heavy conversation then?”, you teased lightly. Scratching his neck awkwardly Derek nodded before sighing quietly.

“I was surprised that you even want to see us if I’m being honest. I had expected this lunch to go a very different way.”

“Yeah, I noticed you were slightly surprised when I didn’t yell at you after opening the door”, you muttered, slight smile still on your lips.

“I was definitely prepared for that. If our roles were reserved, I probably would have.” Derek shifted a little so his body was turned more towards you, leaning forward slightly to be able to look into your eyes more easily.

“I logically know that neither of you intended to hurt me. It doesn’t change that it hurts and that the past year has been less than stellar, but I know that you didn’t do it out of malice”, you softly admitted, shifting your gaze to a point behind Derek.

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? We might not have intended to hurt you, but we did. Maybe Hotch and Rossi have a little more leeway since they have their offices and don’t always see all that’s going on in the bullpen, but you sat right in the middle of the group and we all didn’t see how we were hurting you. I still can’t believe we never asked you why you weren’t at one of the outings. God, you must have hated us.”

“Not really. I just thought that you all might not like me or maybe did like me but only as a colleague and not as a friend. And you would have had every right to feel like that after all. How could I hate you for that?” Any you meant it, too. Even if the entire situation had not turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding, you could never have hated the team. Yes, the experience would have been miserable and you would have been disappointed, but you don’t think you would have had it in you to actually hate anyone.

Derek’s eyebrows did a complicated thing before settling in a frown.

“You’re way too good for us, Y/N. We’ve all made a mistake, several mistakes. I don’t have any excuse, not that an excuse would make the situation any better, but I am truly sorry. I’ve never meant to hurt you, but I did continuously. I want you to know that you’re a great asset to the team, not just as a colleague but as the person that you are and as a friend and a member of our little family. And I want you to know that you are likeable. You’re the person always brightening things up for us and I don’t think we have appreciated that enough.”

Derek’s voice was soft but you could see in his eyes the pain of the knowledge that he had hurt you. You could also see the affection and earnestness. And wasn’t this just proof of his stupidly big heart? You let his words sink in for a few moments, feeling how your shoulders relaxes and tension left your body. After Rossi’s visit it still was a relieve to hear Derek say something similar. But Derek continued before you could answer.

“I know that this might be a bit much, but you know that Spencer is like a little brother to me. The same goes for you, just as a sister of course. Even though I have enough of them already. Even if you decide that this team isn’t for you anymore that will not change. Do you think you can forgive me?”

A smile slowly spread over your face before you moved to hug Derek, a gesture he gladly returned.

“Apology accepted”, you murmured against his chest, which made him hug you even tighter.

“If anyone ever treats you that way again, even if it’s one of us, call me to hit them over the head.” You had a feeling that he was only half joking but couldn’t help the giggle escaping your lips.

“Sure thing, Big Bro”, you teased lightly. Derek’s hugs were comfortable. Warm and secure and because of his size you felt like you basically disappeared within his arms. You moved back to look at his face.

“Thank you, Derek. I really appreciate it”, you smiled and settled besides him again, a bit closer this time.

“I don’t think I want to leave the team. But I’m not sure yet. I think I just need to talk to everyone before I make the final decision.” Derek wrapped one arm around your shoulder, which prompted you to lean against his strong form.

“I’m not gonna lie and say that I’m not glad to hear that. What would you like to do if you decided against staying, though?” He didn’t sound accusatory or disappointed but curious about your thoughts. You remembered your talk about career prospects after you had first told him that you were leaving and out of all members of the team, Derek had been the one with the best advice. Simply because he really cared about your future.

“There’s a free position at the Counterintelligence Division for the Counterespionage Section that I think might be really interesting as well as a position at the Organized Crime Section. I don’t think I’d want to go back to deal with criminals though if I decided to leave.”

“I can understand that. As interesting as the BAU is, it’s a lot to deal with sometimes. The CE Section would be something else entirely which might be a great challenge for you. I heard that the teams are rather young as well, which might be great to work with.”

You talked about your job prospects outside of the team for a while, bouncing ideas and opinions back and forth. If you were honest to yourself though, it made you feel like leaving the team even less.

At some point you offered to watch a film and relax a little together, Derek had used up his free day to see you after all. He agreed grinned when you told him that he could decide on the film. You went into the kitchen to prepare some snacks and drinks and to give Derek some time to decide. Once you had positioned popcorn, chips, and beer on the table you settled back on the sofa to see which film he chose, which made you laugh hysterically.

“The Emperor’s New Groove? Seriously Derek?”

“What? It’s a great film!”, he defended but there was a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t very well argue with the reasoning. It was a great film after all. Just not what you had expected him to choose. Still giggling you grabbed one of the blankets and settled against his side, spreading the fabric over the two of you. He grabbed the bowl of snacks and the drinks and positioned them safely on your labs before settling down and wrapping an arm around you. Both of you laughed and commented on the film, munching on the snacks. After the first film followed the second, and you felt yourself grow tired. Snuggling more comfortably into Derek’s side and with his big hand caressing your hair, you felt your eyes slowly close and drifted off into sleep.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, blanket securely wrapped around you and the table cleared off. Instead of the snack bowl and the empty beer bottles there was a plate with a breakfast beagle and a small bowl of fruit as well as a small note in Derek’s handwriting.

“Y/N, I had to leave for work – new case, you know how it is. Can’t let the bossman wait too long and I didn’t want to wake you since you were sleeping so peacefully. Enjoy breakfast, the coffee machine is ready to go as well. Hope to see you soon, Derek x.”

Stepping into the kitchen you couldn’t help but smile. He’d obviously spent some time washing the dishes from yesterday and had selected your most ridiculous mug to position under the coffee machine. You started it and with a filled mug in hand moved back to the couch, enjoying your breakfast and sending a message of thanks to Derek.

---

Your first meet up with Spencer after that fateful dinner was actually instigated by you. No matter what had happened or however complicated the situation was, you missed Spencer. And you were fairly sure that out of all your teammates, he was the one who would take the situation the hardest. After all, he had experienced similar situations all his life. So it was you who texted Spencer and asked if he was up for a coffee at your favourite café. It took him a while to respond and you weren’t sure if it was because the team had a new case or because he was anxious. He did respond with an affirmation though, which was really all that mattered to you right now.

So, after a much-needed day without one of your teammates coming by to apologize, which you had still used to do some serious thinking, you made your way to the café with a renewed sense of purpose. That went out of the window however when you saw Spencer standing in front of the café, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was gaunt, his hair a mess and you were pretty sure that he was even skinnier than before – even though that was hardly possible. You rushed over to him, gently gripping his shoulders.

“Spence! Are you alright? You look ill. Goodness, you should have told me if you weren’t feeling well, we could have rescheduled!” Spencer however was just staring at you, blinking rapidly. You frowned and gently cupped his face.

“Spence?”, you asked again. His eyes focused on your face and his own expression morphed into a confused frown.

“You’re concerned about me? Why?”, his voice was soft as always, but raspy as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“What do you mean, Spencer? Of course I’m worried about you if you don’t feel well.” Now you were the one being confused. What was going on here?

“But I hurt you.” Everything fell into place the moment he said the words. Spencer was feeling guilty. And, as well known, Spencer wasn’t the best at dealing with feelings and emotions. You studied his face and his form again, noting all the little giveaways of tiredness and exhaustion. You sighed softly and gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Yes, you all did. But You’re my friend Spencer, a very good friend at that and as a friend I do love you. And that love doesn’t just go away because you made a mistake or hurt me in any way. I don’t want to see you ill or not feeling your best in any way.” It took some moments for Spencer to absorb your words, but you absolutely knew when he did because tears threatened to spill. You pulled him into a strong hug, burying your own face against his shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you, Spence. I missed you and your statistics”, you muttered quietly but knew he had heard you when he squeezed you once.

“I missed you, too” he whispered against your neck. Staying like that for some time, you both were smiling once you moved away from each other.

“Coffee?”, you grinned at him.

“Definitely!”, he smiled back and held open the door for you to pass through. You walked to the small table you always took when it was empty. It was a bit more secluded than the rest of them but had a perfect view on the people passing outside. People watching was something both you and Spencer enjoyed, and a little distraction surely wouldn’t go amiss during the following conversation. In the meantime, Spencer went to order your drinks.

Once Spencer had brought over your drinks and was sitting opposite you, you noticed how he started to fidget with the spoon, obviously being anxious about the oncoming conversation.

“So, let’s get over with the bad side of the conversation so we can talk about nicer things”, you wink at him, giving him the opportunity to start. It was obvious that he had thought about everything, and by the looks of it, had forgone sleep in the process.

“I was surprised you reached out after everything”, he stated quietly.

“I thought about the situation for a long time. And I never thought any of you excluded me with malicious intent, to begin with. When Hotch offered to hold the position and after Rossi came over to talk to me, I found that I needed to talk to each of you before making my final decision. Rossi came by without announcing his visit and Derek also didn’t leave me much chance, even though he at least let me know in advance. After a day without anyone of the team I reached out to you because I miss our conversations. And because I want to clear up the situation between us. Because even if I were to decide to leave the team, I don’t want to lose the friendship that we have.” You smiled at him, trying to reassure him that the conversation wouldn’t end in a bad way. Spencer swallowed hard and fidgeted with his spoon for another few moments before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

“I want to apologize. I know that we have been kind of excluding you and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse. I know I haven’t been including you in conversations or inviting you to hang out with us. I know you’re probably feeling left out and like you don’t belong with the team, but I want you to know that’s not how we feel about you at all. You’re a vital part of this team… and our friend group.” You nodded along to his words.

“I think I know that now. Over the last year there were instances when I thought you all hadn’t invited me on purpose. That hurt. And I needed some time to come to terms with the fact that this all was just a big unfortunate misunderstanding which made me feel like a failure and like I wasn’t good enough for almost a year. But I understand that no one of you had any ill intentions. It doesn’t make the past year any better, but I do think we all can work through this if I stay on the team.” Spencer listened intently and slowly nodded carefully.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you, being left out like that. But I want you to know that I value your contributions as a colleague and I appreciate everything you do as a friend. You did a lot for us. Not just for cases but in the office as well. All the times you brought coffee or breakfast for the team or the one time you made sure each of us had a little something for Valentine's Day last year. I’ll do better, I promise.”

You reached over the table to grasp Spencer’s hand, which had finally stopped playing with the spoon, and squeezed it gently.

“Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot.”

“I just wish that I had noticed earlier.”

“Well, me as well”, you chuckled, throwing him an exaggerated wink which made him smile.

“I felt really guilty when we found out. Still do, to be honest. As I said, I don’t want to excuse my actions or anyone’s really. I just thought you might be a very private person, closed off, just like I was in the beginning. I didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you really didn’t want to do. I feel a bit stupid just having assumed that.”

“It’s alright, Spencer. Well, maybe not alright. But I’m glad that we found out that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding before the transfer went through. I really do love this team and I would hate to give it up.”

Both of you sipped on your drink for a few minutes, letting everything that had been said sink in properly. Even though you believed what you’d said, that no one of your fellow team members had any ill intentions, it still felt good to hear the apology. You still didn’t want Spencer to run himself in the ground though. So, you grabbed his hand again.

“I do accept your apology, Spencer. And I’m glad that we talked about it. I don’t want you to feel guilty anymore though, alright? Well, maybe a little. But promise me to not lose any sleep over it anymore.” Spencer smiled at you, shrugging a little.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, that’s good enough for now”, you grinned back at him.

“Did you know that prior social neuroscience studies have shown that similar areas in the brain are activated when we experience physical and social pain?”

You arched a playful eyebrow at Spencer’s little fact as if to say “oh, I hadn’t noticed” and couldn’t help but laugh at Spencer’s bashful expression when he noticed what he’d said.

“Well, do you also have a fun fact about Red Velvet Cake, because I’m going to bully you into buying me a slice and another coffee.”

“Of course I do. The recipe was known to the public for revenge. When it first originated, a Lady ate the cake in a restaurant and liked it quite a lot. She asked the restaurant for the recipe but they charged her $100 for it. She became so enraged that she widely spread the recipe as a form of revenge.”

You couldn’t help your laughter as he went to buy you the cake and another drink without even arguing. Of course Spencer would know random facts about cake. And of course Spencer would feel guilty. He was a brilliant man, even though you were sure that even brilliant was an understatement sometimes, and he was the one person on the team that always paid attention to everyone and everything. You were pretty sure that he had beaten himself up over not noticing those past few days. You just hoped that your words had helped a little. Just as his words had soothed an ache inside your heart.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon watching the people passing outside the café and trying to make up stories about them. Spencer sent you into hysterics with an elaborate story about an elderly lady dressed in fur, who in his opinion was a foreign spy from western Europe trying to steal the secret cat food recipe so her 37 cats back home would finally be content and not wake her up at 4am anymore.

Feeling more content than you had in the last few days, except maybe for right after you’d eaten Rossi’s Lasagna, you made your way home. Feeling like staying on the team might actually be the right thing to do. You hadn’t lied to Spencer when you’d told him that you felt that you all could work through the issue at hand.

---

In the following two days you met up with both Emily and JJ. Emily had been quite frank as always. She’d asked you why you’d never said anything at all but backtracked pretty fast when she noticed how the question might sound to you.

“I just- I can’t believe the entire team was that stupid. We’re all profilers, the best of the best at that. We should have noticed. We all know the ‘no profiling each other’ rule doesn’t work either way because we subconsciously do so anyways”, she’d explained awkwardly before apologising for the situation at hand.

You were content with that, however. Everyone knew that Emily was a private person, guarding her life and her emotions very well. Often times it was only Hotch who could see though her, but then again Hotch could see through almost everyone.

To say that you had been surprised when Emily suddenly hugged you would be an understatement. Returning the hug, she’d quietly apologized and promise to pay more attention. Only after you had accepted the apology, she’d dragged you to go out and get drinks.

The meeting with JJ had been pretty similar. She’d straight up apologized and promised to do better. She knew the impact feeling unworthy could have first hand, she’d explained hinting at her sister. You both had talked through the situation while Will supplied both of you with non-alcoholic drinks on a semi-regular basis.

You had also briefly talked about what you would do if you were to decide not to stay on the team. JJ had been supportive and offered to introduce you to some of the people working in the other teams if you decided to leave. Due to her time as media liaison, she knew quite a lot people outside the BAU Team.

The meeting had then shifted into a catch up on different topics and you had been supplied several pictures of Henry, who was at a birthday party at the moment. He seemed to be a sweet child if all the pictures were anything to go by. JJ promised to introduce you in the near future. You also found that Will had quite a wicked sense of humour and was great to talk to. Once the serious discussion had been over, he had joined the two of you. You hadn’t really interacted with him before and were happy to find out that he was a great guy. Not that you’d doubted that before.

Garcia was the one person you had dreaded a little. Not because you didn’t want to talk to her or didn’t like her. But because this talk was bound to be the most emotional out of all of them. You decided to stop by her apartment on your way back from another outing, thinking maybe a surprise visit might make things easier. Boy had you been wrong. Waiting for Garcia to open the door after ringing the doorbell, she froze the moment she’d opened the door and realized who was standing in front of her. You were sure she’d tried her best to keep her emotions in check, but she failed miserably.

“Oh God, Y/N?”, she’d greeted you, staring at you like she’d never seen you before. You had smiled at her a little awkwardly and uttered a joking “surprise!”, before she reacted, asking you if she could hug you which you gladly granted. You hadn’t quite expected her to start crying at that. Even though in retrospect you should have. No sooner had some of her tears spilled over did she start to apologise. You let her get everything out before gently asking her to slow down a little.

“God, I’m so sorry. I promised myself not to cry, I don’t want to guilt trip you or anything. Really! I’m just so glad to see you.” You did reassure her that it was alright before both of you settled down to talk about the misunderstandings and everything that had happened.

“I know we were all pretty blind and everything. But I promise that we did want to have you there. I even photoshopped you into some of the pictures we took because it felt like they were missing something without you. The team isn’t really the team without you, Y/N.” And damn, as ridiculous as it sounded, your heart felt warmed at her words. The fact that there were photoshopped pictures of those outings having you in them made it very clear that you had been wanted there. Garcia even showed you a few. And while it hurt a little to see the pictures of your team grinning at the camera without you having been there with them, you were quite impressed by Garcia’s photoshop skills. Not surprised though.

---

After the talk with Garcia you did feel ready to make your final decision. You were pretty sure already but decided to sleep on it another night. Once you had decided you texted Garcia to ask if the team was on a case and were relived to hear that they actually had two off days lined up. Now that you had made up your mind you wanted to inform Hotch as soon as possible.

Hotch had been very sweet those past days, for lack of better words. He had stayed in contact with you, checking up on you and how you were feeling regularly. You’d always informed him if you met up with any member of the team, feeling like he should know that it was part of your decision process. He had been supportive of that, letting you know off days or when the team was on a case so you could plan the meetings as well as possible.

It felt weird to stand in front of his door now, though. You hadn’t been here before and doubted your decision a little. Maybe you should have waited and planned on going to the office to tell him. Now that you were already here though, you felt stupid to just leave again. You could hear a child laughing through the open window, presumably Jack, whom you hadn’t met yet either, as well as Hotch’s deep voice. Taking a deep breath you rang the doorbell, expecting your boss to open the door. In front of you stood a young boy, however. You smiled at him.

“Are you Miss Y/N?”, he asked curiously.

“I am!”, you smiled at him. “I guess you have to be Jack then? How did you know it was me?”

Jack nodded vigorously, leaning closer to you as if to tell you a secret.

“I saw you standing outside and asked Daddy who you were”, he told you very seriously which made you laugh.

“Won’t you let our guest in, buddy?”, you heard Hotch’s voice coming closer. Jack grinned and moved back to let you step in before closing the door.

“Hi Hotch”, you smiled at the man moving towards the two of you. He was wearing casual clothes again which made absolute sense, but you were so used to seeing him wearing suits that you were still taken aback a little. If anyone had asked you three weeks ago if Hotch even owned Jeans, you would have laughed and answered with a very definite no.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Do come in. We were just making Breakfast in case you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I haven’t”, you acknowledged and followed him into an open living room.

“Make yourself comfortable. Pancakes are done in a few minutes.” Jack climbed up on the couch to sit beside you once you had settles.

“Daddy makes the best pancakes!”, he informed you happily.

“I see, I am in good hands then!” Jack nodded in agreement before moving on the book sat beside him, which he had apparently discarded to open the door. It was about snakes.

“Did you know that Snakes smell with their tongues?”, Jack asked you suddenly. You nodded in agreement.

“Mhm. Did you know that some Snakes can sense heat which is how they know where their prey is located?” Jack stared at you wide-eyed and shook his head. You gently took the book from him, searching for a side which had a big enough picture of a Pit Viper.

“You see the two small holes in its face? They’re called pits and the snake can use those to sense heat. It’s how they know where to attack in the dark. They can also hear vibrations in their jaw bones. They can’t hear the way we do. They use a bone attached to their jaw called a quadrate to sense vibrations, which is also how they can locate anything that moves.”

Hotch chose that moment to come back with a huge stack of pancakes that he placed on the dinner table which was already set for three people. Seems like you might have stood outside far longer that you thought you had.

“You know a lot about snakes”, he stated while moving around to get some orange juice. Domestic Life definitely suited him.

“I do. I used to have snakes for most my life. They’re pretty cool.”

“Do you still have one?”, Jack asked excitedly which made you laugh.

“I do. I have a small Rosy Boa called Daisy. She’s quite a docile girl. Maybe I can introduce you one day.”

You looked up to find Hotch quietly laughing, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You called your snake Daisy?”

“Sure. I’ve always named my snakes after flowers. Not gonna change that tradition until I run out of names.”

Having won Jack over by simply liking snakes, Breakfast was a lively affair. You knew that Hotch was a good dad, you’d never doubted it. It showed in the way he always made sure to call his son while on cases and the fact that he often felt like he didn’t do enough. It was a little weird to witness the domestic scenes, still. It was a harsh contrast to the person Hotch was at the office. You weren’t about to complain though. It was a refreshing change, and you were glad that Hotch felt comfortable sharing that side of him with you.

It was after Breakfast that Jessica swung by to pick Jack up for a play date with another friend, which later turned out to be Henry. You were pretty sure that it was a spontaneous meet up which Hotch had organised after seeing you standing in front of his door. Before leaving jack came over to give you a hug and say goodbye, but not before telling you that he hoped that you stayed on his dad’s team because you made it better. When you just stared at him confused, he grinned at you.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/N, Daddy didn’t tell me to say that to you. I just listen when Daddy talks about work and you sound like you made the team a better place. He still has the mug you gave him for his birthday last year (which had a corny joke about grumpy pants on it) and he often said that you brought the team breakfast.”

“Thank you, Jack”, you answered, still stunned. You hadn’t expected a child to be so insightful. Then again it was Hotch’s child, maybe you should have expected it. You settled back on the couch while Hotch saw his son off, taking note of the memorabilia in the room as well as the array of toys and children books.

“So, I take it that you’ve made a final decision?”, Hotch asked as he was moving back towards you, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.

You just nodded and gratefully took the offered mug, turning slightly more towards Hotch who was studying you closely.

“I know that I already said it at Rossi’s, but I’d like to apologize again. We were blind when we absolutely shouldn’t have been. In our job we see how people hurt each other every day, we look for any sings, clues or behaviours that validate our thesis. We should have noticed them in one of our own sooner, even though there shouldn’t have been any reason for you to feel the way you felt, at all. I’m sure that each member of the team has already said it, but there really is no excuse for how we acted.” Hotch’s voice, while barely ever aggressive when not talking to an unsub or a suspect, was positively gentle and soft. No sign of the usually stern edge to his voice, no glare, no frown. By now you were pretty sure that the Hotch at work was just a persona he put on to shield the team from any possible harm.

“I do accept your apology, Hotch. What you said at Rossi’s about me feeling the way I felt about the situation has really helped me deal with the whole process. I felt a little ridiculous at first, but I now can accept that it was a misunderstanding. You’re also right. We all should have noticed sooner and communicated with each other better”, Hotch nodded along, his head tilted in question though, which made you smile. “I say we, because I am aware that I could have said something sooner. Communication is a two-way street after all.” At that Hotch was about to interrupt you, but you gently shushed him by grabbing his hand.

“I know that no one of you had any ill intend. And I am pretty sure that we can all work through the situation at hand. That doesn’t mean I don’t expect a fancy coffee as a welcome when I come back to work next week.” It took him a few moments to process what you had said, but once he did a delighted smile appeared on his face, one which you’d never seen before. You did like it though. Hotch was your Boss, but you would acknowledge that he was indeed attractive any day. The smile made him seem years younger and he was positively glowing, looking more than handsome. You grinned back at him. His hand, that you were still holding, gently squeezed yours and he leaned closer towards you.

“I am really glad to hear that, Y/N. I will personally make sure that any coffee wishes will be fulfilled. It’s the least we can do. The bullpen really hasn’t been the same without you.”

“What do you mean?” You were pretty sure that your impact at work had been minimal at best. After all, the bullpen was loud, noisy and chaotic and you usually didn’t participate in any of the shenanigans.

“Let’s see… Derek has noticed that the spoiled food from the common use kitchen area didn’t magically disappear anymore. He even questioned the cleaning lady about it and asked if that was part of her usual tasks. Which, of course, it wasn’t. Several team members have also found that their favourite coffee creamers aren’t actually part of the company’s provided products. Rossi has found that he doesn’t receive assorted files of interesting crime reports and difficult crossword puzzles anymore and Derek has found that all his mugs don’t just clean themselves. Garcia was very bereft when she found out that no one of the other girls had given her clippings showing the most colourful clothes of the season and the amount of times Emily had a breakdown over her printer not working over the last two weeks is simply astounding. JJ no longer has pre-sorted files on her desk and Reid doesn’t receive random book recommendations or interesting news articles on some obscure scientific subject anymore. And my own piles of cases have mysteriously grown without the workload changing and are no longer sorted. Just as I have found out that I apparently didn’t just forget that I had hung up Jack’s drawings in my office almost all the time when I noticed that I don’t even have the little magnets used for the board. And the only constant that has changed over the past few weeks is you not being in the office, Y/N. So you see, you made quite an impact without anyone, including yourself, noticing. You made the place feel friendlier and just so much warmer, that we all felt quite bereft. Not just because things were suddenly different, but because we saw how much you did for us and how little we gave you in return.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Hotch while he was stating all that in his usual matter of fact kind of way. You were feeling so many emotions at once that it was difficult to grasp one to concentrate on. Your mouth was opening and closing, oddly reminiscent to the situation at Rossi’s dinner. But this time you didn’t feel absolute dread curse through your body, of that you were sure at least. You felt warm and fuzzy and a sense of disbelieve that finally someone had noticed all the small things you did. You had never been the best with showing that you cared, always trying to show it through small acts of service that would make someone else’s day a little brighter or a task a little less daunting.

“I’ve made you cry again”, Hotch muttered softly, pulling you closer towards him. Only then did you notice that you were indeed crying. Twice in a row. In front of your Boss. You couldn’t help yourself though, and moved even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, and squeezing him.

“Thank you”, you said quietly through your tears.

“Are you thanking me for making you cry?” An incredulous laugh escaped his lips at the situation, and you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m thanking you because no one really noticed those things before. Even though the situation might not be ideal, you did notice. It’s always been my way of showing that I care but it usually gets overlocked in everyday life.” You felt how Hotch’s arms pulled you closer towards him before he settled against the back of the couch, one hand running through your hair and the other one rubbing soothing circles on your arm.

“I don’t really think we deserve you, but I’m glad you decided to stay on the team.” His voice was quiet, but he had rested his cheek against your hair, so you could hear him perfectly fine.

”Me as well”, you responded just a quietly. And you really were. You couldn’t wait to start over with everyone and to move on from this whole mess. You felt your body relaxing against Hotch’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of safety and being cared for. It wasn’t exactly what you had expected from Hotch when all of this started, but maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he was the one always making little jokes to see other’s smile or offered encouragement and help if anyone on the team needed it – no questions asked. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, carefully turning your face to look at him.

“I promise that things will change once you’re back. Well do our best to make up for our mistakes and to make sure you’ll always feel like a wanted and needed, valuable member of our team. I promise, I’ll do better.” The last part of the sentence stuck with you. Of course he would feel responsible for the entire situation.

“I know you will, Hotch. I trust you.”

You could feel how his own body relaxed at your words and felt content with the knowledge that you had eased his mind a little. You snuggled back against his side, closing your eyes and taking the feeling of contentment in. His arms wrapped tighter around you and his chin came back to rest on top of your head. Had anyone told you four weeks ago that you would end up on Hotch’s couch and snuggled into his side, you would have laughed at them. Now though, you would hardly trade that place for anything.

---

On your first day back at the BAU everyone was shocked to see you. You had made Hotch promise not to tell them anything. Still, you found a steaming cup your favourite coffee as well as a bagel from your favourite bakery on you desk. Looking up, you smiled at Hotch who had remembered the little demand you had made in jest the other day. What really made your heart melt though was a colourful self-made welcome back card from Jack, which you found once you opened one of your drawers.

The team welcomed you back with open arms and hugs, and maybe a few tears on Garcia’s part. You were surprised that you seamlessly fit into the dynamics after everything that had happened. The first few weeks you were cautious, expecting to find out that there were meet ups you hadn’t been invited to or to see random new photos of the group with everyone except for you. It didn’t happen though. Instead you found yourself sitting in-between your colleagues and friends at team dinners in Rossi’s living room or garden every month, as well as some of the weirdest Bars and Clubs you’d ever seen on a semi-regular basis. Every other week you and Rossi met up for private dinners, mostly consisting of his Nonna’s receipts – some of which he’d even taught you. Those nights were a safe-heaven for you, having found a father-like figure in your friend. When there was enough time or pent up frustrations, you found yourself at one of Derek’s construction sides to help him out and learning loads of new things from him. Both of you had constructed the perfect library in your little home in no time, a room Spencer was frequently found in now. Somehow, you weren’t quite sure how it had happened, you found yourself a part of Derek’s and Garcia’s pre-established movie nights as well, finding out that Derek didn’t just like Disney films but was a sucker for Rom-Coms. Emily, JJ and Garcia had also roped you into joining their shopping and spa days. While you could get behind the spa part, shopping really wasn’t something you considered fun. The girls made it bearable though and the promise of after-shopping-drinks kept you joining most of the time. The number of conventions you had visited with Spencer was way too high, but you didn’t really care. Derek was suffering under it, since you also had joined his and Spencer’s film nights. With you in the picture and mostly on Spencer’s side when it came to film choices, his try to teach Spencer pop culture was for naught. Emily, who secretly was a foodie, had introduced you to a ton of new restaurants and dishes as well as renowned night clubs you’d never set a foot in otherwise and jazz bars you adored. You also spent a lot of time with Hotch and Jack, introducing them to Daisy and joining them on day trips to the zoo or the aquarium as well as joining his weekend soccer matches with the rest of the team. Every now and then while on a case, you found yourself enjoying a glass of scotch with Hotch in privacy, talking about Jack or any other subject that came to your minds.

For one miserable year you had felt like you were on a never-ending treasure hunt, searching for a place to call your home. Searching for a place to feel safe and to feel warm. It had been draining to pretend that you belonged within the team, to pretend to like and understand what they were saying. You had asked yourself where you belonged every day. And you finally had found a solid answer.

---

“When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.” Brene Brown

---

Sei un raggio di sole  – You are a ray of sunshine

Puffetta - Smurfette

Gioia  – joy

passerotto/a – “sparrow”, usually exclusive to girls

Dolcezza - sweetness

caro mio/cara – My Dear

Bellissimo/a - gorgeous

---

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! I have to admit that you might have made me cry a little with all your kind words and appreciation. Thank you for waiting so patiently for part 3, I know that it took me ages to write… Life just really got in the way of things. I had to shorten it a little and cut the lengthier parts about the meetings with Emily, JJ and Garcia. I might post them as an excerpt one of these days. I really like the parts dealing with Rossi, Derek and Hotch. With the rest I’m a bit unsure, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Part 4 is going to be the alternative ending in which the reader leaves the team.

I hope you enjoyed part 3!

----

Taglist (I hope I got everyone that asked to be tagged. If not, please let me know):

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another thing i had in mind for ex husband simon was that this time you're more resistant. no touching, no nicknames that make you weak-kneed, nothing. divorce means divorce, and the wedge that split the two of you up would probably still be there.

fine by simon, he follows the rules to a T. hands to himself, polite greetings and only talks about the children. maybe for a birthday for the boys, he takes the family shopping for gifts since it's a tuesday and there won't be any party or whatever and when y'all come back home, the lights are on.

they'd been off when y'all left. simon quickly opens the middle console and pulls out his weapon and tells you to get in the drivers seat. should anything come running out, pedal to the metal.

a little bit of time passes, you're about to be driven crazy with anxiety but simon finally comes out, except he's empty handed.

comes to the side and opens the driver door. "whoever was in there is gone. probably hopped the back fence. i've already called the guys."

you're a sobbing mess because how dare someone come into your home? your sanctuary? what if-

and you come to a startling realization. what if you and the boys had been here? alone?

simon's looking down at his phone, and furrows his brows. "i gotta go get-" but you don't let him finish, trembling fingers grabbing the front of his shirt. "you cant leave us here. don't leave me alone. don't- just please. stay."

you're too upset to resist his embrace or correct him when he calls you sweetheart. the guys get there eventually, price and gaz waste no time in sweeping the area and you, accompanied by simon, tuck the kids to bed.

price calls it later, that the place seems to be clear. nothing really taken nor left behind. they all leave, johnny and kyle deciding to stay overnight across the street their car and simon also turns to bid you goodnight, except you don't let him.

you practically beg him to stay, that you won't feel safe without him here. the couch won't do because he's too far away, what if whoever that was comes in through the bedroom windows.

you seek comfort in him and in the dead of night, he whispers promises into your ear as he slides home. promises to keep you safe, to keep the kids safe. that he'd let nothing ever happened to you, not while he still lived and breathed.

when you're finally dozing, with his spend drying in between your legs, he grabs his phone and texts johnny that it's done, they can go home now.

johnny responds in seconds, telling him that he tore his very nice jeans jumping that rough hewn fence of theirs and that simon owes him a new pair.

i

A Simon Riley HC

a random situation that came to my mind just now, this is my first fanfic nonsense ever and i wrote it in a good 20 minutes, so sorry about that x no clue how to format these posts either so bear with lol

warnings: none really, slight allusion to past violence?

headcanon i bet ghost HATES when you crack your back, because he literally breaks people’s spines on the field and you making those noises with your back on purpose really freaks him out, like he:

a. just doesn’t like people cracking their backs in general, is secretly scared that they would somehow manage to break something

and b. hates when you in particular do it because he cannot bear the thought of anyone hurting you, let alone doing the depraved things that he does as his profession

you’ll just be sat there in the morning, nuzzling your cheek into the side of his chest, and as he watches you dotingly you sit up and twist, making your whole back crack. that creeps him out, a lot.

"hey, baby, don’t do that," he speaks, his voice a little stern, as he turns onto his side to face you. his skull mask is sitting inside the duffel bag at the foot of the bed, and so the early-morning daylight that glows through your thin curtains casts soft shadows over his light hair and strong nose.

"do what?" you look up to face him with sleepy eyes, as you crack your knuckles.

"that. stop."

simon takes hold of your hands in his bigger ones, trapping them, and holds them firmly but protectively against your stomach.

you look up at him, curiously, not quite understanding the sternness of his reaction - after all, you had seen him crack his knuckles before, before a workout, in the same way that lame dads do before some not-so-strenuous task.

after a moment, his serious gaze softens a little, as he leans in to give you a tender kiss between your brows. apologetically, he lets your hands free, maintaining a gentle grip on them just to stroke your knuckles with his thumb.

"sorry, love…" he mumbled, "jus’ don’t want you getting hurt."

thanks for reading my utter nonsense teehee

crying

Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley Cuddling You 🧸

this is not about dominant tough simon riley, this is about sweet precious baby boy simon riley :3 this is my response to @paper-r-i-n-g-s-and-c-r-o-w-n’s request (here) and the link they included! thank u for being my first request loviee

Simon Riley absolutely loves to be babied when you cuddle him.

Scary Simon. Soldier Simon. 6’4", jacked Simon, walking around the base in his skull mask, scaring anyone who doesn’t know better shitless. To the enemy, he’s like an urban legend - once you realise that he’s there, it’s too late.

And that’s the image that he likes to keep - he grew up tough, and he refuses to be anything but tough. He might be nice now but he wouldn’t hesitate to blow your brains out if you double-crossed him.

That is, until he met you. It was hard to get him to open up at first, with his reluctance to be anything but casually terrifying, and his fear that he would get too attached, just in time for you to leave. But after 6 months together, he’s finally comfortable, and you’ve discovered his soft spot for being praised like a baby.

"Aww…" you coo, stroking his grown-out buzzcut, as he lays on your chest, "my sweet boy." His broad body is holding you down to the bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to escape from under him if you wanted to. But you don’t mind, after all, it’s sweet to see him like this. With his face pressed into your neck, one strong arm around your waist and the other around your torso, he mumbles softly.

You press soft kisses into the top of his head as you rub his back - he’s been training all day and he’s so tired. :( Poor baby, he really needs you to hold him. His shoulders are sore and as you rub them gently he lets out a little whine, nuzzling his face further into the crook of your neck.

"Mmm," he groans, his voice muffled against your skin.

"Oh, baby…" you pull those hands back up to cradle him to you, "are you okay, sweet boy?"

"Tha’ hurts," he mumbles. He’s not very talkative when he’s like this, he just wants to be held.

"Sorry," you kiss the top of his head apologetically, "is my poor baby sore from training?" He groans as you call him that, nodding in response as he breathes in your scent.

"Speak up for me, sweetheart" you coo.

"’M sore from training."

"Who’s sore..?"

"Me."

"N what’re you, honey..?" you stroke his hair softly, like he’s a precious teddy bear.

"Your baby," he mumbles.

"Good boy." Just a few months ago, Simon would have been mortified by the interaction, but you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, cuddling up to you like he’s a cat and you’re a heating pad. He is a good boy, and he deserves some comfort after working so hard. 💗💗💗

i hope this is what you asked for! i hope it doesn’t come off as too pathetic but also i love writing (and thinking about) sweet pathetic simon. <3 like omg if anyone knows who made the render then lmk so that i can credit! i wasn’t sure who the name on the image referred to

masterlist

Quit tagging y’all’s fics as x reader when it’s actually y’all’s dusty Oc stories (I block ppl that do this)

the bearer blurbs: carmen berzatto | 1 |

carmen gets jealous

touch starved carmen

carmen with a daddy kink

carmen takes care of you when you're sick

getting your first tattoo with carmen

carmen begging to eat you out

casual dominance with carmen

ass eating blurb

being carmen's taste tester

dom!carmen

making out with soft dom!carmen

asshole to the world but not the girl trope

casual/heavy-ish dominance with carmen

you get hurt, carmen comforts you

blowing carmen in the kitchen

you're stressed and carmen helps

brat tamer!carm making you ride his cock

carmen makes a decision for the restaurant without asking you

quiet calm fluffy mornings with carmen

more casual dominance with carmen

carmen making you say nice things about yourself during sex

making carmen comfort food

how you and carmen meet (customer pov blurb)

richie's speak now moment

carmen dating someone just like him

safe foods with carmen

dom!carmen spanking you with the wooden spoon part two

pete comforting you through your first berzatto family reunion

first family as a couple

eras tour with carmen (ft. richie)

carm w/ inexperienced gf

i wish i'd never met you part two

carmen comforts you after a bad day

bad self talk/ reader skips meals blurb comfort/ angst

doing carmen skincare

drunk reader tells carmen "i have a boyfriend"

size kink smut

cutting carmen's hair

casual dominance with carmen 3

chain dangling smut

boudoir shoot for carmen

dom!carmen hcs

anal training smut

"drop the attitude" with dom!carm

defending pete blurb

shy reader having a crush on carmen blurb

carmen picks up drunk reader from girl's night fluff (horny edition)

stressful day unwind with carmen

carmen's sixth sense for when you don't eat fluff

punishment with dom!carm

you didn't tell carmen about your big achievement (angst/comfort)

jewelry smutty drabbles with carmen

giving carmen the silent treatment

the fire in the apartment with established relationship

carmen buying you flowers

aftercare with dom!carmen

carmen asking you to move in with him

you have a bad relationship with your dad (ft uncle jimmy) blurb

carmen fucking you with lingerie on smut

carmen comforts you through an anxiety attack

part 2 blurb of the feeling aka the karaoke double date

carmen catching you masturbating in his shirt

brat tamer!carmen spanking you

protective carm with younger (early 20s) gf in college

mutual masturbation w/ inexperienced carmen

soft!dom!carmen doting on stressed reader

the honeymoon smut

first christmas

casual dom carm giving you vitamins

carmen cheers you up after a bad day

casual dom carm giving you your medicine

carmen tying your shoes

carmen "recharging" himself

praise kink carmen

carmen cooking your comfort meal

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. 

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call. 

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…” 

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline. 

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

So many yummy fics

bkgml masterlist :)

exes to lovers

exes to lovers 2

bedtime cuddles

secret relationship

lazy sunday <3

sleepy reader

drunk katsuki <3

drunk reader part 2

katsuki teasing <3

reverse nightmare comfort

sleepy makeout session <3

“you’re sleeping on the couch”

sleeping on him at his desk <3

period comfort

scratching his scalp <3

lost loved one comfort

hoodie thief katsuki

kisses <3

long distance calls <3

“just one kiss” <33

boxer kats

sleeping troubles

touch starved

insecure chubby reader <3

injured reader

jealous katsuki

ex bf katsuki again <333

away from you

“i’m sorry”

packing for you

sweet cheeks

charred dreams <33

balkan yn

“i want you.” <3333 part 2

“don’t pout at me.” <33

“baby. stop laughing.” <3

sick day <3

he doesn’t want to go <3

rotting <33

puppy love <3

“have you seen yn?” <3

sweet sweet thighs

stay <3

ex bf katsuki aaagainnn

overworked <3

I think one of the most beautiful things about x-reader fanfiction is discovering pieces of the writer sprinkled throughout the fic. Whether it's in their characterization of the canon character or the reader or details about how they like to be touched or loved, or little bits of dialect and personal habits, it's just so endearing. A homage to one of the most basic forms of self expression, and a vulnerable baring of one's soul for others to see. It's so, so special

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐦

THUNDER STORMS | SOFT! BOYFRIEND!JJ MAYBANK X READER | IMAGINE | 

PAIRING: Soft! Boyfriend JJ Maybank x Reader 

SYNOPSIS: Even after a huge arguement your boyfriend would still comfort you during a thunderstorm.

WORD COUNT → 650

WARNING(S): Thunderstorms? fluffyness, aftermath of an arguement, you're scared of thunder here, Protective!JJ, JJ comforts you.

AUTHORS NOTE: This is based on another tiktok

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST | OUTERBANKS MASTERLIST | TAG LIST |

Rain pounded against the windows, and lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the darkness. Inside her cozy cottage on the far side of the island, Y/N sat on her window seat, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. The storm outside was fierce, and she could feel her heart racing with every clap of thunder. She was mad, really mad. The argument with JJ earlier in the day had left a lingering bitterness, a tension that refused to dissipate.

As the rain continued to pour and the thunder growled, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. She glanced at her phone, half-expecting a message from JJ. He always knew how to make her smile, even in the midst of their fiercest disagreements. But there was nothing, just the sound of the storm raging outside and her own racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the cottage, followed by another boom of thunder. Y/N jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. Who could possibly be outside in this weather? She cautiously approached the door, peeking through the window to see a soaked figure standing on her porch. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized JJ's unmistakable blond hair and determined expression.

With a mix of surprise and uncertainty, she swung the door open, a gust of rain-soaked wind blowing into the cottage. "JJ? What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound as composed as possible despite the rapid thumping of her heart.

JJ's blue eyes met hers, his expression both sincere and sheepish. "I thought that if I sat on your porch, you wouldn't be scared. You wouldn't be alone," he said, his words genuine and laced with an underlying vulnerability.

Y/N was taken aback, her anger momentarily forgotten as she looked at him in surprise. Despite their argument, he had come all the way to her house, braving the storm just to be there for her. Her heart softened as she stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

He stepped inside, water dripping from his clothes onto the wooden floor. "I know we fought today," he began, his voice softer now, "and I'm sorry, Y/N. I hate knowing that you're upset, especially when it's because of me."

Y/N sighed, her anger slowly melting away as she looked at the earnest expression on his face. "I'm sorry too, JJ. I shouldn't have said some of the things I did."

He shook his head, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "No, I shouldn't have pushed your buttons like that. I just… I hate the thought of you being mad at me, especially when there's a storm like this."

She leaned into his touch, her heart warming at his words. "You really came all the way here just because you knew I was scared of thunderstorms?"

JJ nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't stand the idea of you being scared and alone. I wanted to be here with you."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, a mixture of emotions flooding over her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you, JJ. You have no idea how much this means to me."

He held her close, his embrace strong and comforting. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I love you."

She looked up at him, her heart swelling with affection. "I love you too, you dork."

As the storm raged on outside, Y/N and JJ stood together in the warmth of her cottage, finding solace in each other's presence. The argument was forgotten, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. In the midst of the thunder and lightning, their love shone bright, a beacon of warmth and comfort in the darkness.

If he’s not like this I don’t want him.✌️

𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: just fluff SONG INSPIRATION: i love you baby by frank sinatra WORD COUNT: 341 NOTE: super short but i couldn't stop thinking about this

you laid on john b's couch, flipping through the pages of the book you were currently reading. mostly engrossed in it, but not enough so you were able to hear jj say his goodnights to kie and pope.

hearing him chuckle as he walked through the front door, you still tried to concentrate on the words that were close to your face, but found it more difficult as you felt his gaze land on you, only looking up when he hovered beside you with a goofy smile on his lips.

no words were exchanged between you, but you knew what he wanted, so you folded the corner of the page that you were on, leaving you where you had finished. placing the book closed beside the two of you on the coffee table.

that's when he climbed on top of you and into your arms, entangling his legs with yours, his head resting against your chest.

"i missed you so much," he mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

even though you had been together the entire day you knew exactly how he felt. you could also tell after getting back that you were both well beyond tired.

that's when you started running your fingers through his hair, feeling him melt into your touch. a smile appeared on your face, feeling accomplished at being able to make someone special to you so comfortable.

you started humming the melody of frank sinatra's i love you baby continuing to stroke the blonde hairs out of his face, it took little to no time for him to fall asleep to your voice and the buzz of the cicadas outside of the window.

you always felt a little bit uneasy going to sleep at night, the overthinking thoughts echoing loud in your mind, oh but that all stopped when you met jj.

he would protect you with his life, his arms wrapped tighter around you, moving slightly in his sleep as he snuggled into you. he made sure you knew that too.

I need this

Aaron’s wife getting drunk on spiked egg nog at a party with the rest of the BAU and she’s just all over Aaron. Kissing every part of his face and pinching his cheeks, she even tells the rest of the team cute stuff he does for her and being like “isn’t he the bestest hubby ever?!” Aaron’s just in the corner blushing lol

lovestruck and eggnog

!!!!!!!!!!!<3333 cw; fem!reader, reader is intoxicated, mentions of drinking, fluff, small allusions to sex/praise

in the midst of the party, you made your way back to aaron. he's been seated in the same spot for a while - exactly where you had been with him an hour ago - but still, his presence surprised you, your few glasses of spiked eggnog all to thank.

you promptly dropped yourself onto his lap, absolutely buzzing. your voice was on the sing-song side, your words slurring together the smallest amount. "hi handsome."

"hi honey," aaron chuckled quietly, amusingly wrapping an arm securely around your waist. his eyes scanned you, quick to notice your current state. "having fun?"

"a ton." you nodded giddily, "especially now, now that i'm with you." you reached past him, grabbing the santa hat perched atop derek's head - "hey!" - and sloppily onto aaron's, rather lopsidedly at that.

a giggle erupted from you, "look how cute you look!" you turned to derek, wrapping your arms loosely around aaron's neck. you squeezed him softly, causing your cheek to come flush with his. "isn't he so cute?"

derek snorted faintly, covering it up by bringing his drink to his lips. "he's a stunner, for sure."

aaron subtly glared at morgan, while you continued. "i love you, just so much." you placed a kiss on his cheek. and then another. and then another.

aaron laughed gently as his hands sprawled across the span of your back, holding you close - and steadily - to him. the more you littered kisses across his skin, the more his cheeks flushed, "what're you doing?"

"loving on you silly." you gave him an almost offended look, before your face returned to that soft, lovey-dovey expression. "because i love you. and i love being your wife." you took his face in your hands, planting a kiss onto his lips. "i love that i get to do this wheneverrr i want."

quick to reciprocate, but more reservedly in view of his colleagues, aaron gave you one more, small peck, "i love you too darling."

"you're perfect." your focus went back to derek, as emily and penelope joined the three of you as well. "he's perfect. wanna know what perfect things he does?"

"don't hold back on us," emily egged you on completely, at the playful expense of aaron - she shot him thoroughly entertained look.

"he gives me soo many back rubs, especially if i have a bad day. he leaves me sticky notes everywhere. on my coffee mug, on the bathroom mirror, on my pillow if he leaves early. i find a ton when you're all gone on a case, i don't even know how he does it." your nose scrunched a tad, befuddlement in your voice. "must be magic."

"and what do these notes say?" penelope asked eagerly, as if she's been waiting forever to hear details when it comes to a certain boss. (to be fair, she has.) (more often than not, you've spared them the specifics just as much as aaron.)

a wickedness came forth in your eyes, your lips pulling into a smirk. your hand found the back of aaron's neck, your fingers brushing through the nape of his hair. "he left me one yesterday that said he'd like to-"

"okay." aaron interrupted, kissing the spot of skin behind your ear and halting your words. "sweetheart, if you continue, i'll never hear the end of it."

you complied, but just for a second. "he's just so cute." you cheesed, pinching his cheek gently. despite the fact you were very much inebriated, you were well aware enough to not actually hurt him. "he's all i want for christmas." after your statement, your smirk quickly resurfaced, your current no-filter flowing freely. "i've been a good girl, haven't i, aaron?"

another snort exited a wide-eyed derek, and you missed the others' very taken aback reaction as your gaze shifted to aaron, whose blush was prominent as ever.

"what?" you pouted softly, confusion arising on your face.

a mix between a sigh and a breathless laugh left aaron through his nose, affectionately patting your hip and transferring the santa hat onto your head, "i think that's enough eggnog for you tonight."

Short and sweet

hello! can you write a blurb where the team finds out about aaron and reader’s secret relationship 🫠🫠 cliche but i love it thankyou!! <3

A/N: i love this trope toooo <3 i’ve always meandered between aaron would totally not want the team to find out, and aaron would totally hate that the team can’t know and he has to keep you a secret ahhh

Requests for blurbs are currently open here.

“(Y/N)”, Emily’s voice floats into your living room, as she saunters down the hallway of your apartment holding up a bottle of cologne, “why do you have men’s cologne in your bathroom?”

You lower your wine glass slowly from your lips to find the entire team staring at you.

“I uh - use men’s cologne sometimes.” You shrug, trying to play it cool, but the warming of your face tells you that you aren’t succeeding.

“Pretty girl, you’ve never smelt like a man.” Derek chimes out as Emily opens the bottle to take a whiff. Her eyes widen, and lock onto yours as the scent hits her.

“Em.” You warn, now frantic. She responds with a devilish glint in her eyes, smirk growing on her face.

“Smell.” She commands the rest of the team as she pumps the bottle to spritz the liquid in the middle of the living room. You watch in barely concealed horror as the scent particles descend upon the team, and realisation clicks onto each of their faces.

“That’s what Hotch smells like.” Spencer breaks the silence, voicing everyones thoughts as Penelope squeals.

You bury your face in your hands as the clamour of voices begin, each fighting for their question to be answered first.

There is a shuffle beside you, and the space on the sofa next to you dips. An arm slips its way around your shoulders, pulling you close, confirming your relationship.

“Say the word, I’ll order them to shut up.” He mumbles into the top of your hair as you attempt to hide yourself under the crook of his arm to cheers and whistles from the team.

Holy moly this was so good

𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped. 

6k words, fem!reader, bau!reader, some mutual pining, reader is suffering from effects of ptsd, allusions to kidnapping + torture, hurt/comfort, hotch has a soft spot for you (as do most of the team)

༺༻

Reid was abducted, once. 

You can remember the anxiety of it like a hand around your throat. It feels cruel to say that his abduction and torture had effected you more than if it had been a stranger, but you meet so many people, so many victims of cruelty, that the fear starts to blunt. 

Though it doesn't blur. You find it impossible to forget the people that you've failed, and failing a team mate? That had been excruciating. 

Only when you'd been taken yourself had you realised it wasn't a failure at all. 

You wish the others would understand that. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Prentiss asks as you sit down. 

You suppose you had gone down a bit hard. "Mm?" you hum in question, pulling a copy of the initial case file toward you. 

"You looked a little wobbly." 

"Long night?" Morgan asks.

There's both sympathy and mirth in his voice. If you did have a long night, it wouldn’t be from anything fun. He knows that. Everybody knows that. That's why they're treating you like glass. 

"I actually slept really well," you say softly, returning his smile with one that's entirely genuine. 

"That's good, considering," he says, bracing his forearm against the conference table. 

He's been your number one supporter since you came back. Probably because he feels very guilty about what happened. You'd been paired up at the time. 

"Actually, it's common for people who've been abducted to sleep incredibly well for a long period afterward. It's similar to the leisure sickness phenomena- Your body would have been in defence mode, and-" 

"Reid," Hotch says firmly, stepping into the room with his usual lowbrow. 

"Sorry." 

And the spiel begins. JJ lays out the details of the case she's triaged and the team gives their first input. The barest beginnings of a working theory. You try to contribute and find your tongue a leaden weight in your mouth. Ever since you got back, you've been useless. 

You can't do your job, but thank god you can sleep at night, right? 

You miss the start of his sentence, your focus latching onto Hotch's conclusive, "Wheels up in thirty." 

Your team are standing in seconds, trained in the art of quick departures. You used to be good at this part. You're a good agent, even when you're a mediocre profiler. 

"L/N?" 

You blink. "Mm?" you hum, meeting your unit chief's concerned look with a perfected blasé. 

You've come to a stand in front of the table, and everyone else has left. It's you and Hotch alone. 

"If you're not ready to go back into the field, that's okay." 

If you were Reid, or Prentiss, or especially Morgan, you'd get defensive here, and you would lie well, but you’re a bad liar and Hotch is a great detector for them, so you tell the truth. 

"I'm not sure that I'm ready, but I'd like to go. I won't be a burden. I can work effectively." 

"I know you won't be a burden." 

You tilt your head to one side and feel your hair shift over your thick sweater. You haven't felt like showing much skin, lately. Everybody has noticed, because they notice everything, and nobody has made you feel bad about it. In fact, your fellow agents have made numerous comments about the chilly weather. It's July. 

Hotch's eyes fall to your long sleeves for a split-second. 

"Do you think he's alive?" you ask.

"Sorry?" 

You nod your head toward the board, where the portrait of your kidnapping victim hangs in full colour. "Do you think he's alive?" 

"Unless there's evidence that would suggest otherwise, we shouldn't assume. You know that." 

"I know that that's the answer you're used to giving." 

His voice goes too soft, like he's talking to somebody in grief. "I think he is." 

You honestly can't stand it when he talks to you like this. You tilt your head a little further and see him the way he'd been that morning, his tenderness, his fear. He'd opened the door and suddenly you'd known you were safe. 

He hasn't looked at you right since he found you.

"I have all my best clothes in my go-bag," you offer. 

"Well, go get it. This might be a long one." 

—

The jet is a really nice jet. 

It's hard not to feel impressed by it. It's a vehicle that can take you from one crime scene to another, and it's a necessary expense, but it feels lavish. The clean smells, the comfort, the kitchenette. It has a full-sized toilet. 

"Missed this?" Morgan asks knowingly. 

You wheedle your way into one of the four seats surrounding the main table and smile when he drops down next to you. "Missed using you as my personal pillow, maybe," you tease. 

"Table hogs," Prentiss complains, sitting on the armrest of the couch in defeat. 

You laugh under your breath. Morgan pulls out his laptop and turns the screen so everyone can see Garcia, and as soon as the jet's taken off the second round of speculation begins. 

You regret sitting where you had quickly. You can feel Hotch's analysing gaze where he sits opposite. He doesn't believe you're ready to come back. 

You lick your lips.

"Why would she cut him open just to kill him straight afterward?" JJ asks. "I mean, if she didn't assault him?" 

"It's unlikely that she's a sadist," Reid infers. 

"Disembowelment is a pretty painful, horrific way to die. Maybe she realised that and killed him," Morgan suggests. 

"Remorse?" you murmur. "Could mean she's… younger. And revenge killers don't always see it through." 

"Why take another one if you can't commit to the first?" Prentiss asks. 

"Maybe that's why she took him. She wants time to work herself up," you mutter. 

You hide your hands under the table. It's hard to ignore the similarities with the current case and the one you're investigating. The unsub who'd taken you had been narcissistic and self-righteous, punishing the BAU for stopping her second murder — you'd predicted her next victim and moved him before she could take him. 

So her victimology had changed, and she'd stolen you. 

She couldn't commit to her first session of torture: hesitant cuts, loose ligatures. By your turn she'd improved, but her tentative resolve had remained and she'd run after three days. It's the worst thing she could've done, buying herself less than a week on the run and leaving you with no outside communication. 

You'd almost died of dehydration. 

"She's choosing from a specific group," Reid says. He holds up a photograph of the first victim. He'd been murdered in his bedroom, and the walls are plastered in playboy. Kill all men has been written across his forehead in red lipstick. "Our abductee, he was wearing a t-shirt featuring popular bikini model Miss Olympia. In a state of undress." 

“Is that specific?” Prentiss asks wryly.

"She's angry," you say. 

Hotch leans forward and clicks Garcia's call button. "Garcia?"  

"Sir." 

"Are there any prolific feminist groups in the area? Radicals?" 

They fall into conversation, a pulling and pushing of information. Something about online forums, flame wars, political arguments. 

It's not the strongest theory in the world but they can make it work. You should be making it work with them. 

The flight is an early morning longhaul to Idaho and you work the case the entire time you're in the air. There's an abundance of coffee that you reject because you're worried it'll rehash your on-again off-again migraine, and while your teammates are offering theories, intertwining details with bright eyes and bushy tails, you struggle to keep up. 

There's a lull before landing where everybody parts ways. JJ moves to sit with Prentiss where they talk in hushed but conspicuous giggles. You hear the words Will and dishes and back rub and decide to stop listening for your own sake. 

Morgan laughs, having heard what you just heard and liking it a far deal more, and stands. "Coffee?" he asks as you yawn.

You shake your head sluggishly. "Be quick, we'll be landing soon." 

"I know, sweetheart, I heard the same announcement as you." He takes your empty water glass with a supportive squint. "Let me get you another." 

"Thanks." 

You'd regretted your seat as soon as you'd taken it, the feeling of being boxed in having grown and grown over the course of the journey, and Morgan’s brief departure gives you some much needed space.

You squeeze your hands together until your knuckles ache. 

"L/N?" 

Hotch is looking at you. You know exactly what he sees. Someone who isn't ready to be back in the field. Someone who isn't being effective, as you'd promised. 

"You okay?" 

"Just warm,” you lie, pushing your hair away from your neck. 

You're a bad liar. He gets up to turn on the air conditioning anyway. 

You slouch down in your chair and pretend to nap for the rest of the flight. 

—

Crime scenes where people died smell bad. It's a fact. They smell like pee, the sharp stick of ammonia, and the metallic aftertaste of blood. You're trying hard not to fall into your own memories of the two. 

You need to move past what happened. The only way you're gonna be able to do that is to re-desensitise yourself, and that includes volunteering for the nasty stuff when Hotch tries to relegate you to questioning witnesses. 

"I'm not good at interviews," you'd said plainly. 

And he'd taken it for what it was and let you do what you usually do: you look for clues. If anybody could hear you think that you'd be ridiculed, but they can't. You enjoy yourself. 

Let's Scooby Doo this bitch. 

"Careful," Hotch says, holding a hand near your hip. You'd almost stepped into the largest puddle of blood still wet in the very middle. 

Right. He'd let you take the gross job but now you're being babysat. 

What did she do in this room? Why did she kill him here but abduct the second man? 

"If it weren't for the photos, I'd never link this victimology," you confess. 

The photos. The unsub had sent pictures of her abductee with Kill all men written across his forehead. In lipstick. 

What changed the MO? Why kill the first at home and steal the second? 

The political theory feels more plausible. 

"I think you would've." Hotch casts his gaze over the desk. "This is a messy one. Opportunistic but personal. Our unsub, she…" His voice turns to a mutter, as it tends to do when he hits a roadblock. "She wants attention, because the first murder didn't do what she'd hoped." 

"What is she hoping for?" 

He picks up a piece of coloured paper and holds it up to his chest so you can see it. It's a flyer for speed dating at a Café Martini, every Friday at 6PM. 

"Where was Paul last seen?" you ask. 

"Good question." 

He takes his phone from his pocket to call Garcia. 

You listen to their conversation for a while, his serious questions and her flirtatious answers. 

You look back to the floor and push the white toe of your tennis shoe into the rug until the rubber's red with blood. It's not good practice. You're now a walking biohazard. Why is the blood still wet? It should've sunk into the carpeting hours ago. How much did he bleed? 

When you'd been abducted your unsub hadn't been keen on torture. She'd made small, quick cuts over your upper arms, more to punish you than because she truly enjoyed it, and she'd hit something important by accident. 

The blood had pooled in the crook of your elbow. It had stayed wet for a long time. You remember trying to clean yourself up with your t-shirt, too drugged up to move right, and eventually the drugs had worn off and it had really, really hurt. 

This boy had been cut from hip to hip. 

"Maybe you should go sit in the car," Hotch says. 

"Why?" 

"I've been talking to you."

"I've been listening." 

"Don't lie." Hotch takes a step forward, black shoe close to your white. "Look at me." 

You look up, eyebrows raised as you try to blink yourself awake. His eye contact is something you've always struggled to hold, knowing he's learning a lot more from your expression than you are from his. You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks and find them hot with embarrassment. 

"I'm really sorry," you apologise, eyes aching. Not burning, just aching. Like a bruise. 

Hotch nods, expression impassive. "It's okay. Go sit in the car." 

He outranks you as an SSA, he's your boss for every intent and purpose. He's your friend, sometimes, and you've yet to see him make a bad call. You listen and go back out and down to the car. You've already broken your promise not to be a burden. 

Best to play along and play well. You don't want a desk job. You don't want to lose the team. 

In the car, things feel better. It smells like new and you take some time to breathe it in with slow, deep breaths. The pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror is still soft and wet to touch. You rub it between two fingers, pensive, until Hotch appears from the house. He looks severe and solemn as usual when he opens the car door and climbs inside. 

"Tell me if you can't do this," he says. He never beats around the bush. You wish that he would. 

"I don't know." 

"I need a yes or no." 

You're screaming at yourself to say yes. Hotch stalls with his hand poised at the ignition, waiting for your answer before he turns the key. If you say no, I can't do this, he'll take you back to the room. You know he won't hold it against you because he'd tried to persuade you to take more time off, as much as you needed. 

Being alone reminds you too much of your abduction. You hate how you can't stop thinking about it. At work, at home. What if this is it? This is the only thing you're going to think of for the rest of your life. 

Unless you can get some new memories. 

"I can do this." 

"I know that. Do you know that?" he asks firmly. 

You lean your head back against the headrest and turn your face to look at him fully. You hadn't been expecting any praise, any softness. You're fucking up on a time-sensitive case — he should be reprimanding you. He should send you packing to Virginia. 

"I'm sorry," you say softly.

"For what?" he asks. His eyebrows pinch up at the starts, his lips curve into a frown. 

It's startling to see so much emotion on his face on the job; Aaron Hotchner has a switch. He comes to work and he turns off everything that doesn't help the case. Only on rare occasions do you get to see him as a friend — his laughter over group dinner dates, his gentle smiles when he'd kept you company in the hospital. 

"For being- For being disorganised," you explain choppily. It is not the right word. 

He turns the key and reverses out of the parking space before speaking. "You are an asset to this team. If you can't be an asset right now, that's fine. If you need to go home-" 

"I don't need to go home." 

He doesn't seem offended at being interrupted. "Your wellbeing is more important than your effectiveness as a profiler. But you can't get in the way." 

"I won't." 

"I know you won't. Just…" He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dials a number. He's not looking at you when he finishes, "Calm down. Stay present. We need you with us." 

You turn your face to the window so he can't see your smile. He hasn't been this nice to you since your birthday. 

—

The thirty six hour mark comes to pass quickly and you find yourselves no closer to a positive ID on the unsub or their location. Any leads you follow dry up, witnesses won't cooperate, nobody has slept properly (besides yourself), and the boy's parents are hysterical. Hysterical and an irritant. 

You can hear them arguing with Hotch and the police chief in the other room. 

"You look amazing," JJ says tiredly. You can't tell if her annoyance is genuine or not. 

"Did you sleep?" you ask. 

JJ looks amazing herself despite what she might say, all perfect skin and lovely blonde hair like a moving sheet of silver-gold. You revere her pretty thin sweater with poorly hidden envy as she yawns and stretches against her straight-backed chair. 

"I slept. Bed was about as comfy as this chair," she says ruefully. 

"Ninety percent of all abduction victims are killed within the first thirty-six hours," Hotch says as he enters the room, in what Morgan would call his drill sergeant's drawl. "Every hour past that point, the percentage increases." 

Everybody in the room knows that statistic. His passive aggressive reminder serves to electrify a dozing Reid and a slumped Prentiss, both of which sit up in their chairs and pretend to be busier than they are as he makes his way into the room.

"Actually," Reid whispers to you, voice rough with fatigue, "the math isn't that simple." 

"Do you want to explain it to me?" you whisper back. 

You can't admit to really truly listening to Reid's explanation. You want him to feel heard even when you don't have the capacity for it, so you nod and hum as he explains, heads bent together as the rest of the team trade new theories. He talks surprisingly quickly for all his fatigue, and before you've realised it he's talking about something new. 

"Reid," you intrerupt gently, "can I ask you a question?" 

"Go ahead." 

You look up. Everyone seems too busy to be listening to you. You take what semblance of privacy you can and push your chair an inch closer. 

"Do you think I've been an efficient agent these last two days?" 

He juts his head forward. "You've been distracted. Tired, unfocused. But your insight on the unsub's age and what you said about her propensity for regret are both incomparable parts of the profile." 

"But easily something someone else would've suggested?" 

"Not necessarily." He smiles at you, a mirthful quirk. "Psychologically, the effect that working a case so close to your own trauma," — you bite your tongue in surprise — "would render the average person prone with memory. It also gives you a thought pattern that not everybody else would have." 

"You have it." 

"Let's focus on the behaviour pattern," Hotch says. 

You'd agreed to run point today. Or rather, Hotch had said, "L/N, you'll run point," and you hadn't argued. After all, yesterday had been telling on how much you can handle. Crime scenes are a no go. 

Not that there's any crime scene left to analyse. Your team have spent hours and hours trying to draw blood from stone. The case hadn't felt so impossible on the jet, and now… 

"I'm benched," you murmur. 

"You're not benched," Morgan says, which is irksome because you'd been talking to Reid. "If you were benched you'd be back in Virginia typing up my paperwork." 

"She doesn't care about the crime scene, she doesn't care about the crime itself. There's nothing in it for her besides making a statement. So why take a hostage with no ransom, no instruction? Why tell us you have a hostage and cut communication?" 

You rub your eyes at Reid's questions and find you have no theories to offer. You have nothing. 

"Work the problem," you mumble to yourself. "Work the problem. Where would she go?" 

She cut that boy from hip to hip. She killed him quickly after rather than leave him in pain, but she disembowelled him for the statement it would make. For the… mess? 

You feel off-kilter enough to stand. You weave through people and hesitate in front of Hotch where he's reading over the timeline, waiting for his face to turn before you talk. 

"Hotch," you say tentatively, "what if she's like… an arsonist? Disemboweling is messy. The blood was still wet when we got here two days later, and it ruined the floor." 

He thinks for a second. "Her escalation from a private mess to a public one would make sense."

"We thought the pathway from murder to taking a hostage was a step backwards, but what if it's not about the murder at all, it's about the blood?"

"It's common for arsonists to suffer paternal violence," Reid chimes in. "Could explain the unsub targeting men with outward misogynistic attitudes." 

You turn to find the whole team looking at you, a familiar drive on each of their faces. 

They rebuild the profile. Reid fiddles with what you've said, they specify, they redirect. 

Your moment of clarity dissolves quickly but you try to help as they move on to possible locations. If the unsub wants to make a scene, light a metaphorical fire, there are plenty of places she can do it this weekend. 

Surprise surprise, Garcia confirms a 'men's rights' rally happening in around two hours, and suddenly everybody's in motion. Hotch lists instructions and the team disperses. You've done it all a hundred times before, Hotch quadruple that, Rossi octuple.

"L/N," Hotch says. 

You lift your face to his. 

He's really quite close. 

"Do you want to stay here?"

You take note of his wording. Do you want to stay here? 

His phone is already in his hand. You don't wanna waste anymore of his time. You're pretty useless during movements anyways. 

"Is that okay?" you ask. 

He doesn't say yes or no, his head doesn't give the slightest nod or shake. His eyebrows remain in their usual pushed down position. "Expand the profile. Make sure we haven't missed anything." In case the unsub isn't where you think. 

And then he leaves. 

You take your seat at a now hastily vacated table and spend an hour on the laptop with Garcia. She's mostly at the beck and call of the rest of the team, but it's nice to listen to her clicking away. 

She hangs up when the team are about to storm the rally venue and things get difficult. 

You'd passed all your psych evaluations to return. You can be an effective agent. You can work. 

You know all of this. 

It won't stick. 

You don't have a clue how long you spend staring at the table when your phone starts to ring. "Morgan?" you ask, pressing the screen to your cheek. 

"Hey, sweetheart, we got her. And Paul, safe and sound. You ready to go home?" 

"Uh," you say, trying to understand what he's said. "I'm not sure." Your migraine is coming back. 

When a person gets dehydrated your head starts to pound. It's like a heartbeat, a pulsing ache at the base of your skull and your temples. 

You know that it's all in your head, but ever since you got back you've been victim to what feels like a hundred headaches. 

Your head hurts, and you look at the floor and suddenly the floor isn't the dull blue carpeting of the police station, but the plywood of your unsub's warehouse. 

"Are you there?" 

"Morgan, I don't feel well," you say. Your mouth is full of cotton. 

"What?" 

You cast your gaze around the room. 

You leave your phone on the table, unsure if you've hung up, and make your way out of the conference room they've delegated to the BAU. You're in two minds. You know where you are, and who you are, but you feel like you're back there. The walls look like the police station walls but the floor looks like the base plywood of the warehouse. 

I'm just thirsty, you think. When you'd been kidnapped you'd become dehydrated somewhere between the fourth and fifth day, and that had come with some minor auditory and visual hallucinations. Dark spots in your peripherals shaped mildly like people, murmurings that could've been the cicadas. Right now, there's a low pitched ringing in your ears. I'm dehydrated. I'm fine. I need a drink, and I'll be okay. 

You don't have the facilities to smile at the people you pass, easing your way through officers and into an empty break room. There's nobody here. 

You round the table in the middle of the room and move to the cabinets and the sink basin. You take a mug into shaking hands and turn the faucet on. 

The water is frigid and soon your fingers are like ice. You part them in the stream, watching the water worm down your palms and wet the cuffs of your sleeves. 

"Agent L/N, is everything okay?" 

You turn with a smile, ready to assuage any fears, but it's her. 

It's obviously not her. It's not her, but she looks like her. Same face, same hair. You turn back to sink and fill your mug. 

"Agent L/N?" 

"Please," you say quietly. 

"Agent L/N?" 

"Detective, would you excuse us?" 

His voice. Your shoulders relax just enough to ease the ache in your neck. You hear the woman depart, but you're disorientated enough to ask, "Is she still here?" 

"She's not here." 

“She looked-“ like her. You press your wet hands to the bottom of the sink. It's silver and covered in scratches, a thousand scratches that glow white with the fluorescents. "I don't think I should be here," you mumble. 

"I think you're overwhelmed." 

"I am." You cringe at the numbness spreading up your arms. "I don't know how to make it go away." 

Hotch isn't just your boss. He's a father. He was a husband. He knows how to comfort somebody and he's proven that to you already, but you're still surprised when he pulls your hands out of the sink. He holds both in one palm while he turns off the faucet, and then he tears off a wad of paper towels and starts to dry your fingers. 

"You're not in any danger here," he says, turning your hands palm up. "There are a wall of people out there who would stand in front of you. Nothing is going to happen to you." 

Despite his careful reassurances you're curling in on yourself, trying to hide. You don't want to be here. You're not sure where you want to be. You have the self-awareness to know you're being awful, that this is embarrassing, and you've put Hotch in a position he likely doesn't want to be in, too.  

You blink at his chest. "Where's your suit jacket?" you ask. Your voice sounds far away in one ear and too loud in the other. 

"I left it in the car," he says lightly. "We just got back from the rally. You were waiting for us here." 

"I didn't go." 

"No. You haven't been at your best." 

"I'm trying." 

"I know," he says softly, thumbs rubbing over your warming fingers. "I know you are. You're doing really well. Why don't we sit down?" 

You let him lead you backward into a hard-backed chair. He doesn't sit with you, but he doesn't let go of your hands. They're limp in his and smaller, colder. 

You think he might be the only thing keeping you here. 

"I've never been that scared before. I've had a… gun to my head and… it wasn't even her-" You choke on it. "Her. She hurt me and it wasn't even the worst part." 

He frowns down at you. "What was the worst part?" 

You let your fingers unfurl across his open palm. He pulls your hands to his chest, sandwiches them between his own hands and his crisp white shirt. His tie feels silky soft. 

"I didn't want to be alone. I," — you close your eyes and press your chin to your chest, hiding, always hiding — "knew I wasn't going to last long by myself. I could see that bottle of water on the table and I couldn't reach it and I just kept waiting for somebody to open the door and pass it to me, and I was so scared that nobody was ever going to do that.

"I close my eyes and- and I see it. I see the wood flooring, and I see the table. I can't remember anything that she said to me anymore, but I remember thinking you weren't ever coming to get me." 

You can see the way the light from a crack in the corrugated roof had lit the water bottle up like a lamp. You barely have to think about it and the image of it is there. Your mouth had ached.

You can see him if you try a little harder. The door flying open. Hotch in his vest with his hair falling onto his forehead, a gun in one hand and a flashlight held high in the other. His broad, quick sweep, and then the way he'd leapt for you. His voice, shouting, screaming instructions. You can feel his hand behind your head, his fingers pushed roughly into your hair. 

"You're okay," he'd said. 

You trust him with your life. You've never had cause to doubt him. But you hadn't believed him then, and you're not sure you do now. 

His expression changes slowly. He moves both of your hands into one of his own and squeezes them reassuringly as he cups your cheek. It's a quick touch, a half-second of contact. 

"You made a mistake, in that case," he says, hand moving from your cheek to the hill of your shoulder. 

You tamp down a wince. "Yeah." He's being generous. You'd made hundreds of mistakes. Every opportunity to save yourself wasted. 

"Your mistake," he says, holding your eye, his voice gritty with severity, "was thinking I wouldn't find you.”

He turns to a blur the longer you stare at him, panicked tears welling up with nowhere to go. You tip your head forward so he can't see them, and he steps closer in turn, ushering your face into his abdomen. 

His hand falls to your trembling back. 

"That was your only error. You did everything else right." 

Your tears come thick and fast. Hotch doesn't baulk. 

—

You agree to take some more time off. 

Realistically, you can't be an effective agent or a reliable member of the team whilst smothered in memories as you are. You don't take it personally when Hotch insists, as he takes great care to explain to you what's happening. 

This isn't a punishment. You need more time. 

You're a safety risk. Not that your consultation isn't valuable, it is, you're still a good profiler — an amazing profiler, if your team are to be believed — but you're in the aftershocks of a traumatic event. 

A wound can't heal if it's being picked at. 

"He said that?" you ask quietly, bed sheets upto your chin. 

Hotch's voice rings scratchy with tiredness down the line, "He said you can have all of the blue ones." 

"He's generous. He gets that from his dad." 

"He's much kinder than I am." You hear a small voice on the other end, and then a muffled, "Yeah, g-man, I'll tell her. I'll tell her right now. Okay. Y/N?" 

"Yeah, still here." 

"Jack says," he recounts, parent tone in play that tells you his son is nearby, "that you can have all the blue and all of the green band-aids, if you need them." 

You stare up at the white plaster ceiling of your apartment, a tiny smile playing on your lips. 

"Tell him I said thank you. I'm sure they'll make me all better in no time." 

He tells Jack what you've said. You hear his lovely voice saying something too quiet. "What was that?" Hotch asks him. 

"I said," Jack says, voice close to the receiver, "she just needs a kiss because they always make me feel better." 

"I've been getting lots of kisses!" you promise him, turning to look at your nightstand. 

Propped up proudly is a picture of you and your team in that restaurant in Las Vegas, where Reid hadn't been able to use his chopsticks, and where Hotch had laughed so loudly you'd felt your heart skip twice. It's surrounded by a sea of 'Get Well Soon' cards, and backdropped by a small bouquet of sweetpeas. 

Tell me when they wilt, Reid had said. And I'll get you another bunch. It's been proven that flowers have a long term positive effect on moods. People who received flowers regularly reported less agitation, less depression, and an overall sense of satisfaction. 

Beside the sweetpeas, in pride of place, is a handmade card from none other than Jack himself, though the message inside was penned by an older hand. 

"I'm well looked after," you say, smiling softly. 

"You're well loved," Hotch adds. 

That, too. 

༺༻

again, im not that used to writing hotch so despite my character study he may feel a little ooc that's my bad, hard to show him pining bc he's such a professional at work. thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging i promise it means so much to me ♡

So good

Hiiiii

I love love love your writing and i was wondering if you could write something about jj x reader and reader is very easily exciteable ( like scatterbrain adhd) and talks alot and slowly Kie gets more and more irritated with reader and then she finally snaps and screams how reader is so annoying? And the boys are gobsmacked and JJ especially. I promise i dont have anything personal against Kie i love her but i dont think she would like me very much lmao😭😭

Thank you sm🤭🫶

Thank you so much my baby starfish, you're so sweet to me <3

This started really strong, then I got a lil lost in the sauce, so here you have 3.6k of JJ x Reader. I hope you like it 💖💖💖 r loves dinosaurs

CWs: Swearing, yelling, Kiara being mean, John B's dad is alive because I just can't hurt that poor boy but he's only mentioned once

JJ liked getting her alone. Every chance he could, getting them away from their respective friend groups, with their prying eyes and loud opinions. It was his favorite place to be, alone, with her. They’d been together for a solid while, getting together right before spring break. The pogues wondered where he’d been the whole week, after too many unanswered texts blowing up the group chat he gave in…and told them he was holed up at home, hotboxing his bedroom for the foreseeable future. Not that it was entirely a lie, it just wasn’t entirely true either. 

He introduced her to the rest of them at the beginning of the summer, a little reluctantly since they’d planned a date but forgot to actually plan anything. So with no other option, since JJ had no food in his house and y/n’s a/c broke, they went to the Wreck. 

Unfortunately for JJ, Kiara was working and Pope and John B had just gotten back from helping Mr. Hayward with something or another. JJ entirely forgot both of these things and only just remembered as he saw the Twinkie in the parking lot. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” She pulled his helmet off of her head but didn’t get off the bike yet. 

“All my friends are here.”

“That’s a bad thing? I’ve met them all before.” She had; she helped John B pass his last Spanish test and was in a study group with Pope for their Civics class. Kiara knew her from Biology, she’d stay after every class to talk with their teacher about everything but what they just discussed in class.

“Yeah, but they’ve never met you as my…” he trailed off and she slid herself under his arm, putting herself in front of him, tossing her legs over his and leaning back on the handlebar between his arms.

“You can say girlfriend.” He fixed her helmet hair in a lame attempt to distract her from his shy smile. She scrunched her nose at the tickle of his calloused fingertips against her skin. “Oh right, you can’t say it without blushing.”

“Hell yeah I can.” He kept his hands on her cheeks and moved both of their heads in opposite directions to keep the sun out of her eyes.

“Say it then, Pretty,” she put her face real close to his with his hands stuck to her cheeks, nudging his nose once so he’d look up and she could kiss right under his jaw. She leaned back just slightly and held his forearms. “Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend,” one kiss to her forehead, “girlfriend,” another to her nose, “firlgriend,” a final one to her lips. Not quite a kiss since she was smiling so hard at his mistake. 

“What?”

“You made me mess up, that was not my fault.”

“How did I make you mess up?”

“By being so damn cute.” He started kissing all over her face, her neck, her collarbones. 

“That’s what got you?”

“You always get me.”

“You trying to put the moves on me, Maybank?” She pulled him back up from her neck by a tug to his hair.

“Depends, is it working, l/n?”

“Are you trying to distract me so we can go somewhere else knowing full well that there is nowhere else?”

He let his head fall back against her clavicle with a long, exaggerated groan. “So it’s not working?”

“No, sorry,” she tilted her head to the side with faux sympathy, he thought she looked like a puppy. “Please? I’m starving.” He braced his hands behind himself so he could lean back and give her room to swing her leg over. He followed it with his eyes with no shame, to which she could only scoff a laugh.

When he finally regained his composure, “Can’t have my firlgriend starving, now could I darlin’?”

“I’m sending you back. I don’t even remember where I got you but I’d like a refresher on the return policy.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re really hilarious. I swear, you should take it on the road or somethin.” He said in a single tone. They started walking into the restaurant and he still held out his hand to her. 

She laid her head on his shoulder just before they made it to the door. “But you love me?” 

“Fuck yeah I love you.” He turned to kiss her head but it was more his cheek to her head and a kiss to the air above it. She loved it just the same.

“Good, I love you too.” She kissed his shoulder and was glad the heat permitted such skin to show, no sleeves in the way of her boy’s skin. 

“Alright, come on.” He almost dragged her into the restaurant but it was more of a rush to get himself in there.

Kiara was at the hostess stand and smiled when she saw him, the corner of her lip twitched twice when he saw who he was with, once at the hand he was holding and again at the girl it was attached to. Yet she still recovered quickly and kept up the perfect customer service act. “Hey Kie, how’s today been? Yeah? You know what I’d love, is if you could uh, get us a table at the back, kinda quickly?”

“What’s the rush, Jay?” She gathered two menus and started guiding them back.

“Don’t worry about it. Just-please?”

“M-hmm.” She sat them at a dimly lit table in the back corner and JJ helped y/n up into the continuous booth with the circular table. She thanked him with a smile and he slid in next to her, resting a hand on her thigh, warm skin under his rough touch.

“Thank you,” y/n smiled brightly at Kiara and picked up her menu. Kiara gave JJ a look that she couldn’t see with the menu in front of his face What are you doing? He returned it with a grave look, Let me have my last 10 minutes with her to myself in peace.

“Martha will be right over with your waters.”

JJ nodded and Kiara got the hint finally. 

John B and Pope came out of the kitchen with their little trays of free food. “We heard JJ’s bike pull up. He here?” Pope tossed a thumb over his shoulder to the dining area. 

“Yeah, actually-” they started walking away to go find him but she pulled them back by their shirt collars. “But, I think he’s on a date.”

“A date?” John B asked.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like him. You sure we’re talking about the same guy?” Pope held up a hand to approximately JJ’s height. “Yea tall, perpetually sweaty, doesn’t own a single sleeve in his whole wardrobe, different day different girl, JJ?”

“That’s the one. He’s in the back…Waaaaiit, wait wait. Don’t go yet, let them at least get their waters first.”

“Who’s he with?”

“Do we know her?”

“I don’t know if you do. I had biology with her. Y/n? L/n?”

Both of their jaws went slack. John B nearly dropped his fries. “Her?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Like she’d ever go for him, she’s too…” John B shook his hand thinking the words would come to him.

“Nice, kind, morally upright?” Pope offered.

“Annoying?”

“No. When has she ever been annoying?”

“In bio, she’d always stay after and talk to Dr. Dyer about literally everything besides biology.”

“Kie, I hate to break it to you,” John B put a hand on her shoulder, “I really do. But I don’t see what any of that has to do with you.”

“Because she’s just so…ugh excited. All the time.”

“As if JJ isn’t exactly the same.”

“They’re in the back you said?”

“Yeah, in the corner. Wait- I didn’t tell you that!” But they already had all the information they needed and were half way over there already.

JJ saw them wave as they approached then put his head on the table with a groan. They saw her try to coax him up with a hand scratching over his back and some nice words they couldn’t hear. And then they saw everything they needed to when she raised her other hand to wave and JJ’s bracelet was on her wrist. Oh, John B’s face said to Pope’s, This is serious.

But that didn’t stop them. “Hey guys, funny running into you two here.” John B announced, extra loudly just for JJ’s sake since his head was still down. He and Pope slid into the round booth on the other side of y/n. She pushed JJ up by the shoulder but his chin was still to his chest.

“Wow, must have really worn him out.” Pope said, followed by a stolen one of John B’s fries.

“Looks like it. You gonna make it hotshot?” 

He looked up sharply to flick his hair out of his face. She pushed it back and while they were so focused on each other the other two boys gave each other looks Oh shit, this is real serious.

“I’ll make it.” He let out a long and exasperated groan. “Pope, John B, this is my firlgriend.” Completely an honest mistake but he was just happy it made her laugh. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, I know you didn’t.” He squeezed her thigh and continued.

“This is my girlfriend.” Oh, real real serious. 

“Took you long enough,” referring to how many tries it took him to get it right, not hiding their relationship. She actually didn’t mind it, she liked having him all to herself. “Good boy,” she pushed herself up to kiss his cheek and he leaned into it. She stayed looking up at him with a smile and the boys were waiting for him to look disgusted, grossed out, something, anything he’d usually do with girls that got too affectionate; but it never came. He was looking at her the same way he looks at a great swell of a wave, like she was an adventure, something he wanted to take on and knew he could. They saw it in his eyes and then, this kid blushed. This girl made JJ Maybank blush, hard.

“So what have you guys been up to?” JJ pulled her closer with an arm around her waist and she leaned back into him so she could face the boys. 

They talked about so many things and she was so animated and genuinely interested in what they had to say. She liked hearing about Pope’s dreams and aspirations, asking him so many questions about his scholarship and what kind of career he wants. John B told her about the theories he and his dad have come up with about the shipwreck and the treasure. She was so easy to talk to and never bored. How could anyone be bored when the conversations moved so fast. Every time Kiara walked by it was something new. Mr. Hayward’s business, Pope’s scholarship, what he wants to do after high school, John B’s Spanish final, who says ‘bon voyage’ the French or the Spanish, how different languages happened, Pangea, Panthalassa, what a fun word trapezoid is, how much the geometry teacher sucked, their favorite classes, the clubs she and Pope are in with both of them getting all excited about the ones they shared. 

“You should come to the chateau sometime,” John B suggested and she looked up at JJ over her shoulder, a silent what do you think?

“Yeah, it’d be fun,” all three of them picked up on his hesitancy. 

“Yeah?” He nodded surely in response. “You just tell me when.”

***

JJ loved getting her alone. Every minute with just her was heaven to him.

Unfortunately for both of them, he was under house arrest in purgatory. 

Pope and John B loved having her around. Kiara didn’t get the hype. “Kie, listen, it’s like having a puppy that can talk.” John B had had a few beers that were way higher percentages than he thought. 

“Don’t call my girlfriend a puppy, man.”

“Sor-*hiccup* sorry, but am I wrong? Pope, am I wrong?”

“Not really, like if she was a puppy her tail would always be waggin and shit and if she saw a leaf move she’d be like,” He turned around really fast and JJ thought he heard his neck crack.

“I still don’t get why that means she has to be over here all the time?”

“Do you have some sort of problem with her, Kie?” JJ asked, failing at holding the defensive tone off.

“No, I just mean why is she always around?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend, I like having her around and so do they. So kindly do me a favor and get the stick out of your ass. Hmm?” 

“Fine,” she put her hands up in surrender then leaned back in her seat, letting them all get back on with their evening.

***

By the end of the summer y/n was thoroughly convinced Kiara hated her. She’d hardly look at her and she’d never add anything to their conversations besides some snarky remark about how close it seems she and JJ have gotten. But she was never out right mean, y/n thought she was just reading into it too hard. 

They were back at the chateau, having some drinks to celebrate….something. Y/n couldn’t quite remember what. She was in JJ’s lap and he was talking to John B about cars or hydroponics, something. She didn’t know entirely but she was nodding along all the same. She was staring at his face, tracing his jaw with her eyes. She didn’t even notice she was doing it until he turned because of her finger tracing the curve then down his neck. He smiled at her, all soft and gentle and pretty. “What’re you up to, kid?”

She smiled back at him just the same lazy adorable way that she does when he catches her spacing out. “I’m older than you.”

“Barely, and that doesn’t answer my question.”

“You have a mole.” She put her finger back on it. “Right there. Since when?”

“Forever, probably.” He took her hand so carefully and held it in their laps instead, both of them twisting their fingers around the other’s like a kelp forest, slipping and sliding back and forth through the spaces between them.

“Forever? Really? I never noticed.”

“Ha- You never notice a lot of things.” Kiara mumbled loud enough for Big John to hear her inside. 

JJ’s fingers stilled, y/n just squeezed them tighter. Her smile fell for a second but she picked it right back up, looser, no teeth, not reaching her eyes or making the lines in her cheeks it usually does. “What do you mean?” JJ was going to cry with how small and innocently she said it.

“Hmm?”

“You said I don’t notice anything, what do you mean?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Kiara scratched her neck then took a strand of hair  to twist around her finger and check for split ends,

“I notice a lot of things,” she slipped off of JJ’s lap and into the seat next to him but let him keep their thighs pressed together. 

“I’m sure you do. Just like the note John B left to keep the door closed! Just like how Pope tells you over and over what his favorite color is! And when JJ obviously looks uncomfortable to anyone with eyes! You notice all that?! Of course you don’t, you’re so wrapped up in yourself you don’t know anything about anyone around you. All you ever do is talk about yourself, it’s sickening.”

“Ok,” she sniffed shallowly but JJ could still hear the shakiness in it, feel her leg bouncing against his. She can do this herself, JJ thought hopefully. She took a deep breath, “Seems like  we know what we all think of me now.” She started picking up the empty cups and cans within her arms reach. “John B, ‘s it ok if I ask your dad to take me home?”

“Uh, yea-”

“Hey, I’ll take you home.” JJ put a hand on her arm when she stood. She would only look at his hand, not his face. 

“No, it’s ok.” He could hardly hear her, something that rarely happened since she’d gotten comfortable with all of them. Well, almost all of them. He stood up, close enough that her arm was flush to his chest. She still didn’t look at him, only facing John B, pulling his cold glare from Kiara to her taught pout and watery eyes that broke his heart. “If he’s busy I can walk.”

“You’re not walking,” JJ tried to get her to look at him. She almost did but then Kiara started again.

“Maybe she should. Learn to do something for herself for once instead of getting someone else to do it for her, like she does every time.”

JJ pulled her to his chest and John B stepped in front of them. “Kie, I think you should go, man.”

“Right, like you guys haven’t been ditching me since JJ started bringing his new bitch around!” She flinched at the word and JJ pulled her closer. “Just make Kiara leave, right?! Not like I’ve been your best friend for years before she came around.”

“You wanna go?” JJ whispered into her ear. She didn’t trust herself to speak, she didn’t want to speak, so a nod would have to suffice. “Go wait inside.”

“Jay, no,” she weakly argued.

“I’ll be right out, please baby, just let me,” he left the end of his sentence hanging and let Pope guide her inside with a nod of gratitude.

John B was still trying to calm Kiara down, but JJ wasn’t into pleasantries. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Ever since you’ve started bringing her here you’ve been so distant, you’re so wrapped up in each other, it’s like you’re in your own little bubble and you never pay any attention to us anymore.”

“Could you stop speaking for me and Pope, Kie? Really. It’s enough,” John B sat back down while JJ and Kiara were getting in each other’s faces. 

“So you don’t find her so fucking grating you can’t even hear yourself think?”

John B pulled JJ back, just a bit further from her, “No-”

“No one thinks that! You think that because you’re so possessive over us for no reason! Kie, I’m happy with her, I love her. I love you guys too but not if you’re gonna be a fuckin psycho about it.”

“All I mean is-”

“All you mean is that you’re jealous, and you need to get the fuck over it.”

She scoffed at that, “I am not jealous, I’m not jealous. Why would you even say that?”

“Why would you say any of the shit you’ve said to her? Hmm? You can’t fuckin share. And I’m not asking you to.”

A strange look of relief flashed over her features, but was greatly short lived. 

“I’m telling you.”

“JJ, I-”

“I’m telling you, if you can’t figure out how to act like a normal fucking person then I’m not comin around.”

“I’m the normal one, she’s- she’s-”

Both boys looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to come up with a real negative about the kindest girl they’ve probably ever met, albeit the most distracted one.

JJ hummed when she couldn’t come up with anything. “Jombee, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“10:30 still?”

“You know I’m not up by then.” They did their handshake and JJ went inside while John B made Kiara sit back down and talk to him. Pope and y/n were leaned back against the counter, he had an arm over her shoulders and was finally able to calm her breathing. “Hey,” JJ came closer, slowly, so he didn’t startle them. “Hey, you feelin ok? Still wanna go?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed hard, “Yeah. You ok?”

“I will be when we get home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Wherever you want it to be.”

***

They rode back to her house on his bike. He carried her through the house, just to make her laugh, since she’d been so quiet. 

He threw her onto the bed then went through the shelves of DVDs, looking for the ones he was sure she’d like. “Not the Little Mermaid,” he pushed that one back in line.

“What? Why not the Little Mermaid?”

“Because she doesn’t talk, I want you to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk, you do enough of that for the both of us.” He laughed a little at her attempt of a joke, but it was short lived once he realized what she really meant. 

“But I like your voice, I like what you have to say.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, definitely.”

“About what?”

“About whatever you want.” She silently asked him for something more to go off of. “Here, tell me about this.” He handed her her weighted dinosaur and laid it on her chest.

“What about it?”

“Stop asking questions, start talking. Tell me why you like the squish feeling.”

“What do I get out of it?” He raised an eyebrow at another question but relented anyway.

“I’ll squish you.”

“Really?”

He nodded once, then thought if he looked at her smile any longer he’d melt, so he went to set the movie up.

“Your body is basically like, covered with touch receptors, and when they’re stimulated by, in this case squish, they release oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine, all those. And those are all the happy hormones, the love hormones, aaannnd you love me but you’d love me more if you came over and squished me.”

He hit play then brought a blanket so he could lay down and she could curl into his side. “You love me more than your dinosaur?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Of course I love you more than dinosaurs,” she nudged herself up to kiss his jaw that she could reach. “Dinosaurs can’t squish me, Silly, they’re extinct.”

(thank you so much for reading, please please please let me know if you want a part 2 and support your creators!!! ok??? (maybe not me, i kinda suck and only realized i never copied the last line over like 4 months later) But comments are like the most wonderful thing to me so if there’s any parts you particularly enjoyed just let me know <3<3<3)

“Of course I love you more than dinosaurs,” she nudged herself up to kiss his jaw that she could reach. “Dinosaurs can’t squish me, Silly, they’re extinct.”