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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

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thewintersoldatt · 2 months

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SORRY, NOT SORRY -RAFE CAMERON

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!listener

Summary: Rafe can be a “good” boyfriend when he wants to be… with a sprinkle of manipulation of course.

Warnings: Naughty language, Fluff low-key from our toxic daddy, ft. JJ being a chaotic mess.

notes: This audio is set during 1x05. Instead of it being midsummer's, it's the listeners birthday! I've been working on this all week and I'm tired of listening to it on repeat, so if something doesn't add up, it's because I got lazy. And I wish Rafe told me he loved me. 😭

word count: Its audio, my panties are wet and so are yours.

Scene one

JJ: Ah, would you look at this! It's our birthday girl!

You: What are you doing here?

Our cutie patootie rambles on then walks off with the security guard.

During this pause count to about 6 or 7.

You: What the hell did you guys do to his face?

Rafe: We didn't do anything… his face was like that when he…showed up.

You: Well, why did you guys corner him in here?

Rafe: We were just making sure... he knew his place. And that he's not allowed here. If anything, we were doing you and your parents a favor, I mean, god knows what he already took.

You: You promised me you wouldn’t start anything tonight, Rafe.

Rafe: Can you give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my girlfriend... alone, so get out. Alright, um, can I speak first since you wanna do this right now?

You: Go ahead.

Rafe: How long have you lived here?

You: I was born here.

Rafe: Yes you were born here, but where - where did you grow up?

You: Figure 8.

Rafe: Yes, you grew up on Figure 8. And where did... our pal JJ grow up?

You: The cut.

Rafe: The Cut. and that's exactly my point, baby. We're kooks. And... what is JJ again?

You: Jesus, Rafe don't start-

Rafe: Come on, you wanna talk, let’s talk. What about communication? Isn’t that what we're supposed to be working on?

Count to 3 during this pause.

You: He’s a pouge.

Rafe: See that wasn't so hard, now was it? Now, let me make something clear, and stop me if you get a little confused - you and me. We’re practically royalty on this island. We’re together for a reason. And before you saying, yes I do love you. I always have and I always will. You’re mine. You’re it for me, sweetheart. And… you’re a kook. So, start acting like one before I do something about it, mkay?

You: God, you’re a dick you know that? How about you leave too.

Rafe: Ugh, look I’m sorry, alright? It’s just… it’s just when I saw him on the patio talking to Sarah I lost it. This is supposed to be your day and I didn’t want him ruining it. Kind of like when… uh… we switched out the coke with flour and gave it to Top because he ate your cupcakes.

You: And how is that relevant to this?

Rafe: It’s sorta the same thing. You - you worked hard on those. Uh, he ate them. I was pissed because they were for me. And you were upset because I wanted to punch him in the throat. Tomato, tomahto. Blah, blah, blah. See you’re smiling, I love it when you smile.

You: You’re such a sap.

Rafe: I love you.

You: I love you too.

Rafe: And again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene, I just didn’t know how else to get him to leave. You know how JJ and his friends are. All of them are drawn to us like a moth to a flame. Now, uh, can we put this behind us and get back to the party?

You: Thats the smartest thing that’s come out of your fat mouth all night, baby.

Rafe: By the way, I really do think he took something from your bedroom.

You: What?

Rafe: I saw him come down from the hallway, unless he took something from your dad’s office?

You: You’re serious?

Rafe: As a heart attack.

You: But… I’ve never done anything to him.

Rafe: That’s what they do though. You should know this by now. They butter you up, just to take whatever they can right from under our noses. It’s sick, if I’m being honest.

You: So much for trying to be civil.

Rafe: I know, yeah, I’ll talk to your dad, and um, see what we can do. But for now, let’s go celebrate. It’s not everyday someone turns 17.

@rafesapologist @rvfecamerons @sadfury @rafesthroatbaby @rafesaddiction @hockeybabe87 @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @secretly-tumb1r @kingkylie444 @stayonmars @maybankswhore @barbiiecams @princessmisery666 @ilovebarrykeoghan

If you would like to be tagged, I gotchu sis.

#drew starkey #ai generated #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #i’m in love #my original post #my original writing #enjoy the audio

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lovelyjj · 4 months

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing good! If you’re still doing OBX requests, I’d love to know your take of the scene in season 2 where Kiara almost drowned in the sewers and if that happened to reader instead, and had JJ all freaked out and panicked and protective!! Please and thank you 🙏🩷

Sewer

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.0k

a/n: sorry if this sucks.

“No. No way. Not happening. You’re not going in there.”

“JJ… who else is gonna do it? We have to get the gun somehow,” you countered.

“I don’t want you going in there y/n, I mean it.” JJ crossed his arms.

“What’s the worse that can happen? I get a little dirty?”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” JJ pleaded slowly giving into letting you do this.

“I will I promise thank you!”

“She’ll be fine,” Pope chimed in.

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” you gave JJ a reassuring smile.

JJ gave Pope an uneasy look but then nodded his head towards you.

With JJ’s reluctant approval your made your way to crawl into the sewer. It was muddy and wet and full of trash.

You crawled your way through the tunnel trying to hold back your gag. It was dark and dirty but you volunteered to do it so you couldn’t really complain.

JJ was worried, he started biting his nails. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to you.

“I don’t see anything yet,” you called out.

“It’s probably at the bottom of the catch basin,” Pope shouted.

“Ugh,” you cringed as your shook the muddy water off your hands.

“Gun gun looking for a gun,” you murmured to yourself.

“Guys, I think I found something,” you voiced.

“You guys, there’s something dead in here!” you shouted.

Your screamed and then yelled, “Oh my god! There’s something dead. I repeat…”.

“… there is something dead in here!”

Meanwhile Rafe and Barry were up top by the drain. Rafe bent down and listened to the drain.

“Well, they’re in the sewer,” Rafe commented.

“Flush them out,” Rafe continued.

Barry scoffs, “you flush that pipe, you gonna kill the rat.”

“Yeah.”

“The last thing you need is more dead bodies showing up around this bitch,” Barry warned.

“You realize what you’re doing if you do that?” Barry hissed.

“I mean if you wanna be a pussy, you can leave,” Rafe argued.

“Do you not realize what you are doing, bruh?” Barry looked Rafe in the eyes.

“Get the hell out of the way,” Rafe ordered.

“All right, then. All right, then, tough guy,” Barry backed down.

“You don’t wanna be here for this, go find the truck, okay?” Rafe instructed.

Rafe started turning the wheel that let the water out.

Pope spoke to JJ asking, “Do you hear that?”

“What?” JJ responded.

“Listen.” Pope put out.

You were down in the drain when you herd the sloshing of water.

“Oh shit!”

“Guys? Guys the water!” you yelled.

“Shit! Oh my god! Y/N get out of there now,” JJ shouted.

“I don’t have time! JJ!” you screamed.

“This can’t be happening. Why did I let her go in there?” JJ talked in a panic.

JJ chest was tight and his heart was racing. He was so worried about you he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was panicking.

The water was coming in fast and you were screaming for help.

A flood of water came out from the gated hole where JJ and Pope were standing.

“Maybe there’s a manhole!” JJ shouted.

“Y/N!” Both JJ and Pope called out.

“Go go go go go!”

They started running to the manhole, screaming your name. It took everything in JJ not to faint. Allowing you to drown would be extremely traumatic. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He had to save you, there was no other option. A world without his girl is a world he wouldn’t want to live in.

You started climbing the ladder desperately trying to stay above the water. Eventually you reached the top and you stuck your fingers through the slits of the manhole.

“JJ! JJ! Pope! Help! Please i’m over here!” you shouted.

JJ and Pope ran as fast as they could. They finally reached the manhole and were breathing heavy.

“Pull! Pull it!” you said with urgency.

JJ and Pope both grunted as they pulled up on the manhole.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

JJ and Pope continued to pull it.

“JJ! JJ! Please! Please!”

“We are gonna get you out of there I promise baby,” JJ spoke.

The water was rising fast and it soon came up past the drain. JJ and Pope were pulling with all their strength. You were starting to think you were gonna drown. But then by some miracle the drain lid lifted up and fell down in front of the hole, as you emerged into the fresh air.

You collapsed on your hands and knees coughing up a storm.

“I for sure thought I was a goner for a second there,” you coughed.

“You made it baby,” JJ praised.

“ Y/N, You good?” Pope and JJ both questioned at the same time.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you cleared your throat.

“This wasn’t what we needed was it?,” you held up the gun from being stuck in your waistband.

“Holy shit you did it!” JJ cheered.

“Oh my god! Way to go,” Pope exclaimed.

JJ was so proud of you. His heart was so happy that you made it out safely.

The three of you embraced in a group hug and went to take the gun to Shoupe.

————

When the day turned into the evening, you were at heyward’s seafood using the outside shower. JJ was sitting on the bench waiting for you to come out.

You were showering away all the sewage. You felt grateful to be getting clean. You sighed finishing up your shower. You outstretched your hand for a towel which JJ gladly gave you.

The air was crisp and chilly and you felt the wind on your wet hair. You dried off and got changed. When you emerged from the shower stall JJ was smiling at you.

The two of you decided to sit on a nearby table.

“Ya know you really scared the shit out of me today,” JJ started.

“Yeah i know i’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault baby,” JJ soothed.

You gave JJ one of your signature smiles and his heart just about stopped. You enjoyed these moments with JJ. Where it was just the two of you and you enjoyed being together.

JJ was your person and without him you’d be lost. You think maybe if it weren’t for JJ you wouldn’t of got out of the drain. So you were eternally grateful.

“Thank you for saving me J,” you whispered.

“ah it was nothing. I’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

“Yeah i do,” you smiled.

501 notes · View notes

confused-pyramid · 3 months

Text

One Step From Grace | s4

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 19.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, abortion mention, implied SA, gun violence, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x09, 4x11, 4x16, 4x17, 4x18, 4x23, and 4x26

a/n: Some more tension in the slow burn! I included some more specific episode details in this one, because some of the eps and characters are important to future seasons :') P.S. I love hearing all of your thoughts and comments (it's honestly what makes all of this worth it) so lmk what you think:) Title is from Grace by Rag 'n Bone Man

series masterlist

"Garcia, is everyone okay?"

You can hear the sound of sirens blazing down the street a few blocks away from you, but you're too far away to make it there in time.

"Oh, thank god, you're alright," she gasps over the phone, her voice thick with tears. "Rossi and Reid called me just now, and Derek's on the line."

He greets you with a frantic urgency. "Hey, Y/N, I'm heading to the explosion site to see what happened."

"Okay, sounds good, keep calling people," you instruct Garcia, before swerving across the lanes and turning at the next intersection.

She calls Emily, who tells you that she's also going to the NYPD's critical incident command posts. When she tries JJ, the call doesn't go through, and then suddenly the line goes quiet.

"Garcia?" you call into the void. "Penelope, are you there? Derek? Emily?" No one responds, and your heart rate spikes again as you pull over in front of the command center and rush inside.

Rossi and Reid envelope you in big hugs when you find them in the main bullpen, and soon after, Emily and JJ join you inside.

"Do we know what happened?" you ask them as you crowd around the city map where Reid pinpointed all the prior crime scenes. "What street was the explosion on?"

Reid opens his mouth to answer, when Emily's phone rings. "Yeah, Garcia, I'm back. JJ's here too."

She listens for a few seconds, before her eyes widen and she glances over at you. Lifting the phone from her ear, she puts it on speaker and says, "Can you repeat all of that?"

"Derek's chasing after the bomber," Penelope says, her breaths coming out in short spurts. "The bomb... it was in Kate's SUV, or under it. Hotch is out there with her."

Your heart stutters and you press your palms against the back of the chair in front of you, leaning over it to get closer to the phone. "Is he okay?" You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. "Are they okay?"

"He seems okay, but she looks really hurt. He hasn't moved her."

You release the breath you didn't realize you were holding and stand up straight, turning around to catch your breath. If something had happened to him...something irreversible...you don't know what you would've done. Especially after the last thing you said to him.

It's not your place to have this discussion.

Screw you.

"Where was Kate's SUV parked?" Rossi asks from behind you as you rub your eyes and turn back to face Emily's phone.

"2 blocks East of Federal Plaza."

***

You keep picturing the security camera feed of his SUV blowing up as you rush into St. Barclay's hospital. The moment Morgan called with the update that Hotch was taking Kate there in an ambulance, you all piled into an SUV and drove straight over.

You know Garcia and Morgan said he was fine, but not all injuries are visible. You're the first person inside, and you rush down the hallways until you spot a nurse in the ER. After you flash your badge, she points you to the curtains behind her.

When you push past them, he's standing up, working on the last few buttons of his shirt. His face is covered with tiny abrasions, and there's a piece of gauze stuck to his right ear.

"Aaron," you whisper, not wanting to startle him. He looks up as he grabs his tie out of the bag they put his clothes in. "Let me do that."

You take the tie from him as he sighs and closes his eyes for a long moment. It's silky against your fingers as you loop it around his neck and slide it under his collar.

"How are you feeling?" you ask him, trying to keep your voice soft.

He dips his chin to meet your eye and he squints as he shakes his head. "I'm fine, but Kate's in surgery. It didn't look good."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, forgetting about any prior gripes you had with her. "I'm sure she'll pull through."

He purses his lips and nods, just as the rest of the team pushes past the curtain. You step back quickly without thinking, and you don't miss the flash of confusion in his eyes before he turns to Morgan for the latest update on the bomber.

You swallow thickly as you look at your feet, letting everyone else walk around you. You don't know why you stepped back. Maybe it's the freshness of his divorce. Maybe it's the way Agent Calvert from the Portland office looked over your shoulder after you told him you weren't ready for dating again.

Whatever it was, you know you hated how it felt.

***

"There's a bomb on the ambulance."

Fear spikes through him as he turns around. "The ambulance which I drove in here." This day has already been longer than any of them expected it to be, but each passing minute seems to bring another surprise.

Rossi shoots him a knowing look that he reflects. "The hospital is their target."

He glances at you and you look back at him, your eyes filled with what he can only guess is fear. His mind flashes back to your interaction earlier, but he pushes it out of his brain as he realizes that they are down a man. "Where did Morgan go?"

Emily turns back. "He went to find the ambulance."

"Alone?" you gape at her, reaching for the gun in your holster.

He figures they only have a few minutes before the cell signal returns, so he grabs his own gun and nods. "Let's head down."

The ambulance is gone when they find the bomber in the parking garage, holding a knife to his throat. Before any of you can approach him, he slits his own throat. He can't help the grimace of disgust that crosses his face as the terrorist falls to the ground.

Once the immediate danger to the hospital is alleviated, everyone starts to relax. The rest of the team stays behind to clear the scene as he sprints up to the seemingly empty surgical ward. He finds the operating room that Kate was supposed to be in, but when he pushes through the doors, all he sees is a few janitors mopping the blood off the floor.

"What happened?" he gasps out. "Where's the surgeon."

A man in a blue scrub cap comes forward and pats his shoulder, a resigned look on his face. "We did all that we could. I'm so sorry."

All of the momentum leaves his body as he releases his breath, his shoulders deflating along with it like a circus balloon. The surgeon leaves the room and he looks down at her blood seeping down the floor drain. He watches as it mixes in with the cleaning fluids, and he can't help but wish that her death could've been less painful.

***

You wait outside the hotel the next morning, your go-bag hanging heavily off your shoulder. When the doctors told Hotch he wasn't cleared to fly yet, you told the NY agent assigned to drive him that you could take over.

"What are you still doing here?"

You turn around to see Hotch walking out of the hotel, the bag in his left hand evening out his gait after the explosion gave him a temporary limp.

You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from your head. "I'm your ride."

His eyes twinkle in the bright sunlight. "You really didn't have to. The flight is much quicker."

"It's okay," you shrug, before grinning. "Besides, I would never pass up an opportunity to annoy you for three hours."

That makes him laugh, before he winces slightly. Got it. No jokes.

He doesn't complain as you take the driver's seat, and that's when it hits you how much pain he must be in. For as long as he's had his license, he has preferred to be the one driving, sometimes even when he's in your car.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, but eventually you need to fill the silence. "I'm really sorry about Kate."

"Thank you," he sighs, his eyes squinting at the sun as you pull onto the highway. "I've known her for a long time." He exhales sharply. "Knew her."

You remember him telling you about a case he worked, years ago, that took him to Scotland Yard. He had sounded almost excited as he recounted the differences in how the British government handled procedure, but he had kept one thing to himself.

"You never told me about her," you say gently, trying to keep the blame out of your voice. You're not angry, you just don't understand why it would have been a secret.

He turns his head to gaze out the window for a few moments, before he looks back at you. "I wasn't sure about how that case would go when I agreed to take a look, but we ended up working really well together. I had spoken to her a few times before, mostly over the phone, but it was our first time meeting in person. We caught the guy we were looking for in just a few days, so before I left, she invited me to join her team for dinner."

You can guess where this is going, but you let him finish, in case you're wrong.

"When she dropped me off at my hotel that night, she made a... suggestive remark that I would've ignored if the implication hadn't been so clear. I shut it down immediately, but I didn't tell Haley when I got back, and I guess I just felt so guilty about it that I couldn't bring myself to tell you either."

Hotch feeling guilty about something. There's a shocker.

You glance over at him with a small smile. "I get it."

The "Welcome to New Jersey" sign flies past as you cross the bridge, and you both sit in comfortable silence as the sun glints off the water and reflects onto the cars around you. You see him looking out the window, and you wonder if he's thinking about Haley again, but then he turns to you with a curious expression. "The unit chief job here is yours if you want it."

Do you want it? You know you like leadership, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the possibility of moving up the ladder at some point, but now that you're confronted with the opportunity, it doesn't feel how you thought it would.

The thought of leaving this team, when they've become your second family, tastes bitter on your tongue. You know you could assume that other teams are like this too, but when you actually try to picture it, it doesn't feel possible.

"You can think about it," he says after a minute, "but not for long. They need a replacement ASAP."

You glance over at him and a realization clicks in your brain. "Wait, they needed your recommendation before offering me the position, didn't they?" You crack a smile. "You tryna get rid of me, boss?"

He laughs, before it turns into a small grimace from the pain. "No, of course I don't want you to leave. I just know you're destined for more than this. You could be doing so much good work, leading your own team."

The sun peeks out from behind the buildings in front of you, and you reach up to pull down the sun visor. "Maybe one day. But not today."

His eyes flit over to meet yours and you share a smile before you turn back to the wide expanse of road ahead of you.

***

You've been watching him all day. He was cleared to fly again, but you saw how pained he looked when the jet took off, and again when they exhumed Cortland's grave. The way he's been flinching back at the slightest sound, and cowering in pain after the louder screeches.

You tighten the strap of your kevlar vest and glance over at him again as he whispers something to the local sheriff on the Angel Maker copycat case. You've cornered the unsub in the latest victim's house, and Morgan got her out before she could be killed, but Emily continues to speak to the unsub through her megaphone, coaxing her out and into custody.

"It's over, Chloe," she says calmly as Morgan deposits the woman into the awaiting ambulance. "We have Faye. You have nowhere to go."

After a few moments, the front door creaks open and everyone lifts their weapons. She looks surprised when she sees the dozens of guns pointing at her, but then she lifts her own and Hotch steps in.

"Chloe, drop the gun."

The sheriff, with much less composure, jabs his weapon forward. "Damn it, lady, drop it!"

She takes a step forward and the sheriff fires, taking her down in one shot. Hotch goes down at the same time, doubling over in pain, his hands going up to cover his ears as he lets out a low groan.

As everyone else goes to Chloe, you rush to him, lifting your hands to press them over his in an attempt to help him hide from the external chatter and noises. "Aaron, it's okay, you're gonna be okay."

His body folds into yours as you wrap your arms around his head, clutching him to you, unable to help. "It's okay, it's okay."

It takes a few seconds for him to relax in your arms, and then a few more for him to remove his hands from his ears and stand up straight again.

"I'm okay," he sighs, his brow still furrowed with tension. "Thank you."

"Of course," you whisper, your chest heaving as the stress slowly seeps from your body. "You're not flying home."

He takes a deep breath before slowly dipping his chin into a nod. "It's a much longer drive. You don't have to accompany me this time."

The corner of your lip quirks up. "What makes you think I was offering?"

"Okay," he chuffs, rolling his eyes. You can still see the image of him doubling over in pain splashed across your eyelids, but you manage to push it out of your mind long enough to return his smile.

***

"Stand!"

You look up from the young girl you were interviewing with Emily and Spencer as Cyrus storms into the room with a gun, his second in command hot on his heels.

"What's going on?" Emily asks as she and Nancy Lunde, the state officer you came onto the cult compound with, stand up and approach him.

He squints, scrutinizing each of you. "We just got A very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me, about a raid, maybe?"

You frown, genuine confusion coloring your expression as you shake your head. "We told you, we're child victim interview experts."

He takes another moment to consider your answer before nodding and instructing the man with him to lead you to the tunnels for safety while the raid continues.

You let Spencer, Emily and Nancy go ahead of you as the sounds of gunfire from the back get louder. When you reach the tunnels, they head further in to help the children take cover as Nancy turns back and gives you an earnest look. "I can talk to him."

You're shaking your head before she's done speaking. "No, you can't. It's too dangerous."

You try to grab her arm, but she rushes forward and past the small crowd of children that safely made it out of the school. You run after her as she calls out, "Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them."

She's too close to the window. You reach forward to grab her arm and pull her back but then another round of gunshots fires off and she drops to the ground in front of you. You start to crouch down, out of the line of sight of the window, when a searing pain shoots through your abdomen. You keel over, falling forward into the wall of the chapel as you gasp out in pain.

It doesn't hurt as bad as it probably should, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins won't last forever. You press your hands against the bullet wound that ripped through the side of your abdomen, and try to calm your breathing as fear washes over you. The team knows you three are in here, they'll figure out how to get you all out.

You know the minimal loss scenario by heart, and the BAU was the one who wrote the CIRG playbook, so it's a small comfort to know that you'll be able to predict their moves. You can only hope that they will be able to predict yours just as well.

Another wave of pain shoots through your side and you grit your teeth as the adrenaline starts to wear off. They better hurry.

***

He knows he's emotionally involved. They all are, but if his people aren't the ones leading this negotiation, he won't be able to forgive himself for any outcome that doesn't end with the three of you coming out in one piece.

He's listening in as Dave speaks with Cyrus, and he can't help but notice how cavalier his tone is after his followers were just shot at. He continues to rant about the final battle he has foreseen, until Dave manages to get him back on track.

"Now, the four child services workers..." he says slowly. Hotch can hear the concern coloring his tone even as he tries to act detached.

Cyrus's voice is crisp over the line. "One of them is dead."

His heart jumps to his throat. Your face flashes in his mind and he closes his eyes as he silently begs whoever is out there for it not to be you. Not you, not Prentiss, not Reid. Please.

"Her name was Nancy Lunde."

His breath comes out like a gasp, and Dave turns to him with an equally relieved expression. He's so thankful that the guilt for wishing harm on anyone takes an extra second to take over.

But Cyrus isn't finished talking. "One of the other child service workers was shot during the same raid. Once again, by your people."

He looks up at Dave, waiting for him to ask who it was, but he doesn't have to. The next word out of Cyrus's mouth is your name, and his stomach twists with nausea and anguish even as he assures Dave that your wound has been cleaned and properly dressed.

He turns to look at the compound, as though he could see you if he squinted hard enough. Hold on, he thinks, hoping you can hear him somehow. You've always had a way of reading his mind. Please hold on.

***

You wake up on a small cot, with a woman bent over you. You hiss as she presses down the edge of the bandage on your abdomen, and you bring your chin to your chest to see the current state of your gunshot wound.

You're surprised to see the blood washed off, a clean bandage and gauze left in its place.

"You got lucky," the woman says when she realizes you're awake. "The bullet went all the way through."

"Thank you," you whisper, before turning your head to look around the room. "Where are the people I came in with?"

"I'll take you to them," she nods, reaching her hand out. You take it and let out an involuntary groan as she helps you into a standing position. You try taking a step, but another spike of pain shoots through you, so the woman latches her arm under your shoulder to help you walk.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually you get back to the main chapel, where Emily and Spencer are sitting with the rest of the followers. They turn when the doors open in front of you, and they immediately jump out of their chairs to take over for the woman helping you.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks, his eyebrows pinching as he looks at you.

"I'm okay," you assure him, even as your vision blurs from the pain of having to walk so far. "Can we just sit down, though?"

"Of course," Emily nods, helping you sink into a chair. "I'll get you some water."

Spencer sits down next to you when she rushes off, and you don't miss how he keeps glancing down at your stomach.

"It'll be okay, Spence." He meets your eye and you nod again. "We know the playbook. We just have to follow it."

Emily returns with a water bottle that she opens and hands to you, and you chug half of it before setting it down. Hotch, please hurry, you think, wishing he could hear you.

***

The next morning, you wake up to a knock on the front door of the compound. You peel your eyes open and try to sit up, before remembering what happened the night before. Your skin feels wet as you run your fingers against the edge of the gauze, and you look down to see that you're bleeding through the dressings.

"Emily," you whisper, pushing her shoulder gently to shake her awake. "I need you to get the first aid kit again."

You feel more blood drip down your stomach, and your vision turns hazy for a moment, like a confirmation. She walks across the room to get the kit, and you almost forget about the knock on the door, until Cyrus opens it, revealing a stone-faced Rossi.

They shake hands as Emily removes your dressings before tearing open a new packet of gauze and pressing it into your wound.

"The children," Cyrus tells him, gesturing to the crowd. He then points at the three of you. "And our guests."

Rossi meets your eyes for a split second, and you make sure to keep your expression neutral as he nods and turns back to Cyrus. You're glad it's him who came inside, and not Hotch, because even though you want nothing more than to see him right now, you also don't want him to see you like this.

Rossi tries to get him to release the children, but he ends up leaving with nothing more than a promise to send food and supplies.

***

"Prentiss, Reid, and L/N are okay," Dave says as he jogs back to the tent outside. He turns to Hotch then. "She's been shot in the abdomen. They've tried to dress her wound, but she's losing blood."

Shit. He shuts his eyes as he tries to think about what he can do from out here to speed up the playbook.

"I have a signal!" Morgan beckons them over as he lifts a few sets of headphones for them to wear. With the bug Dave left on the compound, at least they have ears on the inside. It's not all he wants, but it's something, at least.

***

"Which one of you is it?"

Cyrus storms into the basement, where Spencer and Emily are sitting next to you as you lay down on the small cot from earlier. After Emily changed your bandages, Spencer managed to convince him to let you rest away from the followers.

"Which one of you is the FBI agent?"

Spencer jumps in before you can react. "Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?"

You haven't had the time or capacity to properly profile this man yet, so you don't know if his evasive tactic will work, but you also know he's smart enough to have thought this through.

Cyrus sighs, almost like he's disappointed. "God will forgive me for what I must do." He steps forward and points his gun at Spencer's head. You gasp, trying to keep a look of confusion on your face as you fight the urge to step in.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer says, stumbling over his words. His eyes are wide with fear, and you can't tell how much of it is real and how much is for show.

Cyrus tuts. "One of you does. Who is it?"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract him, but then Emily stands up. "Me. It's me."

The moment of relief you feel when he lifts his gun from Spencer's head is gone as soon as he grabs Emily by the hair and drags her to the door. Your legs burn with the desire to leap off the cot and tackle him to the ground, but you can't move as the door shuts behind them.

***

It's almost night fall by the time Emily joins you again. You and Spencer were moved back up to the chapel after Cyrus took her away, and seeing her now, she looks awful.

Splotchy bruises of purple and blue paint her neck and chest, and there's dried blood on her temple and the corner of her mouth.

"Emily," you gasp, trying to control your expression so that Cyrus and his diehard followers don't think you know her as well as you do. You hate the feeling of letting her take the brunt of his punishment and blame, but it won't help to expose yourselves as agents too.

Spencer leans over you to get a better look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods, flashing him a small smile. "Yeah, it looks worse than it feels." You can't imagine she's seen her reflection today, but you still appreciate her trying to relieve his stress.

Right then, the front door opens again and a shipment of food containers are carried inside. Men lift the boxes and bring them around the room to feed everyone inside, and when they set a box in front of you three, you notice a familiar scrawl of handwriting on top of the to-go container. 3AM. They're coming in at 3AM.

***

When the followers leave to go to bed, Cyrus takes Emily away again to separate her from you and the others. You fight the exhaustion pulling your eyes shut as you sit on the floor with your back against the wall. Spencer has been talking to Cyrus's second in command, trying to convince him that the Bible can be used to manipulate anything, but Cyrus catches on quickly.

You keep glancing at the door, hoping that Emily will find her way back up before 3AM hits, but as each minute ticks by, the idea becomes more futile.

You saw the diehard followers rigging the compound with explosives earlier in the night, and the detonator is clutched in Cyrus's hand like a lifeline. The irony doesn't escape you.

"Something's wrong," the follower reports, his eyes scanning the darkness outside through the window of the chapel.

Cyrus walks over to check, and you use the moment of distraction to lift the edge of your shirt and check your bandages. You're starting to bleed through the gauze again, but it's not bad enough that you need your dressings changed just yet.

When Cyrus realizes that he's been lied to, Spencer tries to distract him by spouting off verses at a rapid pace, but Cyrus just rams the butt of his rifle into his head, sending him to the ground.

"You cannot convert my brothers," Cyrus says before hitting him again. You crawl over to him, ignoring the screaming pain in your side, and clutch his arm for some semblance of comfort. Cyrus looks down at the both of you, his eyes squinting. "No one had to follow. God could have stopped me."

"He just did."

There's a gunshot, and you whip your head around to see Morgan and a young girl racing out of the tunnel before he crouches beside you. "You two alright?"

You nod, reaching your arm up to let him help you into a standing position. "Where's Emily?"

"We got her out of here," he explains, before turning to the girl. "Sweetheart, come with me."

She looks at each of you, her face twisted with panic, before bending down and picking up the detonator from where Cyrus dropped it. Your eyes widen and you yank Spencer in front of you before pushing him down the tunnel. "Run!"

Derek wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding half of your weight as you both sprint down the tunnel after Spencer. You're almost outside when the explosion goes off, pushing you to your knees with a strong gust of air and smoke.

***

He yells out your name as the blast engulfs the compound. His throat feels ragged as he yells out for Reid and Morgan too, but he can't see anything until three figures stand up from the plume of smoke and stumble down the steps.

He rushes up, meeting you halfway as you collapse from Morgan's arms into his. He grabs onto you as your knees buckle, and he manages to pull you towards him before you hit the ground.

He can't breathe as he clutches you to him, trying to be mindful of your wounds. Your breath comes out in gasps that mix in with his own as he sags with relief that you're here, back in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls back when he sees the paramedics approaching, and it's only then that he finally gets a good look at you. Your skin is gaunt, and his heart thuds loudly in his ears as he sees you wince in pain.

When they load you into an ambulance, his feet finally start working again and he races after you. "I'm coming with you."

You nod as he climbs through the doors and you reach your hand out over the side of the gurney. Your fingers feel cold when he clasps your hand in his, and he syncs his breaths with the sound of the sirens as your eyes fall closed.

***

The first thought that goes through your head when you wake up is that it's too bright. You squint as your eyes peel open, and in the few moments it takes for them to adjust to the light, a chorus of quiet 'she's awake's filter around the hospital room.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asks, stepping closer to stand at your bedside.

"You gave us a real scare, Mama," Penelope adds with a gentle smile.

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat is so dry, no sound comes out. Emily darts forward to grab the cup of water on the counter, and you glance over to see the yellowing bruises on her cheekbones.

After a few sips, you clear your throat and say, "I'm good. How long was I out?"

"Just a day," Derek responds from the foot of your bed, where he's standing with Spencer and Penelope.

Spencer chimes in. "You got out of surgery a few hours ago, and the doctors said you can go home tomorrow morning."

You nod slowly, stretching out your arms and legs to test the limits of your mobility. When you push yourself up into a sitting position, it doesn't hurt as much as it did on the compound.

"Ah, you're awake," Rossi smiles as he joins you all in the hospital room. It's not exactly huge, so everyone has to stand to make room, but it still doesn't escape your notice that someone is missing.

You return Rossi's smile before glancing over at the door, trying to see if he's just outside. Noticing your gaze, Spencer walks forward and takes your hand, giving it a small squeeze. "He's on the phone with your father. I think he got a flight for tomorrow morning."

You exhale slowly and take another sip of water. "Thank you." He nods and moves to release your hand, but you grip it tighter, holding him back. "Seriously, Spence, thank you." You turn to Emily, who is on the other side and her eyes shine, reflecting the tears in yours. "That whole operation sucked, but I'm really glad you two were in there with me."

She lets out a watery laugh and bends down to press an kiss to your temple. "I'm glad you're okay."

When you start fading again, the team leaves with promises to see you back at work in a month, and you close your eyes to get a break from the harsh fluorescent lighting.

***

"Alright," he says into his phone, nodding. "We'll see you in the morning, Mr. L/N. Yes, she's doing a lot better...okay, good, see you soon."

He ends the call and tucks his phone back into his pocket, before walking over to the vending machine at the end of the hall to grab a few of your favorite snacks. He loads up on chips and pop tarts before heading back up the hallway to your room. When he reaches the door, he realizes that the rest of the team has left, so he steps inside quietly and takes a seat in the small plastic chair next to your bed, before gently setting the snacks on your bedside table.

Your eyes are closed and he figures you must have just fallen asleep, so he crosses his arms over his chest and just sits there, watching you. Your face is covered in little scrapes from the explosion, and you still look a bit ashy, but you somehow still do look beautiful. This isn't the first time he has thought this - it was more of a recurrent notion when you were younger - but he can't deny that you're just objectively a beautiful person. But then again, he's not sure if beauty is ever really objective (eye of the beholder and all that), so he pushes the thought aside and turns back to you.

His thoughts are interrupted when his phone chirps with a text message. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checks the name and sees that Haley has arrived at the hospital. He had called her after you went into surgery, knowing that she would kill him if he didn't keep her constantly updated on your condition.

When he finds her at the end of the hall, she pulls him into a quick side hug that's slightly barred by Jack, who is clutching onto her tightly. He can imagine how scary the hospital looks to a three year old boy.

"Hi, bud," he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, before looking at Haley again. "She's sleeping, but I'll take you to her room."

"She's alright, Aaron." Haley is looking at him like she's worried he may break down, and it makes him wonder what his expression looks like right now. Ever since you got out of surgery, he has felt a weight lifted off his chest, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know if he feels all that much lighter at all.

But he doesn't want to say any of that out loud. Nodding, he cocks his head at the other end of the hall and leads her to your room, where you are blinking your eyes open again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Haley coos, adjusting Jack on her hip and walking over to your bedside. "I hope we didn't wake you up?"

You shake your head with a smile, but he can tell you're lying. You look exhausted, and he can see you periodically glancing at the light on the ceiling to keep your eyes alert.

"Well, hello," you grin at Jack as you carefully push yourself up into a sitting position. "How's my little Jack-o-lantern doing?"

His mouth twitches and he reaches his arms out as he lets out a loud, "Good!" You reach forward slowly, likely testing the limits of your mobility, and take him from Haley, who hands him off with a concerned look on her face.

"Be careful, baby," she tells Jack, before stepping back and crossing her arms. "Aunt Y/N is a little fragile today."

To his credit, Jack just slumps down into your arms, absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair as you turn to Hotch. "Reid said you called my dad?"

He nods, taking a deep breath. "He'll be here in the morning. I assured him you were just fine, but he wants to stay here for a bit to keep an eye on you."

"That's okay," you shrug, much to his relief. After your last conversation about your father, he wasn't sure where you stood and how far he was allowed to push. "It'll be nice to have some company while I'm off for the next two weeks."

"Two months," he corrects with a stern look.

"One."

"Fine." The only reason he relents so quickly is because he knows how quickly he would be back at work if he was in your position. "But I'm limiting your field work until you're more healed."

You nod after a second. "I'll take it."

Haley huffs out a laugh and looks at him with an expression he remembers from their marriage. Affection with a hint of exasperation.

"Alright, you two," she smiles, reaching for Jack again. His entire fist is tangled in your hair at this point, but you don't seem to mind. "I should get him to bed. It's already past his bedtime."

You nod and hand him back, before letting her envelope you in a warm hug that you settle yourself into. "Love you, Hales. Thanks for coming by."

"Love you too, honey."

***

Haley leaves with Jack, and you slump down in the bed, feeling tired, but no longer sleepy.

"I can head out too," Hotch says quickly, reaching for his coat, "if you want to sleep."

You shake your head, and he drops his arm immediately, as though he was just looking for an excuse to stay. The thought makes you smile and his brow pinches in confusion. What's on your mind?

"I'm just glad I met you." You reach for his hand he takes it, giving it a soft squeeze, before taking a seat in the chair beside you.

"I brought you some snacks from the vending machine," he points out, glancing over at the pile he made on your table. "I got your favorites...at least out of what they had."

You grin, feeling your chest fill with warmth as you take in the assortment. "Sunchips and cinnamon pop tarts. You remembered."

"Of course," he shrugs. "You're the only person I know, other than my three year old son, who still eats pop tarts."

You make a face, swatting your hand at him, but he's just out of reach. "It's not my fault toddlers have great taste."

He chuckles as you tear open one of the packages and break off a piece. The buttery, sweet taste brings you back to your childhood when your mom was still alive. She would wake you up with two brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts before school, the sweet smell enough to drag you out of bed at eight in the morning.

"What are you thinking about?"

You look up with a smile, your gaze wistful as the memory slowly fades away. "My mom, actually. I don't have a ton of memories of her, but sometimes the most random thing will trigger an emotion or a memory that I forgot I had."

He nods, his eyes thoughtful. "Like the taste of pop tarts."

"Exactly." You break off another piece and toss it into your mouth, before setting the package back on the table. "Last week it was the smell of this perfume I found at the back of my dresser. It wasn't even the exact scent she would wear, it just had the same base notes."

Your voice trails off, and he looks at you, giving you a moment before speaking up. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember her funeral," you say without thinking, before realizing that it's not a lie. You know that grief is weird, that people usually remember everything or nothing, but for some reason, the funeral only comes back to you in pieces. Your dad crying silently, Hotch holding your hand, your dress being too small on you. You wore it anyway, because she had picked it out for you at the store a couple of years before. "I remember you holding me up."

His eyes flash with something that resembles amusement and he purses his lips. "I remember feeling the opposite. I knew I was supposed to be there for you, but somehow, it felt like you were the one holding both of us up that day."

You shrug, realizing the details don't mean anything. "All I really needed was for someone to hold onto."

He nods and that's when your mind flashes back to New York last month. "Did you go to Kate's funeral?"

"No," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Her family flew her back to London to have it there, and I couldn't take any time off."

You want to apologize, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. "I'm sorry for how I acted in New York."

You frown, but he just shakes his head. "I don't really know why I was trying so hard to protect her. I guess after the close call with Strauss last year, I was less sympathetic to bureau politics, but I still shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should've been protecting you too."

His words are tinged with self-contempt, and you find yourself wanting to take away his guilt even though you were hurt by how he treated you during that case. But that's how the two of you work. The protective instincts don't go away just because one of you is angry at the other.

You remember prom night all those years ago, when he was so peeved at you for convincing him to ask Haley to the dance, even though they had just started talking. She had freaked out and said no, so he was forced to take another girl who asked him after the fact (of which there were many), while you went with Kyle Martinez, who had been showing interest in you for a while. You knew your feelings for Hotch definitely weren't just platonic anymore, but he was into Haley, and he was also Hotch, so you had pushed it aside and gone to the prom with Kyle.

You had spotted Hotch the moment he walked into the ballroom that the school had turned into a Gatsby-themed prom venue. He commanded everyone's attention, and you certainly weren't immune, but you had your own date, so you ignored your best friend and danced with Kyle.

As the night wore on, he had grown bored and asked you if you wanted to get out of there and go somewhere quiet, but you weren't exactly experienced back then.

"I'm okay," you had whispered, trying to maintain your smile. "I'd rather just stay at the dance."

You can still remember the change in his expression when he saw you glance at Hotch, as though it was just yesterday. "What, are you into him or something? You seriously think he'd fuck you?"

You hadn't been able to help it as tears flooded your eyes, and before you knew it, Hotch was standing in front of you, glaring down your date as he asked if you were okay.

"Everything's fine," Kyle had sneered, trying to get around him. "Butt out of our business, Hotch."

He looked at you again. Do you want me to go?

You shook your head, a tear falling down your cheek, and before you had time to blink, his fist was swinging. There was a horrible thump as his fist collided with Kyle's cheekbone, sending him stumbling backwards from the force of the hit.

You couldn't move as Kyle swung back, trying to shove him down, but he didn't budge. He could take physical aggression better than most guys his age, but that didn't make this okay.

"Hotch, please," you had pleaded as he landed another punch. The sound of your voice must had cut through the fog, because he looked up then, unaware of the bruises on his knuckles. You helped him up, and the two of you watched as his date stormed out of the ballroom.

Presently, you look at him sitting in his chair and crack a small smile. "Do you remember prom night?"

He groans and you laugh lightly, being careful not to tear the stitches in your side.

"You never actually told me what that asshole did to you." His tone is light, but you can hear the genuine question underneath.

"It was so long ago," you shrug after a beat. "I don't even remember."

***

Your dad arrives at the hospital early the next morning right before you're discharged. The papers are quick, and by the time the sun has risen fully, you are being taken to his car in a wheelchair, despite your best efforts to refuse.

"I can walk!"

"I don't care."

"Dad, come on."

He frowns down at you. "I drove up here to be of use to you. Let me be of use."

You huff in frustration as he wheels you beside his car, and you try to get up on your own, but you twist the wrong way. You gasp out in pain as one of your stitches pulls and your dad immediately comes around to assist you.

"I hate your job," he grumbles, taking your arm to help you into the passenger seat. "If I had my way, you'd be working out of an office cubicle."

"I know, Dad," you soothe, turning your head back to smile at him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, sweetie."

The drive to your house is quick, and he takes your arm again when you get out to help you inside. Once you're laying down on the couch, you insist that you don't need any more concessions, but he doesn't sit down in your armchair until after he has brought you a glass of water and a blanket.

"Dad, I'm fine, really." He doesn't look convinced, so you paste on your brightest smile, and he finally cracks, smiling back at you. "What do you want to do today?" you ask him.

"Wha- do today?" he sputters. "You need to rest, young lady. I'm not letting you leave this couch until you head up for bed tonight."

You can tell he's serious about this, so you sink back into your pillows with a sigh and grab the tv remote. "What do you want to watch then?"

He leans back in his armchair and brings his palm to his face: his thinking expression. "What's on?"

You click on the television, and the first channel it opens up to is playing a rerun of Breaking Bad. Neither of you seem interested in watching it, so you keep flipping through the channels, but after 20 minutes of mindless surfing, you eventually end up back on Breaking Bad.

"We could just play it in the background," you suggest with a shrug, "while we talk."

"Sure," he agrees, placing his hands on each armrest.

Two hours later, your eyes are glued to the television after having watched three episodes.

"We should probably do something else," Dad suggests at the next ad break. "All of this meth production is rotting my brain."

"Yeah," you agree, taking your time to reach for the remote before clicking the tv off and tossing the remote aside. "We can have lunch in the kitchen..."

"Nice try," he chuckles, before standing up. "Aaron is coming by with takeout soon, and you can eat that right from here."

He had been coming by a lot after your movie night a few months ago, and while hanging out with your best friend isn't an anomaly, it does reinforce the reminder that neither of you have anyone to go home to at the end of the night.

It's another half hour by the time he shows up, Thai takeout in hand, and by then you're starving.

"Thanks for bringing food," you say genuinely after your dad lets him inside the house. "I was worried I would have to live off Dad's cooking for a week."

"Very funny," he says with an eye roll. "But yes, thank you, Aaron."

"Of course," Hotch says simply, before handing your dad a fork and napkin. "I'm also hoping to convince Y/N to take more time off."

"Not fair!" you complain, feeling like you're reverting to your high school self with your dad and best friend sitting across from you. "I'm not starting field work for a couple of months. I just want to come in soon to meet the new press liaison."

"Is JJ leaving?" Dad asks as he takes a bite of green curry with rice.

"Just temporarily," Hotch says, reaching for the pad kee mao container. You nod, chiming in, "She's due in a couple of months, so she's gonna start training someone soon to take over while she's gone."

"Is she still with that cop from...where was it again?"

"New Orleans," you answer with a laugh. "Yeah, she and Will are still together."

You can feel the conversation getting dangerously close to (ex) spouses, so you steer your father away from the topic by having him try all of the food Hotch brought. He ends up staying for a couple of hours as he explains some of the more tame cases you've handled to your dad, who actually seems interested in the finer details of each profile.

Eventually, he heads home, with the explanation that he has Jack that night, and you say good night to your dad before heading up for bed. You cover the stitches with plastic the way the doctors instructed you to before taking a fast shower and getting into your bed.

You can hear the sound of your father's quiet snores from the guest room down the hall, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine that you're back in your childhood home, sleeping in your pink and purple bedroom after spending the day with your best friend.

***

It takes a lot of convincing, but at the end of the month, your dad drops you off at work before making his drive back home. Emily had called you before the team's plane took off, and you timed it right so that you'd get to the office just as they arrived.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you hear a loud conversation happening between Morgan and Prentiss just before they spot you from the bullpen.

"Y/N!" Emily grins, rushing forward to give you a hug. "How's the healing process been?"

"I feel a lot better," you tell her with a smile as you pull back and drop your bag next to your desk.

"You look a lot better," she nods, before Derek grabs you and pulls you in for a surprisingly gentle bear hug.

"You look great," he says, grinning at you. "Are you cleared to come back to work?"

"Not field work," you sigh, pushing your hair back behind your ear. "I'm just here to turn in some paperwork and then I'm stuck to my desk for a few more weeks."

Derek takes the files from your hand and tosses them on your desk before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "You should come out and get burgers with Prentiss and me."

"Tempting," you say, "but I just came by to meet-"

"Hey guys," JJ calls out from the hallway. "I want to introduce you to someone."

She walks up to you all with another woman by her side. "This is Agent Jordan Todd. She'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

You grin, clasping your hands together in front of you as she smiles sheepishly at all of you. "Agent Jareau's told me so much about you all."

She turns to Emily first. "You must be Agent Prentiss."

"Yes," she smiles, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Spencer walks up at that moment and Agent Todd nods at him. "Hello, Dr. Reid."

He waves back, and she then looks at you. You reach out first to shake her hand and she smiles. "Agent L/N, I presume?" When you nod, she takes your hand. "I heard about the cult incident."

"Yeah," you let out a laugh. "Incident is definitely a word for it."

Derek drops his arm from your shoulder and Jordan turns to him with a cheeky grin that piques your interest. "And Agent Morgan. Nice to see you again."

He nods, not giving anything away. "Nice to see you, too. So, this must be the good news."

"This would be my brownie."

Emily frowns, pointing between the two of then. "Uh, you two have met?"

Derek doesn't turn away from her. "Briefly."

JJ shoots him a look before steering Jordan away to meet the rest of the team, and you and Emily turn to Derek with matching expressions. "What was that about?"

"I met her at a coffee shop this morning," he explains, rubbing a hand over his face. "She knew my name then, and I guess this is how."

"JJ's about to pop," Emily says, glancing at you with a small smirk. "Looks like it's about to get interesting at the BAU."

***

Your first case back in the field takes you to Atlanta, where Vanessa Holden was murdered after going home with a man she met on a night out clubbing. Jordan briefs you all on the details back in the office before you get on the plane.

You're still not used to JJ being gone, and you heard all about Jordan's drive from Hotch when he came by your house with dinner periodically over your bureau-mandated leave, but you don't want to make any judgments before getting to know her yourself.

You sit across from Hotch on the plane, and you don't miss the way his eyes follow each of your movements from the second you sit down. Your bandages are still on, but you've regained almost all of your mobility.

As the jet takes off, you lean forward slightly to adjust the back of your blazer, and his gaze shoots to you, his brow furrowing with concern.

You flash your eyes at him, cutting the tension with a small smirk. I'm fine, I promise.

He squints slightly, scrutinizing your expression for a moment, before letting out an inscrutable sigh and turning back to the case file.

When you land in Atlanta, you start off at the police department with Hotch, Morgan, and Todd, and her continued insistence on being the first to meet with the local officials and debrief them surprises you, given JJ's more subtle nature when working with those who call your team in.

The local police let you know that the Holden family has stopped cooperating with their investigation, but the four of you head over to their home to try and speak with her mother and sister one last time. Jordan gets you in the house by sharing a story about her older sister who passed away, and you find yourself feeling awful about your misjudgment of her, until you notice the look of Hotch's face.

"Did you know that about Jordan?" you ask, trying to understand why he looks so miffed.

"No," he says simply, his brow pinched together, "and neither did she. According to her file, she's an only child."

You flash your eyes at Derek.

The conversation gets you a basic profile of the unsub, based on the cocky way he held himself with Vanessa and the way he was dressed when approaching her at the club, but when the moment you exit her home, Hotch corners Jordan on the driveway.

"The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister," he fumes. "Where did you get that?"

She has the gall not to look ashamed, and you can't decide if you respect her resolve or detest her lack of responsibility. "Some of it was online, and some of it was an educated guess based on birth order."

"A guess."

You practically wince and Derek stares at her, as though trying to hypnotically get her to backtrack.

She looks down then, and he delivers the kicker. "And in the process you lied."

You step forward to insert yourself in the conversation (for what purpose, you don't yet know), but Jordan just stands up straighter, ready to defend herself. "That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport."

Hotch doesn't back down, and as his brow locks into place, you step back again. "I don't know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don't make it a habit to lie to get the job done."

"I got you in the door, didn't I?" she spits out one last time. It's both, you realize. Respect and distaste.

"Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team."

He shakes his head, and you cock your head at Derek, gesturing for him to head back to the car. You hear the tail end of their conversation as you yank open the passenger side door.

"From now on, everything goes through me."

Jordan gets saved by the literal bell as his phone rings, and when he steps away to answer it, she comes back to the SUV and gets in the back. "So, how bad did I just screw up?"

Derek heaves out a sigh, looking at her with his characteristic stoicism mixed with compassion. "On a normal scale of one to ten, I'd say a six."

He glances at you and you press your lips together. "But on Hotch's scale...an 11."

She rubs a hand over her face and you turn back to face the front, watching as Hotch paces back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. He doesn't look up until he's back in the SUV.

***

The profile becomes clear when a new victim emerges: an unsub with a possible scar or birthmark above his left eye, who went to a class for pickup artists. After doing some researching with Garcia, Emily returns with a flyer for a man named Viper that makes your stomach twist.

You, Morgan, and Hotch join her at one of his classes later that day, and it takes everything in you not to sneer in disgust as he describes his approach to meeting women.

"This is the jungle, my friends," Viper finishes off, lifting his hands in the air theatrically, "and your prey wants to be caught."

You and Hotch share a look, and he raises his eyebrows as you cringe. What, not a fan?

You shove his shoulder with yours, but it's not hard enough to actually make him budge. Hilarious.

"Will you listen to that language?" Emily whispers from next to you. "He's training serial killers."

"Great," Derek sighs. "We're dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman."

Hotch nods. "That's one more thing he has in common with our unsub."

The class ends soon after, and you get the distinct pleasure of meeting Viper in the flesh. When he approaches the four of you, he makes a clear effort to keep eye contact with only the men, likely trying to use his self-prescribed techniques to make you and Emily feel vulnerable. Instead, it just makes you want to laugh in his face.

"So you think this- what did you call him- unsub, took my class?"

He raises his eyebrows at Emily then, in what you can only hope is meant to be a seductive nature, and she practically snorts. Using his clear attraction to her to the team's advantage, she steps forward and takes control of the conversation. By the time she's finished, she has managed to secure his location for later tonight, and get him just flustered enough that a chance meeting later would have him ready to divulge anything she wants to hear.

'Please tell me we are not giving up on that guy." Emily heaves out a breath as you all walk back outside after speaking with Viper. She was just talking to him, but she looks like she's ready to take another shower.

Hotch flashes his eyes with uncharacteristic mirth. "We're just getting started."

***

His eyes keep darting back to the door of the locker room. Prentiss is going undercover at Club Aqua to get more information about the unsub from Viper, and when she suggested that you and Agent Todd join her, he couldn't think of a good enough reason to quash her idea.

He knows he's been hard on Todd. He figured it out on his own, even with your furtive glances from the passenger side of the SUV after leaving the Holden household.

He wishes he could say it all came from a place of protecting bureau leadership, but he knows that isn't completely true. It's been almost two weeks since he last saw Jack, and every time he drops him back at Haley's, that feeling settles back in his gut, like clockwork. The feeling that tells him he's just like his father.

The locker room door flies open and he averts his eyes, trying to maintain some level of subtlety, but it's only Prentiss and Todd. Where are you?

His unspoken question is answered when Prentiss announces that you told them to get started without you. He's still worried that you're not ready for this kind of assignment so early in your return to field work, so, before he can regret it, he stalks forward and pushes open the door.

The regret immediately comes when he sees your bare back, underneath your unzipped dress, on the far end of the locker room.

"Oh, sorry," he blinks, turning his head back. "I didn't realize-"

He moves to shut the door again, but you look over your shoulder and raise your hand, beckoning him inside. "Wait, I could actually use your help."

He steps through the door and crosses over to you, where you turn your back to him after a small glance. "Zip me up?"

The bottom of the zipper is at the small of your back, and he tries to avoid touching you as he pulls it up to the base of your shoulder blades. He isn't able to avoid it completely, and he tries to ignore the heat of your skin as he drops the zipper and nods. "All set."

You turn around and he forgets to step back in time, leaving you only a few inches from him as you glance up with a confused smile. "You okay?"

He nods again, stepping back and clearing his throat. Why is his skin burning? "I should be asking you that. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm getting the bandages taken off later this week," you tell him, partly misunderstanding his concern. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

That's definitely a lie, but he allows it for now. "That's not all I'm talking about. You haven't been in the field in months. I just worry that I'm tossing you into the deep end on your first day back."

"I'm fine," you insist, reaching out to put your hand on his forearm. "I would have refused the assignment if I didn't think I could handle it."

He's not sure if he believes that either, but in this case, the assignment itself seems odious enough that he can let it slide. "Okay. Are you ready to head out there?"

"Yeah, just one second."

He waits as you pull a thin necklace from your bag and clasp it around your neck. When it's attached, you spin around with a goofy smile. "How do I look?"

"Amazing," he says without thinking. "I mean- you look great, of course."

You just smile at him, before patting his shoulder and walking out the door to meet the Prentiss and Todd at the club. Your hair brushes past him as you leave, and the scent of your perfume lingers in the air behind you, a flowery aroma that persists even when the door swings shut.

***

Emily waves at you when you approach her and Jordan in a crowded part of the club. "Y/N, I'm sure you remember Viper. God's gift to women."

You smile at him sweetly, before glancing at her. "Sure hope he came with a receipt."

"Another friend," Viper says, letting out a weak laugh.

Emily uses this moment of distraction to pounce. "You promised if I met you on your turf, you'd show me something special. So...let's see it."

He starts spouting off some nonsense about chemical signals, and you're about to take Jordan's arm and pull her aside to give Emily some room, when Viper turns to you with a mock-sincere expression. "Does the boss man you're out here, with me?"

You turn back with a frown. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and he practically grins as his bravado grows. "What I do for a living is pretty similar to what you all do. I read people...and from what I could tell during your little ambush of my class earlier, there's something going on between you and the supervisor."

You let out a laugh that feels surprisingly forced as it leaves your throat. "I really can't believe there are people out there who pay you for assessments like that, because you're dead wrong."

He shrugs, looking back at Emily, and you roll your eyes at him before turning away under the guise of giving them some space. When you're out of his line of sight, you let out a breath that was caught in your chest. You know you and Hotch are closer than most friendships are at your age, and you're not unaccustomed to people reading more into it than there is, so you're not sure why Viper's words feel like a fist around your gut.

"Hey, you okay?" You turn back to see Jordan approaching you with a glass of water. "He's really trying everything to get under our skin."

You accept the glass gratefully, and swallow a few gulps, before nodding. "Thank you. I think I just needed some air. I forgot how stuffy these clubs get."

"I hear that." She laughs and you feel your chest loosen with relief that she didn't believe Viper's insinuation. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I'm almost excited to get back into my work clothes."

You let out a breathy chuckle, before sending her back to keep an eye on Emily as she works on breaking Viper. Later that night, when you get back to the station to meet up with the rest of the team, you excuse yourself early to head to the hotel, and you allow yourself to pretend, just this once, that you weren't avoiding him, and you really were just tired.

***

You're sitting in your car in front of the hospital at seven in the morning, because you didn't want to take any work off just to get your bandages removed. You know this is likely the exact sort of thing the bureau mandates time off for, but a small part of you didn't want anyone knowing you were coming here. Or maybe you just didn't want him to know.

You haven't been trying to avoid him. You may be a little embarrassed by how far under your skin Viper got with his one little comment, but you can't help it. The notion stirred something you don't recognize inside of you and you don't want to take the time to think through it.

You take a deep breath and get out of your car, before walking into the hospital and checking in for your appointment. When you called to secure a time slot, the nurse mentioned that, barring any complications, the appointment shouldn't take more than half an hour.

You're a few minutes early, so you sit in the waiting area, flipping through a fashion magazine from the table next to you. After a minute, you're so engrossed in a page about returning trends that you don't realize he is sitting next to you until he taps the side of your foot with his own.

"Oh shit," you blurt out when you see him, more out of surprise than the shame of being caught. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Garcia saw it in your calendar and told me." You turn to look at him with mock-exasperation, but you're caught off guard by the genuine hurt in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me the appointment was today? I could've driven you."

You open your mouth to come up with an excuse, but all that comes out is, "I don't know." He doesn't look convinced, but the doctor calls your name then and you stand up, pressing your lips together. "Will you come with me?"

He stands up immediately, without another word, and you both follow the doctor into a back room, where she proceeds to remove your bandages and check where you are in the healing process. The wound is closed, and is almost entirely scarred over, but she recommends that you continue to take it easy - a point which you see Hotch take mental note of immediately - and limit excessive physical activity.

"The wound is healing very nicely," the doctor says as you walk back to the front. "Give me a call if anything changes, but as long as you keep applying the salve, there shouldn't be a permanent scar."

You thank her before she heads back to meet with another patient, and Hotch holds the front door open for you as you walk out into the parking lot.

"Thank you for coming," you tell him earnestly, "even though I didn't ask you to. I should've told you."

He exhales through his nose, bumping your shoulder. "Yeah, you should have."

He loops his arm through yours as you step off the curb and you lean your head on his shoulder for a second before unlocking your car. You were stupid to let Viper's words get to you. He's your best friend.

He's your best friend, and you love him.

***

One of the first happy memories at the office in a long time comes in the form of JJ coming in with baby Henry. It feels like a welcome relief to see her face back in the bullpen, and for a few peaceful moments, everything feels like it's back to normal.

You know firsthand how much this job takes from people, and Jordan's absence in the office now doesn't go unnoticed, even with a sweet baby boy here to take your mind off of it.

Is this my fault?

Rossi had tried to talk her down after discovering that the unsub had killed his entire family in their home, seemingly after her press release, but sometimes the words aren't enough.

I'm not sure I can do this job.

There had been so much anguish in her voice as she admitted to Rossi that she wasn't cut out for this line of work, but no part of you judged her for it. A bigger piece of you almost envied her ability to recognize that she was in over her head - that she couldn't keep going like this.

Looking at JJ now though, you feel a sense of hope again, like maybe this job doesn't take everything from you.

"I thought you could use a surprise," she smiles, cradling Henry in her arms under a swath of blankets.

"He's beautiful," you whisper, stepping in closer to get a better look at his little scrunched-up face.

Penelope comes back into the room with a freshly warmed up bottle of milk, and JJ starts to feed him as everyone leans closer in wonder. "I wanted us to have at least one good memory to hold onto in this room."

Before you can react, Derek is pushing past you and Spencer. "Excuse me, kid. Um, JJ, can I..."

He points to the bundle in her arms and she looks at him with a soft grin. "Of course."

She carefully transfers Henry into his arms as all of the women worriedly chime in with reminders and comments on his form.

"You gotta hold his head up."

"Careful, you're smothering him!"

"I got it," Derek chuffs, before rocking Henry in his arms. "Look at that, what's he doing? He's smiling at Derek Morgan."

Penelope and Emily share a look. "Gas."

He shoots them a pointed glare, before grabbing the bottle from Garcia's hand and feeding Henry himself. "Hey, little man."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face as you step back to give them some room. Your shoulder bumps into Hotch as you step around JJ, and you look back at him, noticing the little curve of his lips. "You're smiling."

He glances over at you with an eye roll. "Gas."

***

"What's up, Hotch?"

You roll over and turn your bedside lamp on as you press your cellphone to your ear. The alarm clock beside you says it's just past five in the morning.

"We have a case."

You frown, pushing yourself up. "Wouldn't JJ usually call us to come in?"

"This one's different." His voice sounds slightly muffled and his tone is colored by a familiar tinge of irritation. "Dallas AG called me last night to come down here, and it looks like they may have a serial."

"You went alone?" you ask, trying to blink the grogginess from your eyes as you get out of bed. You are distinctly aware of how many questions you're asking, but your brain is still fuzzy from being woken up.

"Yeah," he says simply, before you hear someone call his name from the other end of the line. "I convinced them to bring the team in as well. Anyway, I have to go, but I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you-" The line cuts and you sigh, tossing the phone down.

So much for a full night of rest.

***

Spencer briefs all of you on female serial killers on the flight over, and once you land, Hotch is waiting at the hotel. You drop your things off in your room and meet with him, Rossi, and Morgan to head over to the location of the latest crime scene, when another man is murdered.

"Victim was Joseph Fielding," Rossi explains when you enter the office building. "He was CFO here."

"Poisoned?" you clarify.

"And staged," Morgan adds, glancing over the body. This time, the victim was left out in the open, naked and tied up. There's no way the company can keep the media away from this one.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

You turn around to see a man in a fancy suit stalking towards the four of you. You step back to let Hotch get around you, and he approaches the man with a frown. "I'm Hotchner."

"Larry Bartlett," he introduces himself. "I represent Mr. Fielding and Webster Industries."

Hotch angles himself to stand between the man and the body. "This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I spoke to Ellen Daniels," he explains, his eyes glinting with over-confidence. "She said you're a very reasonable man."

You resist the urge to snort as Hotch moves to get the attention of the police officers nearby. "Escort him out, please."

"No, wait! The press is outside, and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?"

This time it's you who frowns. "We're not about to lie for you."

"Don't have to lie," he says, gesturing with his hands as though that will help his case. "Just don't comment."

Hotch looks at him for a moment, before excusing himself and pulling the rest of you aside. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

Rossi shrugs. "Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake."

You almost smile. "He doesn't need to know that."

Hotch meets your eye for a beat before spinning around and putting his lawyer face back on. "We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails...everything."

***

When Penelope uncovers that the victims have all been withholding child support from their ex-wives, Hotch meets with the city's high-profile corporate lawyers to present the profile. You're not sure how helpful this will be, given that their primary motive is to protect their clients' companies, but it proves useful when one of the lawyers reveals that the unsub may have a penthouse to her name.

The apartment is massive. You walk around the living area, trying to find anything the unsub may have left out, but she has clearly been covering her tracks.

When you don't find anything by the bedroom, you head over to the walk-in closet where Derek and Emily are poking around her jewelry box.

"Hey, Prentiss," Derek suddenly says, lifting up a leather bodysuit and holding it in front of her. "Got a whip?"

Rolling your eyes, you smack the top of his head with the evidence baggy in your hands and walk back out to find Hotch. He's poring over her antique book collection when suddenly the apartment phone starts to ring.

You all argue for a few moments over who should take the call, and Derek quickly alerts Garcia to trap-and-trace it, before it soon goes to voicemail.

"Hi, it's me," the woman's voice says brightly in the voicemail message. "You know what to do." There's a beep, and then her voice comes back, more present this time. "Aaron."

Your eyes snap over to him, but he's still looking at the phone.

"I know you're up there," she continues. "Aaron Hotchner."

He reaches forward and carefully lifts the phone with his gloved hand. He walks over to the window as he presses it to his ear. "I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

You bend down and press the speaker button on the main console as he moves across the room.

"I thought I could trust you, Aaron." Her voice is tight over the line, the tiny speakers still enough to amplify the emotion in her voice. She sounds so...disappointed.

"Who says you can't?" he responds slowly, clearly testing the range of her emotion.

"I want to," she says quietly. "I even looked you up online. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings...and for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world."

You remember that presentation. There had been a shooting at an elementary school in Virginia, and the moment the news hit, he had been on the phone, discussing procedures to ensure it wouldn't happen again. You went with him that day that he gave the speech, and you could tell he had been thinking of Jack the entire time he was up there.

Hotch closes his eyes for a beat. "But I've disappointed you, haven't I? Just like all the other men in your life who've walked out on their families."

The line is silent, before: "Did you walk out on your family?"

Hotch looks down for a moment and you fight the urge to walk over and pull him into a hug. "No. My wife left me."

You can feel the team's eyes on you as you keep your expression neutral, your eyes focused on him.

"Do you have kids?"

Your mind flashes to Jack, and your chest feels warm as he nods, before muttering a quick "yes".

The woman speaks up again, her voice stronger yet more emotional. "How often do you see him?"

"I try to see him every week."

She scoffs. "Do you see him every week?" Her question is like a jab, trying to push him into doing or saying something that will prove he's just like the other men in her life.

"No," he admits, glancing back at you. You nod, trying to let him know that you're right here. "I don't get there as often as I want."

"I believe you." Her voice softens and you watch as Hotch's expression turns back to his thinking face. He has an idea.

He lets her talk for a minute, listening in to Garcia's updates on the trap-and-trace, until he chimes in again. "But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?"

You can hear the confusion in her tone. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you wanna show the world all these bad men, and my investigation's just getting in your way."

"No, Aaron," she sighs heavily. "You just want me to disappear, just like they do."

He shakes his head, turning to look out the window. "Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you. You don't know who to trust. Am I right?"

There are tears in her voice as she quietly whispers an acknowledgement.

"Come to me and turn yourself in." He walks back to the living area. "I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear."

His voice is a comfort, and for a brief moment, you think that he could probably convince you to turn yourself in if you had to.

There's a beat of silence, before a small rustling sound. "If we met under different circumstances...I could believe that."

The rustling continues, before her tone changes completely, going from soft and meek to strong and icy. "I won't let you cover this up."

There's a gunshot right before the call cuts out.

***

You follow Hotch and Derek into the hotel room, checking behind you as you aim your gun out in front of you. Once Garcia found Megan Kane's address and client list, everything else fell into place.

The room is empty, except for a gun and a bottle of champagne placed theatrically on the center table.

"Hotch," Derek whispers, pointing out at the balcony, where a figure is laying down on one of the lounge chairs.

His brow furrows and he lifts his hand. "Wait here."

"You sure?" you ask, stepping forward to get a better look.

He nods. "It's over. She knows it."

Derek steps out to call 911, and you watch as Hotch approaches her slowly, tucking his gun into his holster before sitting on the chair beside her.

"Nothing will change," you hear her whisper, her voice overflowing with despair. "They'll just go back to doing whatever they want and they'll keep getting away with it."

He shakes his head. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

The response is almost corny, but his voice is so earnest that you find yourself believing him anyway.

He reaches forward and takes her hand, holding it tightly as her head lolls to the side to look at him. "How could your wife have ever left someone like you?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can feel the sadness permeating off of both of them as he comforts her in her final moments. Haley is one of your good friends, and you know she would've made their marriage work if it was something she could control. This job just isn't that.

Megan lets out a soft sob and you avert your eyes, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. "You're the first man I ever met who didn't let me down. Will you stay with me?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He holds her hand for a long time, and he doesn't stand up until you're certain she's been dead for minutes. The walk back to you is slow, and you can see the extra weight on his shoulders as he trudges across the hotel room.

You open your arms and he all but falls into them, letting you pull him into a tight hug that you can tell is holding him together right now.

"You did good," you whisper as his face presses into your shoulder. "You kept your promise. It's the last thing she wanted, and you gave it to her."

You feel him nod, and a moment later, he stands up, letting his arms drop like deadweights. His hair is slightly disheveled, so you reach up and push the front strands back from his forehead, before resting your hand on his cheek for a quick second. "Let's go home?"

He nods again. "Let's go home."

***

It's snowing. You don't realize it until you step out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of the Georgetown brownstone where the priest was taken in.

Emily and Derek caught him in the middle of an attempted exorcism, and you didn't arrive with the rest of the team until they were already bringing him out in cuffs. She looks shaken as she leads her friend out of the house and to the ambulance waiting on the street.

Once the paramedics take him from her hands, her body all but deflates, and she exhales deeply, as though releasing the pent-up tension from the day.

"Em," you whisper, approaching her slowly. "Can I drive you home?"

She doesn't look at you at first. Whites flecks of snow dance across your vision and stick to her coat and hair as she stares at the ground. After a moment, she shakes her head. "I'm gonna walk for a while."

Her feet don't move, and you're reminded of a conversation you had years ago, when she comforted you and offered you a quiet place to just be. Gently looping your arm through hers, you ask, "Do you want some company?"

She nods almost immediately, and you let her lead the way as you walk away from the red and blue flashing lights. You can't imagine how tough this case must have been for her, especially because the people she loved were so deeply involved.

The walk is silent, and you look down, watching the patterns the soles of your boots make in the snow. You only stop moving when Emily does, her sudden stillness tugging you back as she stands in front of a small church that she must have seen from down the street.

She lets go of your arm as she turns her face up to the sky, hugging herself in an effort to stay warm or shield herself. Maybe a mix of both.

"You don't have to say anything," you say softly as you turn to face the church as well, your shoulder pressing lightly against hers, "but if you want to, I'm always here to listen."

Emily glances up at the church, her eyes shining in the cold, and presses her lips together as she takes in a shaky breath. "My friend...who died...Matthew. He knew the Bible inside and out, and one day he started to question everything."

You think you know where this is going, but you don't want to interrupt her when she's letting out emotions she has clearly kept inside for years.

"We moved around a lot when I was younger, because of my mom's postings, and when you're 15, it's really hard to get accepted."

She's silent for a few moments and you take the opportunity to fill in the gaps for her, so she doesn't have to say it out loud. "You got pregnant?"

She nods, taking a deep breath. "Matthew wasn't the father. It-it was...something else. But I didn't know what to do. He told me to talk to our priest, but he just said that if I had an abortion, I wasn't welcome in his congregation."

Your throat tightens with tears and you blink them back, swallowing thickly. "What did you do?"

"Matthew found a doctor." Her arms tighten around her abdomen, and she lets out a small shiver. "He took me there, and he stayed with me. Then, when we got back, he held my hand and walked me into the church." Her voice cracks as she continues. "Father Gamino actually stopped his sermon, but Matthew told me to hold my head up and we walked to the front pew."

Her arms fall then, and you look up to see the wetness on her cheeks, pink from the cold. "Matthew saved my life. He made me feel like I was worthy of...love, and friendship, but then his anger and questioning started." She finally looks at you, and her eyes are wide with grief and anguish. "He saved me, and it's my fault that his life unraveled."

You're shaking your head before she's even finished speaking. "Em, honey, it's not your fault. He was your friend. He loved you, and everything he did for you was his choice. Anything he discovered after that was already within him."

Another tear falls down her cheek and you reach forward to pull her into a hug that she accepts gratefully. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Her hands clutch the back of your coat as she cries silently into your shoulder, and you don't let go until she finally stops shaking.

***

Hotch is ending a phone call when you step into his office. He sets it down and nods when you step inside, but you can see the lines of tension just in the way he's standing.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, walking inside and standing in front of his desk. "What was that call about?"

He doesn't look up. "Shaunessy died last night."

"Oh, Aaron, I'm so sorry." You squeeze his forearm over the desk, but he still won't look at you. "He was your first boss here at the BAU, right?"

He nods, before clearing his throat and straightening his back. "He was sick. This isn't a surprise, but there's something else we may need to talk about-"

He's interrupted by JJ coming into his office, a case file in hand. "Sorry, but you wanted to know immediately about any unusual Boston homicides?"

You see his jaw twitch as he takes the file from her and flips it open, scanning the first page quickly. JJ glances over at you, a confused expression on her face, but you can only shrug.

He looks up after a minute. "We're going to Boston."

JJ sputters. "Wha-what, but we haven't been invited?"

"We will be." He grabs his coat and sidesteps the two of you, before booking it out of his office. You're hot on his heels as he grabs his briefcase and alerts the team that they need to be ready to leave within the hour.

"What was that about?" Morgan asks, turning to you.

You shrug again. "I have no idea." You turn to the glass doors swinging shut behind him, and rush outside before you can second guess your actions.

"Aaron!" you call out, forcing him to hold the elevator for you. "Tell me what's going on."

He sighs as you step inside, and he sets the briefcase on the floor. "It's the Boston Reaper. He's back."

"The Reaper?" The name sends a shudder through your body. "That was your first case as a profiler, wasn't it?"

He nods, and you wait for him to continue. "He offered Shaunessy a deal that if he shut down the investigation, then he would stop killing."

His words take a moment to register, but then your face falls. "He took the deal. And now that he's dead..."

"The Reaper has started killing again."

***

The next crime scene comes in the form of an older couple, who were killed in their car on the side of the street. When you arrive, you discover that the unsub left behind the previous victim's watch, as well as a note.

You sidle up next to Hotch, bumping your shoulder against his to alert him to your presence. "Looks like he went through her purse. Any idea what he was looking for?"

He's so focused on the letter in his hands that he doesn't respond, so you lean in and read it from beside his shoulder. "The question mark is new."

"It's for us," he says suddenly, dropping his hand and looking at you. "He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had 10 years to save them and that these latest ones are on us."

You frown, trying to scrutinize the lines of tension on his face. "You got all that from one question mark?"

"I may know him better than I've let on."

Your brow furrows and you grab his wrist, bringing his attention back to you. "What does that mean? Aaron?"

"It means that there is a profile on The Reaper."

"You said you were called off before you could make one-"

"We were," he cuts you off, shaking his head. "I had just started the profile, and then he stopped killing, so officially we were done, but..."

You purse your lips. "But this case stuck with you."

He nods. "I kept coming back to it over the years, and I worked on it alone."

You can imagine young Hotch, in his first years at the bureau, poring over the case file late into the night, because he couldn't put it away when the unsub was still out there. You realize, all of a sudden, that it reminds you of Gideon.

Looking up at him, you release his wrist, letting your fingers drag on his pulse for a moment before letting go. "We need to hear your profile."

***

After he gives the profile alone, you all head back to the hotel to get some rest before the long days ahead of you. In your heart of hearts, you know that no one will really be sleeping tonight, least of all Hotch, so you go up to his room with him to keep working on the case.

"Can you imagine living with the fear that the man who killed your fiancee, and nearly killed you, is still out there?" Your question is mostly rhetorical, but Hotch still lets out a soft grunt from the bed where he's poring over crime scene photos from the last few victims.

"It explains why Foyet went so underground," he says with a frown. "The multiple residences under different names, always taking the bus...I just wish he had taken us up on moving him to a safe house."

"I think that's actually the one part I do understand," you muse, looking up from the file on your lap. "Part of the reason why I came back from my dad's house so soon after Jeff died was because I needed everything to return to normal. I needed my life back."

He glances up at you then with a slight raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head before looking back down. It's okay. Not now.

He looks like he wants to say something, but then the hotel room phone goes off, piercing the air with a high ringing sound. He gets off the bed and picks it up, answering with a stern, "Hotchner."

He's silent at first, but you only look up when you hear him say, "You've misjudged me. I'm the guy who hunts guys like you...I'll see you soon." He slams the phone down on the receiver, and even though you know exactly what that was, you still need him to say it.

"Hotch, what was that?"

He rubs a hand over his face, pacing back and forth across the small space in front of you.

"Was that him?"

He doesn't respond, instead mumbling something under his breath that you can't make out. You stand up and cross the room, before grabbing his forearms so he's forced to look at you. "Aaron! What did he say?"

His eyes are frantic as he finally meets your eye. "He offered me the same deal...and I didn't take it."

***

"Six bodies, not including the driver. He put 'em down with the gun and finished them off with his knife."

The scene inside the bus is horrifying. Blood is dripping from each of the seats, and the words "No Deal", along with a series of numbers, are painted in blood on the windows.

Rossi comes up beside you as you watch Hotch survey the scene, an eerie stillness to his composure. "What's going on with him?"

You glance at him, before turning back to Hotch. "The Reaper called him at his room tonight, offering the deal...and he hung up on him."

Rossi nods, before patting your arm and stepping around you. He nods at Hotch, grabbing his attention away from the scene he hasn't been able to look away from for minutes. "Y/N told me what happened earlier. So, what, you think this is your fault?"

"It is." His voice is shakier than you'd expect based on the resolution in his choice of words.

"Okay," Rossi shrugs, reaching for the gun in his holster. "Here, use mine." Your brow furrows and you step forward, making sure you're nearby in case this gets out of hand. You love Dave, but he can be a bit heavy-handed sometimes.

"You convinced me," he continues, shoving his hand forward. Hotch shakes his head, but he doesn't let up. "No, no, you hung up on him. You practically killed them yourself. Go ahead, get it over with. Don't worry about us. We'll get this guy without you."

Hotch closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they're shining with tears. You realize, with a shock, that you haven't seen him cry in decades. Not since the day after his father's funeral when Sean shut himself in his room for hours, because he truly believed that his brother didn't care about their family.

When he looks at Rossi again, a few tears have fallen down his cheeks. "I had ten years to do something about it."

"Look," he says simply, lowering his gun, "if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, then you go ahead. But that voice in your head, it's not your conscience. It's your ego."

Hotch deflates, and you reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, maintaining a steady connection. He looks at you, and you dip your chin into a tiny nod. It's not always your fault.

He looks back at Dave with a heavy sigh, but he doesn't pull his hand from your grasp. "You can put that away now."

Rossi raises his eyebrows as he tucks the gun away. "You sure?"

Hotch shakes his head, unable to hide his smile, and you let out a little chuckle. "It's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"My wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic."

You and Hotch speak up at the same time. "Which one?"

Rossi shrugs. "All of them."

You laugh, before squeezing Aaron's wrist once more and letting go.

***

George Foyet is the Reaper.

You can't believe it even as the words circle around your brain. The team was able to catch him before he killed Colson, the journalist who wrote a book about him, but the victory still doesn't feel sweet.

I'm gonna be more famous than you even realize.

His last words before Derek cuffed him and handed him off to the police. They won't leave your head even as you step off the elevator into the office. Emily and JJ are chatting about some new restaurant in town as they step out ahead of you, and you walk to your desk in a trance, unable to figure out why you aren't able to let out the breath you've been holding since you left for Boston.

Your question is answered when JJ runs back from her office a few minutes later, her phone clutched in her hand and a panicked expression on her face. "Foyet escaped."

***

It takes a while for Derek to get over the Foyet news. He took his badge and credentials when he knocked him out, and even with the replacement he was given, you know the knowledge that Foyet is out there is still irking at him.

Hotch isn't much better. He's been throwing himself into work extra hard, and you're worried he's going to burn out or simply combust if he keeps at it.

This is exactly what Foyet wants, you want to scream. He's trying to get in your heads and mess with your life, without even being here.

But you don't say it.

***

He's been so immersed in work that he doesn't really get to talk to you until a case in Oregon, where an unsub has been killing people by hitting them with his car.

You're grabbing a cup of coffee at the local police station, pouring in an uncharacteristic packet of sugar, when he approaches you, perching on the edge of the counter. "Sugar?"

"I know," you sigh, tossing the empty packet into the trash can next to you. "I just wanted something a little sweeter today."

"Can't argue with that," he says softly, making you smile. It drops almost as fast as it appeared, and he scoots closer as he hands you a wooden stirrer. "How are you holding up?"

This case can't be easy for you, especially knowing how your mom died. You don't talk about it often, but when you do, he can tell it's because you need to let it out. He's the same way with his father, only the feelings he is hiding from are different.

"I'm fine," you say quickly, like it's an automatic response. You both know it's a lie, and you close your eyes for a beat, dropping the stirrer into your cup. "I should be fine, but...I don't know." He follows your gaze over to the open case file across the table, and notices how your eyes hang on the crime scene photos. The car wreckage. The tread marks on the road. "I don't know why this case is affecting me so much. I didn't even see the crash when my mom died."

He reaches forward and closes the file. "Grief works in interesting ways." If there's anything he has the authority to speak on, it's grief. But then again, so do you. He doesn't know if he would've gotten through the aftermath of his father's death without you. Thinking about it now, he doesn't think he's told anyone else the whole truth about his family. "Anything can be a trigger."

"What was your trigger?" you ask suddenly, turning to look at him. "After your dad died?" Your eyes are full of curiosity, and for a moment, he wonders again if you really can read his mind.

He takes a deep breath before answering. "For a while, almost everything was. The smell of his beer, the material of his favorite coat...it all made me so angry."

"I remember," you whisper, setting your coffee down, "but soon after, that changed." You look at him with a small smile. "You met Haley."

His jaw twitches and he realizes that he wasn't even thinking about her. The first person that came to mind when he thought about his healing process was you. Haley was everything to him, but she wasn't built for the life he grew up with. She wouldn't have been able to understand the rage flowing through his body when he thought of his father's death. The anger and hurt he felt, that somehow always transformed to guilt when he went back home for the night.

"Yeah," he says after a moment, accepting your judgment, even if it is a lie. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore, so he diverts back to the original subject. "Your mother was different. She loved you exactly how you deserved to be loved. Even if it hurts sometimes, it's just a reminder that you had something great."

That makes you smile, and he feels warmth fill his chest. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He nods, patting your knee. "It's been known to happen."

***

You're in the passenger seat next to Derek when you see it. You watch him swerve his SUV into the unsub's truck in real time, but you still don't believe what you're seeing until the cars come to a stop, smoke billowing out of the front.

Derek screeches to a stop and there's glass everywhere as you throw yourself out of the SUV and race towards the collision site.

Aaron is stumbling out of his car when you reach him. There's a gash on his forehead, dripping blood down his face, and another on his arm. He tries to reach for his gun, but you grab his arms, holding him against the SUV.

"Sorry," he mutters through gritted teeth as you reach up to swipe the blood off his forehead before it falls into his eye. Your hand stays on his face as you survey the rest of him for any other wounds that may need your attention.

Once you're certain that he'll be okay, you turn back to him with a glare. "You scared the shit out of me." Your thumb is unconsciously rubbing circles on his jaw as he looks down at you. You are well aware that danger comes with the job description, but he also knows you would kill him if he ever put himself in serious danger, especially when it wasn't necessary. "Don't ever do that again."

He takes a deep breath as you pick a piece of glass out of his hair. When you return to meet his gaze, he reaches out to grab the strap of your vest. "I'm sorry."

You tug each other forward into a hug at seemingly the same time. You don't get the chance to be careful with his wounds as you collide into his chest, but you forget about everything else the moment his arms close around you. He's okay. He's alive.

"You don't get to die on me," you whisper into his collarbone as you tighten your grip around him. "Promise me."

You know it's not fair. You know it's not something he can control, especially with the kinds of people you chase on a daily basis, but it doesn't matter, because he knows you. He knows when you need the facts, and when you need reassurance, so instead of uttering a funny quip or a painful truth, he just says, "I promise."

***

Are you sure it's okay that I'm coming?

You type back a response as soon as you see the message on your phone. Of course. Dave invited you and Jack, and I would love to see you too.

A few minutes later, you get a simple Ok, so you set your phone down on the table and stand up to join the rest of your friends. With summer around the corner, Dave wanted to host a garden party, and after the last few months, you definitely don't mind the respite.

"Come get some more food," he tells you the moment you approach them by the edge of his huge yard. He's standing with Derek, Spencer, and Penelope by a long table adorned with steaming dishes of bread, pasta, and salad.

"I'll explode if I eat any more," you say with a laugh as Spencer stuffs another piece of bread into his mouth. For a small as he looks, he can be a bottomless pit when it comes to good food. "Have you guys seen Hotch?"

"He isn't here yet," Penelope notes as Derek wraps an arm around her. "I'll keep an eye out though."

"Do you think he'll bring Haley and Jack?" Spencer asks as JJ approaches with Henry in her arms.

"I told her to come," you say, tickling the baby's chin with the tip of your finger. "It'll be nice to see everyone together."

As though conjured by their questions, the door to the backyard opens and Jack steps out with Haley and Hotch right behind him.

"You're here!" You walk across the lawn and give her a quick hug, before bending down and lifting Jack into the air. "What's up, Jack-o-lantern? You're so big now."

"Yeah," he giggles, wrapping his arms around your neck. You press a loud kiss to the side of his head and he bursts into a fit of giggles as you tickle his belly with your free hand.

"I'm so glad you made it," Dave says from behind you as he comes over and gives Haley a hug. "We love having you here."

She raises her eyebrow at Hotch, but there's no intention behind it. Divorce seems to have treated them well, reminding them of all of the good that was there before everything else got in the way. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Seriously, thank you," Hotch agrees, before reaching out to take Jack from your arms.

"Any time," Dave says sincerely, before nodding at him. "Come help me grab some more wine from the cellar."

They disappear into the house, and you pull Haley down with you into two of the chairs by the edge of the sprawling yard. "Hotch and Jack are sweet together."

She nods, looking wistfully at the door. "He loves any time he gets with his dad."

"It can't be easy," you say slowly, hoping you aren't breaching a boundary unknown to you. "I've seen firsthand how busy the job has been getting recently. I haven't been home before midnight in over a week."

She's silent for a moment, and you worry that you crossed the line, but then she just smiles. "He's trying so hard...and that's all I can really ask for, isn't it?"

You suppose she's right. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a person who fights as hard as Aaron does to get home to his family at the end of the day.

"You're good for him, you know." You look at her as she crosses one leg over the other. "You always have been."

"You are too."

"I know," she says, before shaking her head. Her expression is warm as she smiles at you. "It's not the same, though. Even when you weren't around, you were in everything he did."

You don't know exactly where she's going with this, and you're acutely aware of the choruses of laughter floating over to you from across the lawn as she reaches out to squeeze your arm. "He loves you."

Your face transforms into what you imagine is a look of confusion. "I love him, too. He's my best friend."

Haley looks at you for a moment, before shaking her head with a nearly inscrutable sigh. "Anyway, thanks for convincing me to come. I'm gonna get some food."

Eventually, the sun sets, and the string lights in Dave's backyard turn on, along with the soft sounds of Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke. He helps Derek and Will push the tables and chairs aside to make room for a dance floor, and soon, Haley is in his arms as they swing along to the lilting tunes filtering out over the yard.

It feels natural, dancing with her like this, but at the same time, he knows it's different now. He holds her firmly as she tilts in his arms, loose from the wine that Dave made sure was pouring all night, and she lets him swing her around the lawn, no care in the world.

Soon, the song changes, and she looks at him with a dreamy smile. "You love this song."

It's a soft tune by Sam Cooke, one he can't remember the name of right now, but he smiles at her as he nods. "I'm glad you're here. You and Jack."

"I missed you all," she says, before cracking a smile. "Mostly just Y/N though."

That makes him laugh, and before he knows it, Dave is walking over, with you on his hand, asking to trade partners for the song. "I haven't gotten to talk to Haley all night."

It's not the best excuse, but Haley doesn't seem to mind at all. "Of course, I'd love to dance."

Dave whisks her away, and Hotch holds a hand out for you, pulling you into another steady swing.

"I love this song," you whisper as the two of you fall into a rhythm. "I Wish You Love."

Right, that's what it's called. His hand settles on your waist as you grip his shoulder, and he can tell you've had a bit of wine too, but only because of the red tint of your cheeks.

"This is nice," you say after a few beats of silence. "We don't get to do this often."

He nods, turning you to make room for Derek and Emily, who are swinging heartily across the yard. "It's nice to see the kids together." He glances over your shoulder to peer at JJ, who has Henry and Jack in each of her arms. She has jumped head first into motherhood, and it suits her.

The song changes to something a little slower, so he steers you to the edge of the dance floor, taking control as your feet glide after him. Maybe you've had a bit more wine than he first assumed.

The thought makes him chuckle and you look at him with a quizzical expression. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, and clasps your hand tighter to hold you to him. He glances over your shoulder again and finds an excuse for his laughter almost immediately. "Garcia is trying to teach Reid how to dance."

You tug his arm immediately, spinning the two of you around so you can see the situation he described, and your face breaks out into a wide grin when you spot them a few paces over. "The poor kid has no coordination."

As you watch them dance, he watches you. The way the string lights glance over your exposed shoulders. The sparkle of your eyes under the waning moonlight. He realizes, not for the first time, how beautiful you are.

He could give himself the usual excuse, that it's just the time of the night, or the single glass of red he drank a few hours ago, but tonight, he lets himself just be there.

You're his best friend, and he loves you. He's here, dancing around the grass with some of his closest companions, and you're with him. For once, he can just be.

***

You can't the pile of shoes out of your head. Derek and Emily were able to find the girl before Lucas Turner killed her, but even after arresting him and getting her back to her mother, the case is still sticking with you.

89 pairs of shoes.

You shake the thought from your head as you get into Hotch's car in the field office parking lot. He insisted on driving you home after seeing the look on your face in the plane, and for once, you didn't argue with him.

"I can't stop thinking about them," you whisper as he pulls out of the lot. "So many lives that are forever changed because of two men."

You saw how Derek reacted when he found the box of muddy shoes. You saw JJ's face after she had to shoot Hightower for murdering the man who experimented on his sister.

"I'm thinking of giving everyone a few days off," he says, glancing over at you. "We all need some time to get away from this job. I'll put the request in tomorrow morning."

You nod, unable to voice your opinion. You feel depleted, without having even witnessed the horrors you know occurred up on that farm.

It takes a second, but eventually you regain the ability to speak. "Do you think it's worth it?" Your voice feels like sandpaper, but the question hurts more than anything else. "This life, I mean."

He mulls it over, and you notice his grip tighten on the steering wheel in front of him. "I think it has to be." Your brow furrows, and you don't know whether you want to scream or cry at how terrible that answer feels right now, but he isn't finished. "We have put too much of ourselves into this job to allow us to forget about all of the good that has come out of it too. If we choose to forget the good, then none of it means anything."

You look at him in wonder, realizing he has voiced exactly what you needed to hear. You're constantly awestruck by how he always seems to know exactly what to say to bring back your sense of purpose.

"You're good at this whole leadership thing," you say softly, cracking a smile when he looks at you. "You help me grow."

He pushes you just hard enough to help you transform into something so much bigger and better than you hoped you could be. His chin dips and he turns back to the road as your neighborhood comes into view. "You help me grow too."

You lean your cheek on your palm as you snuggle further into the seat. "I called Josh Cramer, over at organized crime."

His eyebrows raise with surprise and he glances over at you. "Jeff's old boss? How did that go?"

During your last interaction at the BAU office all those years ago, you weren't ready to see him yet. He still reminded you of the hate and anger and guilt you felt over Jeff's death.

The last few months have been kinder to you, though. It doesn't hurt as much when you think about him.

"It went well," you sigh, looking out the window at the houses passing by. "Even though it'll never really be the same, it felt more like old times, if that makes any sense."

"It does," he says simply, providing you an acknowledgement before letting you fill in the spaces yourself.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, before letting it out again. "He told me a story from before Jeff went undercover. It was just a dumb story about some night his team went out for burgers after wrapping up a case." Your breaths get shallower, but the tears you are expecting don't come. "Apparently, he made the team go to three different burger spots, because he wanted to bring me back curly fries, and none of the places were selling the kind I like."

You clear your throat to dispel the tightness, and when you look back at him, the car has come to a stop in front of your house.

"That sounds like him," Hotch says, smiling at you as you chuckle to yourself.

You nod, closing your eyes for a beat. "I guess I just wanted to say that, yeah, our lives are sometimes changed inalterably, but...it's not always bad. I met him, I loved him...and then I lost him, but I still wouldn't take back any of it."

His eyes crinkle and he looks out the windshield for a brief second. "Me neither."

It's already late, and you don't want to take up any more of his night, so you bid him goodbye and shut your door after making him promise to actually get some rest.

Your front door shuts behind you, and you hear the sound of his car driving off as you exhale heavily. Your house feels big with you here alone, but for once, you revel in the solitude. Finally, a few days of peace and quiet.

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

deer!reader gets the zoomies and pope's trying to calm her down? ♡

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

“oh my god, please get into bed.” pope chuckles, watching you from where he lays, a hand resting behind his head. you were wired up, pacing the room at the foot of his bed in your pyjamas. he’d taken you on one of the infamous pogue missions today, getting into all kinds of drama. pope had been stressed, hating that you could get into any kind of trouble. he did the best he could to keep you safe, as did the other pogues — in mutual understanding that you were a sweetheart who was not to be corrupted.

you’d been quiet throughout everything, all wide eyed and curious even through the dangerous parts. pope couldn’t gage you, half expecting you to burst into tears from all the commotion of the day as soon as he got you back through the door — but to his total surprise you were off like a rocket, rambling excitedly and grinning ear to ear.

“it was like— it was like this one scene from my book! i’ve never felt adrenaline like that before pope it was just— wow! and — and the way jj punched that guy in the face! he’s insane! and the way kie told that guy to shutup, like woah!” you squeal, twirling about excitedly as your boyfriend shakes his head calmly, used to the pogues shenanigans.

“yep, they’re all crazy. what’s gonna get you over here, huh?” he smiles lazily and you pause breathlessly in your tracks.

“not sure. i just feel so excited right now, popey.” you smile honestly and he sits up at the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him. reluctantly, you skip over— sitting right up by his side, looking at him expectedly with those wide curious eyes.

“look, i’m gonna be honest— i was stressed today. the most important thing to me, is keeping you safe, aaaand — that? that was far from safe. i’m glad you had fun, but i can’t in good conscience let you tag along to anymore pogue missions. okay?” his forehead crinkles as he knits his brows, watching your face fall a little, pensive.

unsurprisingly, you do as your told with little resistance. “mm, okay. but can you tell me more about your adventures? i wanna know.”

“mhm.” he loops a strong arm round the back of your neck to draw you in for quick kiss, a silent testament to how adorable he thought you were in the moment. “but tomorrow. not while i’m trying to get you to calm down.” he smiles, to let you know he’s not scolding you.

“fair.” you smile and he tilts his head, staring at you whilst he thinks.

“at the risk of sounding gross and vulgar, i do know one thing that usually gets you to calm down pretty quickly.”

your back straightens a little, perking up the same way a deer would after hearing a leaf crunch in the distance. “what’s that?” you question energetically, and instead of answering you — pope brings you in for another slow kiss, gently laying you back on the bed.

“well, it involves me being knuckles deep inside you. can’t give you any more clues though, i’m afraid.”

just like that, your brains mush. if pope had his methods to calm you down, who were you to intervene with such brilliance?

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

#anon #pope heyward prompt #deer!reader

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spnhits-blog · 4 months

Text

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Warnings: jealous JJ, Rafe being himself, fem!reader, fights, friends to lovers, angst, fluffy ending

Summary: When JJ sees that his best friend, and long time secret crush, is spending time with Rafe Cameron at a party he makes a scene and has to deal with the consequences.

A/N: Not my best, but it is my first one shot! Please let me know if you like it, or want to request any!

————————————————————————

"Hey, princess." Rafe barked, giving Y/n a sly smile as he approached her on the beach.

Y/n rolled her eyes, squinting at the arrogant, hot, but insufferable kook. "What do you want, Rafe? Haven't gotten your fix yet?" She referred to just the other day when he and Topper got into a brawl with Pope and JJ over yet another kook versus rouge dispute.

Rafe dryly chucked and rubbed his chin. "No," he spat before stopping himself, he came over here for a reason. "Listen, I- uh, I wanted to see if you were going to the bonfire tonight."

Her annoyance quickly dropped into concern, he must've been planning something to go down with her and all of her friends. "What's it to you?"

"Hey," he raised his hands in surrender. "I'm coming in peace, alright? Y'know I've always had a thing for you, and that overprotective boyfriend of yours is always starting shit with me - "

"JJ's not my boyfriend." Y/n quickly cut him off, which got a half smile out of Rafe. She caught on to her mistake of only becoming vocal just to basically say 'I'm single'. And she couldn't shake the feeling in her chest when she admitted she'd never be with JJ. "W-well I mean, there isn't really anything with us but that doesn't change - "

"Princess, just hear me out." He took her silence, as an acceptance to keep talking. "I want to see you there. Just give me a chance for one drink, maybe one song, or if you're feeling good then - "

"Rafe." She hissed, her cheeks becoming red as her head whipped around to see if anyone was watching the two of them converse. Rafe started to laugh, seeing her frit over what was happening. She looked back at him and couldn't help but let out a breathless chuckle.

"Okay, okay I won't get ahead of myself. But I'm planning on seeing you tonight, got it? Don't let me down, gouge princess."

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent when he started to walk backwards with a wide smile and return to his side of the beach where all his other friends hung around. What the hell is he thinking? I mean, sure he's flirted with her before but she always thought it was to get under JJ or John B or even Pope's skin. What if this was a prank or something?

Her mind raced a million times a minute, but she couldn't help but notice that she wore a small smile on her face after their run in. God, why was Rafe only the male attention she's gotten lately?

——————————

"Rafe asked you out?!" Kie squealed, as her and Sarah looked at Y/n with the biggest bug eyes ever.

"Well, not exactly. He just wants to hang out at the bonfire that's going on tonight."

Sarah covered her mouth with her hand, looking in between the two girls. It was weird hearing that her brother Rafe wanted to go out with her best friend, a pouge nonetheless. "Are you going to? I mean, it is Rafe."

All the girls grimaced at the thought of all the destruction he's caused in their lives. All the fights with the boys, the family trouble Sarah's had to deal with over the years, and just the overall fact he was basically the kook king.

Y/n sighed, "I don't think so, I mean it's so not a good idea. Or look."

Kie furrowed her eyebrows, "Do you want to?" There was a beat of silence, which Kie took as a hint of an answer. "Cause it seems you're giving logical answers instead of a flat, 'no, it's Rafe of all people'."

"Well of course yeah, 'Rafe of all people,'" Y/n groaned, dragging her hands over her face before looking at her best friends. "I just, I don't know. Most guys around here aren't interested in me, y'know. I've been hopelessly following JJ for like ever. And yes, it's most likely a prank or just a ruse to start something with the guys again... I can't help but think about how it did make me feel good to have someone interested in me, even if it is Rafe."

Kiara and Sarah looked at each other with a dreadful look that Y/n wasn't paying attention to. They, of course, knew the reason why no guys ever approached you. It didn't have anything to do with you; you're beautiful, smart, and know how to ride the hell out of a wave. It all had to do with a certain blonde boy the three of you were all close to. JJ Maybank was your protector, unwanted at times and often scared and threaten away any foolish guy who tried to show their interests. They also know he was deeply in love with you, but you've always been oblivious to it.

"What, guys. Is that so bad?"

The two girls snapped out of their thoughts, and Sarah sent the girl a sad smile. "No, Y/n. It's not bad, but we just think," She looked back at Kie to try to get some more advice to give to the girl without revealing their other friend's big secret. "That there's better guys out there, that also have their eye on you."

Y/n scoffed, throwing herself on the bean bag chair that Kiara had in the corner of her bedroom. "Like who?"

Kie sighed and took a seat on her bed. "I know you don't see it but a lot of guys are. And they could even be right in front of you without you even realizing it - "

Sarah pretended to clear her throat, giving Kie a wide eyed look. She had been sworn to secrecy by her boyfriend John B to keep JJ's big secret on the down low, and she didn't want to have to deal with whatever could happen if she was the one who spilled the beans. She quickly threw you a big smile, trying to act somewhat normal before you called them out. "Whatever you choose to do, we got your back. Okay? So let's all get hot, and go meet the guys before we head out to get plastered."

All the three girls laughed and listened to Sarah. It was already 4, and they were supposed to meet at the chateau by 6. Y/n shook her head still giggling, "Fine, you're right. Now lets find you an outfit because you always take an hour choosing."

"Hey!" Sarah fake pouted, as the other two girls laughed on their way to Kie's closet.

———————————

Kie finally parked her car in front of the chateau, the three girls hopping out of the car only to hear the guy's hollering and laughs. Pope sat in one of the chairs outside, John B laying in the hammock, and JJ reenacting some fight he got into with some kooks the other week.

"Hey, idiots!" Kie called out, catching their attention. Sarah skipped over to her boyfriend, who frantically tried getting out of the hammock to engulf her in a big tight hug. Pope's eyes brighten just by the sight of Kie, who gave him a cheeky smile and took a seat next to him on the other open chair.

Y/n laughed at both interactions and walked closer to the group, JJ standing there with his arms out welcoming her. "What you waiting for, sweet girl?" He joked, noticing they were basically 3rd wheeling the couple and the 'unestablished but still couple' (Kie and Pope of course).

Y/n giggled, playfully rolling her eyes at JJ's antics but still gave him a hug as a greeting. "Hi, Jayj." She whispered into his chest. JJ wrapped on arm around her lower back and the other held her head close to his chest, squeezing a little on her waist. Y/n immediately felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as she wrapped both arms around his mid back and breathed in his scent. She stepped back after a moment, and looked at the other 4 as a way to focus on what they came here for. "So, are we pregaming or what?"

All the pouges cheered, John B and JJ springing in action to get more beers, a bottle, and JJ's stash to present to all of them. JJ stuck a joint in between his lips, adjusting the red cap on his head as he looked at all of the pouges with a mischievous look in his eye. "This night's gonna be legendary, I can feel it."

Kie scrunched her face, but before she could call out how ridiculous he was being per usual Pope beat her to it. "JJ, last time you said that we all limped home."

JJ froze for a second but quickly disregarded his best friend, "I was high, I think. Whatever, whatever, come on guys! We're gonna have a good night," he whooped and everyone else just laughed along ready for the night to start.

—————

They all arrived to the boneyard for the party, one of the firsts of the summer so both kook and pouges were going to be there and they all made a pact to stay out of trouble with the kooks. Well, in JJ's case, to try to stay out of trouble.

Once everyone got a drink, John B and Sarah quickly made their way closer to the speakers so they could dance. Kie saw some other friends she knew who loved cleaning up beaches with her and went to go catch up with them. Pope and JJ were trying to find a drinking game they could play, while Y/n scanned the beach to see if anyone in particular was actually there.

Soon, she finally caught eyes with a certain kook king who was giving her a smirk from across the bonfire. She looked like a deer in headlight, and quickly tried to see if Sarah or Kie was paying attention so she could get some last minute girl advice.

But, sadly, they were preoccupied and enjoying their time. She sighed, and looked back at Rafe. He beckoned her over to him and some of his friends, including Topper and Kelce. Y/n looked over at JJ and Pope who suddenly started bickering over whether weed was good for you or not. "Hey, I'll be right back."

The boys nodded at her, not taking a minute to stop their heated debate. Y/n slowly began to walk over to Rafe, the only thing on her mind being, I really hope this isn't gonna be a prank.

"Princess, you came!" Rafe cheered smirking down at the girl who finally made her way over to him and his friends. Topper and Kelce gave her a small nod, but neither of them seemed impressed by her. Hell, they often took shots at her and her friends over the years.

She awkwardly smiled at them back and turned to Rafe. "So.. you wanted a chance for just one drink, right?"

"Yeah, here let me get you one." Rafe confidently put his hand on your mid back and led you guys to one of the kegs nearby. "Listen, I know this is weird. But what I said earlier is true, and I've never made the effort to try to see if anything could happen.. and I'm not as horrible of a guy like your friends think I am."

"One of those friends is your own sister, makes you think though, no?"

Rafe clicked his tongue, thinking of a way to justify a comeback. Y/n laughed the longer it took for him to recover. "I'm just messing with you," She took a sip from her drink and he just looked at her with an amused look.

"So this isn't going horribly bad, I'm assuming?"

"I could just chug this, and then y'know, just walk back to my friends."

Rafe looked back over to where you were standing with JJ and Pope and saw that JJ was looking around the party, most likely looking for where you went off to. He looked back at you, to see you take another big sip of your drink. "Okay, well we might as well have fun then. How about a game of beer pong, you and me versus Top and Kelce?"

She nodded, agreeing to the game against some stupid kooks. The four of them quickly racked up the cups and started to play. Top and Kelce made the first dent in cups, but Rafe and Y/n were just a little too competitive to give up.

"I thought you were the 'Kook King' and you haven't made one cup in!" Y/N laughed as she sunk the ball into one of 6 left red solo cup.

Rafe shook his arm out, "Okay, don't worry.. it's all about the comeback," he spoke steadily, and quickly threw the ball in the same cup.

"Oh shit!" Y/N cheered as the got two cups out, and the balls back. "Okay, okay. I see how you play."

Rafe smirked, "I've seen you watch me play before, you should now I'm good."

Y/n's eyes widen, stunned to even defend herself as he shot his turn. Yes, she's admired how good Rafe can look when he's not being an extreme asshole but she didn't think he caught on. She didn't even really think he had a thing for her either, but he keeps bring it up.

The four of them continuing their game until there's only one cup left for each team.

Rafe grunts as his shot bounces off the rim, if they didn't get it in this round they loose. He turned to you, and rested his arms on your shoulder as if he was your coach. "You got this."

Y/n sternly nods, and zeros in on her target. She let out a deep breath and swiftly threw the ball and it perfectly landed in the cup. Y/n and Rafe loudly cheered, catching the attention of practically anyone around them. Rafe instinctively threw his arms around Y/n's waist and picked her up with ease. The two laughed and kept cheering over Topper and Kelce's shouts of unfairness and how the game was stupid anyway.

"Damn, princess I didn't know you were gonna be that good." Rafe laughed and slowly set you down, but not backing up just yet.

Y/n opened her mouth to respond but another rough one called out from behind the pair. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing with these guys?!"

Rafe turned around to see JJ walking up to him with a pissed off look clear on his face. "Oh, come on now." Rafe humored, smirking like the devil at the other blonde man who was looking at him like he wanted to tear him apart. "We're just having a little fun, right Y/n?"

Y/N frowned from the tone of voice Rafe used to irk JJ. Yeah, she should've known it was just to get a ruse out of her friends. How stupid of her..

JJ took his eyes off Rafe and looked to your less happy self, and the anger slowly rolled off him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and gestured his hand to you. "Let's just go, sweetheart."

Y/n looked back at Topper and Kelce, who's snickering began tp quiet down because of her gaze. She brushed past Rafe, who started getting annoyed by the fact that all JJ had to do was call you over and you'd go willingly.

Y/n met JJ's side and the pair began to walk a few feet away from the kooks. Until.. "Hey, JJ!"

Y/n gave JJ a look that said, 'just ignore him.' But JJ didn't see, he just glared down at the sand, slowing down his pace but still walking the same direction as you.

"Next time you can pick her up after I'm done with Pouge Princess."

"That's it!" JJ swiftly turned around and launched himself at Rafe. He successfully hit Rafe square in the jaw, and kept the hits coming.

"JJ!" Y/n yelled, watching as the two went crashing down on the sand both landing punches anywhere on the other.

Topper and Kelce rushed over to the two brawling guys, Pope and John B coming from somewhere behind Y/n to get JJ out of yet another fight.

"JJ, enough man!" John B yelled, as him and Pope grabbed him off of the bleeding kook. JJ was also bleeding from his lip, bruises starting to form on his arms and sides. Rafe got the brunt of it, a bloody probably broken nose clearly evident. A big bruise also forming on the side of his temple.

JJ kicked sand at the three kooks who glared at the other pouges.

Sarah and Kie slowly stepped beside Y/n watching the fight with wide eyes. "I'll get the twinkie started.." Sarah trailed off, putting her hand on Y/n's shoulder before walking away to get their getaway car.

The five pouges started to follow the blonde girl before JJ pushed John B and Pope off of him. "I'm fine, god! Get off, bro. I'm chillin!"

Y/n stopped in her tracks, and snapped her head to look back at him. They were about 20 feet away from the heat of the party, most people ignoring them now and continuing with the rest of the party. "What's wrong with you?"

JJ barked out a laugh, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. "What's wrong with me?! You're the one trying to slum it with those dumb kooks!"

"No I'm not, JJ! Stop it."

By now, the other three og pouges backed away and made their way to the twinkie. They all knew the two of them could handle this on their own.

"What? You really think Rafe is someone you want to spend time with? Since when has that been a thing?"

"God, it's not. It's - it's nothing.."

JJ gave her an unconvinced look, his arms flailing everywhere as he paced around trying to figure out some way to get rid of this adrenaline rush. "What are you hiding, huh?"

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment, her mouth agape from what he was trying to get at. He looked disgusted at her for thinking she was sleeping with kooks. "I'm not sleeping with Rafe. He stopped me earlier on the beach and asked to see me at the bonfire tonight. I wasn't even going to, but you were busy with - "

"So you chose to see Rafe? Are you that stupid?!"

"I'm not stupid! Nothing bad even happened until you came and started a fight."

JJ nodded his head with his face all scrunched up. "Oh, yeah I saw you having a blast with those kooks. I bet you guys get along so well."

"And what if I did? I'd be a kook? Someone you hate - someone you're disgusted by?" Y/n breathed out the last part, tears starting to sting by the hurt she was feeling. Why was JJ acting like this? You and him were the closest to each other in the group, thick as thieves. But he's never treated you like this before.

JJ stopped pacing, and saw the tears in her eyes. All his anger towards you started to dissipate seeing that he was the one to make you cry. Not a kook, but him. "Y/n - "

She shook her head, blinking away her tears as fast as she could. "Whatever, JJ. Nice to see how you really feel about me."

She took off towards the twinkie, brushing away a couple tears that fell down her cheeks in frustration. She finally made it to the back of car, where Pope and Kie sat with sympathetic gazes. Great, they probably overheard everything.

"He's just not good at showing how he feels," Kie softly offered to the girl who now sat next to her. Sarah and John B looked at each other with worried faces in the front of the van.

Y/n picked at the floor of the van, rolling her eyes. "I know him, he's just being an asshole."

Without a beat JJ threw himself in the back, slamming the door behind him. There was only silence that followed until John B put the car in drive and drove over to the chateau.

They all awkwardly got out the twinkie once they were finally at John B's. Y/n headed straight for her bag she left by the hammock whereas the others entered the chateau. Before JJ was the last one in, he was blocked by John B.

"What, man."

John B gave him a pointed look, "Fix this with her. You were being a real tool."

JJ scoffed trying to play it off, but he knew John B was right. He knew you were right to hate him right now.

"Tell her." Pope spoke up, the other two girls nodding behind him.

JJ looked at everyone, before looking back at you who was hurriedly trying to grab all of your belongings.

"Shit," he whispered to himself once he started to see you angrily walk away from the house. Clearly trying to walk home, or anywhere JJ wasn't. "Wait! Wait, wait, wait." He called out, running over to you and caught your arm before you got too far.

He pulled you as gently as he could so that you'd face him. Unlike the last time you looked at him, you had a blank facial expression. Which somehow made him feel even worse than when he made you cry.

"I-I didn't mean any of that. I fucked up, okay?" He began to ramble, you not making an effort in responding or even giving him any sort of emotion. "I just couldn't deal with you and Rafe, he doesn't deserve - "

"But I deserved what you said to me?"

JJ sighed, his arm falling from his grip on your arm. He scratched the back of his head before readjusting the worn out red cap a few times. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

At the actual apology Y/n's face softened a little, it wasn't like he apologized for much or anything really.

"I was being a dick. And you don't deserve that. You deserve better than anyone on this fucking island. Especially Rafe.." He licked his lips, and swallowed the fear in his throat. "Even me."

Y/n's face scrunched in confusion, "What do you mean, J?"

JJ looked all over her face before looking in her eyes, and raised a hand cup her cheek. Her lips parted in surprise at the sudden realization of how close they were.

He slowly leaned in, checking for any hesitance she might've given him. He pressed his lips against hers, holding her firmly against his body. Y/n's eyebrows raised in surprise, and it took her a moment to even realize that JJ was kissing her. She felt him start to pull away and quickly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. The kiss became more hungry, one of JJ's hands trailing to the back of her neck and the other still gripping her hip.

They broke apart and gasped for air. Y/n looked up at JJ, both of their arms still around each other just heavy breathing. "Jayj.."

"I love you. I've been in love with you for years, and I've been too scared to admit it.. maybe even to myself. But when I saw you with Rafe I just couldn't help myself. And I know I might have fucked up our friendship, you probably don't even like me. I don't deserve yo-"

"Don't say that." Y/n cut JJ off, one of her hands moving from his shoulder to caress his jaw and cheek. "You deserve everything, Jayj. Don't you know that? I've been so focused on no guy ever looking at me twice on this stupid island.. I never thought you'd love me back."

JJ's eyes widen, a big smile spreading his face. "Y-you love me?"

Y/n let out a breathless laugh, nodding along. "Of course I love you, JJ. I always have."

JJ slammed his lips against her's once more, both of them smiling and giggling during it. Both of his hands traveled to grab her waist, pick her up and twirl her around. She let out a big hearty laugh, throwing her head back. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as he set her back down on the ground.

"If I knew all it was going to take for this to happen was just to be with Rafe, I would've done it a lot sooner."

He sent her a fake glare, playfully pushing her head as she laughed. "Don't even."

"Hey, lovebirds!" Kie called out, all the pouges laughing and cheering for the newly couple. "Are you coming back inside or what?"

JJ and Y/n laughed and headed back over to the chateau. JJ softly reached behind him for her hand, the two smiled at each other softly. They've gone through so much more than just a heated argument. They could make it through anything together.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #jj maybank fluff #fluff #angst with a happy ending #jj maybank x fem!reader

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simpforboys · 1 year

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I have a Xavier request. I dunno if it’s been done (plus its a little cringe and a little cliche) but the ideas been stuck in my head for days - partially inspired by rose “paint me like one of your French girls” scene in titanic. Xavier asks to paint her nude or she asks. It can lead to anything I just need the idea out of my head. Another idea I had that could be linked or seperate is a reader with wings and Xavier is just like obsessed

By the way I love your work. Your JJ stuff too (goodness me) -

Anon 🐣

(Ps: have a high five 🖐️, m not keen on hugs)

my angel

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: you want xavier to draw you… nude.

warnings: mentions of smut, no real smut, nudity, YOU HAVE WINGS!!!! (i pictured angel wings but go with whatever u want bae) xavier is in love with you

im combining this because omg imagine xavier drawing you and hes just obsessed with your wings and body… anyways imma get writing

initially, when you approached xavier about the idea of doing a portrait of you, he loved it.

considering he had done many sketches of your beautiful face, it should be easy.

but then you clarified what you meant.

“can you draw me like one of your french girls, xavier?” you mimicked rose from the movie, titantic.

you leaned against your boyfriend, your wings wrapping around him enough to make him flustered.

he spun around in his stool, his eyes full of admiration. he put his hands on your waist and brought you closer.

“you know i always draw you, baby.” xavier told you, referring to the multiple portraits he had done of you.

“what if i want you do draw me with my wings? with only my wings…” you trailed off. the look you gave xavier was suggestive and he couldn’t help but feel excitement.

so now, as you stood in front of xavier in nothing but a robe in the center of his dorm, he couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“where do you want me, baby?” you teased, seeing your boyfriend blush.

“how about you lay on the bed.” xavier grabbed a chair and brought it over. he watched as you gracefully dropped the robe before laying down.

his eyes roamed your naked body. he had seen it numerous times before, but for some reason this seemed more intimate.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” xavier whispered as he began to sketch.

you grinned at your boyfriend. he always made you feel special.

the focus look on his face as he drew you was enough to make you flustered. being so vulnerable while he memorized every part of you was intimidating.

“relax, baby. your wings are moving.”

xavier knew when you got flustered or embarrassed your wings would tend to show your emotions more than your face.

for instance, your wings had began to scrunch together instead of being fully displayed.

that’s one of the things xavier loved most about you. the way he could always tell how you felt by your wings.

he loved everything about you. he was quite literally smitten by you, ever since he first saw you.

you were never scared to be yourself.

xavier finally finished your face when he began to draw your boobs. the memories of him leaving hickies, kissing them, sucking them made xavier blush.

“what’s got you blushing, pretty boy?”

“you.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you laughed.

“you don’t need to. everything about you would make me blush.”

you couldn’t help but feel your own face warm up, wings clamping together slightly.

“babe.”

“sorry!”

➽─────────────────❥

“are you almost done? i’m half asleep over here.”

xavier laughed at your comment. he was just finishing the details on your wings, leg bouncing in anticipation.

what if you hated it?

“come look.”

you stood up from the bed, sleep in your eyes as you put on one of xavier’s shirts.

you sat on his lap as he showed you the drawing. your face turned in admiration as xavier watched your eyes light up.

“oh my god, it’s so pretty. like a renaissance portrait.”

xavier grinned, his big hands rubbing your bare thighs. “my angel, huh?”

you smiled, kissing your boyfriend.

“your angel.”

#xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe x you #xavier #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #percy hynes white #percy #wednesday #xavier fluff #xavier thorpe fluff #you have wings #simpforboys #i need him

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 3 months

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Will you please be quiet?

Summary: You have a song stuck in your head and Emily one has one way to make you be quiet.

Word Count: 1.1k

Fluff, kissing

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Reader POV:

“I wanna be your endgame, I wanna be your first string!” I sang as I was getting ready for the day. Music blasting through my apartment, as I pack my go-bag.

I go over to my vanity and put on some quick makeup and keep humming Endgame as it echos through the walls of my bedroom.

I hop into my car to go to work and put my Spotify on shuffle, Endgame comes on again. I’m not complaining but oh my god. This is going to be stuck in my head for days now.

Time skip to when reader gets to Quantico*

I’m minding my own business waiting for my coffee to pour while humming Endgame as Emily walks up behind me.

“Got a song stuck in your head?” Her hand lightly brushed over my waist as she went to stand next to me. Oh my goodness this woman makes butterflies erupt in my stomach by such a small touch.

“Ha, yeah. That obvious huh?” She let out a small laugh as she nodded.

“Yeah well you’ve been here what, an hour? And I don’t think I’ve heard anything but that time leave your mouth.” I lowered my head and shook it laughing at her observation, a blush coating my cheeks.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t come here just to talk about the song planting itself in that pretty little head of yours-“ I don’t let her finish, partially because the blush on my cheek is becoming too noticeable now and also because I know exactly what she’s going to say.

“We have a case.”

“Yes, we do, meet in the round table in 10.” She gives me a small smile and walks away.

Time skip to once they’re on the jet on the way to the case*

“Big reputation, big reputation, ohh you and me, we’d be a big conversation.” I mutter under my breath as I sit next to Emily looking over the file.

“Oh my god! You’re still going huh?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts by her soothing voice, I laugh and look at her honey brown eyes.

“Sorry!” I laughed as I looked back down to the file, her hand found its way onto my thigh under the table, careful not to draw attention to us. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

An uncontrollable smile bloomed on my face. I gave her hand a squeeze to say thanks and we both went back to the task at hand.

Time skip to when they’re looking through evidence at the local PD*

“You got anything?” Like asked Rossi.

“Nothing, if this guy did have any enemies he was quick to bury the hatchet as not to be tracked down.” As soon as he said this my brain flickered on with Endgame. Again.

“And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put ‘em.” I hear a giggle next to me and look over and find Emily gazing at me.

“Don’t even,” I sighed “It’s starting to annoy me as well.” She laughed and shook her head and looked back down at the evidence like we had collected from the scenes.

Time skip to a little later*

“Hey what you humming?” Tara asked me as she looked up from the crime scene photos on the table.

“Endgame by Taylor Swift.” I reply without looking up, trying to piece together where the unsub was going to strike next.

“Oh my god! I love Taylor Swift! What’s your favourite album?” Before I could respond Spencer came into the room we, and the rest of the team, were in and started talking.

“Guys, I know where the unsub is going to strike next. The house he grew up in has been condemned and scheduled for demolition so that’s probably where he’s been taking his victims. If he sticks to his pattern, he’ll be going back there at some point after 10pm tonight.” We all started to pack up our things when Emily called out,

“Guys, we need to do a stakeout. We’ll scare him away if we go in there guns drawn and then he’ll go underground so, Reid and JJ, park on the curb near the house, Tara and Matt, go to the end of the road, Rossi and Luke to the other end of the road, you’ll act as a kind of covert roadblock and me and y/n will park up in an lay-by near the house.”

We all got up and went to our assigned SUV and started driving to our destinations. On the way there Emily turned the radio on.

“And I heard about you, ooh, you like the bad ones too.”

“Oh my god! It’s everywhere!” We laughed together at this. What are the chances?! We kept the radio on nonetheless.

As we pulled into the parking space we sat in a comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other presence and the peace of an evening stakeout. The sun was setting and I absentmindedly started humming under my breath yet again.

“I don’t wanna miss you, like the other girls do. I don’t wanna hurt yo-“ before I could finish I feel my chin being tugged to the side and a soft pair of lips meeting my own.

To say I was shocked at first was an understatement but I soon melted into the kiss, her thumb caressed my face as our lips moved together. It was the most amazing moment of my life to date. Emily slowly pulled away her face still barely a centimetre away from my own.

“What was that for?” I asked, still skeptical.

“It’s the only thing that I could think of to stop you from singing that damn song!” Laughter broke out between us and as it died down she pulled me back in again for a brief kiss.

“Dinner at my place tomorrow?” She asked gazing into my eyes with our hands intertwined.

“Are you, Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, asking me out on a date?” I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

“Yes, I am.” She giggled.

“In that case, dinner tomorrow sounds awesome.” I kiss her again, savouring the taste of her on my lips.

“I’ll take you to and from work so you can stay the night and not worry about your car.” I say thank you as I pull her into another kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the others.

Her hand reaches for the back of my head and pulls me in closer, her tongue swiping my bottom lip asking for permission. Granting it, I open my mouth and let her explore.

“Hey guy! Stop sucking each other’s faces and go back to the PD we got the guy!”

We make eye contact and start laughing hard.

Well Shit. At least I ahoy a date with em!

#wlw #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic #emily prentiss #criminal minds #wlw pride #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #lesbian pride #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader

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grapejuicestyless · 3 months

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Could You Imagine That?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: You failed. The gold, the cross, the fame, the fortune. But really, who cared? Not when you had the best gift of all. Inspired by the song: Forever by Noah Kahan

We listen to Pope and Kiara argue about who knows how to build a fire better, throwing logs into a heap by a pile of rocks and lining stones in a circle in the sand. John B and Cleo make beds for everyone to sleep on and Sarah works on some sort of spear for us. Yet, JJ and I haven’t even given a second thought of how long we just might be here for.

Maybe a few more hours, a couple days or years. In the end, did it really matter? We’d been just fine so far and we’d swear the feeling of freedom was worth it no matter how starved we became or how cold the nights were. We’d screamed about Poguelandia hundreds or times already, calling out the name of this great island and hoisting the flag we’d painted with rocks and the mud packed beneath them. Our hands pruning from the salt water and our shorts left on the edge of the shore line while we ran around in our underwear, splashing around like little kids and laughing like old friends should.

“We’re broke!” We laughed, finding the fact that we failed more funny than anything. Because had we really failed if we got a greater gift than what being filthy rich could give us?

“But real rich in our heads!” JJ would scream back, chasing me down along the edge of the ocean. And when the waves slowed my strides he lifted me from my waist with his tanned arms, not minding how our wet bodies stuck together like glue and our clothes would surely stink like ocean for as long as we’d be here.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” I laughed in his hold, and his grip restricted my lungs but I would take the ache that came with it over any other feeling in the world. Because even after he loosens his grip, he never really lets me go and I am reminded of how he’s always within arms reach. Ready to make me smile, make me laugh. And it’s worth more than anything money could buy.

“Can you guys help us?” Kiara calls out desperately, but even she can’t hide the smile on her face, how much she loves the idea of it just being her and the Pogues all together and safe for just a small moment in the grand timeline of adventure ahead. No parents, no threats, no blood or tears. Just the sun and sand beneath our feet. A good cooked fish roasting over the fire and beds woven with leaves under our heads.

“Come in the waters just fine!” JJ splashes, catching a glare from Pope as the salt water briefly tames the fire they just started. And when Kiara catches his line of vision, we don’t have to look back to know their broken laughter is because their stripping to join us in the sea. Ready to splash around carelessly like children do, like we do.

“Can you imagine being here, like this forever? No more window shopping or late rent!” I laugh, bearing all my teeth in my smile when Kiara wraps her arms over my shoulders and places a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” She repeats my words back to me, eyes shining with the glow of the sunset that casts a warm hue over her sunburnt cheeks.

“Poguelandia forever, baby!” JJ’s arms pull Kiara away from me, and like glue, I’m stuck to him with nothing more to offer than the sweetest smile and the world shining in my eyes. I feel more alive than ever and theres not an ounce of gold that could replace it.

“Oh my god!” Cleo laughs at the scene in front of her, dry wood under her arm and a soft blush in her cheek from the sun. We’re all drenched in salt or sweat but we can’t help but feel absolutely okay with it.

You could fly over head at that very moment, on the search for miserable teens in need of help and you wouldn’t even look twice. The way everyone laughed like brothers and sisters and cherished what the world gave them, you’d think we were on some vacation. Like we hadn’t washed up here by accident.

Broken bones and aching muscles worth every moment that led us to this island and this life.

Looking back at JJ, I see the stars in his eyes and the world under his feet. It’s all we’ve ever wanted. A simple life by the ocean with all the people we love. So, we might be broke, we might be hungry and by god we might smell but by god are we richer than most.

“Poguelandia forever.” JJ whispers only for my ears to hear, forehead pressing against mine and his eyes observing the crinkles by my eyes. His thumbs lift from my hips to rub against my cheeks. Then he kisses me, kisses me in a way I hadn’t felt since before death looked at us in the eyes and grief was all we knew. Like we both knew finally that it would all work out and we would be okay.

When we pull away, we share the same hazy look we had plastered on our cheeks before and his hands plant themselves firmly on my hips once again. Squeezing the skin between his fingers playfully and drowning out the world around us.

“Could you imagine that.”

#jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #jj maybank fluff #p4l #jj maybank x pogue!reader #poguelandia #the pogues #pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader

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incognit0slut · 11 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (7)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder case. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

Part Summary: She finds herself in a compromising position.

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: this is my first time writing suspense and crime-mystery, so bear with me if you find any inaccuracy

IF THERE WAS ONE THING SPENCER WAS SURE OF, IT WAS BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. Fatigue, like an invisible shroud, draped itself around his shoulders, draining all of his energy while his mind stumbled through a labyrinth of exhaustion.

He stifled a yawn, his mind trying to focus on the situation at hand and not the lack amount of sleep he was having. When was the last time he actually slept on his bed? When was the last time he went through his days without constantly refilling his cup with too much caffeine? The muscles around his eyes were starting to twitch with restless energy, a sign of a restless mind faltered under the weight of weariness.

Yet amidst it all, a strange resilience emerged within him. He still managed to focus his blurred vision, scanning his eyes around the room as he pushed away any fatigue and the desire to be somewhere else.

His gaze finally ceased on Garcia, engrossed in her own digital world, a sleek laptop perched on the round table before her. She leaned in, her eyes fixed on the vibrant screen which illuminated her face with a soft, cool glow. "Alright, so, I did more digging onto our recent victim, and let me tell you this, Jamison Lynch wasn't exactly the boss of the year."

Jennifer Jareau—who most of them regarded as JJ—looked up from the document in her hand, sitting across from Garcia. "What do you mean?"

"Jamison Lynch was somebody you wouldn't want as a boss. There were a lot of complaints coming from his subordinates—which surprisingly, most came from female workers."

Spencer's eyes scanned the large board in front of him adorned with a labyrinth of interconnected information. Photographs of the two crime scenes were pinned up, highlighting key details, while strings of marks and drawings crossed the board. "He was very different from the first victim."

"Exactly. Kevin Marshall was the epitome of boss of the year, and everybody just loved the guy, which was why no one could guess how something terrible could happen to him."

"There's a chance what happened to him isn't related to his job," JJ offered.

"Maybe not," Garcia muttered, throwing Spencer a curious look. "But the question is still unanswered, how are the two victims linked to one another?"

"The Unsub's memo is clearly done to punish them," Spencer explained, his attention started to gather all the information gripped onto his brain. "The verse written on Jamison Lynch's body was Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in our Lord."

JJ leaned over the desk with a pointed stare. "One thing for sure, the Unsub has a strong religious background."

Spencer nodded. "All the verse they used highlights the notion that sin carries consequences, and death is described as the 'wage' or payment for those transgressions. In his mind, they may interpret these verses as a justification for his vigilante actions, believing that he's carrying out divine punishment on behalf of God."

"A religious upbringing," JJ suggested. "The Unsub could have grown up in a deeply religious environment, where strict interpretations of scripture might be emphasized."

"Most likely a distorted belief system." Spencer's hands were all over the place as he continued with his elucidation. "Over time, the Unsub's religious beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading him to believe that he possesses a unique calling to carry out punishment on behalf of a higher power."

He then studied the picture of the first crime scene, his eyes raking over the lifeless body covered in a pool of blood. "Kevin Marshall might seem like the golden citizen, but he must be involved in something that could be illegal..." He suddenly looked over to Garcia. "Did Jamison Lynch start his career as a journalist?"

Her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yes, he published a lot of his work since 2004."

"Search any articles he wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, or maybe the company he worked for. "

"Or legal cases that he was assigned with," JJ added.

"That could be a start, although it might take a while because sleuthing without much lead is difficult." Garcia peered at the two of them by the rim of her eccentric, colorful glasses. "But do not fret, I am known to be the best."

Footsteps suddenly emerged into the room as Aaron Hotchner glanced around the three of them. "Garcia," he mentioned, standing behind her. "Did you find any old cases that might be involved in the victims?"

"Ah, yes, the system was searching through the database based on your queries this morning and it took me a while before—" A sudden ping echoed from her device. “Well, that was perfect timing."

Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as her eyes scanned the dimly lit screen. Everyone in the room stood frozen in their tracks, their faces etched with a curious mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Garcia's eyes widened, revealing the turmoil that echoed the collective sentiment of the room. "Whoa."

JJ stood up and circled her way around the table, standing close to her. "What is it?"

"I started looking through the database for any similar crimes in surrounding areas this morning." Her attention shifted between the other three people in the room. "There have been enucleations in other cases, but none recently, and none close by. No similar murder case was shown, but suicide on the other hand..."

"Harvey Webb," JJ read, looking at the photo of the deceased man. "Suicidal death?"

"Thirty-nine-year-old landlord took a tumble off a sixth-floor balcony two years ago, exactly on the apartment complex he rented out."

"Why are we looking at a suicidal case?"

"That's the thing, the local authorities ruled out that he might've not jumped on his own accord, although his wife at that time determined that he had been having suicidal thoughts for a long time and decided to close the case." Garcia did more tapping on her keyboard and somehow pictures of the crime scene were plastered across the screen in front of the room. "Harvey went through depression and a lot of suicidal attempts, there were always cuts along his arm except—"

"There was a writing on his body?" Hotch guessed.

Garcia nodded as she clicked on a clearer picture of the victim's arm. "His autopsy came in that while there were definite signs of attempt self-hurt, this was written between the cuts."

"Galatians 6:7," Spencer read, his eyes fixated on the screen as he recited, "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Definitely a vigilante on the loose," JJ remarked.

Spencer hummed a positive response and walked over to the board, a marker in his hand as he wrote down the verse. "This verse underscores the concept of reaping the consequences of one's actions, which could further justify the Unsub's belief that his victims deserve punishment for his perceived sins or mistakes."

Hotch studied the pictures of the recent victims and the one shown on the screen. "The way the words are carved across the skin is definitely done by the same person," he noted.

JJ looked between the three pictures before nodding. "I agree." She then glanced up at her co-workers. "So why the different MO? Something connects these three victims, and yet this one"—she pointed to the photo of Harvey Webb—"died in a completely different manner. He either jumped or was pushed. We don't even know if it was a murder, just that he was branded the same as the other two victims."

"The timeline doesn't add up," Spencer claimed, his brows furrowed deeper. "There's too much of a gap between the first victim and the second victim, we're looking at two different stressors that triggered the Unsub."

Hotch stood beside him, crossing his arms as he studied the evidence they had collected these past few days. "If this was his first victim and the two men were his second and third, it's possible he's advancing, that his fantasy is developing."

Spencer looked back at the three pictures. What connected these three dead people, two murdered in violent, heinous ways, the third a potential suicide victim? What wrongdoings might they possibly sin? And now he couldn't help but feel the weight of Hotch's words and how revolting one could act in this series of crimes, proclaiming them as fantasies, his skill, and determination more distinguished than ever before.

"If that's the case..." he pointed out, a certain tension hanging in the air. "He's only getting started."

Y/n must be mad—utterly, completely out of her mind.

She always considered herself a very sensible person characterized by an ability to think critically, or make rational decisions on logical reasoning. But her thoughts, once orderly and coherent, twisted into bewildering shapes because here she was, perched right in front of an apartment door she once closed behind and never looked back.

Why did she think it was a good idea to come here uninvited at this time of hour? How did she end up being here when she was lying in her bed a few hours ago?

She recalled turning around in her sleep, or perhaps, her attempt to rest her eyes, because she found herself staring into the dark with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Maybe all the turmoil of emotions piled up in her chest had her going into a panic frenzy, relentlessly moving in her bed when she should've been fast asleep.

Somehow amidst dwelling on her anxiety, she was suddenly on her feet, putting on a jacket before calling a cab. Her mind was too tangled to be driving on her own, and when the driver asked her where she was heading, she recited the area she was familiar with. Did she remember the building she wanted to go to? Yes. Did she know the exact address? Apparently not.

Although it was easy to spot the building. The old but clean apartment was recognizable, the sturdy wooden door, adorned with vintage brass fixtures, welcomed her after she tipped the driver her fair. The cool air hit her face, her hair flying around her shoulders as she spotted a residence walking out of the building. She quickly slipped in, seeking a very much-needed warmth, yet now she was starting to question her common sense.

But it was too late to turn back because her hand was already curling into a fist as she knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. When there was no answer, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. She knocked once again, and when she was met with silence, she decided it was a sign that she was indeed making the wrong decision.

So she exhaled a breath she wasn't even aware of holding, turned around, and completely froze when she was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes. There he was, almost a week since the last time she saw him, standing on the last step of stairs.

Time seemed to stand still. Her heart skipped a beat, his presence exuded a captivating charm. His chiseled features were accentuated by a sculpted jawline, leading up to a pair of intense, deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a hefty amount of fatigue. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, hinting at nights spent wrestling with restless thoughts.

He was dressed in a rumpled shirt and loosely fitted trousers, his attire mirrored the fatigue he wore upon his face. The fabric seemed to hang upon his frame, lacking the crispness that usually accompanied his wardrobe. But despite his weariness, there was an undeniable pull emanating from his presence. It should be illegal how handsome he still looked even when he looked like he needed some rest.

Spencer took a tentative step closer, looking reminiscent of a puppy with his eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic either confusion or concentration. "Y/n?"

"Hi," she awkwardly greeted, suddenly feeling out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"I..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed as she tried to find a reasonable answer. But somehow she found herself telling him the truth. "I honestly don't know."

His eyes fixed upon her, silently studying her figure. A cascade of lustrous hair framed her face, falling gracefully upon her shoulders.

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to impose on you—" she stepped aside, letting him unlock his door. "Or disturb your much-needed rest."

A ghost of a smile curled on the corner of his lips as he fished out his keys. "I look terrible, don't I?"

"I wouldn't say terrible, just... you look very tired."

"I haven't had proper sleep in days." With a steady hand, he inserted the key into the lock before a satisfying click echoed in the air. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and he gestured to her with a nod.

She looked between him and his apartment. "Are you sure?"

"Come in," he offered. He walked inside his home and pulled the door ajar. "Please."

She studied him for a while before nodding. The floor creaked as she stepped into his household, and as the door swung shut behind her, she scanned the room that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. A sense of warmth enveloped her despite the predominantly dark colors that adorned the space. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from placed lamps, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

She walked past him and noticed the chessboard splayed across the coffee table. "I didn't know you play chess." She sat down on his couch. "Looks like you were in the middle of a game… was someone else here?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard a note of jealousy in her voice, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Actually, I was in a game with myself," he answered sheepishly, shrugging off his suit jacket before placing it over his couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, it's alright." She leaned forward, her gaze fixed upon the chessboard. Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the board with a keen interest before moving a chess piece, placed with precision and purpose.

Genuine surprise crossed his face as he settled beside her. "You know how to play chess?"

"A little. I used to play with my father growing up."

"You don't play with him anymore?"

She shook her head. "He passed away when I was young. Both of my parents did."

"I'm sorry," he gently spoke. He leaned back and turned his body toward her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just me."

"I'm an only child too." Then he assessed her carefully while her eyes wandered beyond her striking features, a subtle tension betrayed a deeper complexity lurking beneath the surface. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He noticed the subtle language of her body where uncertainty weaved on her face. It was in the way she looked between him and her hands, a balance between wonder and reservation that hinted at the lingering doubt within. Then she took a deep breath, her brows furrowed as her voice filled in the silence.

"Does it make me a bad person that I didn't cry after everything that happened?"

He frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"There was a memorial service for Jamison a few days ago, and while everyone mourned, I just... stood there." She looked down at her hands. "What happened to him was very unfortunate, it just happened that, apparently, I have no emotions.”

His head fell back onto the couch as he watched her. "It doesn't make you a bad person. Grief is a deeply personal and individual experience, and people respond to loss in different ways. Crying is just one expression of grief, but it isn't the only definitive indicator of how much someone cared for or was impacted by the loss of a person, especially given how you saw what had happened."

"But it makes me feel kind of heartless." She glanced back at him. "I mean, he wasn't exactly the greatest boss, and I should've felt a certain kind of sadness, but I... I don't know how I feel, to be honest."

"Y/n," he gently called, his expression softening. "It's important to remember that everyone grieves in their own way. What matters most is that you find healthy ways to navigate and process your emotions surrounding the loss, whether it involves crying or not."

She hummed in response. "I guess you do have a point."

"I do, and I'm right most of the time." Spencer smiled when she rolled her eyes and a comfortable silence settled between them. "Now tell me the truth."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"You obviously have a lot on your mind right now and I'm trying to wrap my head around why you chose to be here."

"Do I need to have a reason?"

As his gaze lingered, he found himself drawn to her eyes—a delicate blend of curiosity and trepidation. They shimmered with a gentle vulnerability, revealing the depths of her longing to be seen and understood.

"I would like to know your reason."

She weighed her words carefully. "I couldn't sleep,” she decided to say. “My mind was constantly turning its gear, then it got too overwhelming?” She shook her head. “I-I guess I needed the comfort..."

As she tried to find her voice, her words become entangled in the turmoil of her emotions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. The words spilled forth, unfiltered and vulnerable, resonating with a sincerity that echoed through the room.

"And somehow you were the first person that came to mind."

Spencer felt an unfamiliar intensity washing over him—a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that tugged at his heartstrings. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, the desire to embrace her consumed him, both thrilling and terrifying. It was such a baffling thought because he found hugs to be overwhelmingly intimate for his liking, yet there was this urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his.

The weight of uncertainty pressed upon him, urging caution and restraint. But logic lost its battle with instinct, and caution lost its wrestle with impulsive longing as he found himself asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Her body tensed, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. But as he kept staring at her, she realized that he was being serious. And she found herself nodding, yearning for the warmth radiating from his body.

He carefully drew closer and a magnetic force guided her movements, gently pushing her into his arms. Nervous excitement coursed through her veins, infusing a sense of vulnerability.

Bodies entwined, they breathe in unison, inhaling the essence of closeness as senses unfold—the warmth of skin against skin, the familiar scent that filled the air, the weight of the world momentarily faded away as they surrendered to the pure simplicity of human touch.

His head was spinning with longing and somehow he managed to pull her body gently onto his lap. She silently accepted his tug, placing her legs on either side of his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amidst her relishing the gentle press of his body against hers, she couldn't help but find amusement in this new position.

He felt the subtle shake of her shoulder as a burst of soft laughter escaped her mouth. He suddenly tensed. "Is there something funny?"

The confusion etched in his voice had her pulling away, a small smile lingering on her face. "Yes," she answered. "It's amusing how you like having me on your lap so much.”

A slight warmth spread along his face as he became aware of her weight settling on top of him. "I didn’t notice."

She wasn't sure whether it was the glimmer in his eyes, the bashful smile on his lips, or the way he didn't pull his gaze away from her, but before it could register in her mind, she drew herself closer to him. The sudden shift of her movement caused a friction underneath her, and it was at that moment she realized how compromising of a position they were in.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, and an electric current surged through her veins, awakening a longing she had not anticipated. Her eyes flickered with a newfound intensity—a hunger that shimmered in the depths of her gaze as she could only focus on the pulse settling between her thighs.

As her longing deepened, she became acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him enveloped her, intoxicating her senses, and her mind was consumed by allowing herself to surrender in this newfound need.

So she slowly rolled her hips, feeling his body beneath her, and suppressed a moan when she felt the outline of his bulge stroking against her core. Her breath hitched, betraying the innocent intentions that had initially brought them together.

She felt him tense from the friction and his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, her heart beating to the same rhythm. "Stop doing that," he suddenly said, eyes darkening as he stared at her, voice deep and raspy.

"Why?" She whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. His heart ached to offer solace, yet primal longing tugged at his core, igniting an undeniable urge to keep her closer, to indulge in the sudden pull of desire.

"Because if you don't," he grunted, his hand sliding up her neck, burying it in her thick hair as he tilted her face. He pulled her closer, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. The heat of her presence lingered on his fingertips, tempting him to pull her into an embrace that transcends mere comfort. "I won't be able to stop myself."

His gaze then traced the contours of her form. The subtle curve of a hip, the graceful arch of a back, the gentle swell of a chest—all become objects of fascination. He watched as her tongue wiped along her bottom lip while she slid her hands across his shoulders, stopping right on his chest, hovering above his heart.

"Then don't," she softly pleaded, moving her hips once again, igniting a moan deep within his chest. “I don't want you to stop."

It was the only push he needed as he closed the distance between them, finally crushing his lips to hers.

>> NEXT PART

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starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies · 1 year

Text

Catch Basin | J.M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Crawling through the sewer to find a murder weapon should be pretty straightforward right? Definitely not life threatening.

A/N: This is kinda short but I hope you enjoy! I couldn’t find a good gif of this scene which I’m sad about

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: near drowning, dead animal?, very gross sewer

Word Count: 1.1k

“If it's not in the trash, then it's gotta be somewhere in the storm drain,” Pope says glumly.

“Of course it is.” You shake your head, wiping some sweat off your brow. “Half an hour cleaning up trash with you two hooligans for nothing.”

JJ feigns an offended expression next to you, reaching around the drain to his backpack. “Hey, at least this hooligan thought to bring the crow bar.”

“So how are we doing this?” you ask, “Like rock paper scissors? Or alphabetically?”

“Nah.” “No.” The two boys grunt as they pull the grate loose.

“Or, like, the oldest goes?” JJ and Pope just turn to stare at you. “Really? Neither of you are gonna take the fall? You're really gonna make me do this.”

Pope just shrugs while JJ nods in agreement with your statement, gesturing toward the open pipe.

“Oh, I get it.” You nod to yourself. “You guys are scared. It’s kinda cute.”

“I’m not scared, Y/N,” JJ protests indignantly, but neither boy makes a move toward the sewer.

You give them both an incredulous look. “You should’ve just led with that. You don’t have to be scared. I'll do it.”

“Okay, just, you know, be careful,” JJ adds as you're already halfway in the sewer.

“I’ll be so careful,” you respond sarcastically.

“Yeah, just yell if you need anything.” Pope chimes in.

“Great, yeah, I’ll do that. You’re both so helpful.” Your voice echoes as you yell back to the idiots you call friends.

You should've known you’d be the one stuck crawling through the sewer. If you were smart you would’ve sent JJ and Pope to complete this task on their own, but then who knows what problems they would’ve gotten themselves into without you.

“Shit.” You flinch as your hand hits something slippery on your crawl through the pipe. “Ew, ew, ew, ew.”

“Y/N, do you see the gun?” JJ’s voice echoes through the sewer.

“Nothing yet.”

“It’s probably at the bottom of the catch basin,” Pope informs you.

You're panting hard by the time you reach the end of the tunnel. You pull yourself into the foot of water at the bottom of the basin, feeling around for the gun and trying hard not to think about the things you could be touching.

“Oh my god, this is disgusting.”

It takes a few minutes, but finally you feel something that seems like it could be the same size as the gun.

You yell back in the direction of Pope and JJ. “Guys, I think I found something.”

As you lean down to reach for the object, something foul smelling and distinctly hairy floats toward your face.

“Oh, oh my god!” You push the creature away, scrambling. “You guys, there’s something dead in here!”

Pope calls back, “What, like a person?”

Something else touches you back making you scream.

“Y/N, don't touch it! That's how you get worms!” JJ yells, making you scream and yell even more.

“You guys owe me for life!”

“Just find the gun. Find the gun and get out.” Pope cuts over the noise, trying to get you back on track. He smacks JJ’s arm. “Dude, stop freaking her out.”

“Okay, okay.” you mutter to yourself, taking a deep breath. You turn back toward the water, continuing your search, but a noise makes you stop in your tracks.

“Oh, shit. Guys, the water! The water’s rising!” You turn frantically looking for a way out.

“Y/N! Get out of there now!” JJ’s panicked voice carries through the tunnel.

The water rises quickly, blocking off the way you came, making it impossible to crawl back out of the sewer.

“I don’t have time! Guys!” You hear them call back, yelling your name, but it all sounds muffled over the rushing of the water.

Turning to your only other option, you start climbing the ladder to the manhole. Panic courses through your body, fueling you to move faster and faster. The water chases you, rising just as fast as you can climb.

Your hands reach the top, straining against the hard metal of the cover, but it doesn't move. “Please! JJ! Guys!” You scream for your friends, pushing as hard as you can to free yourself. “Help, I’m over here!”

“Y/N!” You hear JJ’s voice moving closer. “Y/N, we’re coming!”

You stick your hands through the grate, gesturing frantically with your fingers, trying to show your friends where you are. “Please!” Your voice comes out in a broken sob. “The water’s coming up!”

“We’re here!” The boys grunt as they pull against the stubborn metal. You push up, providing any bit of help you can, but the water is overtaking you.

“JJ, JJ please,” You plead as the water rises to your chin.

“We’ll get you out of there. I promise!” JJ pulls out his knife, cutting around the edge of the cover as Pope pulls.

You slam your hands against the grate once more, panic coursing through your veins. “JJ-” The water covers your face. You feel his fingers on yours and all you can do is pray that he gets you out of here.

It feels like an eternity that you stay stuck in that position, your lungs burning, but finally, the cover pulls away with a clang. You pull yourself out of the hole, retching and coughing. The boys move back giving you a minute to recover. You pull yourself onto your knees, sucking in the clean air as fast as you can.

“Y/N?” JJ’s soft voice comes from beside you. He tentatively places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades. “You okay?”

You give him a weak thumbs up. “Never better,” you rasp out, making both boys chuckle.

Taking a steadying breath, you sit back on your heels and reach toward the small of your back. “This wasn’t what we were looking for, right?” You pull a gun out from your waistband. Handing it towards JJ with a small smirk.

“Holy shit,” Pope breathes.

“Oh my god.” JJ laughs, taking the gun from your hand wrapping it in a bandanna. He reaches his other hand out to you, helping you to your feet. “You did it, Y/N. You did it!” He scoops you up in a tight hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. “That’s my girl.”

“Okay, a little tight. I almost just drowned, remember?”

“Right, sorry!” He pulls back quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, just thought we lost you there for a second. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You smile softly at him before pulling both boys into another quick hug. “Now let’s get this bad boy to Shoupe, so I can go shower.”

“Deal,” Pope agrees, “Good job.”

“Yeah, you definitely need a shower. You smell like shit.” JJ jokes, earning himself a hard shove from you. Pope nods solemnly beside him.

“Okay, assholes. Next time, you guys get to crawl through the sewer.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks x reader #stars writes #starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies

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aouiaa · 24 days

Text

Who are you, really?

Outline: Love is many things; beautiful, transformative, but isn’t always like that. It can also be dangerous, deceiving, and in this case, it’s all the above for you. Can you break your morals for love?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Modern au + Reader’s pov + No baby JJ + D and R are in their mid 30s + Established relationship + Description of violence + Mentions of death + Multiple mentions of sexual depictions + Flashback + Angst + Mentions of R being a workaholic + Fluff + Raunchy humor + Italics are R’s thoughts + The bold italics are just for narration!

Chapter one -> Next Chapter

The loud sound of something being slammed on your desk disrupted your “eye rest” break. Startled, your eyes subconsciously snap open to see another pile of files on your desk. Fuck, more?! And standing behind them is your boss.

Shit..

“Sleeping on the job again, I assume?” the feminine voice penetrates your eardrums.

You groan, rubbing your eye, “No, no—“ you sigh, “just resting my eyes, sorry ma’am.”

“Well resting your eyes—“ she emphasized, “—ain’t gonna solve the cases that are piling on your desk, Y/n.”

You sighed, “I know, I know, you know I wouldn’t slack off on these cases—just…need some coffee.” you responded. You need more than just coffee, you needed some fucking clarity. An explanation to tell everyone around you, but mostly for yourself. Having multiple endless sleepless nights trying to conjure up an explanation. With all these unsolved cases—or should I say horrific cases piling your desk like damn skyscrapers. How could you sleep?

From the last viewing of past crimes, you’ve seen the gruesome length, this killer isn’t afraid to tread. But this wasn't unusual for you, you’re a crime scene investigator—lead crime scene Investigator on this ongoing case—sorry. So this became the norm for you. But with the norm came responsibilities, and with responsibility came stress. This maniac has been roaming around for years now, murdering innocent victims.

Only now, their murders have been getting more brutal. Old reports stated, “victim found with multiple stab wounds to the chest area” to now reporting, finding them with stab wounds and or either their “abdomens gutted” or “limbs missing” that would be later found spread out in public spaces.

What a sick fuck.

But the one thing they were notorious for was leaving evidence. It wasn’t actually evidence to get them caught. No, They were fucking smart, you’d give them that. It was just evidence to get you and your team excited to only realize it leads to a dead end, leaving everyone frustrated. This fucker was toying with you. You were gonna make sure this asshole pays for what he did. Even if it kills you.

Because having the victims’ family belittle you and your team infuriated you. Because who were they to call you and your team quote on quote, ‘just a bunch of useless idiots sitting on their asses eating donuts?!’ My god, that’s just a fucking stereotype!—actually a glazed donut sounds good right now—

“Hey, Y/n?—Y/n!” a voice ripples through your ongoing thoughts.

“Huh?—Ahh shit!” You hiss as the scolding hot coffee lands and burns your skin. Pulling your hand to your chest and holding the irritated skin, you look behind to see your colleague, Sam.

“Shit—you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m fine.” Fucking coffee, “You staying late tonight?” you ask.

“No, no, gotta get home to the missus tonight and you?” he says with a gruffy chuckle.

You chuckle as well and respond, “Uhh—no, I’m staying late tonight, gotta finish up a few things…” you say while grabbing your steaming coffee carefully and walking over to the coffee counter display. He follows slowly behind and leans against the counter beside you and replies, “Oh…alright—just be careful. These recent killings, man, they have everyone on edge.” he warns.

That warning makes you chuckle, “Trust me, I can deal with some asshole.” you reply while pouring some of the coffee out and ripping open a sugar packet, pouring the contents inside your cup. But you didnt hear him laugh along, instead a unamused sigh leaving his mouth, “Y/n—” Fuck, here we go again, “—Alright, alright, I’ll be safe, god.” you interrupt with a little chuckle to avoid an awkward moment.

He sighs, “You can’t joke around like that—“ This fucking guy “—I said I’ll be safe.” interrupting once more with a serious tone. The immediate seriousness in your voice catches him off guard, making him back off. “Alright, sorry…I’ll…see you tomorrow.” he responds sheepishly and begins to walk away as you finish making your coffee.

You turn your head to see your colleague walking away, feeling the guilt settling in your stomach—Fuck..

You didn’t mean to blow off on him like that. You’ve just been restless and so tense lately and no one can take a fucking joke. Granted, it was a shitty one, but still! Pull the sticks out your asses, guys and laugh! With a sigh, you sip your still bitter coffee—after putting in a bunch of creamers—and enter your office to resume on an unfinished report.

You were on a roll! Finishing report after report, you loved the adrenaline you got from this. You could run two fucking marathons this rush coursing through your veins. Until the sound of your alarm disturbs the high. That stupid ass Justin Bieber song starts to play; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” With a groan, you grab the noisy phone from your pocket, holding it in your hand causes the phone to light up. It gives you a better look at the alarm’s display and with the name for it above, “Time to cum home!” Upon reading the name, it causes you to laugh while turning off the alarm.

God, I love her..

Standing up from your comfortable office chair, you begin packing your belongings up and pushing aside the empty coffee cups that desperately need to be thrown out. Eh..I’ll do it later. you won’t be doing it “later”. Nonetheless, you shut off the lights and begin trudging to the main office’s elevator, pressing the call button.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket once again, you go to the message app, and texting your girlfriend, Dina. You smile at the past conversation with your lover and text her.

You wait a couple seconds for the “Delivered” receipt to turn to, “Read”, but it was a possible chance it wouldn’t since you knew tonight she was gonna stay up late working on designs for one of her clients. But the dinging sound of the elevator doors causes you to look up from your phone and walk inside. Turning off your phone and putting it back in your pocket, you press the button for the ground floor and begin your descent when that stupid ass alarm blares off again; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” You groan, immediately take out your phone to turn it off.

“Stupid ass fucking song.” you mumbled annoyedly.

Few months prior…

You walk into your shared bedroom to find your girlfriend fiddling with your phone. At first, you didn’t mind until you started hearing multiple alarm sounds coming from Dina’s direction causing you to turn around.

“Bae, what are you doing?” you ask while settling yourself down behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, and placing your chin on her shoulder gently to look down at what she’s doing.

“Setting an alarm for you.” she replies.

Her answer elicits a chuckle and you begin to try taking your phone away from her playfully. “Dina, bae, you know I don’t need my phone to wake me up in the morning. I have the alarm clock for that.”

With every attempt to grabbing your phone results in being unsuccessful as she moves it out of your reach. “It's not for that.” she states, causing you to become even more confused.

“Oh?—what’s it for then?” you say with a cheeky smile and start to hum dramatically as if you’re thinking what it could be used for as you inquire again, “is it a reminder to eat you out—“

“Y/n!” she interrupts you, causing you to burst out laughing while she elbows your arm.

“No, you perv!” she quips with a smile, “it’s so you know when to come back from work.”

Your laughter slowly dies out and immediately giveher a look, “to stop working? babe—“

“—Ah, ah, ah, no, before you start, this is set because I know how you are.”

“anndd” you drag out, “how am I?” you ask playfully with a smirk.

She huffs, “You’re a workaholic” she bluntly says, “and tend to stay in your office for a long period of time even after your shift has ended!” she argues.

Her statement causes your playful demeanor to drop instantly and rest your head on her shoulder again, “Baby, you know I’m trying not to do that anymore.” you say softly.

“I know you are, but this is just to ensure that.” she softens her voice and looks back at you. There’s awkward silence between the two of you. Before a sigh from your girlfriend breaks that silence, “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” You knew that she meant well and just acted this way out of fear. Terrified, She’d get the heart dropping call that you “collapsed at work and now in the hospital” again. No, she couldn't relive that moment again. No, you wouldn’t let that happen. Not again.

So you didn’t protest any further, just giving a nod and watching your girlfriend set the alarm. And even trying to lighten up the mood by helping her pick the most goofiest alarm sound that you knew you’d come to hate. But you didn’t care since you knew it’d bring the one girl you entrusted with your heart, comfort.

Present…

The pattering of rain hitting your windshield as you drive down the familiar neighborhood feels so relaxing. Soothing even, it’s one of those rare comforts you get from your chaotic life and each time the feeling eventuates, you embrace it. But even though you try desperately to cling onto this feeling tightly, it always leaves. Always leaving a bitter feeling behind. With this same feeling coursing through your body, you pull into the driveway of your one story house. Turning off the engine, you don’t move instead resting your head on the steering wheel, listening and counting carefully to all the soft thumps that cast down on your car.

Pull yourself together..

Reluctantly, you get out of your car and walk to the entrance of your house while stuffing your hand in your pocket, searching for your keys. Fucking keys, where are you? Until the sharp edge of the key prickles your finger as you mouth the word “ow” before grabbing the key and sticking it in the keyhole. Twisting the key, unlocking the door to your cozy house.

Ahh, home at last.

Walking inside, you throw your keys into the bowl with Dina’s. “Dina?” you call out as you shut the door behind you and begin kicking your shoes off. No response. “Dina?” you call out again while losing your tie. No response once again—wait is that the water running? You hum in confusion and walk down the hallway, looking to the right, you see Dina’s ipad on the dining table with papers scattered around it.

Tattoo sketches..but where is the artist?

You avert your gaze ahead and continue walking down the winding hallway. The running water can be heard more prominent now, She must be in the bathroom. Now in front of the bathroom door, you can confirm that the water is running from the other end—but there’s also rustling. “Dina?” you knock on the door, “Baby, I’m home.” you say, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll be out in a bit…just using the bathroom!” The familiar voice says, causing you to smile.

“Alright—I’ll be in the kitchen.” you say and begin your way to said location.

“Okay!” you hear faintly as you walk away.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself some water, leaning against the counter, and closing your eyes. Trying not to think of the stresses of work, even though that’s all what’s been clouding your mind for months. Dismembered corpse—public space—some gutted—missing limbs—some having the same fate—oh god…

The sound of a door opening and soft footsteps approaching cause you to open your eyes and clear all those thoughts. You exhale, preparing yourself—For what? Upon seeing the raven haired girl, you set your glass down on the counter and walk over to you. Wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, you okay?” she says with a hint of worry in her tone.

The feeling of Dina caressing your cheek elicits a sigh, “Y-yeah—no, I'm okay. You took a shower?” you ask, noticing her damp hair.

A frown adorns on her face, but she answers your question. “Yeah, couldn’t really think so i took a shower.”

You nod, “Alright—well I should probably take one.”

She just hums in acknowledgment, seeming to be lost in thought. You knew when she was quiet like this—something was up.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause, before uttering out, “Are you sure, you’re okay?”

You stare at your girlfriend, hesitant to worry or even plagued with her thoughts with those gruesome scenes that certainly keep you up at night. But you know, that it’ll only worry her more if you don’t say anything so—“Just work…I don’t know—“

“You do know, Y/n” She interrupts, not impressed by your response.

That intrusion leaves you speechless, pulling away from her embrace, you lean against the counter, “I know…just need—little rest that’s all.”

She crosses her arms once you pull away and just watches you. Eventually she walks past you, muttering something under her breath.

You feel your heart drop to watch your girlfriend act this way. Can I blame her? You sigh and walk towards her while she looks inside the fridge, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I don’t mean to worry you, Dina—“

“—Well you are.” she sighs, shutting the fridge door. Her focus turns to you, “I just want you to talk to me. To tell me your worries—to just communicate with me.” she says, almost pleading.

You nod, “I know—I just..” you sigh, “I just don’t want to…paint out these gruesome images in your head.” You try to hug her, but with caution—scared she’d pull away.

She doesn't though, immediately embracing you, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n” she sighs, “I just don’t want you to hold it all in, It’s not good.”

“It’s not exactly good for you either.” you say with a slight chuckle. You feel her smile against your skin eliciting a little laugh from her, “Like i said, don’t worry about me.” she repeats, pulling away to look at you with a smile painted on her face.

There it is again, that comfort you seem to look for subconsciously. It’s in front of you right now with the beautifulest smile in the world. Until she pats the side of your shoulder, “Now, we should cook something before heading to bed. ‘Cause I’m fucking starving.”

You groan, “Do we have to?” you emphasize on “have” in a whiny tone as you begin kissing her neck—hoping to distract her, “Can’t I just have you for dinner and call it a day?” you quip—but not really.

Dina chuckles, “That would be no fair, what would I eat?” She plays along.

“Oh? you can have this pus—“ you’re stopped midword when Dina puts her hand over your mouth, gasping, “No, you dirty dog. We're eating actual food and getting rest.” You smile and lick her hand causing her to snatch it away and yelling which makes you burst out laughing.

Dina wipes the palm of her hand on her jeans, “You’re such a freak…” she huffs while opening the fridge to get ingredients for this mini past midnight snack. You cross your arms, watching her with a smile adorning your face. It’s only when she has a handful of things in her arms when you lean off and take some weight off her hands, “woah—babe.” you chuckle, “what’s all this?”

Your question elicits a smile, “Dinner.” she states, settling the ingredients down. You follow her actions and look at her, “Dinner?—what are you exactly making?” you inquire with a nervous laugh. “Stop questioning the chef and help.” She demands playfully. Her demeanor makes you laugh,“Shit, yes ma’am” you say dramatically.

“Chef.” she corrects with a smile.

“Right.” You say as you begin washing the vegetables.

Although you were always exhausted from your average eighteen hour shifts, you weren’t gonna let that stop you from having these types of moments with your girlfriend. Even if they were small as carpooling with one another to work or sitting down and just talking to each other. You didn’t care, it was small and vulnerable things that mattered the most to you. The ones you cherished. You have always been an observer since a child. That’s how you landed in the work you do now.

Taking the smallest moments and finding tranquility in every single one of them. Because without them, Who are you? Without these memories to keep you afloat, you’d be nothing. You wanted to be wherever Dina went because without her, you’d probably be in some dingy apartment eating pizza with static playing on your tv, losing your mind or worse.

God..don't even wanna think about that right now.

So you don’t, instead you watch your girlfriend ramble on about work, finding yourself entranced by her beauty. The way she stops and drops the spoon to occasionally move her hands around while talking, the way the strands of hair that come loose from her bun cast perfectly down her nape. God you loved her, you’d do anything for her. Anything.

“—I swear if I get one more client asking for fucking roses or skulls, Ima lose it!” she exclaims.

You snap out of your thoughts, “Yeah.” you say with a chuckle.

She stops and looks at you, “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

You smile, “I've been listening.” you respond, crossing your arms.

She rolls her eyes and resumes cooking while you walk behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I have, please continue.” you assure her, placing light kisses on her shoulder.

She hums, “Well, I’ve been working on this piece for a friend of mine.” she continues.

You lay your head on her shoulder, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m really excited!”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Ellie, you remember her, right? From college.”

You nod and hum, “Oh yeah, I remember her.”

“Yup, I’m gonna be doing her left arm.”

“Ooo, sounds like that’s gonna hurt, especially in the armpit area.” you scrunch your face in displeasure.

“Well, she asked me to recommend an area where it’d look good and I suggested there.”

“Ahh—mm…well what’s the design she has in mind?”

“I don’t know, We haven’t gone in much depth into specifics, but definitely space related?”

You hum, “I’m excited for you, seems fun!” you say to her while watching her hand move the wooden spoon rhythmically around the pot until her voice snaps you out of your trance, “Set the table for me, yeah?”

With a quick nod and “Okay.”, you walk down the hall to the dining area. Upon arriving, you see the true mindset of an artist. Like seen when you arrived home, papers scattered midway of the dining table, some blank and some scribbled over unfinished designs that seem not to meet the artist’s high standards. You carefully grab all the papers and pile them into one neat pile.

Placing them aside, you grab Dina’s ipad that lights up immediately upon grabbing and showcases the unfinished sketch on the screen. Ellie’s tattoo, it’s a rough sketch of the design but some prominent details are visible. Upon closer inspection, you can see what looks to be a lightly sketched astronaut with wings attached behind it.

Scrutinizing the image comes to a short end when you hear footsteps behind you. Turning off the ipad and placing it on the stack of papers, you grab the bunch and turn around to see Dina with two bowls in hand, “Hey, sorry for the mess on the table” she says, placing the two bowls down and grabbing the stack from your hands.

“It’s no problem, seen your work. Fucking sick, babe.” You remark.

Your compliment elicits a smile from Dina, “Thank you, It’s not the final cut, but it’s something.”

You hum in response, “Well I like it already, finale or not.” you say with a smile.

The corner of the raven haired girl’s lips curve upward, “Heh, thanks babe.”

You shoot a wink at her and sit down while she sets the supplies aside and sits with you. Looking down at the contents in the bowl, it looks fucking amazing and you tell your girlfriend that. Finally, a real fucking meal. Not some fast food place down the street from your job.

A real meal.

“4:26” is what is displayed on the clock sitting on your nightstand. How stupid of you to think, this’ll be the night you would actually get some sleep. Fuuuchhhkk.. Lying flat on the bed once more, you stared up at the ceiling. The soft breathing of your girlfriend fans lightly on your cheek, only annoys you more. Fuck it, I’ll just take one of Dina’s sleeping pills. Sitting up, you look beside you to see your girlfriend’s figure and looking over her form. You don’t see the pills that usually sit on her nightstand.

Fuck, Where the fuck did she put them?!

Throwing the sheet off your body, you slowly get out of bed and walk over to the other side of the bed. Carefully opening the drawer, you don’t find what you’re looking for. Fuck, she must’ve left them on the counter. Shutting the drawer lightly, you sneak away to the entrance of your bedroom, twisting the knob to exit.

Upon opening the door, you peek your head out to the abyss clouding your vision. You begin your descent into the dark hallway like a bat, gliding your arm along the wall for a light switch. When you’re almost down at the end of the hall, you kick something that goes flying down the end of the hallway.

Fuck..

You quickly find the switch and look down to see what you kicked, Dina’s backpack—Shit—You walk towards it and bend down to pick it up, but stop when something catches your eye. On the backpack can be found a dried substance.

is that blood?—

“Babe, what are you doing with my bag?”

The sound you come to love is now sending a chill down your back; Your girlfriend's voice,

Dina.

AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE; Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please view these links to better educate yourself. If you could read this entire fic then you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; I know you’re sitting at the edge of your seat (hopefullly) to know what happens next 😭. And trust me I will be posting chapter two soon…maybe? I don’t wanna make promises because a lot of shit has happened in tumblr and my personal life which will hinder my progress of writing. But i honestly love fucking writing, it’s one of the few things that bring joy to my heart. I and I absolutely found joy in writing this chapter and I can’t fucking wait to start writing on chapter two!!! AHHHHH there’s so many fears and discomfort that do come to mind when i think of this fic and i’ll discuss one of them; the little recognition that Dina fic get :(((( i won’t go into detail but i do have to remind myself that this is for my pure enjoyment. GIVE DINA SO JUSTICE WTFFF?!!! And i truly can’t wait to write chapter two!!! Just the anticipation I’m having for it AHHHH okay okay ima stop yapping 😭😭 But i just before i fully stop yapping in my papping, I’d like to thank my two favs, @dyk3ang3l and @elliesprettygirl for listening to my thoughts on this! Especially syd, because whole fuck you really encouraged to me to write this and i love you so much 🤍😭😭. But with that, thank you for reading this, you seriously don’t know how happy I get seeing people enjoy what I enjoy making so Just thank you. And with all that cheesy shit out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO NEVER MISS A BANGER LIKE THIS!!! 💯💯🔥🔥🔥

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