beth-yeet365

[beth-yeet365]

── ϧ𝑒 forever, maybe.ೃ࿔

℘ jj maybank x fem!kook!reader ৴ length: 1k ৴ time of posting: 11:06pm

summary: jj finally accepts forever, as long as it means seeing where you end

content: sfw ﾉ soft!jj ♡

author's notes: can you tell i get most of my inspo from songs? how very original of me, i know! in all seriousness, i always seem to get my best ideas when i lose myself in music filled daydreams. here's a lil' something inspired by noah kahan's forever, very jj coded might i add.

jj has never been good at holding onto things.

he learned young that nothing is permanent—not people, not homes, not even the ocean when the tide pulls back. 

forever used to sound like a death sentence. like a slow, inevitable decline into something worse. he never wanted to think that far ahead, never let himself imagine a future he wouldn’t be able to sustain. because forever meant watching things slip through his fingers, meant waiting for the good to turn sour, meant setting himself up to lose. his grip has always been loose, fingers slipping off everything he’s ever wanted to keep.

maybe that’s why he tells himself that whatever this thing with you is, it won’t last.

but it’s hard to believe his own bullshit when you’re stretched out beside him on the porch like some deity, your arm draped over your stomach, sundress bunched up just enough to reveal tanned legs. your hair spills over the wood like something out of a dream, and you’re looking up at the stars with that quiet kind of curiosity, like you’re searching for something, letting the summer air wrap around you like it’s got nowhere else to be.

jj watches you instead.

he won’t say it out loud, but there’s something about the way you exist—effortlessly, like you’ve never had to fight to keep anything in your life—that makes his chest ache. he wonders if you’ve ever lost something that mattered. if you’ve ever had to let go of something before you were ready. if you’ve ever held on so tightly and still watched it slip away.

she’s the kind of girl who could have anything she wanted, and yet here she is—choosing to be next to him. it doesn’t make sense. 

but then again, nothing about her ever has.

"you’re staring," she murmurs, not looking away from the sky as her lips twitch up into a barely conceivable smile

jj smirks. "can you blame me? you’re kinda blocking my view."

she scoffs, shoving at his arm. "oh, please—like you care about constellations."

"excuse me," jj says, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been personally wounded. "i’ll have you know, i am very interested in astrology."

"astronomy."

jj waves a hand dismissively. "whatever."

she rolls her eyes, a smile on her lips as she turns her head to look at him. "okay, stargazer. if you’re such an expert, what’s that one?" she lifts a finger toward the sky, pointing vaguely at a cluster of stars. 

jj squints. "that one?"

"yeah, that one."

he clicks his tongue, nodding with mock seriousness. "that’s… uh, the big spoon."

she snorts first, a hand coming up to quell the noise—because she’s proper before anything else. her index and middle finger press beneath her nose as a laugh escapes anyway, bubbling up her throat, bright and unrestrained. "the big spoon?"

"yeah, you know. It’s like the big dipper, but—"

"but wrong?"

jj grins, pleased with himself as he watches you laugh. it’s a sound he wants to bottle up, to keep tucked away for the days that feel too heavy. the kind of thing that makes his chest feel too small for his ribs, like if he’s not careful, the warmth of it might slip right through the cracks.

the thought makes him shift, stretching his bad hand absently. it still aches sometimes when the weather changes, a dull reminder of a fight that wasn’t worth it. the break healed all wrong, a little crooked, a little off. kind of like him.

she notices. because of course she does. her laughter softens, fading into a quiet hum as her fingers ghost over his forearm, her voice practically blending into the soft whispers of the summer breeze. "does it hurt?" 

jj blinks, thrown off by the question and how she always manages to evoke a sort of delicateness in her every word and movement. "what?"

"your hand," she says, nodding toward it. "you do that thing sometimes—like you're shaking it off."

jj flexes his fingers, rolling his wrist before resting his arm back against his chest. "nah, not really. just a little stiff sometimes."

she hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push. instead, her lips purse in thought and she watches him like she’s picking apart the things he doesn’t say. 

with a soft click of her tongue and smack of her lips, she finally speaks. "you do that a lot," she murmurs, squirming slightly, letting her back settle against the damp wood once more. "act like things don’t bother you when they do."

jj exhales, tilting his head back against the railing. "can’t complain. had worse."

she rolls onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow. "i don’t get you," she says, an unperceived pout tugging at the corners of her mouth. her voice is quieter now, like she’s speaking more to herself than to him. her eyes skim over his face like she’s trying to piece something together.

jj smirks.—cheeky, easy, practiced. the kind that makes his eyes gleam in the low light. he lets out a breathy laugh. "princess, i don’t even get me."

she huffs out a small laugh, but there’s something softer underneath it. she studies him for a second longer before dropping her head back down, her cheek pressing against his shoulder like it belongs there.

jj doesn’t move.

he hesitates for half a second before wrapping his arm around her, his bad hand resting lightly against her back. it’s instinct to hold her loosely—to leave space, to give himself an out, an uncomfortable mixture of habit and fear. he’s never trusted himself to keep the good things. never let himself believe he deserved to, always afraid of gripping too tight, of hurting what he means to keep.

but then you shift, curling into him like you’re settling in, like you don’t plan on going anywhere. and when you exhale a content little sigh against his collarbone, something shifts in him.

forever doesn’t feel like a death sentence anymore. it doesn’t feel like a weight around his neck, like something waiting to go wrong. it feels like more. 

more time, more moments like this, more of you.

jj swallows. tightens his hold just a little. just enough to know you’re real.

his grip might be loose, but this time—this time—he swears he won’t let go.

𐙚𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

thank you for reading! © edenunbuilt 2025. all rights reserved — claims, copies, reposts or translations are not permitted. ˖⊹ ࣪  ౨ৎ˚₊

[beth-yeet365]

Bf!drew and actress!reader

fluff

warnings: none!

Drew had finally made it onto a talk show. And god was he nervous and excited. But more nervous. Shaking in his room backstage as he takes deep breaths. But luckily for him he had his pretty girl to calm him down.

God you were to good to him. Making his coffee the way he likes. Buying him the snacks that just make him feel better. Feel happy.

You are the perfect helper to calm his nerves. You make him happy.

Claps and cheers erupt the room as Drew smiles, light beaming down onto him as his palms get all clammy and sweaty. However his nerves have calm down a bit as he’s now here and actually doing this. He’s actually doing this.

As the claps die down, bringing quiet back to the studio. Drew sits up, slightly readjusting his tie as he waits for Jimmy to speak again. Letting him take the lead.

“Well as well as a new movie coming out Drew, you have some new news too.” Jimmy says as he fiddles with his ring finger. Drew’s mind immediately clicks onto what he’s getting at. His fiancé. “You recently got engaged.

The claps and cheers erupt back up again as Drew smiles. Nodding his head as he fiddles with his finger.

“Yes. Yes.” Drew says as he just keeps smiling like a teen girl being asked about their crush. He’s utterly in love with you that even on one of the most important moments of his life. He’s thinking of you. Talking about you.

Metaphorically, he’s kicking his feet. Blushing under the harsh white lights, his cheeks visibly pink at this point.

“You two met four, five years is it?”

“Five.”

His mind goes back to the moment on the set of outer banks when he first met you. The way you smiled and laughed within two minutes of meeting him.

He knew then and there that he’s either going to marry you or you’re going to be the biggest heartbreak of his life.

Thank god it wasn’t the second one.

“Five years ago.”

“And she’s here tonight isn’t she?”

“She is.” Drew says as he adjusts in his seat, eyes flicking back to Jimmy. “She’s backstage.”

Of course you’re backstage. Where else would you be when your future husband’s having one of the biggest moments of his career. You’re his number one fan, of course you’re there.

Your arms wrap around him as you shake him side to side slightly. Proud is an understatement of how you feel. You know how much he wanted this. How much he deserves this.

“Good job baby.” You say as you kiss his cheek. You can feel him sigh and unravel at this action. All those nerves and fear leaving his body with just a simple kiss. That’s the effect you have on him.

a/n: made this because babe looks good in this interview. Yum.

[beth-yeet365]

GIRLY we need more of latina actress reader! with Drew, I was thinking of her spending time with him and the fam at some summer house or sum and especially after season 3 filming and he has his saggy hair (OML) and one of his sisters prolly Brooke catches reader playing with his hair, and drew and reading dancing around the kitchen cooking breakfast in the morning!!!! and of course add anything else you would like!!! 

summer getaway

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

Your heart was really happy at the moment.

Drew’s family had kindly invited you to join them in their annual summer vacation at their summer house in North Carolina.

You would only be joining them for a week, because you were planning on visiting home in Mexico as well.

Jodi and Todd had been really nice asking you to join the family as they couldn’t imagine the trip without you.

And of course, Drew had not missed the opportunity of telling you how much you two would enjoy the little trip.

So you totally agreed.

And that’s how you two were currently enjoying the afternoon, watching the soon to be sunset on some chairs on the garden at the back of the house, while the rest of his family busied themselves inside.

Oh how you loved quiet moments like this.

You were sitting on Drew’s lap, he had one of his arms around your waist, while the other one rested on your leg.

You were hugging him, with both arms around his neck, while one of your hands played with his wispy hair at the nape of his neck, your nails scraping softly against his skin.

Drew sighed in content as he closed his eyes for a second.

“That feels good” he mumbled, leaning his head on your chest, giving you more space to work with.

You laughed softly at him.

“Yeah?” you asked softly, as you continued your movements, loving how he could absolutely melt under your touch at any moment. “I love your hair like this” you say, while running your fingers through his hair.

He had let his hair grown a little, going for a wispy kind of mullet.

And oh could he pull off any look.

You were kinda jealous.

“You love it huh?” he said teasingly as he moved back his head from your chest so he could look at you. “I’m gonna have to cut it off eventually doll” he said, as he removed his hand from your leg, so he was now holding your face.

You pouted at him.

“What if I convince you not to?” you asked playfully, leaning in to peck his lips, still playing with his hair.

He groaned into the kiss as you pulled back, smiling at him.

“You’re bad” he says, leaning in to kiss you again, before you both break apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You two look back and find Brooke, Drew’s sister, peeking her head out from inside the house.

“Dinner is ready love birds!” she says smiling at both of you, just before going back inside the house.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, while you hide your face in the crook of Drew’s neck.

He lets out a laugh while he softly soothes your back with one of his hands.

“Oh my god I feel like a teenager that just got caught” you say into his neck.

He softly chuckles at your comment while placing a kiss on the top of your head, finding it funny and adorable how flustered you got any time his family catched any type of PDA from you together.

“Let’s get some dinner doll” he says, standing up from the chair with you in his arms.

You let out a shriek in surprise, as you wrap both your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Drew put me down!” you say, laughing and watching him laugh at your reaction.

He shakes his head in amusement as he walks with you in his arms towards the house.

“Just enjoy the ride love” he says placing a soft kiss on your temple, as he takes you inside the house for you to have dinner with his family.

After dinner, you and Drew offered to pick up table and clean up everything. His family had worked so hard to put everything up, so it was your turn to do something.

“I’ll do the dishes” you say, walking to the sink and starting to clean them up.

Contrary to popular opinion, you loved doing dishes.

There was something so calming and relaxing about getting your hands soapy, bubbly and extra clean that just did something to you.

“I’ll clean up the table” he said, walking off before pecking your lips, leaving you smiley.

You could hear the clatter of forks and plates, and then, he was walking into the kitchen once again.

“Alexa, play lover by Taylor Swift” Drew said out loud, making you turn your head and look at him with a smile, while he gave you a playful look.

Your heart warmed as he approached you and offered you his hand.

“May I?” he said, giving you a big smile.

You could feel the butterflies going crazy in your stomach, and it made you smile even harder.

Quickly, you turned around to rinse your hands while patting them dry, only to face him as he pulled you in.

His hands moved to your waist, and you tangled yours around his neck, looking up at him with an adoring look.

“You know how to charm a girl” you say, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

He chuckled softly as he looked down at you between his arms.

“I only care about charming you” he says, twirling you softly and catching you back, pulling you close to him. “That’s all I ever want”.

His words make your heart flutter, as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the kitchen dancing session.

With Taylor’s songs behind you, you feel content and at peace, honestly, wherever Drew was, as long as he was with you, you were at peace.

“I love you baby” he says, swaying you both to the rhythm of the song, while he places a soft kiss at the top of your head, while his thumb slowly draws gentle circles on your waist.

You could stay like that forever.

At his words, you look up at him, moving one of your hands that played with the hair on his neck, to his cheek, grazing it softly.

“I love you more mi amor” you say, unable to hide the smile appeared on your face.

He leans down and captures your lips on a kiss that communicates everything you’re both feeling without needing words.

Unbeknownst to both of you, his family was watching, more like peaking, your little romantic moment.

And they had been getting glimpses of your love throughout the trip.

They loved to see their son in love.

In love with you.

Being loved how it should be.

Having you as part of the family.

They knew you were both lucky to have found each other.

The next morning, you were back in the kitchen.

You had offered to cook breakfast for the family, telling them how you wanted to show them a typical mexican breakfast that you knew they would all love.

Drew as always, had offered to help you, being the one who always tried all your recipes.

“Is it good?” you asked, after he tasted your green sauce for chilaquiles.

You liked cooking. You weren’t the best, but you definitely weren’t the worse.

It was enough to make your mom proud, and you could work with that.

Drew paused for a moment as he closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“It’s delicious baby” he said, as he enjoyed the flavors dancing on his tongue.

You squinted your eyes at him, not truly believing his words.

“Be completely honest amor” you said, leaning your hips against the counter, looking at him attentively. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me something’s missing” you admitted giving him a smile.

Drew paused for a moment, before going back and trying the sauce one more time.

He hesitated, his eyes closed, concentrating.

“Maybe a little bit of salt” he said, one eye open waiting for your reaction.

You smiled at him while playfully hitting him on the chest.

“You’re so dramatic” you said laughing, before turning to the stove and adding a bit more salt to finish everything up.

He laughed before placing his hands on your waist, and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

“And you’re amazing” he said, silently enjoying the domestic side of you two being on vacation, sharing with family or not.

You hummed at his words, resting your back on his broad chest.

“Help me serve the plates?” You said, turning around and pecking his lips softly.

Drew scrunched his nose in annoyance as you broke the kiss, looking at him with a smile.

“Let’s make them wait a little longer” he said, wrapping one of his arms around your waist pulling you in, the other one around the back of your neck capturing your lips in a kiss.

You smile between his arms.

Later that night, everyone was chilling and winding down from spending the day out on the beach.

You and Drew were laying down on the couch. You were watching a marvel movie playing on the tv, while he attempted to read a few pages of a book he hadn’t picked up once since arriving at the summer house.

He was trying really hard to stay focused on his book but he seemed to fail, because from what you could see from your position on top of him laying your head on his chest, around 10 minutes had passed and he hadn’t flipped his book page.

You giggled softly as he tore his eyes away from the tv to look down at you.

“What’s so funny?” He smiles sheepishly at you, holding his book with one hand.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest to be able to meet his eyes.

“You’re getting distracted” you say smiling at him. “Just give up already and enjoy the movie amor”.

He hesitates for a moment, looking between the tv, his book, and you.

He sighs, shaking his head and smiling.

“I’m weak” he says closing his book and leaving it next to him on the couch.

You giggle softly before going back to resting your head on his chest and watching the movie, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Everybody’s weak when Avengers Endgame is playing” you say, getting immediately lost in the film again.

Drew chuckles softly as one of his hands finds its way to your back, drawing circles, lulling you to sleep. While the other, tangled itself in your hair, scratching your scalp tenderly.

Your eyes began to flutter at his gentle touches.

The weight of being out on the beach all day, mixed with Drew’s fingers against your skin, were making it harder for you to stay awake.

Your eyes were fighting to stay open and continue watching the movie, because no matter how many times you watched it, you loved it every time.

But next thing you knew, you had fallen asleep over Drew.

He didn’t realize when exactly you had fallen asleep.

But when he looked down at you to watch your reaction over Black Widow’s death, he smiled at you being completely asleep and relaxed.

His heart fluttered at the adorable sight before him.

He had to capture it.

So he reached for his phone and stopped breathing for a second to get a perfect picture of you mid dream.

“What are you guys-“ Logan, Drew’s brother, came into the living room and paused mid sentence as Drew sent him a death glare signaling for him to shut up.

Logan lifted his arms in sign of peace, as he slowly walked into the room, silently sitting on the individual couch, immediately getting into the movie.

You were still deeply asleep.

An earthquake could hit and you probably wouldn’t notice.

So Drew threw his phone somewhere next to him, and went back to watching the movie and cradling you between his arms.

He could stay like that forever and he would be the happiest man on earth.

*

thank you so much for your request! I absolutely adored it and had so much fun writing it<3 sorry if it takes me a minute to post, sometimes I’m a bit of a slow writer

I actually loved the concept so much I’m planning on making a moodboard for this soooo stay tuned

I’m so happy to see people enjoying the latina actress reader universe as much as I do, thank you all so much!

as always, if any of y’all wanna read, ask or see something in particular from latina actress reader let me know<3

[beth-yeet365]

pirates : where are they now?

jj maybank x bestfriend!fem!reader

word count: 1.5k.

read pirates | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

The route to Pirate’s Cove was as familiar to you as the smell of grass and the taste of orange juice. It was as familiar as the feel of JJ’s hand in yours, fingers intertwined just as your lives had been since you were children. In your spare hand you carry an old blanket and in his, he carries a cooler loaded with snacks and seltzers. The birds chirp from trees and there’s the distant rustling of bushes and shrubs hinting of critters lurking. It’s likely that gators bathe in the watery swamps that you pass by but you seem to have finally outgrown your fear. Maybe that’s just JJ’s effect on you, though. He always makes you feel safe. 

The transition from friends to lovers was only slightly rocky at first as the two of you found your footing. It felt different changing from referring to one another as ‘friend’ to ‘babe’. It felt almost too easy not to turn when the other was changing though. But none of it was weird or bad, just different. The Pogues had taken your relationship easily. You assumed that most saw it coming from a mile away. That’s what your parents said when you filled them in on yours and JJ’s situation. Of course, the conversation with your parents then nicely bled into the always painful ‘safe sex’ talk. 

Now, a year in, you could hardly remember a time when JJ wasn’t your entire world. Can hardly fathom not looking to him as your rock, your shelter and your light. Can hardly comprehend him being your dorky best friend instead of your dorky boyfriend. 

“Alright, I got one,” JJ says, “that time when you convinced John B that girls shed their balls at the age of five.”

You immediately crack up, the memory flashing back to you. As you laugh, you feel JJ squeeze your hand just that slightest bit tighter. Something about it makes your smile grow. 

“Oh my God, the look of pure horror on his face,” you giggle. 

“Swear to God, that’s the most shit-scared I ever seen him,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. 

“Don’t know why he was acting like I was about to yank his nuts off him,” you snort. 

JJ groans at the visual. “Great. Now all I can think about is John B’s balls. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 

As the journey of reminiscing comes to a close, the two of you approach Pirate’s Cove. The ivy had grown unruly over the years, creating a type of canopy that led into the opening of the cove. Moss covered rocks and water kissed stones; wildflowers and overgrown shrubs; logs for frogs and toads to bask and layers of leaves for critters to call home. The smell of damp soil and pollinated greenery submerges you in memories. As if sharing a thought, the two of you take a pause and look it all over. It felt like a lifetime since you’d returned to the cove. Things have become busy and, quite frankly, chaotic in life lately. The jovial search for treasure revealed some rather dark corners of John B’s life. Now you were lucky to spend your days not running from one square grouper or another. But here, in Pirate’s Cove, the two of you feel safe from the worries of the world. Safe from JJ’s ever angry father. Safe from the madness that came with searching for the Royal Merchant. 

This is where you beat JJ in countless imaginary sword fight. This is where you shared your first kiss, rosy cheeked and puppy-fat faced. This is where you first introduced John B to the sacred hideaway. This is where you realised that maybe you liked JJ a little more than just a friend. The years pass you by like scenes of a show, and each rerun fills you with a melancholic joy of times been and gone. 

“Rope swing’s still here,” JJ observes, bringing your attention to it. 

You smile. “Yep. Still here.”

He finds a comfortable spot near the water, still dry on land, and dumps the cooler. You follow his lead and lay out the blanket and the two of you settle side by side. It’s second nature to rest your head against his upper chest. It’s second nature for him to slip his fingers into yours atop of the blanket. With his free hand he retrieves two cans, cracks them open, and hands one to you. 

“Well,” he hums, sounding somewhat nervous, “happy anniversary.”

“One year down, smelly,” you muse.

You clink the lip of your can against his and the two of you sip the icy cool beverage, eyes fixated on the babbling creek. As your eyes slip shut, soaking in the moment, you decide this is happiness. This is bliss. This is your sanctuary and if heaven is real, this is where you hope you’ll find yourself. Sacred ground that only yourself, JJ and John B knew of. But even still, John B knew this was your place more than his. He never went alone - never without yourself and JJ. Kiara and Pope were oblivious to the cove. A crossed heart promise is paramount to keep. 

As the day ticks on, you remain resting with your head on JJ’s warm, muscle-tee clad chest, him on his back, both of you drifting between sleep and wake. From time to time, he threads his fingers in your hair and toys. When a thought passes through one of your heads, you share it, and the other usually hums in agreement or acknowledgement. It’s light and easy and comfortable. 

“I’m fucking hot,” JJ announces. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” you wonder, glancing to the water. 

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees, already shifting.

You remove your head from his stomach and the two of you get to your feet. He strips off his shirt and you do the same. Living in Kildare meant living in swimsuits rather than underwear most of the time; it saved the hassle of changing when you inevitably ended up in water. JJ lingers as he waits for you to step out your shorts and the moment you realise, is the moment your childish mind conjures the idea. 

Sighing, you place your hands on your waist and look to the water. You’re happily aware that his attention is on your body. One year into this thing and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of having JJ look at you like that. 

“It’s probably gonna be cold,” you say. 

“Probably,” JJ agrees. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pretending to have second thoughts. You glance away from the water and check out the cove. “I’m just thinking–”

“Yeah?”

Your grin gives you away, moments before you blurt, “last one there has to clean the truck!”

You take off into a sprint towards the water, hearing JJ’s cussing behind you as he follows. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you back, fighting you away. Through your laughter, you try to squirm out of his hold. It’s no use though: he’s too strong. He picks you up as if you’re a bag of chips and tosses you over his shoulder. You screech and holler and giggle like crazy, gently slapping his back as he crashes into the water. Then you’re unwillingly dunked under the surface. 

You break back to air and shove your wet hair off your face. JJ is lounging in the water, laughing like crazy. You waste no time in lurching yourself at him, battling him down until he’s submerged. He gladly brings you along and under the water, and you feel as if you’re in another world. His hands trace up your arms, onto your shoulders, until one finds purchase on your jawline. You brave opening your eyes and can make out his face through blurry vision, a smile on his sunkissed features, blonde hair fanning out in the water. He guides your lips to his and kisses you until both of you have no choice but to return to the surface for a breath of air. When you do, JJ keeps his hands on your body, coaxing you near to him, not letting you drift apart. His forehead rests against your own. 

“I love you,” JJ quietly says. 

“I love you too,” you return. The words come as easy as air to the lungs. 

“Crossing this line was the best thing we ever did,” he tells you, pulling back far enough to meet your gaze. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ears. “Pretty risky move since we could’ve, you know, ruined like nine years of friendship.”

You bite back your laugh and squint jokingly. “Meh, we were never that close anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, JJ pecks your lips. Just as he pulls back, your fingers latch into the tethers of his hair at the back of his neck, keeping him near. 

“Nu-uh, smelly. Better kiss me like you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

[beth-yeet365]

I saw this trend on tiktok and immediately thought of fem!reader x jj | content warnings: none

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There's nothing like doom scrolling on TikTok on a Sunday morning. Thank God for Cleo and her wonderful handy-woman skills; the wifi in the house had never been faster. The bedsheets smell like lavender and blossoms from the latest batch of laundry detergent Kiara bought. The smells comforts you as you stare mindlessly at your screen, your thumb swiping through the TikToks of strangers across the planet. Slime scooping; sourdough bread baking; outfit checking; an Office compilation of the best Jim moments. Then, just as you're about to pretend like you're going to do something productive on your day-off from working the tackle-and-bait shop on the pier, a TikTok flashes up that has you moving.

Your phone now ditched on the bed, you wander through what was formerly JJ's father's house in search of your boyfriend. He's were you seemingly left him like misplaced housekeys; leant against the counter in the kitchen, immersed in his phone just as you were moments ago. You suppose all you Pogues had learnt to enjoy the mundane joys of modern living now that you weren't running from life hazard to life hazard. Simple living allowed simple pleasures, like Instagram Reels.

Somehow holding back your eagerness, you casually wander into the kitchen. At the sound of soft footsteps on the wooden floors, JJ looks up. He smiles at you before looking back down at his screen.

"Sup," he murmurs.

"Got bored," you reply, referring to your previous bed-rot state of being.

"Think Kie and Sarah are out in the garden," he offers.

You take a few steps towards him until you're stood toe-to-toe. Your proximity seems to catch JJ's attention (finally) and he shuts off his phone, meeting your gaze.

"I can think of some other ways to be entertained," you slyly reply.

JJ's lips twitch at the corners. Phone now in his pocket, the two of you follow the same path of thought as you loop your arms over his shoulders, crowding into his space. His hands fall to your waist; warm and heavy as they cradle your figure. Your lips find one another easy and you smile into the kiss, just as JJ does. And then comes your detour.

Your hands snake inconspicuously down his body in the same way your antsy fingers explore whenever the two of you are together. JJ deepens the kiss, nipping teasingly at your lower lip, and it takes everything inside of you to hold back your grin.

Just as you planned...

Mustering every morsel of strength in your body, engaging every muscle to ever exist in your flesh, your hands suddenly slip around the back of JJ's thighs.

"What're you doi-"

You quickly grab and lift and, somehow perfectly, hitch your six-foot boyfriend up and onto the kitchen counter.

The kiss is broken as you do so and you open your eyes to find a bemused, or perhaps bewildered, JJ looking down at you. It's hilarious seeing him from this angle: perched daintily on the edge of the counter in the way that he'd manhandled you there so many times before. He cocks his head.

"What just happened?" JJ asks.

You crack up and JJ starts to laugh too, though it's sprinkled with confusion, maybe reluctant to find the humour of a joke he's not yet in on. One of his hand caresses down from your shoulder to your hand, reeling you in closer, in between his legs.

"You don't feel emasculated?" you wonder, intertwining your fingers. JJ shrugs.

"Why would I?"

You cock a brow and regard him a moment. "You don't know what that word means, do you?"

"Not one bit."

As you continue to laugh, JJ cups your jaw and pulls you up onto your toes. He silences your laughter with his mouth on yours. It's hot and heavy and somewhere in the delectable dance of tongues and teeth, he lowly yet playfully remarks:

"Thought I was the one who got to throw you around, huh? You coming for my job now or something? Gonna go for the boat next too?"

"Don't tempt me," you murmur back against his lips.

The two of you kiss and it isn't until your hand is rubbing seductively at his thigh that JJ is pushing you away, gentle but firm.

"Yeah, nah, this is weird," he says. You laugh as he jumps down from the countertop.

A screech slips out, however, as he takes you by surprise. In a matter of moments, you're sat where JJ once was, staring down at your boyfriend. He grins, wasting no time in resuming the make-out.

But not before mumbling, "that's more like it."

[beth-yeet365]

── ϧ𝑒 packing it up.ೃ࿔

℘ jj maybank x fem!kook!reader ৴ length: 0.6k ৴ time of posting: 9:48pm

summary: y/n holds jj through the night. it's kinda new for him

content: sfw ﾉ soft!jj ﾉ not proof read ﾉ kook reader

author's notes: see end for notes

jj never stayed the night. that was the rule.

no cuddling. no waking up in tangled sheets. no letting someone look at him like he was worth sticking around for.

and yet, here he was.

her room was nothing like the places he was used to crashing, he can accept that much as his gaze flickers over the delicate and antique furniture. it smelled like lavender and something sweeter, something distinctly her. soft, warm, untouched by the sharp edges of the world he knew. the kind of place that didn’t feel temporary.

he should’ve left hours ago. should’ve done what he always did—made some dumb joke, thrown on his shirt, and disappeared before the sun could catch him still wrapped up in her.

but he couldn’t.

not when she had looked at him like that.

she should’ve turned him away. when he showed up at her door, bloody and exhausted, she should’ve done the smart thing and shut him out. should’ve decided, right then and there, that his baggage wasn’t worth it.

instead, she just sighed—like she’d been expecting this. like she wasn’t surprised that he had nowhere else to go.

and then she pulled him inside.

she didn’t press him for details. didn’t flinch when he winced under her touch, just guided him to the bathroom and stood between his legs, dabbing at his split lip with careful fingers. she was so close. close enough that he could see the worry knitting her brows together, the softness in her eyes, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when he hissed at the sting.

jj should’ve made a joke—damn, princess, if you wanted to get me undressed, you could’ve just asked. something stupid to make her roll her eyes, to shake off whatever was shifting between them. but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have anything to say, the words catching in his throat. 

because she wasn’t looking at him with pity. or judgment. or regret.

she was looking at him like he was worth keeping.

and it hit him then, like a sucker punch to the gut.

somewhere along the way, he had stopped keeping his distance.

it hadn’t happened all at once. it had been in the little things—the moments he hadn’t realized mattered until it was too late.

like the first time he made her laugh, really laugh. the kind that made her throw her head back, eyes crinkling, completely unguarded. he remembered staring, thinking: shit, i want to hear that again.

or the night she found him at a party, already too many drinks deep and buzzing with the need to self-destruct. he’d made a move on her, fully expecting her to let him. she didn’t. just pulled his drink from his hand, wrinkled her nose, and told him he was embarrassing himself. then, instead of leaving, she hooked her pinky with his and told him to come sit.

she never gave him what he expected.

never pushed his buttons, never bit back when he tried to start something just to keep from feeling too much. she just let him be. let him breathe.

and that was new.

jj rolled onto his side, gaze settling on her, curled up next to him in the dim glow of her bedroom. her fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his ribs, like she was making sure he was still there.

he was.

and that was the problem.

because jj had spent his whole life running. keeping people at arm’s length, never staying long enough to make it hurt when he left. but now—god, now he wasn’t sure if he could leave at all.

he was in too deep.

and for the first time, he didn’t want to find his way out.

𐙚𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

author's notes: this is a fair warning that most of my works will most likely be kook!reader. i write to escape my not so glamourous life and if i wanted to daydream about being poor, i wouldn't write in the first place. anywayssss i do have an in-progress fic that involves an oc and i'm not sure if i'll just rewrite it to be self-insert or if i'll post it as is. all my drabbles come from snippets of said fic and would make much more sense if we started from the beginning lol. 

thank you for reading! © edenunbuilt 2025. all rights reserved — claims, copies, reposts or translations are not permitted. ˖⊹ ࣪  ౨ৎ˚₊

[beth-yeet365]

iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours from list c with the kisses with Drew Starkey/Rafe Cameron?? 💗

Omg yes!!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were still sleeping when you felt the warm sloppy kisses of your boyfriend against your jaw. They moved upwards towards your chin, waking you up with a lazy kiss on the lips.

“Good morning,” you giggled onto his lips. His eyes shot up to yours before they crinkled in a smile.

“Hey sweetheart,” Drew hummed and then reconnected your lips. He hovered his body over yours and his arm slipped under your frame, pulling your upper body up to meet his as the kiss grew more intense. He wanted more and so did you. He then rolled over and you laid against the warmth of his chest while your lips worked with his.

“You’re so warm,” you sighed when you both pulled away for a breath, you snuggling your face into the crook of his neck and pressing your lips there. His arms came to wrap around you and hold you against him. It was a nice moment that was soon interrupted by the growling stomach of Drew Starkey. “You sound hungry,” you chuckled, leaning up to see his blushing cheeks.

“Yeah, breakfast seems like a good idea,” he whispered before kissing your head and sitting up with you. “Let’s go make something to eat. Pancakes?”

“That sounds wonderful, Drew.”

Send in some blurbs

[beth-yeet365]

i. and v. with drew pls but could you make it their first kiss together as a couple

Oooo yes babe!!!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“That was fun,” you giggled when Drew walked you up to your doorstep after your first date together.

“Yeah well, I’d hope so,” he chuckled as he joked with you. But you in your nervousness started to ramble.

“Oh yeah of course it was fun. I mean it’s you so you know, it was fun. Not that I think that’s all you are. I’m sure you have a lot of great qualities. In fact, I know you do. I-”

Your words were cut off when Drew crashed his smiling lips against your rambling ones. His arms slid around your waist, holding you close to his body. The feeling was warm and full of passion as his lips worked with yours. Neither of you wanted to let go while you both took your time, letting your lips learn one another. The only reason you two broke apart was for some very much-needed oxygen.

“You’re very cute when you ramble,” Drew whispered while pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m glad you think so,” you laughed before he pressed his lips to yours again but this time, it was much quicker, a fleeting goodbye peck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Goodbye y/n,” he told you as he stepped back a bit. You reached to open your front door and nodded in agreement. He sent you a smile as you closed the door and all you could think about that night was the feeling of Drew’s lips on yours.

Send in some blurbs

[beth-yeet365]

hey jade!!! do u think we can get a little something with bombshell and spencer 🙏🙏 missing them

—you and spencer get serious. 1.3k

“So,” you say, holding two hands behind your back, shoulders tight in a vague attempt at flirting, “come here often?” 

“To Austin?” Spencer nods. “This is the tenth time we’ve been in the last five years.”

“Big city. Thirteenth most populous city in the entire country, right? That’s a lot of crime.”

Spencer smiles approvingly. “Right.” 

“At least this one was easy.” 

You’re standing in the sunshine outside of a bar near the hangar, waiting for the jet to finish loading, the rest of the team inside drinking a round of well-earned drinks. Spencer was in good spirits but didn’t seem to love the ruckus, so you’d made some excuse about feeling light-headed and promised you’d be alright as long as Spencer came outside with you. 

You don’t not feel dizzy. You’ve been under the weather all week. Spencer’s concern has had moments of obviousness. He’s roped it in for now, only evidence of his worry the lack of space between you. 

You’re enjoying the game you’re playing for now. You lovingly ignore him. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” 

“Uh, trying to get home, honestly.” 

“Yeah?” 

“See, I know this girl,” he says, his voice a soft pattern of itself, “and she’s– she’s great. She really is. She’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and she’s stubborn as a mule when she wants to be. She won’t let me take care of her out here. I’m hoping when we get back, she’ll let me take her home. So I can look after her.” He has no intention of playing the ignoring game with you. 

“Stubborn as a mule,” you murmur, leaning back against the bar’s brick exterior, lulled into security by his voice, and the sweet breeze that passes over you, the right side of cold as the sun begins to set behind the buildings across the street and beyond. 

“You like that one?” 

“No. Not my favourite comparison.” 

Spencer holds his hand out across the way, palm up but low, his fingers still. “Stubborn,” he says as you slip your hand into his, “but in a good way.” 

“…I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say softly. 

“But I want to.” 

You don’t know why you’ve been struggling with Spencer lately. It certainly isn’t something he’s done wrong, and it’s not the first time he’s wanted to look after you. But things between you are looking serious. Just a few weeks ago you took the ‘next step’, long overdue, and you told him you loved him. You do. 

“If I did something–”

You wince and he stops. You knew he’d bring it up eventually, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. What a mess you’re making. “You didn’t do anything,” you say. 

“Are you sure?” 

“No, Spencer, it’s not you, really, it’s not, it’s me–”

The face he makes is of unbridled horror. You’re worried he’ll snatch his hand back. He squeezes tighter. “What are you saying?” he asks, his frown a pout that turns your heart. 

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m sorry, that was a fright wasn’t it?” you ask, squeezing him too, pulling at him as you slip against his side. Your faces are close enough to kiss. “Not breaking up. I can’t describe how much I don’t want that.” 

“But?” he asks. 

“But… there’s been some chafing, lately, on my end.” 

“‘Cos of me?” 

“Aw, Spencer,” you murmur, turning your front into his side as you hold your free hand over his heart, “no, baby. No… No, it’s not because of you, or– it’s not your fault. I was alone for a while before you, and I guess being sick just reminded me that things are different.” 

“And you don’t like it?” 

“Spencer, please,” you plead gently, rubbing your thumb against his chest. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I love you–”

“I love you.” 

“–and I’m not asking for anything here, not space, not for you to change, I just want to tell you how I’ve been feeling so you can stop confusing it for something you might’ve done wrong.” 

Some days being with Spencer feels like you’re the same soul in two different bodies. It’s moments like this that remind you of how human he is, the depth of his feelings, and how much he cares about you —how much you can affect his life. He’s frowning like he’s not far from tears and you regret ever bringing it up in the first place, but you have to finish now. 

“It’s scary, for me, sometimes, to be with you,” you say eventually. 

“For me, too.” 

“I worry I’ll get used to you and one day I won’t have you.” 

“I promise you will,” he says. 

“But you don’t know that.” 

“For however long you’ll let me have you, you can have me,” he says simply. 

You tease a line into his chest with your two fingertips. “I love how you look after me. There’s nothing like it. I fall asleep sick and I wake up knowing you’re there to make me a cup of tea, and to help me shower when my head’s hurting, you don’t let me down. You know that?” 

“So why can’t I look after you tonight?” he asks, eyes dark as pine tar. 

“You can. You think I’m not going home with you?” 

“I wasn’t sure.” 

“Please let me come home with you.” 

Spencer lets his forehead drop gently against yours. The breeze runs a loop around your legs and cools your too-warm shoulders, pulling your blouse from clammy skin. For a while, you wait for him to speak, but when he doesn’t you figure you’ve overwhelmed him with your confession, maybe you’ve upset him. 

He rubs the tips of your noses together slightly. 

“Are you still dizzy?” 

“No.” Your voice is a croak. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, being scared of the future? It’s okay.” 

“I think it sounded like it was your fault.” 

“I won’t take it that way if you don’t mean it like that,” he promises. “I just want to look after you, angel. I want to be with you. I’m scared all the time that one day I won’t have you, but then you smile at me or you–” He laughs. “You tug on my hair trying to make me kiss you and I don’t feel that way for a while. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“The only thing that worries me is life.” 

“Not much you can do about that,” he says.

“I know. I didn’t mean for it to get to you, too.”

He makes a nice humming sound, says, “I want you to feel better, and come home with me, and I don’t really care if I have to beg. You know I will.” 

“You should know you don’t have to beg for anything. Not from me.” 

Spencer’s hand comes up to your neck. He holds it carefully, pressing the soft of his cheek against your temple, the other hand working its way behind your back. “And you’re worried I might leave you?” he asks, laughing bashfully as he presses two kisses to whatever bit of skin he can fin, the side of your nose and the soft well under your eye. “When you’re saying stuff like that to me? In public?” 

“It’s hardly the worst thing I’ve said to you in public.” 

Spencer pulls away to meet your eyes. He's smiling. Worry and love line his gaze. “Do you wanna go find something to eat before we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, trying hard not to smile ear to ear. “Let’s go eat.” 

[beth-yeet365]

Missing hotchner reader❤️❤️

hotch and spencer have to work together to look after you when things get really hard. fem, 3.3k

cw cptsd episodes and descrips of abuse

Adoption isn’t as permanent as people might think —they can give you back anytime they want. So when the oldest Hotchner started hitting you, it wasn’t that different to a previous placement, nobody was watching over you, and you were so afraid of losing your new brother that you didn’t say a word. 

You knew, reasonably, that if Aaron was to find out about how his father (your father) had been treating you, he’d report it to your caseworker or the police or somebody and you would be removed from the Hotchner household. And Aaron was the first person you’d ever met to care about you, really care, maybe even love, so you hid it all away and you told him that things were fine. You do it for years.  

You move out, you go to college. Aaron moves you into a nice apartment a few streets away from his own, and for a while, life is good. You meet his coworker, Spencer, and you get along. Spencer takes you on dates to cinemas and patisseries and he buys you cuddly plushies with hearts sewn into their hands at Valentine’s. By all accounts, things should be good. 

You can’t breathe, is the problem. Somebody has their hand raised to hit you again and you can’t do anything about it, you just have to take it, because you’re useless, because you deserve it, because you’re a drain on everything and everyone and you aren’t worth the trouble, you deserve the hit. You’re so sorry.

“I know,” someone murmurs quietly, a sensation on your shoulder. You wait for it to close around the back of your neck. “I know. It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely, a breath of sound. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

But you did, you did, he was in a bad mood to begin with and you hit his glass of scotch right off the table, smashed glass and wasted drink and a bad mood made worse. He should’ve hit you by now. He’s waiting for you to sit up. He doesn’t like to hit the back of your head, but he will if you cower long enough.

“Honey,” the voice says, right by your ear, “I’m not going to hit you, do you hear me? I am never, ever going to hit you.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“I don’t care that you knocked the glass over. I don’t care at all.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Can you look at me? I promise,” —he emphasises until his voice burns— “I am not going to hit you.” 

Aaron sounds upset enough to force your gaze. You look at him through your lashes, ready to shut your eyes if this is a trick, but he has his hands flat in front of you and he’s completely still. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, so unlike himself, “I wouldn’t hit you over a glass. I wouldn’t hit you if you did it on purpose. I wouldn’t hit you if you smashed every piece of glassware in this apartment for fun.” 

He’s hit you for less. 

“Sweetheart,” he says again, waiting for a reaction you can’t give, “do you want me to go away?” 

It’s a good question. Do you want him to leave? Immediately, everything inside of you says No. He’s gonna hit you just like the last time you smashed his drink, out of the blue, ‘cos didn’t mean to doesn’t matter. But you don’t want Aaron to go. He’s the only person who’s ever loved you properly. 

“It’s okay, just hit me,” you say, staring at him, pleading with him not to even as you ask for it, “it’s my fault.” 

“Not gonna hit you,” he says, reaching for you now, even when you flinch, he holds you by the arms and he stares at you hard. 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“It’s not okay. It won’t fix anything.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“No, you don’t.” Aaron rubs your arms in tandem, shaking his head, a trace of panic in his eyes you’d missed until now. 

It’s Aaron. Aaron’s never hit you. 

“You never deserve to have someone put their hands on you,” he says, practically murmurs, “I’m sorry I let that happen.”

“I lied to you.” 

“I know. I know you did, honey.” He shakes his head gently. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I hit the glass over,” you say, And he hit me so hard I couldn’t hear right for hours. You still remember the way it shocked you, because you’d started to expect it but you were still surprised he’d bother with such a hard hit, that he could get that angry about it.

“I thought it was just me,” he murmurs, sorry, clutching at you like he needs you to listen. “I never should’ve left you in that house, but I thought it was just me. It was only ever… me.” 

You already know —you’ve had this conversation before. He’s apologised already. 

He cups your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not angry with me?” 

“No. I’m never angry with you.” 

You come to yourself in fits. You’re kneeling on the floor not far from the table, the mess of glass, half still intact and cupping a few sips of scotch. Aaron’s kneeling right next to you, still in his suit, hasn’t been home long, you were waiting for him. You used your key because you didn’t want to be home alone. Today’s been a bad day. You’ve felt stringy and strange for hours and you knew seeing Aaron would set it right. That Aaron would make you feel better through force of will. 

And then you’d knocked his drink off the table and both of you had startled, and he’d said, “Wait, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” but all your brain heard was You. 

You. What could be said to mean more than that? 

“You’re not gonna hit me,” you whisper. 

“Never.” 

“Can you help me up?” you ask, half apart from yourself. Your head is back, but your legs won’t cooperate. 

“Where do you want to go? The kitchen?” he asks, leaning so you can wrap your arms behind his head. He lifts you up with some effort on his part, adjusting you, and leading you together to the kitchen to sit you at the island bar. “Sit tight. I’ll clean the glass, okay? It won’t take long.” 

You don’t want him to go, but you don’t wanna say no. 

Time away from him is good, in a way. It makes you remember who you actually are outside of the bad memory. It hammers home that this is Aaron’s apartment, your big brother, your number one supporter. There’s a picture of you and Jack right there on the fridge stuck by an alphabet magnet. Aaron’s never hit you before and it’s not going to change now, because he is nothing like his dad. 

He’s never really seen you act like this, though, and you aren’t excited for what he has to say next. He has a penchant for seeing you at your worst and building you back up again. It shouldn’t be his problem, but it is. 

He brushes the glass into a dustpan and unloads it into a bag, which he trashes. You watch him wet a paper towel and wipe it across the floor for the shavings. 

When he’s drying his hands on a towel, you summon the courage to apologise. “Aaron, I’m… I’m sorry. Sorry.” 

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t look much like the other Hotchner’s. He’s dark-haired like his mother, and he smiles with all kindness. You never saw anything so soft at home, not unless he was there to visit. It’s a wonder he ever bothered getting to know you, already living his life very much outside of the household, and shouldn’t he have moved on? If it were you, if there were another kid in the house right now, could you go back? Knowing how you were treated? 

“I love you,” he says. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think you could understand why I don’t want you to say sorry, or be sorry, because of that?” 

You smile weakly. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Because if Jack were in here today, and he had hit that drink over, you couldn’t have hit him. Could you?” 

“Of course not.” 

He’s mildly guilty for the example, you can tell, but it cements the sentiment in your mind and he can see that. “When you love someone, you don’t hit them. We just can’t do it.” 

“I just… just– you– I got all mixed up in my head.” 

“I know.” 

“Thought you were him,” you say tightly, quietly. 

“I know. Is that the first time you’ve had something like that happen? Like you weren’t sure where you were?” 

Your face crumples of its own accord, heat clogging your nose and throat and lining the backs of your eyes. “No… but it hasn’t been that many times…”

“The bad panic attack at work a few weeks ago, was that like this?” 

“No, that was just that I couldn’t breathe right. I– I had one with Spencer.”

Aaron frowns, but he speaks kindly, “When was that?” 

“A couple of days ago…” You stare at your hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. But I need to make sure you’re okay.” 

“He told me to tell you, but it– I thought he’d break up with me, after, but he hasn’t, so I’ve just been waiting.” 

“Honey, I don’t think this is the sort of thing that could make Spencer break up with you. He cares too much.” 

“You don’t understand, I– I begged him not to touch me, Aaron. I really scared him.” 

With Spencer, it was late. You asked him to stay the night on a limb, and you’d forgotten he was there sleeping beside you, met him in a dark hallway, where he asked what you were doing out of bed. It’s late. You shouldn’t be up. 

His hand had settled just behind your neck. He won’t touch you there anymore. 

“If there’s something you want to tell me–”

“I want it to go away,” you say. 

“It’s not going to be that easy.” He takes a big, deep breath. “You could’ve told me this was happening,” he promises. 

“I didn’t want you to know that I– lied so much. Sometimes I can’t believe I let him do it.” 

Your tone, quiet and calm and a juxtaposition to the ache in your chest, couldn’t hurt him worse. You're familiar with the pain on Aaron’s face, how it makes him do this sorry smile, how he tries hard not to give it away. “If anyone let him hurt you, it was me.” 

“What?” 

“I knew he was unkind to you. I knew he shouted. I didn’t try hard enough to get you away.” 

“Aaron–”

“If you’re going to blame someone, it has to be me.” 

It’s ridiculous. If you hadn’t had Aaron, you would’ve been completely miserable to the marrow of your bones. He’s the last person on earth you’d blame for the way you’re feeling now, so when a tear wells in your eyes, when it hits your cheek in a splash, you let him tut and wrap his arms behind you. 

“It’s my fault,” you insist, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

“No.” 

“It’s my fault, I hit the glass–”

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” 

“I’m really s–sorry.” 

“It’s gonna be okay, honey. Just breathe. Just take a deep breath for me. I promise you I’m not mad about the glass.” 

“Maybe you should be.” 

He holds your forehead to his chin, clutching you to him, reassuring and a little too tight. “I’m not mad at you.” 

You can’t make yourself believe him. 

—

Spencer isn’t expecting to get waylaid by Hotch at Rossi’s dinner party. He can’t think of what he did wrong. You’re happy with him, clingy lately, which he loves, and as smart and sweet as ever, and work is great. Spencer’s a good agent and a better profiler. 

Hotch looks so serious that he follows him in silence, squeezing his coke neck like a lifeline. 

“I want Y/N to be assessed for PTSD, and I need to know that you’re going to support her,” he says simply. 

Spencer searches the backyard for you. You’re laying down in the grass with Jack, Henry, and Penelope. It’s getting late, barely any sunshine left, but nobody’s wanted to ruin the fun and call it a night yet. You don’t fuss as Jack throws himself sideways across your chest. 

“Did something happen?” Spencer asks. 

“She had an… event. She told me about a similar incident with you the other night. That she panicked and got confused about who you were.” 

Spencer nods. “Yeah, I– yeah. I caught her by surprise.” 

“That’s the only time it’s happened?” 

“Yeah. She’s told me a little about it.” 

“About the episode?” 

“Everything. And it’s obvious?” He enthuses it with apology, worried he’ll offend Hotch if he says something too blatant, but desperate to be honest. “Most of the time she’s this– she’s amazing, she’s like this light, and then sometimes it’s like she thinks I don’t like her? Like I don’t want to be near her, or like she thinks I’m gonna hurt her.” 

Hotch lets his eyebrows rise a little. “Yeah.” 

“She cried so much that I didn’t know what to do.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that part, she already told me you made her feel better,” Hotch says quietly. Neither of them mention what they know, how you’d begged Spencer to stay after the episode, how sorry you’d been, how desperate Spencer was to calm you down. “But if you can’t do it in the long run, you need to know now. I can’t start this with her and have you duck out halfway through. I know,” —Hotch gives him a fond smile, half-knocking the wind from him— “that you care about her, and I know it’s not my place to come to you on her behalf, but I’m going to do it anyhow, and you know why I am.” 

“What do you mean?” he says, though he knows. 

“I’m saying I think she’s going to get worse before she gets better. She’s not well right now.” 

“I know she isn’t.” 

“I trust you, Spencer. I care about you, too. But she’s going to be my priority, and if you can’t be there for her then it has to be done now... I’m worried she’s going to get really low.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says genuinely. Spencer’s not defensive, only urgent. “Hotch, I more than care about her.” 

Hotch nods. “Okay. Good, because I need your help. You have to vet these doctors for me, I have a preliminary list. I’ll send it to you.” 

“Wait, have you talked to her about this?” 

“I said we’d talk to a doctor. I promised I’d talk to you about it. She’s… I don’t know, she’s scared.” 

Spencer straightens up. You have nothing to be scared of with him, not his reaction, not his lack of support. He wishes Hotch had had more faith in him, but none of this is about him. Someone hurt you, and now you have to put yourself back together again. 

The kids have disappeared. Penelope’s climbing onto her feet and offering you a hand, but you stay laying down in the grass. 

“I really care about her,” Spencer says. 

Hotch clasps his shoulder. “Are you going, or am I?” 

“I’ll take this one, please.” 

“Sure.” 

Spencer trudges around the side of the yard, past the bench and the tables and the string lights on the patio to where you’re laying in the bluegrass, eyes nearly closed. “Is this seat taken?” he asks, nudging your hip with his shoe lightly. 

“No, sir.” 

Spencer sits down in the grass. He finds your wrist to hold. 

“You okay?” 

“Did Aaron talk to you about the doctor?” 

“Yeah, he did. You want to go?” 

“What do you think?” 

Spencer rubs your pulse. “I think it’s good. If you were having headaches, we’d go to the doctor.” 

“Headaches that make me not know who you are.” 

“Especially that kind.” 

You turn a bit and give him an amused smile. “Sorry I was too scared to say more about it.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Spencer brings a cautious hand to your cheek. He sees the flicker of hurt it brings —you don’t like that he’s careful how, but how can he not be, remembering the way he’d touched your neck and the wound it seemed to inflict in the dark— but he tries to caress it away. “I’m with you,” he says, “I care about you. I want to take care of you, as much or as little as you might need that from me.” 

Your eyes fall closed. “It might be nice.” 

“What would?” 

“To be taken care of by you.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

You cover his hand with your own. JJ laughs across the yard, and Jack and Henry shout battle cries. Hotch says, “Jack! Not so rough, buddy!” and makes you laugh. 

“Did he intimidate you?” you ask. 

“No more than usual. He said I have to decide if I can do this with you.” 

You squirm and attempt to sit. If Spencer weren’t nervous about touching you, he’d force you back down. “He shouldn’t have.”

“No, he should. But I already decided.” Spencer finds your fingers, lacing them with his. “It wasn’t really a decision, actually. I want to do this with you, but only if that’s okay with you.” 

You nod slowly. “I already said it’d be nice if you took care of me,” you whisper, letting your face dip downward. 

He chances a kiss pressed to your temple. 

You laugh under your breath. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“Did you?” he asks, giving your back a rub like a wave. 

“It’s different. I knew what was happening to me.” 

“Angel, you didn’t have a choice,” he says, so quiet he’s surprised when you hear it. “I know you’re… What?” he asks, perturbed when you shake your head. 

“You and Aaron…” 

You never finish. Spencer can’t make you. He holds your shoulder until the tension under his hand unfurls, relaxing his touch when you decide to lay down in the grass again, quietly asking him to lay with you. 

“Be ready for Jack to use you like a trampoline,” you warn, taking his hand. 

He has a feeling Hotch will keep Jack away for a while. 

Spencer traces the back of your hand with his thumb, over and over. He’s sorry he didn’t know you five years ago, sorry you were alone, sorry someone put their hands on you. He’s sorry you learned to anticipate physical abuse in the wake of mistakes. He’s sorry he can’t take it away from you, ‘cos from the second you took his hand at that park a street from his apartment he’s been a goner, all you had to do was jump up on the lip of the fountain and trust him not to let you fall. He remembers how that felt, the zinging sparks travelling from the palm of your hand into his, the romanticism of two arms stretched apart and your slow circle. And when you fell in, you didn’t blame him, you just laughed and scrambled back out, squealing excitedly about your wet shoes. 

It’ll get better, he thinks. Even if it gets worse first. You’ll feel better soon. 

He turns his cheek into the grass and beckons you forward for a kunik kiss, nose pressed to yours, wanting to kiss you like he would if you were at home together, and knowing this is enough too. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“It’s getting cold.” 

Spencer agrees, but neither of you attempt to move. 

[beth-yeet365]

off limits (jj maybank x fem!reader)

— based off of this request. I hope you like it nonny! ❤︎

summary: you were John b’s little sister — the one jj knew he couldn’t have. but no matter how many drinks he downed or how many girls he pulled close, nothing could numb the way he wanted you.

warnings: angst, cussing, jealous!jj, jealous!reader, protective!johnb, drinking, kegger, douchebags, brief unwanted touching, protective!jj, arguing, love confession, small makeout sesh.

word count: 3.8k

You weren’t sure when it changed—when he changed.

JJ had always been your brother’s reckless, shit-talking best friend. The one who used to ruffle your hair like you were some annoying little kid, never sparing you a second glance. The one who stole fries off your plate without asking, flashing that infuriatingly smug grin when you glared at him. The one who teased you relentlessly, calling you kid or princess, like that was all you’d ever be to him, just John B’s little sister.

For years, he had been this untouchable presence in your life. Always there, always close, but never yours. He was the loudest in the room, the wildest of the Pogues, the one who could charm his way out of damn near anything. And to him, you had always been just that—the little girl trailing behind her older brother, desperately trying to keep up.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

JJ never thought much about you when you were younger. To him, you were just John B’s little sister—the tagalong, the kid who was always there, always in the background. You were the one who whined when he and John B ran too fast ahead, who used to get mad when they wouldn’t let you in on their stupid schemes. You were the little girl with scraped knees and tangled hair, always trying to prove you could keep up with the boys.

And for years, that’s all you were in his head—this little sister figure, someone to look out for but never really see. He’d ruffle your hair absentmindedly, steal food off your plate just to piss you off, tease you for things that barely made sense just to watch you get riled up. It was easy, natural. He never had to think twice about it.

But somewhere along the way, it changed.

JJ didn’t notice it at first, not really. You were always around, always there, just like you’d always been. But then one day—fuck, he didn’t even know when exactly he looked at you and saw something different.

It was little things at first. The way your laugh wasn’t the same high-pitched giggle he remembered but something richer, smoother—something that sent a shiver down his spine when he wasn’t expecting it. The way your eyes caught the light just right, making him stare a second too long before forcing himself to look away.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t little things anymore.

It was the way your body had changed—how the softness of youth had melted into curves, how your legs looked longer, leaner, in those goddamn shorts you always wore. It was the way you carried yourself now, with a confidence that wasn’t there before. You didn’t try to be noticed, didn’t seek attention, and that made it worse. Because JJ noticed.

And fuck, you were beautiful. Not just pretty, not just cute, beautiful. The kind that made his mouth go dry, made his pulse stutter in a way that pissed him off because this was you. The same girl who used to chase after him and John B, the same girl who once cried because she lost her favorite bracelet in the marsh. But now? Now you were the girl who made his stomach tighten with something sharp and dangerous.

It hit him like a sucker punch one night when you were sitting by the fire, your head tilted back as you laughed at something Pope said. The flames flickered against your skin, turning your smile golden, your eyes bright, and JJ just stared. His chest went tight, his fingers twitching like they wanted to do something—reach out, touch, claim.

And that was when he realized he was fucked.

Because suddenly, you weren’t just John B’s little sister anymore— and that… was a fucking problem.

JJ had always been reckless, impulsive, the guy who did whatever the hell he wanted without thinking about the consequences. But this? You?

You were the one thing he couldn’t have. And John B made damn sure to remind him of that the second he caught him looking at you differently.

It happened fast. Too fast for JJ to even pretend he hadn’t been staring.

One second, he was watching you, completely wrapped in the way your lips curled around your beer bottle, the way your fingers absentmindedly traced over your thigh as you listened to Kie talk. And then fuck—your eyes met his. Just for a second. Just long enough for his pulse to kick up and for something unspoken to pass between you.

And that’s when John B’s voice cut through the noise, low and warning. “Nope.”

JJ barely had time to react before John B was in front of him, shoving a beer into his chest like that would somehow distract from the fact that JJ had definitely just been checking out his sister.

“Nope?” JJ echoed, playing dumb, throwing on that signature smirk like it would get him out of this.

John B didn’t buy it for a second.

“I know that look, dude,” he muttered, voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. His eyes were sharp, narrowed in a way that JJ rarely saw unless shit was serious. “And I’m telling you right now—don’t.”

JJ scoffed, popping the beer open with unnecessary force. “The hell are you talking about?”

John B’s jaw tensed. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t even try that bullshit with me.” His voice dropped lower, a quiet threat buried beneath his words. “She’s off limits.”

JJ clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Off limits. Like he was some dumbass who needed to be told. Like he hadn’t already spent weeks—months—forcing himself to ignore the way you made his heart fucking race every time you so much as looked at him.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” JJ muttered, taking a long pull from his beer, eyes darting anywhere but John B’s.

“Bullshit.” John B took a step closer, voice just low enough so no one else could hear. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

JJ felt his stomach tighten, but he kept his face blank, years of lying his way out of trouble kicking in. “The fuck does that mean?”

John B huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It means I know you, JJ. I know exactly what’s going on in that dumbass head of yours. And I’m telling you, whatever you’re thinking? Don’t.”

JJ should’ve said something—should’ve laughed it off, shoved John B’s shoulder, made a joke about how he wasn’t into you like that. But he couldn’t. Because the truth was, John B wasn’t wrong.

And fuck, that pissed him off. JJ swallowed hard, hating how fucking right John B was.

Because yeah, maybe he wanted you. Maybe he thought about you way more than he should. Maybe he’d caught himself staring at your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his own. Maybe he’d imagined what you’d sound like if he ever got the chance to touch you the way he wanted to.

But none of that mattered. Because you were off limits.

So, fine. If staying away was what John B wanted—what you deserved—then that’s what JJ would do.

And if that meant drowning himself in cheap beer and meaningless hookups to get you out of his fucking head? Then so be it.

If JJ Maybank wanted to drown himself in cheap beer and meaningless hookups, who were you to stop him?

That’s what you told yourself every time you watched him stumble around a kegger, some random girl tangled in his arms, lips pressed to hers like she was the only thing keeping him breathing. You told yourself it didn’t matter—that it wasn’t your place to care.

But fuck, it hurt.

It hurt every single time.

You weren’t even sure when it started—when JJ became more than just your brother’s best friend, more than the boy who used to steal your fries and ruffle your hair like you were some annoying little kid. Maybe it was the way his laugh made your heart skip, or the way his stupid, cocky smirk could turn your whole day around. Maybe it was the way he looked at you sometimes—like you weren’t just John B’s little sister, like you were something else.

At least, you used to think so. But then came the girls. And suddenly, JJ was never alone at a party. There was always someone new. Some girl in tight shorts and sun-kissed skin, some girl who wasn’t you.

You told yourself you were happy for him. That this was just JJ being JJ—reckless, wild, untouchable. That you had no right to be upset, no reason to feel like your stomach was being fucking ripped apart every time you saw him with someone else.

Because at the end of the day, you were just John B’s little sister. That’s all you’d ever be.

So you laughed along when the guys teased JJ about his latest fling, smiled when he threw an arm around your shoulder like you were one of the boys, swallowed back the ache in your chest when he leaned in and whispered about the girl he was taking home that night.

And when you saw him at the next party, tangled up with someone new, hands gripping her waist like she was the only thing on his mind? You just turned away. Because if JJ could pretend you didn’t fucking matter, then you could do the same.

You were halfway through your drink when he showed up, some guy you didn’t recognize, all too-smooth smile and sun-bleached hair.

“Didn’t think someone like you would be standing here alone.” His voice was low, like he thought that made him sound charming.

You forced a smile, barely hearing him over the thump of the music. Perfect. This was exactly what you needed — something, anything to distract you from the sight of JJ Maybank’s hands gripping some random girl’s waist like she was his fucking lifeline.

“I guess I’m just lucky like that,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He grinned wider, stepping closer. “Lucky, huh?”

He was standing too close now — his shoulder brushing yours, his gaze lingering a little too long on your legs. But you didn’t back away. Because if JJ could pretend you didn’t matter, then you could do the same.

“So,” the guy said, leaning in even closer. “You from around here?”

You almost laughed. Seriously? That was his line?

“Yeah,” you said dryly. “Pretty sure everyone here is.”

He chuckled like you’d said something funny. “Guess I’ll have to get to know you better then.”

His hand found your arm, too casual, like he thought he had a right to touch you. You almost shrugged him off, but then you caught something in the corner of your eye.

JJ.

He was watching. His arm was still slung lazily around the girl from earlier, but his gaze was locked on you. His smile was gone, replaced with something sharper, something darker.

And for a second, a stupid, reckless second, you leaned in closer to the guy. “You wanna grab another drink?” you asked, your voice just loud enough that you knew JJ could hear.

The guy grinned like he’d just hit the jackpot. “Hell yeah.”

He reached for your hand, and you let him.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that JJ’s gaze burning into the side of your face wasn’t the reason you were doing this. That you weren’t playing a game you’d already lost.

The guy’s arm stayed draped lazily over your shoulders as you walked toward the keg. His fingers traced your bare skin, and you forced yourself to ignore the unease curling in your stomach. This was fine. This was what you wanted — a distraction, something to pull your mind off JJ Maybank and the way he’d spent the last few months tangled up with random girls that weren’t you.

“I’ll grab you one,” the guy said, flashing you a grin before reaching for a cup.

You gave a tight smile and let your eyes drift back to the fire, searching the crowd even though you knew exactly who you were looking for. Sure enough, JJ was still watching. His arms were crossed over his chest, face half-lit by the flames, jaw tight enough to crack.

Don’t think about him.

The guy returned a moment later, handing you a drink and stepping even closer. “So,” he said, voice low. “You wanna get outta here?”

You forced a smile. “I’m good right here.”

“Yeah?” His hand slid to your waist again, lower this time, fingers pressing against the curve of your hip.

Your smile faltered. “I said I’m good.”

But he didn’t move. His grip tightened just a little, and suddenly you felt boxed in and his body was too close, the noise of the party swallowing your voice.

“C’mon,” he coaxed. “Don’t be like that.”

“Dude, I said no.” You took a step back, but his fingers caught your wrist before you could pull away.

“The lady said no.”

JJ’s voice cut through the noise like a knife, sharp and cold and suddenly he was there, shoving his way between you and the guy. His hand shot out, fingers clamping around the guy’s wrist hard enough to make him wince.

“Let go,” JJ warned, voice low and dangerous.

“Jesus, chill out, man.” The guy released you instantly, yanking his arm back like he’d been burned. “I was just talking to her.”

“Yeah?” JJ’s eyes narrowed, that wild edge flickering behind his gaze. “Then you can fuck off somewhere else.”

The guy muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t push it. He turned and stalked back toward the party, disappearing into the crowd.

“Fucking asshole,” JJ muttered, still glaring after him.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your heart still racing. “I could’ve handled it.”

JJ turned to you then, eyes dragging over your face like he was trying to convince himself you were okay. “I know,” he said finally, voice softer now. “I know you could’ve.”

His eyes flicked lower, and you suddenly realized his hand was still on your waist. His fingers pressed firm and warm against your skin, grounding you in a way you hadn’t even known you needed.

“You good?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly tight. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice wavered.

JJ’s gaze lingered a second longer before his hand slid away, leaving a trail of heat behind. “You shouldn’t let assholes like that put their hands on you,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah?” You forced a shaky laugh. “Guess I’ll start carrying a taser.”

JJ snorted, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean it,” he said, more serious now. “You deserve better than some drunk douchebag who doesn’t know what ‘no’ means.”

“Yeah?” You arched a brow. “And who exactly do I deserve?”

“You’re always doing this,” JJ barked, his voice sharp and strained like he was barely holding something back.

“Doing what?” you shot back, your voice just as heated. “Go ahead, JJ, fucking say it.”

“You always go for the wrong guys,” he snapped. “Every time.”

You let out a harsh laugh, one that hurt your chest. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. What do you even care? You’ve been too busy screwing half the island to notice anything I do.”

JJ’s face twisted, that easy grin of his long gone. “Yeah?” His voice dipped lower. “Well, at least I know what I’m getting into. Meanwhile, you’re out here letting assholes sweet-talk you into shit you know better than to fall for.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t too busy shoving your tongue down every random girl’s throat!” It was out before you could stop it, your voice too loud, too raw.

JJ blinked like you’d slapped him, then his face hardened. “At least those girls don’t pretend they don’t give a shit about me.”

“Oh, give me a break.” You scoffed and turned on your heel, walking away before you said something worse.

“Don’t walk away,” JJ barked behind you. “We’re not done.”

“Yeah, we are,” you shot back without turning around.

But of course, JJ didn’t listen. His boots thudded against the sand, quick and determined. “You’re seriously just gonna walk away from me?”

“Watch me.” Your fingers curled into fists as you stormed toward the lifeguard stand, desperate to get away from the party, from JJ, and from the burn sitting heavy in your chest.

“Would you stop?” JJ’s hand wrapped around your wrist, and you jerked away from his touch.

“Don’t,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “Just don’t.”

JJ stood there, chest heaving, face flushed, but not from the fight. His eyes dragged over you, lingering too long on the curve of your hips, the way your shirt clung to you from the humid air.

“What?” you challenged, heart racing now for an entirely different reason.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, voice rough and low.

“Yeah?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Yeah?” JJ stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin to meet his eyes. “’Cause you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you bit out. “You’ve spent weeks hopping from girl to girl like it’s a sport.”

“You think that’s what I wanted?” His voice sharpened, something raw breaking through. “You think I wanted to sit back and watch you with those guys? Pretend I didn’t give a shit?”

You swallowed hard, unsure what to say — unsure what this even was.

JJ shook his head, running a hand through his hair like he was barely hanging on. “You have no idea,” he muttered.

“Then tell me,” you shot back. “Since you’ve got so much to say, JJ, go ahead. Tell me what the hell your problem is.”

His eyes locked on yours, blazing like a goddamn wildfire. “You’re my problem,” he said, stepping in closer. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

Before you could process it, before you could even breathe, JJ had you pinned against the lifeguard stand. His body crowded yours, one hand braced on the post beside your head. His other hand hovered at your waist like he was holding himself back.

“JJ,” you warned, but your voice faltered.

“What?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve shoved him away before this went too far. But you didn’t — you couldn’t. You wanted this.

“Didn’t think so,” JJ muttered, and then his hand slid to your waist, fingers curling against your skin as he kissed you hard and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this for a long, long time. The moment JJ’s lips crashed against yours, it was like a fucking spark ignited inside you, hot and dangerous, burning through whatever control either of you had left. His hand gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging in like he was terrified you might slip away.

The rough wood of the lifeguard stand pressed against your back, grounding you as JJ kissed you like he was starving— like he’d been holding back for far too long and now that he’d started, there was no stopping.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers twisting in his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. His body was solid against yours, warm and hard muscle pressed flush to your chest, his thigh slotting between your legs in a way that had heat crawling up your neck.

“Fuck,” JJ muttered against your mouth, breathless and wrecked. His lips dragged along your jaw, leaving a burning trail behind. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

“You’re already there,” you shot back, but your voice was softer than you meant it to be, your fingers still clutching his shirt like you needed something to hold on to.

JJ huffed a low laugh against your skin, but there was nothing smug about it — no cocky grin or lazy charm. He was too far gone for that. His mouth found your throat, teeth scraping lightly before he sucked just hard enough to leave a mark. Your breath hitched, and JJ felt it, you knew he did because his hand slid lower, fingers curling around your hip like he was holding on for dear life.

“You’re so fucking…” He trailed off like he couldn’t find the words, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he dragged in a shaky breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “JJ…”

“I tried,” he muttered, voice low and raw. “I fucking tried to stay away. Figured if I kept myself busy, I could… I don’t know — forget or something. Thought if I kept telling myself you were just John B’s sister…”

His words hung heavy in the air, unfinished but understood.

“You think I didn’t notice?” Your voice shook, but you didn’t care. “You think it didn’t fucking kill me watching you with all those girls?”

JJ’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “Then why didn’t you say something?” His voice cracked, that hint of vulnerability sneaking through.

“Because you don’t see me like that,” you shot back. “I’m just—”

“Don’t,” JJ cut in, voice firm. “Don’t say you’re just John B’s sister.” His hand shifted from your hip to your face, fingers threading into your hair. “That’s not… that’s never been what you are to me.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, and you swore you felt your heart fucking stutter. He was so close, eyes dark and serious with no hint of a smirk in sight.

“You’re it for me,” JJ said quietly, like he was scared to admit it out loud. “You’ve always been it.”

Your breath caught, fingers flexing in his shirt. “Then why…”

“Because I didn’t think I could have you,” he said, voice breaking like the words hurt to say. “Didn’t think I deserved you.”

For a second, neither of you moved. You just stood there, breathing heavy, tension crackling between you like lightning. Then JJ kissed you again, slower this time, less desperate but somehow deeper. Like he wasn’t just kissing you; he was trying to fucking memorize you, the way your breath caught, the way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way your body melted into his like you belonged there.

“Tell me to stop,” JJ rasped against your lips, his fingers tightening in your hair. “If you don’t want this… just say it.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding so loud you could barely think. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all JJ needed to hear. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, hot and messy and perfect, like he was making up for all the time you’d both wasted pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

author’s note:

ahh, I hope you like this fic, nonny! I hope this is what you were thinking of and wanting! this was my very first jj fic to write! I’m so excited I finally got to write for my favorite blond and hope that this is only the first of many!

— requests are open .ᐟᅟ please read request rules .ᐟᅟ

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[beth-yeet365]

since it’s award season!!! can i request singer!reader winning a grammy and ofc she takes drew as her plus one. and the internet goes wild!!! watching them interact with eachother :))

grammy award winner ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note you must’ve read my mind cause when i got immediate inspo for singer!reader at the grammys. i love writing singer!reader.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary attending the grammys with four nominations, performing, and bringing your handsome, supportive boyfriend along with you.

warning(s) cursing and bunch of cuteness

The Grammy's. The day you've been waiting for since you were a little girl sitting on the couch with your family watching some of your favorite artists perform. Now, you're blessed to say you're attending the Grammys with four nominations.

You're allowed to bring a plus one. Drew, your boyfriend, will be coming along with you. You wanted to repay him for bringing you to his events and bring him to the Grammy's. Plus, he's been talking about it non stop.

"Okay, plan is to have you walk out on the carpet first, take a few pictures, then have Drew come out" Your manager, Alysa, explains before signaling you to walk out.

You nod in agreement, gently squeezing Drew's hand, looking up at him⎯he's already looking at you with so much love and devotion. "I'm so proud of you baby, you got this, take a few deep breaths" he reassures you.

"Thank you baby, I really needed that" you smile.

You start by briefly taking photos on the carpet. You gesture Drew over for a few photos as you turn around. He stands tall and to your right. His left arm is fastened around your waist, and his thumb is gently rubbing circles to keep you calm.

You two stole everyone's hearts with your complementary outfits—elegance and love manifested. Every time you two attend an occasion, your wardrobe always complements or matches that of the other person.

You let out a giggle and moved in his direction, clasping hands, before he twirled you around in a playful manner. The genuine joy and pure devotion that radiated between you two was captured by the incessantly clicking cameras. He kissed you quickly on the temple as you sat back next to him.

He whispered, "I love you," in a voice reserved for you.

Your eyes gleamed as you gazed up at him. "You have my ultimate love."

The paparazzi were getting loads of video and camera footage of your little interaction.

By the time you arrived at the arena, you were taken backstage to prepare to play two of your most popular songs from your latest album. You've been working with your dance team on geography and making sure everything is flawless. There's an outfit change that alters the whole vibe.

Drew and your manager were in your changing room before the show, seated in the front of the stage. He wished you luck before Drew and Alysa took to the floor where everyone else was.

Chase, his co star on Outer Banks, is here attending with his girlfriend, Kelsey. Drew mentioned prior to leaving the dressing room they were gonna catch up.

"Good luck out there, you're gonna kill it out there, I love you baby," he says, embracing you with a gentle yet loving hug that makes you feel protected.

"I love you handsome."

Once it came time to performing, you stood on top of the stairs when the lights were placed on you. The first few chords sounded out, and the audience burst into cheers. So many things running through your mind on stage⎯you got this.

As your final song ended, the audience erupted in applause, giving you a standing ovation. You turned to face Drew, and there he was—on his feet, applauding swiftly whistling with his fingers, pride on his face.

For the viewers at home watching got to whiteness Drew's reaction after the performance. The way he looked at you was filled with so much emotion, love, and excitement. They were going crazy on social media.

Then came the awards. Your category was up, and the excitement was evident. Drew's fingers intertwined with yours under the table, causing your heart to race.

Best Pop Vocal Album Category.

“And the Grammy goes to…" The entire arena was on their toes as the card was being open.

"Y/N Y/L/N!”

Gasps and shouts erupted around you, but your thoughts went blank for a second, incredulity sweeping over you before Drew gently pulled you up. "It's you, baby. "Go get your Grammy."

Your jaw fell, free hand on your chest, searching your surrounds, unable to think or feel what was going on. You've won your first Grammy.

He walked you up to the stage, his support unwavering. He brings himselve back the table⎯giving you your moment to shine on stage. This moment is about you.

Taking a shaky breath, you accepted the award, emotions thick in your throat. Finally glancing up from staring at the award in your hand, "This… This is unbelievable," you began, peering out into the crowd. "I've dreamt of this moment my whole life, and I wouldn't be here without my incredible team, my fans, and the people who've supported me through everything."

Drew's eyes caught your attention amid the crowd, filled with unshed tears and pride. "And to my partner in crime, Drew, thank you for always believing in me and being my rock. "This is ours."

Drew placed his hand over his heart and nodded, sending a silent 'I'm very proud of you' your way.

After giving thanks to winning your award, you were guided back stage that trailed towards the front of the stage where the tables were. Drew's eye's were already on you when he could see you in his eye of vision.

He gets out of his chair, adjusts his tie, walks towards you, "my girl won her award tonight," and wraps his arms around you.

Trying to hold back your tears, you acknowledge in a hushed tone, "I fucking love you so much, and I love having you by my side throughout this entire process."

"And I love you more than you know; I'll be here every step of the way," he says, gently swinging your bodies side to side. The height gap between you two is rather noticeable.

As the show continued, there were more performances that were unbelievably beautiful no one could take their eyes off the stage. More awards were given out from different categories. You ended up winning two more awards from Album of the Year and Best Pop Solo Performance.

There are no words to describe how honored you feel after tonight. Everyone has been discussing the idea of an after-party following the Grammy Awards. After that, you can celebrate and spend time with Drew.

Fans couldn’t get over the interview of you backstage after the show with Drew by your side. He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time as he smiled. You would put your right hand on his chest whenever you spoke about him.

fan33: can we please talk about the tears forming in drews eyes when y/n stood on stage?!? #boyfriendoftheyear

fan2: they fit each other so well I LOVE IT

fan7: this is what love looks like if y'all were wondering

fan22: alexa play that should be me 😔

fan10: DREW GET ON THAT KNEE NOW 🫵

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[beth-yeet365]

drew with baby fever drew with baby fever drew with baby fever drew with baby fever drew with baby fe

my little guy ⎯ 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑾 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑬𝒀

authors note i wrote something cute that will make your baby fever drew heart go crazy (mine did too). there's something about drew with kids that makes my heart flutter!! also tiktok is going bye bye tomorrow (gonna miss all my drew and rafe edits)

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary spending time at drew's mom's house and drew being the best dad in the world.

warning(s) a lot of baby fever drew (you’ve been warned)

You awoke at eight in the morning to your six month son, Caleb, babbling on Drew's chest. Drew's enormous hands grip Caleb's small hands to prevent him from falling. Their brief communicate made you grin before you turned over. 

Seeing Drew become a dad is one of the most beautiful and monumental things to experience with your own eyes. Drew is incredibly careful and loving with Caleb. He is meant to be a dad.

"Do you see mommy?" Caleb's gaze is fixed on you, a toothless smile growing in his face, "Can you say good morning?" Drew questions Caleb, as if he understands what he is saying. 

Caleb raises his arms in response, making you quietly chuckle, "Good morning, my handsome little guy!"

"What about me?" Drew mumbles, pretending to be butt hurt⎯what a drama queen.

"Oh and good morning my handsome hunka of a man" you try holding in your laughter but you let it out. Drew looks at you with his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

Never heard you say that before. He thinks to himself.

"What time did you two wake up?" you ask Drew, scooping Caleb to nurse him before he gets fussy. "Thirty minutes ago," he responds, seeing you cradle Caleb in your arms and helping you pull his shirt to nurse him.

Today is going to be a great day. Drew and you will be heading out to Drew's mom house. She wanted everyone to come over to spend some quality family time. Plus, it's been awhile since you've seen Jodie and family with Drew filming and such.

Arriving to the house, you carried Caleb's diaper bag on your shoulder, and Drew held Caleb in his carseat⎯sleeping peacefully away. "Do you think he'll wake up when the door opens?" you ask Drew, gesturing to Caleb.

Drew shrugs his shoulders, "I say it’s fifty fifty with him," he says honestly.

When the front door opens, Jodie is there, beaming and beaming with excitement. She stepped aside, motioned for you guys  to enter with her right hand, and then embraced you warmly.

With her hands on her knees, she leans slightly down and admires Caleb. "It's good to see you both," she squeals, "and seeing my handsome grandson who's sleeping."

Everyone's faces brightened up when they saw you enter the living room. You hugged everyone while Drew was on the other side of the living room.

Drew placed the carseat on the floor, kneeled down, and pulled up the handle and cover, revealing Caleb stirring in his seat. Drew let Caleb to sleep till he awoke.

"How was the drive getting here?" Brooke questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping her wine.

"Not too bad," Drew responds, "we were stopped in minor traffic."

Caleb is whimpering faintly in the living room, and you notice him wiping his tired eyes. "My sweet boy," you coo as you unbuckle him. "Mama's got you," you shh.

When you go into the kitchen with Caleb putting his head on your chest, looking around, and covering his face when everyone says "hi."

"Why are you being shy bub?" You chuckle lightly before kissing his temple─Caleb places his left hand on your chest, showing his face again─laughter fills the kitchen when he grins randomly.

──

The house became increasingly active throughout the day. You and Jodie talked in the kitchen about Caleb's developmental milestones, such how he was learning to sit up on his own and babbled "da-da" the other day. Meanwhile, Drew and Caleb exchanged moments that made your heart throb from love.

Every got their fair share of being in Calebs presence. It's amazing knowing how loved he is by his loved ones. Basically, he was the life of the show today.

Jodie has a play mat with an arch filled with colorful, textural toys that he can hold and pull. Drew lay on his stomach near Caleb, holding up a brightly colored toy to get his son's attention. "C'mon, buddy. "You can do it," he encouraged softly.

Brooke sits on the edge of the couch, filming the memorable moment. Everyone focused their attention on the two boys on the floor. Jodie and you were wondering what made everyone stop talking in the kitchen.

Caleb gave out a determined grunt, his tiny legs flailing as he attempted to get closer to the toy. Drew celebrated as if Caleb had just scored a touchdown. "That's my boy!"

──

Everyone was seated at the dinner table finishing their food. Caleb took a nap on the couch─it was his nap time and secured without falling off the edge. Drew was already finished with his plate and spent time with Caleb.

Drew sank onto the recliner chair, Caleb nestling in his arms. Caleb was rambling incoherently, his little fingers tracing Drew's facial features. 

"You're telling me all your secrets, huh?" Drew muttered, his voice low and soft. Caleb reacted with a gurgling that sounded disturbingly like laughter, and Drew's entire face brightened up.

Drew's twin.

There are specific things he does that prove he is Drew's son. Caleb was seated in his high chair last week, tasting new foods for the first time. Drew and you were sitting in front, feeding him. Caleb tries the food while squinting and leaning back with wide eyes, similar to Drew's behavior⎯he must've thought you did something.

Caleb was lying on Brooke's chest, gripping her pointer finger, and watching the football game on TV as the night came to an end. He made plenty of sounds whenever a tackle or touchdown happened.

You checked the time on your phone, it was getting late, and you guys needed to head back to the house soon. Drew started getting your belongings together while you started saying your goodbyes.

"It was so nice having you guys over," Jodie says, beaming with both delight and sadness as she watches you settle away. "Love is coming over Jodie," you say, smiling.

After getting home and settling in your pajamas, Drew and you gave Caleb a bath⎯his favorite thing ever. Always kicking and splashing everywhere. Drew carried Caleb in his room nextdoor while you did your skincare.

"I wonder what they're doing" you mumbled to yourself as you washed your hands.

You lingered in the doorway, watching Drew hold Caleb close and sway gently. "Goodnight, buddy," he said softly, his lips caressing Caleb's temple. "You're my everything, you know that?"

You feel a tear fall down your face. The sight caused your throat to knot with emotion. Once again, Drew being such an amazing dad.

You walked into the room and wrapped your arms around Drew from behind. He glances up and places his left hand on your right arm, "Hey, beautiful."

"You're good dad, you know that?" You tell him honestly, burying your face in his neck, thinking how nice he smells.

"And you're good mom, you gave me our son as you carried him so much," he whispers carefully so he won't wake Caleb, "you went through so much, I should be the one complimenting you."

What did you do to deserve someone like him?

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✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

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[beth-yeet365]

summary: You and drew took your 11-month-old to the beach for the first time

warnings: pure fluff

words 1.1k'

The sun was a gentle warmth on my face, a stark contrast to the cool, salty breeze that danced around us. I glanced at Drew, a wide, goofy grin plastered across his face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched our little bundle of joy, Leona, sitting amidst a pile of beach towels and toys. Today was the day – Leona’s first trip to the beach.

Eleven months old, she was a whirlwind of curiosity, her chubby legs kicking excitedly as she tried to escape the confines of the blanket we’d laid out. Drew had insisted on packing everything but the kitchen sink: a giant beach umbrella, a cooler overflowing with snacks and drinks, a bucket and spade set that looked like it could build a sandcastle fit for a queen, and of course, a mountain of towels.

"Look at her, she's mesmerized," Drew whispered, his voice filled with a father's adoration.

Leona was indeed mesmerized. She stared at the vast expanse of the ocean, her big blue eyes wide with wonder. The rhythmic crashing of the waves seemed to lull her into a state of serene fascination. I watched as she reached out a tiny hand, trying to grab a stray grain of sand that had dared to venture onto her blanket.

"She's going to try to eat it," I chuckled, already anticipating the inevitable.

Sure enough, a moment later, Leona had a handful of sand clutched in her fist, which she promptly brought to her mouth. Her face scrunched up in a comical expression of confusion and disgust as she tasted the salty grit.

"Ew!" Drew exclaimed, mimicking Leona’s reaction, which only made our daughter giggle.

We carefully wiped the sand off her hands and offered her a teething biscuit instead. She gnawed on it contentedly, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing dance of the waves.

Drew, ever the playful one, decided it was time for some sandcastle construction. He scooped up a handful of damp sand and started patting it into a small mound. Leona watched with rapt attention, occasionally reaching out to touch the sand with her biscuit-covered fingers.

"We need a moat!" Drew declared, digging a small trench around the base of the mound.

I laughed at his enthusiasm, remembering all the childhood summers I’d spent building sandcastles with my own dad. It was a rite of passage, a shared experience that connected generations.

After the moat was complete, Drew added a few seashells and a small plastic flag to the top of the sandcastle. Leona clapped her hands together, delighted with the creation. We took turns snapping photos, capturing every adorable moment of Leona’s first beach adventure.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the beach began to fill with other families, their laughter and chatter adding to the joyful atmosphere. Leona, however, seemed oblivious to the growing crowd, completely absorbed in her own little world of sand and sea.

We decided it was time for a dip in the ocean. Drew carried Leona towards the water's edge, holding her securely in his arms. The cool water lapped at Leona’s toes, and she let out a squeal of surprise and delight.

"She likes it!" Drew exclaimed, splashing a little water on Leona’s legs.

Leona giggled, kicking her legs and reaching out to touch the water. We took turns holding her as we waded deeper into the ocean, the gentle waves rocking her back and forth. She seemed to float effortlessly, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed up at the sky.

After a while, Leona started to shiver, so we wrapped her in a warm towel and headed back to our spot on the beach. She snuggled against me, her little body still trembling slightly from the cool water.

"She's exhausted," I said, stroking her soft hair.

Drew nodded, his eyes filled with love and pride. "She had a big day."

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the beach, watching Leona nap peacefully in my arms. The sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but smile. Leona’s first trip to the beach had been everything we had hoped for and more. It was a day filled with laughter, joy, and the simple pleasures of watching our daughter discover the world around her.

We carried a sleeping Leona back to the car, her little face flushed from the sun and her hair still damp from the ocean. As we drove home, I glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, her chest rising and falling gently as she slept.

"She loved it," Drew said, squeezing my hand.

"She did," I agreed, my heart overflowing with love.

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[beth-yeet365]

reader and spencer both getting home from a really long and tough case and just cuddling and resting together 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 and reader is like "spence can you lay on top of me that would just be so cozy right now " but he's like "no i dont want to crush you" but reader is like "don't worry, it'll be comfy, i promise " and they end up falling asleep like that? ☹️☹️☹️☹️ need him..

<3

-🪲

comfortable — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: literally just fluff <3 a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this <333 bc i loved writing this

"I'm never getting up from this couch ever again," you sighed dramatically, collapsing onto Spencer’s worn-out couch, stretching yourself across it without a care. The exhaustion in your bones made the cushions feel like heaven, and you let out a contented breath. 

Spencer chuckled softly as he followed your lead, nudging your legs just enough to make room for himself before settling in.

He gently lifted them, resting them across his lap as he leaned back. His head fell against the cushion, eyes fluttering shut. 

Silence filled the room, save for the faint ticking of the clock.

Spencer's fingers absentmindedly traced slow patterns along your calf. Neither of you spoke, and neither of you moved. 

Then, barely above a whisper, Spencer mumbled, "We should probably sleep in bed." His voice was heavy with sleep, thick and drowsy. But he didn’t move. And neither did you. 

You hummed in acknowledgment, but that was all. The bed was far. Too far. And this—this was warm.

Spencer shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the angle of his body wasn’t ideal for sleeping upright. He sighed as his hand moved absentmindedly, fingertips brushing over your knee, then back down. 

Spencer shifted again, adjusting his position.

“Just lay on top of me,” you murmured, cracking one eye open. 

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open at that, his brows knitting together in confusion as he turned his head toward you. “What?” 

You grinned, stretching your arms out in invitation. “It’s cozy.” 

He huffed a quiet laugh but still hesitated. “I don’t want to crush you.” He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable but still refusing to move to the bedroom. 

“No, you won’t,” you reassured him. “Come on, give it a shot.” 

He didn’t move right away, still weighing the options. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to calculate the logistics of whether this was a good idea. 

“You could always just go all the way,” you teased, exaggerating the words dramatically. “to the bedroom.” You paused for effect, watching his expression. “Or you could sleep sitting up.” Another pause. “Or you could just sleep in my arms.” 

Your smirk widened as you caught the way he rolled his eyes, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him—he was fighting a smile. 

Spencer sighed, long and exaggerated, before finally giving in. He carefully positioned himself above you, lowering his body just enough to hover, still holding his weight up as if afraid of squishing you. 

You shot him a look. 

That was all it took for him to relax, finally settling against you. His warmth seeped into you instantly, and you felt the tension in his muscles melt away. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and for a few moments, neither of you spoke. 

Then, barely above a whisper, he mumbled, “This is nice.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Told you.” 

Your fingers threaded through his curls, lazily twisting them around as you dragged your nails lightly across his scalp. He let out a contented hum at the sensation, his body growing heavier as sleep started pulling him under. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, lingering for a moment before resting back against the couch. 

Spencer sighed again, but this time it wasn’t out of reluctance—it was pure comfort. In response, he tilted his head just enough to press the laziest, softest kiss against your neck, his lips barely brushing against your skin. 

“Are you sure I’m not crushing you?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. 

You chuckled, squeezing his side gently. “Yes, Spencer. I’m sure.” 

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his arms instinctively tightened around you told you he believed you. Within seconds, his breathing evened out, warm against your skin. 

You sighed in contentment, letting your own eyes drift shut. 

[beth-yeet365]

reader and spencer both getting home from a really long and tough case and just cuddling and resting together 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 and reader is like "spence can you lay on top of me that would just be so cozy right now " but he's like "no i dont want to crush you" but reader is like "don't worry, it'll be comfy, i promise " and they end up falling asleep like that? ☹️☹️☹️☹️ need him..

<3

-🪲

comfortable — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: literally just fluff <3 a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this <333 bc i loved writing this

"I'm never getting up from this couch ever again," you sighed dramatically, collapsing onto Spencer’s worn-out couch, stretching yourself across it without a care. The exhaustion in your bones made the cushions feel like heaven, and you let out a contented breath. 

Spencer chuckled softly as he followed your lead, nudging your legs just enough to make room for himself before settling in.

He gently lifted them, resting them across his lap as he leaned back. His head fell against the cushion, eyes fluttering shut. 

Silence filled the room, save for the faint ticking of the clock.

Spencer's fingers absentmindedly traced slow patterns along your calf. Neither of you spoke, and neither of you moved. 

Then, barely above a whisper, Spencer mumbled, "We should probably sleep in bed." His voice was heavy with sleep, thick and drowsy. But he didn’t move. And neither did you. 

You hummed in acknowledgment, but that was all. The bed was far. Too far. And this—this was warm.

Spencer shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the angle of his body wasn’t ideal for sleeping upright. He sighed as his hand moved absentmindedly, fingertips brushing over your knee, then back down. 

Spencer shifted again, adjusting his position.

“Just lay on top of me,” you murmured, cracking one eye open. 

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open at that, his brows knitting together in confusion as he turned his head toward you. “What?” 

You grinned, stretching your arms out in invitation. “It’s cozy.” 

He huffed a quiet laugh but still hesitated. “I don’t want to crush you.” He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable but still refusing to move to the bedroom. 

“No, you won’t,” you reassured him. “Come on, give it a shot.” 

He didn’t move right away, still weighing the options. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to calculate the logistics of whether this was a good idea. 

“You could always just go all the way,” you teased, exaggerating the words dramatically. “to the bedroom.” You paused for effect, watching his expression. “Or you could sleep sitting up.” Another pause. “Or you could just sleep in my arms.” 

Your smirk widened as you caught the way he rolled his eyes, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him—he was fighting a smile. 

Spencer sighed, long and exaggerated, before finally giving in. He carefully positioned himself above you, lowering his body just enough to hover, still holding his weight up as if afraid of squishing you. 

You shot him a look. 

That was all it took for him to relax, finally settling against you. His warmth seeped into you instantly, and you felt the tension in his muscles melt away. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and for a few moments, neither of you spoke. 

Then, barely above a whisper, he mumbled, “This is nice.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Told you.” 

Your fingers threaded through his curls, lazily twisting them around as you dragged your nails lightly across his scalp. He let out a contented hum at the sensation, his body growing heavier as sleep started pulling him under. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, lingering for a moment before resting back against the couch. 

Spencer sighed again, but this time it wasn’t out of reluctance—it was pure comfort. In response, he tilted his head just enough to press the laziest, softest kiss against your neck, his lips barely brushing against your skin. 

“Are you sure I’m not crushing you?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. 

You chuckled, squeezing his side gently. “Yes, Spencer. I’m sure.” 

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his arms instinctively tightened around you told you he believed you. Within seconds, his breathing evened out, warm against your skin. 

You sighed in contentment, letting your own eyes drift shut. 

[beth-yeet365]

hello!

I sent a request some time ago but not sure if you saw it 💞could you do one where the reader is the one infected with anthrax instead of reid? maybe they are already a official couple? or not- whichever is fine. Fluffy at the end 💞bonus points for Hotch worried for both of them

Thanks love!

anthrax — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader is infected with anthrax , mention of being dizzy and exhausted , mention of fever, mention of nasal cannula, reader passing out , reader ends up in hospital a/n: hiii!!! i'm so sorry it took so long <3 also i rewatched the scenes on youtube ( instead of the entire ep ) so if i got something wrong i'm vv sorry !! hope you like this :)

Spencer frowned, mid-sentence, his words faltering. "What do—" He turned instinctively, expecting to see you beside him. But you weren’t there.

His stomach twisted as he spun in place, scanning the area. Derek was a few steps away on the sidewalk, wearing the same confused expression. You had been right there just moments ago.

Then Spencer's gaze snapped to the house. The front door was swinging shut.

He surged forward, reaching the door just as it latched shut. His hands pressed flat against the wood before he fumbled with the handle, rattling it frantically.

“Hey! What are you doing?” His voice wavered as he rattled the door handle, his hazel eyes wide with panic. He could see you clearly through the glass pane. 

Derek was right behind him now. “Open the door. What the hell are you doing?” His voice was demanding, but Spencer could hear the underlying fear laced in it. 

That’s when he saw it. 

The small, shattered vial on the floor. 

Tiny, glimmering shards of broken glass spread across the tile, barely catching the light. But Spencer didn't care about the glass—he cared about what had been inside of it. 

Anthrax. 

The realization hit him like a freight train. His mind, always so quick, always analyzing, now felt sluggish, as though he were processing everything in slow motion. 

The room you were in had been compromised. You had inhaled it. 

“No,” Spencer whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

His hands pressed against the cool surface of the glass, as if he could reach through it and pull you back to him. Derek muttered a curse under his breath, his jaw tightening, but even he knew—there was nothing either of them could do. Not right now. 

You swallowed hard, blinking up at Spencer. He could see the fear in your eyes, the resignation settling in. 

"I’m sorry," you murmured. 

A lump formed in his throat. His fingers curled into fists against the door. 

“Don’t. Don’t say that.” His voice cracked. “You’re going to be okay. We can fix this. We can—” 

Your lips trembled, and though you tried to smile, it faltered. 

Spencer had never felt so helpless in his entire life. His mind screamed at him to think, to find a solution, to do something.But for the first time, he had no answer. 

And that terrified him. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. Minutes? An hour? The room felt both too hot and too cold at the same time. Your head rested against the door, your body slumped slightly as exhaustion settled into your bones. You weren’t in pain, but you felt weak—like all the energy had slowly been draining out of you. 

Through the glass, Spencer was still there. 

He hadn’t moved an inch. 

Derek had tried—more than once—to get him to step away, but Spencer refused. His back was pressed against the door, his knees pulled up as he sat on the floor, staring at you like if he blinked, you might disappear entirely. 

“I’m not leaving,” he had said, voice quiet. And that was that. 

You exhaled softly, letting your fingers trace invisible patterns against the cool surface of the glass. Spencer noticed immediately. His gaze flickered to your hand, then back to your face. 

“You’re sweating,” he murmured, concern evident in every syllable. 

You gave a small, lopsided smile. “Yeah. I guess breathing in bioweapons does that to a person.” 

Spencer frowned. “That’s not funny.” 

“Little funny,” you teased, tilting your head to look at him. 

He sighed, but you could see the slight twitch of his lips, like he wanted to scold you and smile at the same time.

A comfortable silence settled between you two, despite the chaos unfolding around you.

“You’re okay,” he said suddenly, more to himself than to you. “Your symptoms aren’t progressing rapidly. That’s… that’s a good sign.” 

You raised a brow. “You’re diagnosing me through a glass door now, Doctor Reid?” 

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Actually, rapid-onset symptoms from inhalation of anthrax typically appear within a few hours. Since you’re only experiencing mild weakness and slight sweating, it’s possible that the exposure was minimal. And if that’s the case, early treatment should be highly effective—” 

“Spence,” you interrupted gently. 

He stopped rambling. 

Your voice was softer this time. “I know you’re scared.” 

His eyes darted away for a split second, but then he sighed and met your gaze again. “Of course I am,” he admitted. “I—” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before resting his palm against the door, mirroring your position. “I can’t lose you.” 

Warmth spread through your chest, even as your body trembled slightly from exhaustion. 

“You won’t.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the truth or just something to comfort him, but you needed him to believe it. And maybe, just maybe, you needed to believe it, too. 

Spencer took a slow, shaky breath. “Just… keep talking to me, okay? Stay awake.” 

You smiled. “Only if you promise to stay with me.” 

His eyes softened, his fingers twitching slightly against the glass. 

“I promise.” 

Your body felt heavier now. The exhaustion was creeping in faster than before, and you could see the way Spencer’s expression kept shifting—his mind was racing, cataloging every symptom, analyzing every possible outcome. You knew what he was doing. He was trying to calculate how much time you had, how bad it would get. 

You couldn’t let him spiral. 

“Spence,” you said, voice softer than before. You blinked a few times, trying to focus, forcing yourself to sit up straighter. He immediately caught on, his hands pressing against the glass like he could hold you up through sheer willpower alone. 

“I’m here,” he reassured, but his voice was tight. 

You gave him a small, tired smile. “Do you remember our first date?” 

Spencer’s forehead creased. “Why—why are you bringing that up right now?” 

“Because I want to talk about something good,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, “and because I want you to stop staring at me like I’m a math equation with a really bad solution.” 

Spencer’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not how I look at you.” 

“Little bit,” you teased. 

He sighed, but his shoulders relaxed—just a fraction. “Of course I remember our first date.” 

You smiled, waiting for him to continue. He shifted slightly, his eyes flickering over you, still scanning, still worried. But he played along, just like you wanted. 

“I was terrified,” he admitted after a beat. 

Your brows lifted. “You were terrified?” 

“More than you could ever imagine,” he said, his lips twitching at the memory. “I had wanted to ask you out for months, but every time I got close, I chickened out. Then one day, you just—” 

“I made the first move,” you finished for him, grinning. 

Spencer rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “You didn’t ask me out. You just—assumed we were going on a date.” 

You laughed, though it was weaker than usual. “Because I knew you wanted to. You weren’t exactly subtle.” 

“I thought I was,” Spencer muttered. 

“You were not.” 

His cheeks flushed slightly, and even though you felt awful, you still found the energy to appreciate how endearing he was. “Okay, fine. But that didn’t make the date any less nerve-wracking.” 

You hummed. “Yeah? What part was the worst?” 

Spencer barely hesitated. “When I spilled coffee all over my shirt before we even sat down.” 

You giggled, your fingers tapping lightly against the glass. “I remember that. You looked so horrified.” 

“I was mortified,” he corrected. “And then you just… laughed. Not at me, but—you laughed like it was the best thing that had happened all day.” 

You grinned. “Because it was adorable. You were so worried about being perfect, but I already liked you, Spence. The coffee disaster just made you even cuter.” 

Spencer exhaled a slow breath, his eyes studying you. The warmth of the memory had softened the tension in his face, but not entirely. “I didn’t think you could like me back,” he admitted quietly. “Not like that.” 

Your chest ached—not from the anthrax, but from him. 

You pressed your palm against the glass, mirroring his. “I always liked you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.” 

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I love you.” 

Your breath hitched, just slightly. Even though you’d heard those words before, they always felt brand new coming from him. You let them settle in your heart.

“Good,” you whispered, your eyelids growing heavier. “Because I really, really love you too.” 

Spencer noticed immediately. The slight droop in your posture, the way your blinks lasted just a second too long. His body tensed. 

“No, hey, stay with me,” he urged, his voice sharper now. “You have to stay awake.” 

You forced a smile, tilting your head against the door. “I’m still here, Spence. Just a little tired.” 

Spencer’s jaw clenched. He turned his head sharply toward the nearest agent. “Where the hell is the medical team?” 

“They’re almost here,” someone answered. 

“Not fast enough,” Spencer muttered under his breath before looking back at you. His fingers curled into fists against the glass. “You have to stay with me.” 

“I will,” you promised, though you weren’t entirely sure you had a say in it. 

Spencer sucked in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Tell me more about our first date.” 

You blinked up at him. “You remember it all.” 

“Tell me anyway.” His voice cracked. 

You swallowed, nodding slightly. “Okay,” you whispered, gripping onto his voice like a lifeline. “We got ice cream after coffee. You ordered vanilla.” 

Spencer exhaled a small laugh. “It was the safest option.” 

“And then I let you try mine, and you hated it.” 

“It was mango,” he scoffed. “It tasted like… tropical regret.” 

You giggled again, your body sagging just slightly more against the door. Spencer noticed. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach through the glass and pull you up, hold you steady. 

“Keep going,” he urged desperately. 

You blinked. “We… we sat at the park for hours.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded sleepily. “You kept talking about stars.” 

Spencer swallowed thickly. “Because I wanted to impress you.” 

“You already had.” You smiled softly, the memory flickering in your mind like an old film reel.

"Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?" 

Spencer's lips parted, his brows knitting together as he searched his mind. He was stalling. 

"You do," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper. "You just don’t want to admit how ridiculous it was." 

A faint blush crept up his neck. "It wasn’t ridiculous." 

You let out a weak chuckle. "Spence. You said it because you were delirious from a fever." 

Spencer groaned, tipping his head back against the door for a brief second before looking at you again. "It still counts," he muttered defensively. 

You grinned, the exhaustion pressing heavy on your limbs, but you fought to stay awake—if only to see the way his ears turned pink at the memory. 

"You were so stubborn," you mused. "You refused to admit you were sick, and then, the second I forced you to lay down, you grabbed my hand and just—" 

"I love you," Spencer murmured, finishing the sentence before you could. 

You blinked at him. 

"You didn’t even remember saying it the next morning," you reminded him, smiling despite the heaviness weighing down on you. 

Spencer huffed. "That part was unfortunate." 

"I don’t know," you teased. "I kind of liked getting to tell you that you'd confessed your love to me in the middle of a fever dream." 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His fingers twitched against the glass, his entire body taut with barely restrained panic. 

"Tell me more," he said suddenly. 

You blinked. "About what?" 

"Anything. Everything. Just keep talking." 

He was trying to keep you awake. 

You knew it. 

But you didn’t argue. 

You smiled softly and whispered, "Okay," before slipping into another story, your voice carrying through the glass like a lifeline. Spencer held onto every single word. 

At some point, though, Spencer had to move when the medical team came rushing in. You barely registered it—just the sound of frantic voices, the distant feeling of your body being dragged into motion. You were barely holding on, your eyes fluttering shut despite Spencer calling your name. 

Then— 

Water. Cold, drenching, shocking. 

You remembered that much. The hazmat team had hosed you down. There was vague, fleeting awareness—Spencer shouting at someone about being gentle with you, the sting of something against your skin, and then— 

You were drenched, clothes clinging to your frame, hair plastered to your face, looking equal parts miserable and very out of it. 

Then—nothing. 

When you woke up, everything felt… hazy. Heavy. Your body ached, your limbs stiff as if you’d been asleep for days. A nasal cannula rested under your nose, cool oxygen flowing through it, making each breath feel easier. 

You blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim hospital room. The rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the quiet space, and then— 

Spencer. 

He was sitting in the chair beside your bed, staring into the air, his hands clasped together tightly. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, his usually neat curls disheveled, his clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t moved in hours. 

“Spencer?” 

Your voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but the second it reached him, he jolted upright. His head snapped toward you, his breath catching in his throat as he stood so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. 

For a moment, he just stared down at you, his hazel eyes wide, disbelieving—like he wasn’t sure if you were real or if his mind was playing some cruel trick on him. 

Then, in a rush, his hand was on yours, gripping tightly, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“You’re awake,” he breathed, like he had been holding those words in his chest for hours. 

You tried to smile, but your lips barely moved. “Hey, Spence.” 

He let out a choked breath, his free hand pushing through his hair, trying to keep himself together. 

“You—God, you scared me,” he whispered, his voice raw. 

Your fingers twitched against his, a weak attempt to squeeze his hand. “Sorry.” 

Spencer let out something between a laugh and a sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize.” 

There was a beat of silence, and then you gestured vaguely toward the hospital bed. “So… can I get a hug, or are you just going to stand there looking like a lost puppy?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes flickering to the monitors and wires surrounding you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer, I’m not made of glass. Hug me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned down carefully, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle but firm embrace. You sighed, melting into him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He smelled like coffee and antiseptic, and his shirt was wrinkled beyond repair, but you didn’t care.

“I was so scared,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair.

You tightened your grip on him as much as your weakened body would allow. “I know. But I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

Spencer pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“You stayed with me,” you said simply, your voice soft but firm. “That’s not nothing.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment. “I told you I wasn’t leaving.”

“And you didn’t,” you said, smiling up at him, though your smile wavered slightly as you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion.

You watched him carefully, taking in every little detail—the way his fingers curled tightly around yours, the lingering fear in his eyes, the exhaustion weighing down his entire body. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and the thought made your chest ache.

“How long?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again. “20 hours.”

Your chest tightened. No wonder he looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You stayed?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

He let out a soft, breathy laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Of course I did.”

You let his words settle over you, the warmth of them sinking into your skin. Slowly, you turned your hand, just enough to thread your fingers through his. His grip tightened instantly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

“I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the fatigue pulling at you.

Spencer exhaled shakily, nodding, but his eyes betrayed him—he was still scared.

“Yeah,” he whispered, squeezing your hand like he needed to convince himself. “You are.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he finally let himself believe it.

The door creaked open, and both of you turned to see Hotch stepping into the room. His usual stoic expression softened slightly as his eyes landed on you.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of relief. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a small smile. “Like I got hit by a truck, but… I’ll live.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze flickering to Spencer for a moment before returning to you. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Sorry about that,” you said, your tone light despite the heaviness of the situation. “I’ll try to avoid inhaling bioweapons in the future.”

Hotch’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you were likely to get from him. “I’d appreciate that.” He paused, his expression growing more serious. “The medical team said you’re responding well to treatment.”

You nodded, feeling a small weight lift off your chest. “That’s good to hear.”

Hotch glanced at Spencer again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the young agent’s disheveled appearance. “Reid, when was the last time you slept?”

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I, uh… I’m not sure.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll stay with her.”

Spencer shook his head immediately, his grip on your hand tightening. “No. I’m not leaving.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “You’re no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. Go home, shower, eat something, and then you can come back.”

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off.

“He’s right, Spence,” you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You look like you’re about to fall over. Go take care of yourself. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally relented with a sigh. “Fine. But I’m coming back as soon as I can.”

You smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Hotch stepped aside as Spencer reluctantly stood, his movements slow and stiff. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before straightening up and heading for the door.

Once he was gone, Hotch moved closer to your bed. “He didn’t leave your side the entire time,” he said quietly. “Not even when the medical team told him to.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, nodding. “I know.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re important to him. To all of us. Take care of yourself.”

You smiled faintly. “I will. Thanks, Hotch.”

He nodded once, his usual stoic demeanor returning. “Get some rest. I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

As he left the room, you leaned back against the pillows, letting out a long breath, as you fell asleep once again.

And when Spencer returned an hour later, looking significantly more put together and carrying a cup of coffee for you (decaf, because he insisted), you couldn’t help but smile.

“Miss me?” he asked, setting the coffee on the table beside your bed.

“Always,” you said, reaching for his hand.