#anyway i miss aaron judge

[usmsgutterson]

Hello! I saw that you have your requests open! Could you do one with Aaron Warner and him and reader just have a slow fluffy morning? Maybe it be winter and it’s snowing because I’m missing the cold weather with this horrible Texas heat that practically makes me melt just thinking about going outside 😭

Snow- A.W x gn! reader

Hi, I am so sorry that this took me forever! Thank you for sending it in, though, it's been very warm where I am too so writing a fic set in winter was oddly refreshing while waiting for the light, breezy air of autumn to kick in.

Anon, if you're reading, I hope you enjoy this one and again, I am so sorry for how long it's taken to be written and put out!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- a mention of murdering someone (the reader tells aaron that they'll kill someone if he tries to rope them into leaving the house in the beginnings of a storm) aaron might be a little ooc, and this is also unedited

The first thing that you registered as you woke up was the sound of snow falling so delicately against your windowsill. The second thing you registered was Aarons arm around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, and the feeling of the blanket you'd tossed over yourselves in an attempt to negate the cold, sitting just beneath your elbow as you woke and found it was morning.

You blinked, gaze turning to the curtains and finding they were slightly open, giving yourself a clear display of the snow as it fell to the ground. It was the first snow of the season, and judging by the fact that a storm was suspect, you anticipated that you wouldn't feel motivated to do anything that day.

You knew that Aaron, for all of his efforts with the Resistance and everything he, Juliette, Kenji and the others had accomplished in the time leading up to that day, would appreciate the day of relative nothingness.

The two of you had taken the day off as it were, so even though you'd planned to at least try to do a few things, you knew that nothing very relevant would be done, but you didn't mind that. There could be days of productivity later, but as you turned your gaze to your beloved, ran a hand along the line of his jaw, you decided that that day would not be one of them.

"Good morning, love," Aaron said as he woke.

"Hi," you said, pressing a kiss to his jawline as he pulled you in closer. "Seems like we're in for a storm, so if you try to rope me into leaving this house while we're in the beginnings of it, I might genuinely kill somebody."

That incited the glorious sound of his laughter. "All right, then," he said. "We were due in for a lazy day anyway."

You got up, catching his grin and laughing a bit when he hugged you from behind as you left your bedroom, headed down the hall for the stairs, and moved to the kitchen.

You made your coffee in contented silence, with Warners chin against your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and the cold still biting at you slightly.

You'd long learned to cherish mornings like those, ones where you made coffee and set up the gramophone and grabbed books off of your shelves to read to each other, a blanket draped over your legs while your feet rested in Warners lap and one of his hands ran up and down your calf idly.

And, as you made your coffee and laughed with Warner in between quick kisses, you knew that that morning was going to pan out just like those days did, and you simply couldn't wait.

Mornings like those were few and far between but, with coffee and the impending snowstorm, you knew and Aaron knew that it was going to be a good, relaxing day.

It was one you couldn't wait for.

[constelationprize]

The post-lockerroom blood confrontation scene is so funny because it truly has everything. Neil rapidly running out of lies. Aaron choosing violence. Andrew straight up confessing to murder. The team's reaction to that being akin to "damn that's fucked up, anyway-". And then Dan comes out with,

Listen, Dan. Danielle. Miss Wilds. Number oh-one. I love you deeply. But judging people is your favorite hobby. You were literally judging people directly before and after this statement.

[grandhotelabyss]

I didn't weigh in on the recent literary Twitter meltdowns because they involved friends or or acquaintances or acquaintances-of-acquaintances (by the latter I'm talking about Aaron Gwyn's not having read Borges until last week; I wasn't sure what to say about that, personally, and the Twitter fight quickly decayed into who's-more-oppressed?, never a useful conversation; we all have gaps in our reading—Gwyn has his because he's a specialist; I have mine because I'm a generalist—and I bring it up only to recommend Gwyn's recent appearance discussing his specialty, Blood Meridian, on the Art of Darkness podcast; for me, his bravura interpretation on the pod of the "of this is the judge judge" passage finally knocked everything into place and "completed," as it were, my own reading of the novel, a reading in this case remarkably and "gnostically" congruent, as I'm sure Gwyn has just learned, both to his and to Twitter's satisfaction, with "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius").

Anyway, I will discuss this week's controversy if only for the sake of self-promotion. Above we have a man who seems, I have to say, like a blowhard; he claims essentially that Nella Larsen is overrated and owes her eminence to a bit of canonical affirmative action. JCO swats this down, first in the kind of unpersuasive ad hominem style that flourishes on Twitter, but then she rallies to place Larsen where she belongs, in the context of international modernism.

One way to go wrong reading Larsen is to neglect how conscious she was of the other side of her heritage—not generically "white" but specifically Scandinavian, at a time when Scandinavian arts and letters were a peripheral cultural vanguard of a type whose resemblance to (for example) the Harlem Renaissance a too-racialist analysis will miss. She loved Ibsen, she loved Jens Peter Jacobsen; her despairing naturalism and obsessive inwardness belong in this context as much as her edgy analysis of race, gender, nation, and class belongs in the context of Du Bois, Toomer, Cullen, and Hughes, and of James and Wharton, too.

Now I will say I only read Passing once, and it didn't knock me over the way Quicksand did—so much so that I used to teach Quicksand regularly and have read it five or six times now. Which brings me to my pitch: if you'd like to see if I possess the temperamental and intellectual qualifications required to teach such texts, you can watch my lectures on Quicksand on YouTube. Despite the novel's brevity, I cover it in two and a half lectures, each over an hour long; it's a work, paradoxically, of both great clarity and great subtlety:

"A Lecture on Modernism and Poetry, Part Two" (start at min 20)

"A Lecture on Nella Larsen's Quicksand, Part One"

"A Lecture on Nella Larsen's Quicksand, Part Two"

[patalipat-blog]

Indian spice whiff

Hi Tumblr, it's been a looooooooong while. Been meaning to go back to writing since a few weeks ago. I've had several epiphanies that I'd like to talk about, but the momentum always gets swamped by other "more important" tasks (i.e. sleeping, loljk). Anyway, today is Sunday. I was supposed to start my day early by attending the Holy Mass but my body seemed to be needing so much rest. I guess my body's finally savoring that one day of lack of caffeine supply. I then just decided to have breakfast and stroll by the nearby Sunday market to look for coffee. I forgot to take pictures, though. But I found them on Facebook:

(Photo courtesy of Elbi Community Market FB Page)

Yep, I'm in Elbi right now. Trying my luck and doing something really big for myself, finally for myself after giving much of my past few years to others. But perhaps that merits another post.

Going back, it didn't take long until I found a stall selling Kapeng Barako. And omfg the camera caught me pala! 🤣

(Photo courtesy of Elbi Community Market FB Page)

Halata naman yung nipis ko diba? Hindi maipagkakaila lolllll

The coffee tastes good. The small-sized cup costs P 35.00. Not bad. I really miss the times, though, back in Goa where we would brew our own coffee. Here, it took a while before I found a coffee shop that sells undiluted brewed coffee at a reasonable cost.

As I mixed creamer and sugar on my coffee (right photo), my nostrils caught a whiff of some Indian spices. My mind immediately floated and travelled back to the time when Bruce and I travelled to Nepal for a research competition in November 2017. It was there that I first tasted authentic Indian cuisine. But my senses caught up with my daydreaming; The cold weather, the hour of the day, the half-awake feeling, and the environment itself transported me forward to our time in Malaysia in October 2023. I attended a research conference with Kyna, Rem, Andrea, and Aaron. We were accompanied by Andrea's mother, Ma'am Miriam, and Andrea's cousin, Ma'am Nicole.

I just suddenly remembered that morning of our conference when we haven't eaten yet but the program was already starting.

(Photo courtesy of Ma'am Miriam)

Fortunately, there was a Sunday Market just beside the conference hall. And so while they were participating in the Opening Program, I strolled around and bought food for them.

(Photos courtesy of Ma'am Miriam and me)

As always, I failed to take many photos haha. Buuuut the food options were really really good. And the smell, of course. The rich aroma of Indian spices pervaded the Sunday morning air. The expo included other cuisines, but my eyes were of course trained on the ones that were new to me.

The stall on the left photo served rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. They seemed like our local suman or binanban in Lagonoy, but they tasted way creamier and more savory. The kids also liked them a lot, naubusan nga agad ako haha.

The stall on the right photo also had these rolled rice with fish at the center and wrapped with banana leaves. I think they're called "Pulut bakar," not really sure. Judging from the appearance, I thought they were similar to our tupig in Pangasinan or Ilocos Area, but I was so wrong haha. It was really more of a meal rather than a snack, probably because of the fish inside.

After feeding the kids, I was still so hungry so I went out and bought Nasi lemak with free brewed coffee. It really feels different (in a good way) eating authentic food from foreign cuisines. I definitely find it weird why they always include whole nuts and anchovies in their rice meal, but I guess it adds to the overall texture of the food.

(Photos courtesy of Ma'am Miriam)

But beyond the food items, I kinda miss the company. I miss the times spent with the group. The four kids were pasaway as always, they were makukulit and matagal kumilos (especially the girls)! But they were all persistent, and they're all thoughtful and caring.

We could have definitely done better, but I admit I had lapses in managing my schedule hence I wasn't able to always monitor them during their lab works. But they still did well for me. Their presentation was also highly commended. It's just that it wasn't a competition, but just a closing program of the year-long research internship that we participated in (Tsunagu Research Project). What was off for us, though, was that the said closing presentation was held in the same venue with the Science Castle Asia Competition. The Tsunagu presentation was therefore thrown on the sidelines, we were not given a really suitable venue. But these kids were indeed troopers, we still pushed through and again, their presentation was highly commended by the panelists and fellow participants.

The Tsunagu final presentation was also an opportunity to meet lots of like-minded people. The several days weren't really enough to strike in-depth conversations, especially since we were all so busy tending to our wards. But hopefully, in the future, we get to meet again and collaborate. It was just so sad, though, that there was no Tsunagu Research Project this year. But it's still fine because if there was, I wouldn't be able to participate anyway (I'm on study leave right now).

Ma'am Miriam and Ma'am Nicole were also so caring, helpful. During our practice nights, when we would already forget to go out and eat, they'd order food for us. Oh how I miss the packed fruits from the grocery store within our hotel building. The grapes, strawberries, the kiwi, all of them were so fresh and sweet. Throughout our stay, they'd suddenly knock on our doors asking if we ever need anything. Of course I feel so shy knowing that as the teacher chaperone, I should be taking care of much of our needs. But they were just so supportive of our endeavors. They were also soooooo generous. My goodness, they almost wanted to buy everything for us! I was surprised that they bought shoes for each of us. They even transferred us to Shangri La on our last night, and took us on a trip around the city.

I especially would like to appreciate Ma'am Miriam. Throughout the trip, we had several chikahans that opened my mind so much into how good and humble she is as a person. No wonder, Andrea is an intelligent, compassionate, and humble young lady. Ma'am Miriam is a lawyer. I'm not so certain but as far as I've read, she has served as Corporate Lawyer, Provincial Prosecutor, Estate Lawyer, and Municipal Legal Officer. Basta andami na hehe. Her husband naman is in the Energy Sector. And they also have lots of businesses, magugulat ka na lang. Kasi you wouldn't really notice it from them. They're so humble, so down to earth. Walang kaere ere sa katawan and they always mean well.

Throughout our trip, Ma'am Miriam would inadvertently share about her management style at work, about her experiences dealing with other people, about her parenting style. She's tough, practical, intelligent, and humble. Sobrang kengkoy din ni Ma'am to the point na Andrea would always cringe haha. Mas game pa si Ma'am Miriam about a lot of things. Also, kahit they are wealthy, they wouldn't really brag about it nor look down on other people. They're also so practical and frugal. They like surprises, or simple rewards, pero hindi sila into unnecessary splurging. Ma'am Miriam is also very supportive of the activities of her children, nakakatuwa. Talagang push lang siya nang push, go lang lagi basta gusto ng mga bata at worth it for them.

As we waited for our flight back to the Philippines, kinausap ako ni Ma'am. Bakit daw ba hindi ko itry mag-apply ng scholarships abroad, sayang daw kasi. I told her, it's actually part of my plans. I really wanted to study and perhaps go out of the country, kaso I am limited by my financial and family concerns. In terms of scholarship, kahit paano feeling ko qualified naman ako, but I couldn't simply leave my family behind. Also, I couldn't simply leave my work behind, specifically my Research students. Feel ko kasi, walang ibang eeffort na gawin para sa kanila yung mga ginagawa ko for them. I'm not bragging, it's just that I pull so many strings for them because I'm passionate about helping them learn. Kaso what I've been doing so far are way too taxing for other teachers to do.

Pero ayun, Ma'am Miriam kept on encouraging me, saying na that's really the way it is. If you're concerned about family or about work, they're constantly in your life. They're not gonna go away or stop. You need to take the proactive step to really study if that's what you dream of. Lalo at tumatakbo ang oras, dumadagdag ang edad. Sayang daw ng potential ko.

Idk. I really didn't have a concrete answer then. Fast forward now, after many nights of contemplation, after many mountains of applications, paperworks, permits, financial struggles and everything, I'm here now. Yung mga what ifs ko about family and work, definitely mahirap pa rin ideal with. Pero I just keep pushing and pushing. Right now, finally, nagrant yung study leave ko. Almost a month na rin ako dito sa UPLB, taking my MS.

I can say na apart from my personal passion, apart from the needs of my students, Ma'am Miriam was really instrumental in my coming up with the decision to already apply for Graduate Studies regardless of the uncertainties. Talagang sige na, push na. Kahit nakakawindang, go na. And perhaps in the future also, I could encourage another unsure soul to pursue their dreams.

I wanted to message Ma'am Miriam and thank her at least, for making an impact in me. But perhaps kapag nakagraduate na lang ako haha. Parang nakakahiya naman to declare now tas mafind out ni Ma'am later on na nadelay ako etc. etc. But ayun, I really thank Ma'am for giving me the drive to do this for myself.

Ay napahaba na itong blog haha! Ang dami ko pang backlogs na gagawin! Dahil lang sa amoy ng Indian spices, naglakbay na ang aking isipan at kung saan-saan na napunta. I wouldn't read back before posting this blog. I want it to be as it is. Alam ko, sobrang random, sobrang patalon-talon ng thoughts, sobrang gulo nito. Maybe because that's really how my mind is doing right now. Kaya rin gusto kong magsulat nang magsulat nang magsulat uli, para matrain uli ang self ko na sumulat quickly and logically. It's been years kasi since I actively wrote for the sake of writing. For the past years, iba rin naman ang mga isinusulat ko sa work.

Ayun muna for now. Baboo!

[transamorousnetwork]

MORE Results That The World Is Better For Trans People

The evidence is overwhelming, if you know where to look.

What evidence do I refer to? Evidence proving the world is getting better for transgender people. This time, evidence comes from the stage of a major US tradition: The Miss USA pageant.

Once again, a transgender woman competes in and wins a major pageant title. This time, it’s Maryland. Bailey Anne Kennedy, an Asian-American trans woman, walked down the stage and received her crown for becoming Miss Maryland 2024 this month. Her win represents a number of firsts.

According to news reports, this was her first pageant ever. It’s also the first time in the state that a trans woman won the title. It’s also the first time a woman over 28 won. Kennedy is 31. She’s also the first married woman to compete and win. Kennedy will next go on to compete in the Miss USA pageant in August.

What’s really astonishing about this wonderful milestone is it comes on the heels of another wonderful piece of news we shared back in August last year. Back then we shared news that a wealthy trans woman purchased several beauty pageants around the world. After taking ownership, she changed participant requirements in order to broaden the field of competitors. One of those pageants she owns is Miss USA.

So who is the new Miss Maryland USA? Let’s take a closer look.

Who is Bailey Anne Kennedy?

Kennedy is Cambodian American. She’s a military spouse, whose husband, according to her Instagram, is a Captain in the United States Marine Corps. He graduated both from tanker school and flight school, again, according to Kennedy’s Instagram. That’s two impressive accomplishments. It appears that Kennedy may work or volunteer at the USO as well, which may have been how she met her husband.

Kennedy, who is 31, broke several barriers in her pursuit of the Maryland title. First, her status as a trans woman, obviously. But that’s not a first. Well, it is for Maryland. But several trans women have won similar titles elsewhere.

She follows Marina Machete, who was the first trans woman to win the Miss Portugal title, Rikke Valerie Kolle, who won Miss Netherlands, Kataluna Enriquez became the first trans woman crowned Miss Nevada In 2021, and In 2018, a trans woman, Angela Ponce, competed for Spain in the Miss Universe pageant.

Why this is big

The reason this is big is because these competitions are judged by ordinary people from relevant industries.

Judges in 2022, for example, included Ashlee Clarke, an American businesswoman and producer, Soo Yeon Lee, a South Korean table tennis player and model, Kirk Myers an American fitness trainer, Olivia Ponton, an American model and social media influencer, Aaron Potts, an American fashion designer and Nicole Williams-English a Canadian fashion designer and model.

So trans women competing against and winning over cisgender women shows, to me anyway, growing acceptance that transgender women are women.

Additionally, a Miss USA title is just fluff. Winners travel the world as ambassadors. They promote charitable causes of their choosing. They also enjoy nearly unlimited opportunities as models and spokeswomen. All this means VISIBILITY. And visibility is a powerful social change agent.

So there’s a growing roster of trans women competing and winning in beauty pageants and those women are becoming more visible in the world. That’s a great thing.

Back to Kennedy

And even though trans women are making significant inroads here, Kennedy is more than that. As we said, she is the first woman to win a pageant title at her age (31) after pageant officials open the competition to anyone over 18. Before this change, only women under 28 could compete. Oh, she’s also married, which is another pageant first. That she’s married to an American military officer is another first.

Kennedy has high aspirations since winning. She wants to role model opportunity for other women and girls, trans women particularly, and advocate for veterans, which makes sense given that her husband is a Jarhead and she appears to work or volunteer for the USO.

^^Kennedy her husband and their dogs (Instagram)

It’s happening and it’s all good

At least one news report included in their coverage a rolling tally of the number of trans women still facing violence and discrimination. We’re not going to do that here at The Transamorous Network. Instead, we want to focus on all the awesome evidence proving the world is improving for trans people.

Yeah, there’s some fear and insecurity causing people to act out against these wonderful people. But that’s not the majority of people, as we reported earlier. And while there are lots of people focused on what needs improvement, we take a different approach.

We know the more we focus on the positive, the more positively the world looks to us. We encourage trans women and those who love them to do the same. Because when we all do, our lives get better. And honestly, we can’t help anyone when our life sucks.

So let’s focus on the positive and celebrate yet another awesome milestone. A milestone proving once again that the world is getting better for trans people.

[laconic-void]

please explain baseball to me because you seem to know a lot about it and i ,,, don't-

I am flattered!! I am pretty new to the sport since I only really started caring about it after I watched The Sandlot but I'll try my best to give some pointers!

Here is the video I watched to learn the rules:

Some pointers from things I didn't understand as an autistic guy:

Neat that as soon as the pitcher throws the ball, the players on first/second/third base can run immediately, as opposed to the batter who has to hit the ball. I didn't know this and this led to much confusion when I was playing baseball in gym class last year. Those guys weren't fans of me, but I'll certainly show them when I come back to school!!!

Another thing: the foul ball is designated by the zone in which the ball is hit, not how far it goes. I accidentally hit the ball only a few feet away from me and I thought it was a foul so I just stood there while my teammates yelled at me. Well that was kickball but same rules pretty much

Also a home run is much harder than it looks!! Statistically, even major league players miss 7 out of 9 pitches.

So in terms of the leagues, there are the American League (AL) and the National League (NL), which make up Major League Baseball (MLB). The major league teams play in the world series each year which is basically the super bowl for baseball, it's the final game that determines who wins the season. The "world" series only consists of American and Canadian teams, but they play the game in other countries too! notably Japan. Each major league team has 4 associated Minor League Baseball (MiLB) teams that have different ranks. This is what Scotty means when he said Kenny Denunez played Triple A ball but never made it to the majors.

When players are injured, they are placed on the Injured List (IL) so the team can more easily summon healthy players to the game. Occasionally, major league teams trade players amongst themselves.

Another rule: the baseball has to be switched out every so often. This is because of an incident that happened back in the 1920s: it was an overcast day and the pitcher spat chewing tobacco on the ball, causing it to appear brown. The pitch struck and kill beloved player Ray Chapman because he couldn't see the ball coming. Doctoring, or altering the ball in any way, is forbidden, but a lot of major league players do it anyway.

I still don't know a lot about cultural stuff, but here are some things you may here references to:

1. The New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox are arch nemeses.

2. Philadelphia Phillies player Nick Castellanos has a reputation for hitting home runs at inconvenient times, most notably this clip (warning for homophobic slurs). Now that's a deep drive into left field that'll make it a 4-0 ballgame

3. Some of the best players currently in the league, to my knowledge, are Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees (famous for his batting) and Shohei Ohtani of the Los Angeles Dodgers (famous for his pitching).

4. Historic players include Babe Ruth (of course), Mickey Mantle, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, and Henry "Hank" Aaron.

That's all I can think of for now, if you want any clarification for anything let me know and I'll try to answer :)

[optimistredsox]

19 June, BOS @ MIN, 9-3, Win

Oh hey, look a genuine winning streak spanning three teams! From the humble beginnings of just trying to avoid a home sweep at the hands of the mediocre Rockies to sweeping the Yankees to the start of a road trip in Minnesota, the Red Sox are swinging the bats again and the folks taking the mound, in spite of some of them getting their face literally broken (get well soon, Tanner Houck), are stepping up. Five games is still what I’d consider a nascent streak, and there are some caveats (the Skanks really are missing Aaron Judge), but this team is looking better. I even saw some excellent defensive play from a couple of guys (Reyes and Verdugo) last night. And yes, Paxton gave up the lead on a three-run dinger, but that three-run dinger was hit by Christian Vazquez who a) is awesome and b) I still miss and c) it didn't wind up mattering in the end because we scored a whole bunch of runs after that anyway and d) he did really well aside from that slight dinger-y hiccup. So, on that note, let’s look at the bright sides.

As just mentioned, Paxton pitched well. Big Maple went 6 and a third with 7 strikeouts, only three hits and just the one walk. If Chris Sale is genuinely lost for an indefinite period and Tanner’s face is broken, folks like Paxton stepping up is big energy for the goal of having a winning record and everything else is gravy.

The bullpen combo of Winckowski and Garza gave up a couple of hits each but threw zeroes in the runs column, which is what they needed to do. Good job, gents.

Jarren Duran swapped his spice and sandworms for a bat and a swing and hit three doubles last night, going three-for-three with two RBIs. He knocked his average back to .300 which isn’t quite the dizzying heights of a billion that it was early in his call up time, but it’s still pretty good.

Dugie hit a triple! His third of the season. He also leads the league in doubles at the moment. He knocked in four runs on two hits and also had a nice catch. 

Tristan Casas hit a dinger, a two-run effort. He had another hit too. Slowly but surely he’s getting into gear.

The one error in the game wasn’t committed by the Red Sox! 

We won! Let’s keep doing that!

We’re 3 games above .500! 

[welllpthisishappening]

Well, in your honor, I made a donation to Mission Hope: Opioid Task Force and the ACLU. Granted one is a bit self-serving as you're already aware. Now, I am going to get baseball fic out of you, one way or another. What I'm asking is kinda more frenemies!Captain Charming with Sox!David and Yankee!Killian with Emma as baseball clueless sibling to David who kinda has no idea that the dude she's been talking to is her brother's rival. Kisse

You are fantastic! And this is fantastic! And here is some more baseball fic! Remember when these prompts were going to be, like, 2K? Yeah, they’re not. Here we have: not quite what you asked for, baseball rivals, my husband’s opinions on the Auburn athletic program, some in-depth discussion of whether or not win-loss records should affect a pitcher’s Cy Young chances (cough, cough Jacob deGrom) and SECRET DATING. The last one is probably the most important. I wrote this during the last Yankees-Sox series to distract myself from how depressing it was. 

This is a continuation of The Let’s All Be Good People Prompt-a-Thon & Follower Giveaway and I’m taking prompts (and filling the ones I’ve got so far) through the end of the month. Also available on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

She honestly doesn’t mean for it to happen.

If there is a string of words that is the exact opposite of this is what Emma Swan meant to happen, then that is exactly what she would be because she absolutely, positively did not mean for this to happen.

The happening, as it is, is David pacing in front of the Yankees team hotel in Boston, something that might be actual steam coming out of his ears because he’s just realized his sister is dating his sworn baseball enemy.

His words.

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles, staring at her feet and Killian looks torn between slinging an arm around her shoulders and challenging David to a duel in the middle of the sidewalk.

The whole thing is absurd.

That’s a good word for it.

It’s absurd and ridiculous and literal years in the making. Emma takes a step back, David’s eyebrows flying into his hairline and Mary Margaret presses her lips together, presumably so she doesn’t actually dissolve into hysterics.

The situation feels a little hysterical.

And whatever sound David makes when Emma laces her fingers through Killian’s and she can just make out the scar under the pad of her thumb. He squeezes back.

“So, uh,” Emma says, doing her best to make her voice even and calm and Killian kisses the top of her hair. “This is a thing that’s happening.”“And has been,” Killian adds. “Ok, that’s not helping.” “I’m being honest, Swan.” “That’s still not helping.” “Has been?” Mary Margaret repeats. Emma nods, eyes flashing to David who, it appears, has evolved into marble at some point. “How long?” “Uh...awhile.” “You’ve go tot start at the beginning,” David mutters, but it sounds like a demand and a bit like a plea and they’re all wearing far too much team-branded clothing for any of this to feel like a legitimate conversation.

Killian kisses her hair again.

And, really, Emma’s not even entirely sure how it did begin because it wasn’t like they were friends.

Emma didn’t even really know him. She knew of him, heard David grouse about Jones’ power at the plate like he hadn’t used alliteration to describe some guy on a different team nearly every time she talked to him that spring. It was, of course, true, Killian Jones had ridiculous power at the plate, but Emma knew better than to agree and David hated him.

“He’s a threat to our Series chances, Em,” he’d shout, and Emma’s eyes would flicker towards Mary Margaret who’d just shrug in response because it was almost comforting to hear David repeat the same string of words twenty-two times every other day.

Emma never met him. She didn’t know anything about Killian Jones, all-SEC third baseman, except that he regularly hit over .300 and had a ridiculously strong arm on cross-field throws. David regularly yelled about that too.

But then something happened.

And she didn’t mean for that to happen either.

David hit Killian Jones.

He promises, still, always, forever, it wasn’t on purpose and Emma believes him, but she doesn't ever quite forget what it looked like to watch Killian crumple at the plate, the hiss of his pain echoing in between her ears. David barely makes it off the mound, the guilt of it all obvious on his shoulders because they take Killian away in an ambulance and there are murmurings about hospitals and broken hands and Emma’s never really sure who suggests they go visit him, but it’s probably Mary Margaret.

She’s that kind of person.

So they do. They get in Emma’s car and it’s definitely against team rules, but David can’t hold her gaze and she knows he’s got to apologize in person.

And that's how Emma Swan meets Killian Jones.

He’s only vaguely cognizant, something about painkillers and an attempt at a smirk that doesn’t even come close to hitting its mark. He grins at her the entire time they stand in that room, David running through apologies and promises that he’s so sorry and didn’t mean it and Killian hums distractedly.

“What did you say your name was?” he asks, and Emma has to blink, approximately, seventeen times to make sure he’s actually talking to her.

His voice is kind of slurred.

She assumes there’s morphine involved.

“Emma,” she repeats. Mary Margaret’s got a look on her face. Emma wishes she wouldn’t. “My name is Emma Swan.” “Swan.” “That’s what I said.” “But your angry brother’s name is Nolan.” “Ok, I’m not angry,” David argues, but Mary Margaret actually shushes him and Emma takes a cautious step towards the hospital bed. Killian arches an eyebrow. He tries, at least.

“You’re not entirely coherent, right now, are you?”He shakes his head. “I’m perfectly coherent. And perceptive. Why the different last names?” “Adopted.” “Ah.” “That’s it?” “Were you looking for more of a reaction?” “Maybe not while you’re high on Vicodin.” “Morphine,” Killian corrects, but that word doesn’t sound much like a word either and Emma wishes she weren’t so charmed by this. “Only the good stuff here.” “Seems to be a matter of opinion, doesn’t it?”

He’s closed his eyes at some point, but Emma swears she can still feel him looking at her and Mary Margaret is actively trying to get David to leave. They brought Killian flowers. And a card. The whole thing is absolutely absurd. “Do you have a lot of opinions on how my recovery should go, Swan?” Killian drawls.

She resists the urge to swat at him. She’s pretty positive his hand is actually broken. “None,” Emma promises. “At all.”“That’s disappointing.” He’s high on painkillers. His eyes are still closed. He has no idea who she is. He probably thinks she’s some kind of baseball angel.

That’s actually almost kind of romantic.

Maybe Emma’s the one who’s suffering from too much morphine.

“Is it?” she asks, not sure why she’s prolonging this conversation. He hit a double earlier in the game though, and the whole thing did something absurd to her heart and possibly the way her brain worked and he was a really good baseball player.

David thought so. And David wouldn’t lie.

Killian hums, scrunching the pillow under his head when he nods. “Decidedly.”“If this is supposed to be charming it’s--” “--Don’t bother trying to tell me you’re not charmed, Swan, I absolutely know it’s working.” “You can’t even open your eyes.” “That’s because I’m exhausted and your brother tried to kill me.”

“Hey, c’mon, that’s not true at all,” David cries, but he’s got one foot already out the door and Mary Margaret is actually tugging on his shirt.

“It’s a little true,” Killian mumbles. “What do you think, love? You think he was actively trying to kill me or just make sure Auburn wins a conference title this season?”“You’ve covered the gamut of nicknames, haven’t you?” Emma asks, and his eyes snap open like they’re on a lever. They’re distractingly blue. She assumes they look very good while he’s wearing a Vanderbilt uniform.

She assumes he looks very good while wearing a Vanderbilt uniform.

And like...anything.

“Hit for the cycle,” Killian mutters. She can’t quite stop her answering laugh. He looks like he just hit a grand slam every time he got up to bat.

“You think you’re far funnier than you actually are.”

He hums again, smile a bit easier and almost kind of natural and Emma’s eyes widen when she glances over her shoulder at Mary Margaret. Who appears to be trying to communicate with her telepathically. It almost, kind of works.

“I think you think I’m funny, Swan,” Killian challenges. “And I think your brother would like to leave this hospital as soon as possible.”“You’re a goddamn mind reader, Jones,” David mutters.

Emma rolls her eyes. “David, give the guy a break. He’s hopped up on morphine and--”

“--Endorphins,” Killian cuts in.

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense.”“Endorphins. Because you’re rather distracting, you know that, Swan? And your eyes are going to get stuck that way.” She doesn’t argue – possibly because she’s lost control of the situation entirely and possibly because she’s still being stupid charmed by it and it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But then Emma’s groaning and mumbling a string of curses under her breath and she's certain, under pain of death, or hit by a pitch, that Killian's eyes actually flash when he realizes what she’s doing.

There’s a pen on the table next to his bed, a piece of garbage notepad that barely holds together when she yanks it out of the drawer. “Not exactly the Ritz Carlton is it,?” Emma asks.

“I’d hardly expect that from your area hospital when your school's mascot is some god awful cartoon tiger and occasionally an eagle,” he says. “Make up your mind.”“What even is a Commodore?” “It’s a military rank.” “That’s not a mascot.” “Only because you lot are hoarding all of them.” Emma laughs again. She wishes he would stop making her do that. He doesn’t. For years. Because she, for reasons she never entirely understands, writes her name and number on that piece of garbage notepad and at some point she almost, kind of considers Killian Jones, first-round draft pick by the New York Yankees, a friend.

A good friend.

Not, like, her best friend, or some guy who is maybe an almost what if because that’s absolutely, positively not how she operates. But, like, a guy. A good guy friend.

They talk. They text. He, sometimes, calls her when the team flight is delayed and maybe more often during Spring Training that year because “it’s a contract year, love” and he’s admittedly a little nervous and Emma promises “you’ll hit a hundred RBIs.”He tells her RBI shouldn’t have a plural.

“It’s already a multiple, Swan,” Killian laughs, stretched out in a bed that’s almost comically small for him and she makes a mental note to critique the Yankees for their less-than-impressive facilities in Tampa. “You add that extra ‘s’ and it’s what? Runs batted ins. That’s not even English.”“You don’t have a degree,” Emma points out. “You don't get an opinion on this.” “That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the English language, love.” She rolls her eyes, but mostly so she can better ignore that little jolt her heart gets every time he calls her that and David has no idea. Killian’s not his friend. “ESPN uses RBIs in its stories,” Emma counters. “I don’t care what the right grammar is. If the Worldwide Leader is doing it, then--” “--Who is calling them that?” “Should they not be?” “Not when they don’t think we have a chance of winning the Division.”

“That’s because you don't,” Emma smiles, mostly so she can get him to make that face, a mix of disgust and a century’s-old rivalry that involves curses and benches clearing brawls and, now, maybe a few familial issues. “And when do you even find the time to watch ESPN?”

“When do you find the time to read articles about the state of the American League?”“Just the AL East.” “Ah, of course.” “I’ve got a vested interest, you see.” Killian blinks, all blue and hopeful and they are friends. Friends. Friends. David would kill him. He’d hit him again. The bullpens would join the inevitable fight. She’s got every New York-Boston series circled on her calendar already.

“That so?” Killian asks, an almost impressive effort at normal. His voice cracks slightly though and it seems to time up perfectly with whatever Emma’s pulse is doing. Possibly trying to beat its way out of her body.

That’d probably make the FaceTime call weird.

“Well, it’d be easier if you signed with the Yankees again,” Emma reasons. “I’d hate to have to schedule these phone calls when I’ve got to worry about time zones as well.”“Wouldn't be right to inconvenience you like that, love. Plus, you know, pinstripes, very slimming.” She laughs, a breath of normal and friendship and she’s never hated either word more in her life. “Make sure you mention that to your agent, ok? And maybe the ridiculous on base you’ve got this spring.” “That’s just training, Swan. We played a college team this afternoon.” “Still. Hitting is hitting. And college teams can be good. You know, winning World Series and impressive victories in Omaha and all that.” “There’s no need to rub it in.” Emma grins, a flush of something shooting down her spine that feels suspiciously like several words she’d like to avoid and never expected. Someone calls Killian’s name, his head jerking towards the open doorway and he’s nodding and agreeing to dinner and film sessions and maybe some time in the cage.

Because it’s a contract year.

It’s an important year.

“I’ve got to go love,” Killian says, and she’s not counting endearments. She’s not. She’s noticing them. In passing.

There is no obsession. There is only friendship.

Emma nods. “Yeah, of course. But you know you can do damage to your rotator cuff if you hit in automated settings too often. ESPN mentioned that too.”“I’ll keep that in mind. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you after you guys wreck another local college team.”“Deal.”

The Yankees open the season as the Wild Card favorites, Boston’s the favorite to win the Division and third to win the entire goddamn World Series and Emma texts both her brother and Killian after every single one of their games.

“Because we’re friends,” Emma explains. Elsa tilts her head, a silent objection that’s almost louder than any words she could actually say, sitting cross-legged on her couch in Toronto and Emma’s only there for the weekend, a visit because she hadn’t been in awhile and maybe the Yankees are in town that weekend, but it doesn’t really matter and--

“You want to kiss him,” Elsa says.

“That’s not true.”

“Yuh huh.”“Don’t do that. You sound like Mary Margaret.” “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Emma admits. “And this is not like that. We’re...I mean David plays for the Red Sox, you think I can just…”

Elsa’s eyes widen to an almost comical size when Emma trails off and he texted her the day before – ��tickets waiting at Rogers if you want ‘em, Swan. It might have been the only thing she’d thought of in the last twenty-four hours. She should probably apologize to Elsa at some point.

“It’s ridiculous that you think you can’t,” Elsa says evenly. “You know that, right? This is not some baseball Romeo and Juliet.”“I’d really it rather wasn’t, honestly.”

“Then we should probably go to the game, don’t you think?”

Emma nods before she can think better of it. And Killian goes two-for-five in another Yankee victory, someone in a team-branded polo finding them after the final out because they’re sitting in special seats or something that doesn’t sound quite so lame and Elsa actually giggles when they’re told Mr. Jones hopes you’ll wait outside the team exit for him.

“That’s the fanciest sentence I’ve ever heard,” Elsa mutters, nudging Emma in the side like she wasn’t also there. She’s having some trouble hearing over the ringing in her ears anyway. “How come David doesn't ever invite us to the team exit?”“There are probably rules,” Emma reasons.

“And your brother doesn’t want to date you.”“The opinions just get more and more pointed, don’t they?” Elsa simply smiles in response. And it takes some time, sitting in incredibly plush chairs with the Blue Jays emblem stitched into the back and Emma really doesn’t mean for her breath to actually hitch when Killian walks into the room.

He beams at her.

“Huh,” Elsa says. “So that’s what that looks like.”Emma glares at her, but it’s pointless because she’s already introducing herself and thanking Killian for the tickets and telling him helooked good out there today like she’s ever cared about sports in her entire life.

“Thanks,” Killian says, distracted and quick, like he’s trying to rush over the letters to make sure the conversation doesn’t have a chance to linger in that room for too long. His eyes keep darting to Emma, tongue flashing between his lips which is absolutely distracting and, at some point, she should really figure out how endorphins works.

She figures they probably shouldn’t make her feel like her head is spinning.

She’s not a scientist.

“Good seats?” Killian asks. Emma blinks. And laughs. “Ok, I know they were good seats. I...that’s common courtesy, Swan.”“Yuh huh.” “It is. You catch any foul balls?” “We were in a suite.” He blushes, running a hand through his hair and Elsa makes a noise that’s both judgmental and a little unfair, all things considered. Emma wonders if the endorphins in her body will do her a real solid and make sure she melts into the floor.

“That’s a very good point,” Killian admits. Elsa’s eyes are like tiny, little pinballs, bouncing and appraising and Emma rocks forward because she wants to walk forward and, maybe, make out with Killian Jones, third baseman for the New York Yankees, but her brother is still on the opposite side of the baseball spectrum and there are rules and regulations and probably contract issues because that’s how it always works.

He’s probably dating someone in New York anyway.

He’s a catch.

Or so Mary Margaret would say.

Emma bites her lip.

“So, uh…” Elsa starts. “I’ve got a ton of work that I was ignoring today--”“--It’s Sunday afternoon,” Emma interrupts, but her jaw feels like it actually snaps in half and Elsa is way better at glaring than she is.

“Yup, and I’ve got a lot of work that I didn’t do. But would you look at that, you’re kind of on vacation! Isn’t that weird? Weird. It’s weird.”“Weird.” “Exactly. So, I’m going to go and…” She waves her hands through the air, the threat of a far-too-confident smile tugging at the ends of her lips. “I’m going to leave you guys….to it. Where’s that fancy team person? Can they make sure I don’t get yelled at by security?” “Or arrested by mounties,” Emma adds. “That’s not how Canada works. Thanks again for the tickets, Killian. It’s a very long game.” “Yeah, that’s kind of baseball’s schtick,” Killian mutters. He’s still staring at Emma.

The team person appears suddenly, like she’s been summoned there by the sheer force of Elsa’s almost too obvious will, and Emma can’t remember the last time she took a deep breath.

It’s only kind of uncomfortable – especially when Killian moves first and his fingers are rough when they brush over the back of her wrist.

“You need, like, a manicure or something,” Emma mumbles, drawing a scoff out of him and a groan out of her and that is the last thing she expected to say.

“I’m not sure that would really help, actually.”“Don’t you wear baseball gloves?” “Not all the time.” “Rebel.” He nods, and it’s like the world gives them a second to catch their breath and figure out what’s happening and it’s all impossibly slow and far too fast and Emma sighs against his mouth when he kisses her. Or she kisses him.

It honestly does not matter.

Because she’s been thinking about this for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit and he’s as good as it as she figured he would be, or maybe the other way around because he kind of groans against her mouth when her fingers find the back of his hair and oxygen is pointless anyway.

They’re an out-of-breath mess by the time they finally break apart, eyes wide and shoulders heaving and Emma isn’t entirely sure when they decided to occupy the same few inches of spaces, but her right foot is on top of his left.

Killian doesn’t seem to mind.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he whispers, and Emma wonders if anyone has ever survived after their whole soul has kind of just imploded in a fit of happiness and finally.

“Are you kidding me?”Killian makes a noise in the affirmative, another quick brush of lips over hers and they’ve probably scandalized the team worker. “I’ve got some very fond memories of a flower-bearing deity who refused to believe I was as funny as I absolutely am.” “Oh, my God.” “You think I’m funny, Swan, I know you do.” “Your ego knows no bounds.” “It’s a contract year, I’m just trying to prove my worth to the franchise.”

Emma presses up on her toes, the nerves in his voice almost reaching out and slapping her or inadvertently hitting her in the batter’s box and that, at least, is kind of cyclical. She’s not sure when she’s become the positive one, but Mary Margaret will probably appreciate not having to bear the brunt of it all anymore.

“No need,” Emma mumbles, mostly against his mouth and the words get a bit jumbled when Killian’s hand finds its way under the hem of her shirt. “But, like, really since the morphine incident? You were super high.”“And still had eyes, strange as that may seem.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Killian echoes. “I like you. I was trying to show off today.” “I mean, it kind of worked. You want me to write like a letter of recommendation to Brian Cashman or something?”

His laugh is loud and easy and Emma tries to make sure it imprints itself on her memory. And she’s so goddamn happy that they’re as good at making out in visiting team’s facilities as she hoped that she almost forgets her brother is going to kill her because she’s dating the enemy. And he’s really good at hitting baseballs.

That is, of course, before the August series in Boston and the Yankees are three games out of first and the whole thing is as chaotic as it is exciting and Emma can’t stop fidgeting in the family box at Fenway.

“What’s going on with you?” Mary Margaret asks. She’s got head-to-toe red on, David’s number painted on her face like the entire city of Boston isn’t almost painfully aware how in love they are, and Emma’s surprised she didn’t make a sign.

The series is that important.

Killian’s on a six-game hitting streak.

Emma’s not supposed to know that. And no one is supposed to know she went to New York three weeks ago. There was kissing. Like. Just a copious amount of kissing.

Maybe that can happen again after the game.

She wonders how quickly she can get away from her brother. And out of this Red Sox gear.

“What is that?”

Emma jerks her head up, and she didn’t even realize she was doing it. That should be the subheadline of her life at this point. It’s not really anything – she keeps telling herself, has to remind herself almost daily because it’s absurd and sentimental but he’d driven in five runs during that game in New York three weeks before and his bed was absurdly comfortable and Emma made some crack about getting the bonus just to keep this mattress and Killian had kissed her silent; before asking, with slightly hooded eyes in a voice that she certainly still wasn’t thinking about, if she’d maybe, possibly, consider wearing the ring he always kept around his neck. Even during the season. ESPN had tried to do a feature on it.

Killian wouldn’t talk about it.

“It was, uh….it was my brother’s,” he explained, and Emma was going to do permanent damage to her lip from biting it. It didn’t make much of a difference. She cried anyway.

And she’d known about Liam, had heard the stories and the goddamn tragedy of it all, but she’d never seen Killian without that ring on a chain around his neck and it was probably only a matter of time before the New York tabs realized it.

“For good luck,” he said. He smiled. Emma kept crying. And kissed him. He hit a triple the next day. She kind of figured that was for her too.

She’d started tugging on it, though, unconsciously or subconsciously and the specifics of it don't matter, especially in the family suite at Fenway with Mary Margaret doing her best impersonation of a relationship-scouting hawk.  

“Emma,” she says. “What is that?”“Nothing.” “You’re going to want to try that again if you want me to believe you.” “It’s nothing.” Mary Margaret shakes her head, gaze falling on the ring that’s now hanging over Emma’s shirt and this is a disaster. David hasn’t even thrown the first pitch yesterday – that’s a very strange sentence she’s not certain she’ll ever understand, and just the day before he was complaining about Killian’s hitting streak while Emma was texting Killian updates about it under the table in the apartment in Back Bay.

“It’s not,” Emma continues, but talking is only making it worse and Fenway gets impossibly loud during Yankees series.

“It looks new.”“It’s not.” Emma grits her teeth when she realizes what she’s said and she’s given Mary Margaret fuel - fed the eagle as it were. They’ve missed the entire first at bat already. “Did he strike him out on three pitches?” Emma asks, the pride practically radiating through the suite. Someone’s already humming Sweet Caroline under their breath.

“He’s in some kind of zone,” Mary Margaret says. “Was sitting on the couch yesterday after you left, honest to God, practicing his grip on his cutter.”“That’s insane.” “Nah, that’s a series against the Yankees when the pennant’s on the line.” “It’s August.” “On the line,” Mary Margaret repeats, emphasizing every word and Emma can’t get her response out because the boos are that distracting. She’s a little disappointed it’s an away game because that means there are no pinstripes and Killian Jones looks unfairly good in pinstripes, but Emma figures that’s honestly for the best.

Mary Margaret has evolved into some kind of basset hound anyway – sniffing out lies and deflections and however endorphins work. Emma ignores the weight of her stare, pulling her lips behind her teeth and David throws a strike on the first pitch.

“Practiced the hold on that cutter all night,” Mary Margaret mutters.

“It’s not like he doesn’t know who he’s pitching against.”“Ah, that’s not exactly what it is.” Ball one. And two. And Killian steps out of the box, David’s shoulders going obviously tight when he calls time. Emma’s lungs are on fire.

She hopes the endorphins can fix that eventually.

“I don’t understand,” Emma admits, and strike two is swinging and definitely outside and she knows Killian’s frustrated as much as she knows David is overjoyed.

The boos get louder.

“It’s a Yankees-Sox series,” Mary Margaret shrugs. “Us and them. And, I mean, you know that history.”

“Between franchises?”“Between David and Killian Jones.” Emma’s pretty impressed her legs don’t actually buckle but she does have to brace her hands on the glass in front of her, and she’s not sure if she imagines Mary Margaret’s gasp or not. Killian flys out. David fist pumps.

The whole thing is epically absurd.

“What does that mean?” Emma asks, as the next Yankee hitter lines out to short and it’s a quick inning and she should probably be happier about that. She probably shouldn’t have come to the game at all. “Like baseball enemies?”“Of course not.” “Because that’s even more ridiculous than practicing a hold on a cutter David learned when he was eleven and--” “--Emma, oh, my God, seriously, what is going on with you? And don’t say anything, you’re like...shaking.”

She is. Her whole body is vibrating, nervous energy and excited energy and she’d suggested dinner at a restaurant near the Yankees hotel so she could get to the Yankees hotel easier and she wanted both teams to win.

That was impossible.

God, they should have told David already.

“What are you talking about?” Emma challenges. The Red Sox already have someone on second. “What do you mean David and Killian have a thing.”Mary Margaret’s eyebrows defy gravity. “Killian?”“That’s not weird. We know him. We met him. We brought him flowers!” “Like...six years ago.” “And?” “And, nothing, I guess. Just, you know, David’s a pitcher and Killian’s a great hitter and Vandy did win the SEC when he came back that year and then he got drafted ahead of David--” “Because the Yankees didn't need a pitcher. David would have raged if he got drafted by New York.” “That’s not necessarily true.” “Would you like to try again?” Emma asks, and she has to shout the question over the cheers and they’re winning. Or the Red Sox are winning. She’s not sure where her baseball allegiances lie anymore. That’s definitely the most ridiculous sentence she’s ever thought.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Mary Margaret says. “So maybe David’s unfairly biased against New York teams, but you know him and Jones...they’ve always kind of...just toyed with each other. And he feels bad about hitting him still, but that was years ago and now they’re in the same Division again and, you know, this series is important.”Emma doesn’t respond. She does not trust herself to.

So she takes advantage of complimentary food and drink and the general hospitality of the family suite at Fenway and she digs her nails into her palms so she doesn’t cheer when Killian hits a three-run homer in the top of the eighth to give New York the lead.

The hit streak sits at seven games.

And the Red Sox lose the series opener.

“Can you believe I end up with a no-decision now?” David grouses, hours and post-game press conferences later and he’s already ripped apart the pre-meal bread like it’s the reason people still care about win-loss records.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Mary Margaret says. It’s not the first time. It will not be the last time.

“Still a Cy Young contender,” Emma adds.

David’s going to get arrested for his attack on the entire bread industry. “It’s not about individual awards, Em. It’s about this series and holding our lead and--”“--The race for the pennant.” “Yeah, exactly that. And making sure they’re as far away any sort of trophy as possible. God, you know how obnoxious Jones would be as a World Series champion? Totally insufferable. Perfect for New York of course, but just...that can’t...God, he’s so good at the plate, you think he won some kind of genetic lottery?”

Emma knocks her glass over. Her elbows suddenly want to make a run for the nearest exit and there’s wine on her jeans and her ring is back over the front of her shirt and she nearly sends her chair into the very nice looking couple next to them when she mumbles a quick apology and bolts onto the sidewalk.

And, really, she shouldn’t be surprised that he’s sitting in the lobby across the street because they did say some time around nine’ish and he’d always been ridiculously good at reading her and knowing her, even when he was hopped up on painkillers and twisted in an uncomfortable hospital bed.

“Swan?” Killian calls, already halfway out the door and he makes a face when the first three cars in the street don’t immediately stop so he can cross. He jogs towards her, post-game tie loose around his neck, which seems kind of unfair, but it makes it easier to tug and pull him towards her and they’re so goddamn good at kissing each other. He startles slightly at the force of her mouth on his, but it takes less than a full second for him to just sort of melt into it and Emma’s feet are only kind of touching the ground when he pulls her closer to him.

They linger in each other’s space for what feels like a very long eternity, fingers drifting and tracing and Emma almost forgets about her wine-jeans until Killian’s lips drag across her jaw and she shivers.

Someone nearby whistles.

“You want to tell me what this is about now, love?” Killian asks.

“I honestly have no idea. Just like...series-inspired insanity and did you know that my brother thinks of you as some kind of baseball frenemy and possible scoring threat?”“No to the first one, but definitely yes to the second. As he should, really, you see that homer today?” “I was there.”“Cheering?” “Trying very hard not to.” Killian chuckles, a kiss so quick it barely registers. Emma knows they’re on borrowed time. It was inevitable that the troops would rally or something equally ridiculous, and she can hear the footsteps behind them, but Killian’s fingers are still moving and his ring is around her neck and-- “I love you,” she says, certain and sure and at the worst possible time.

He nearly drops her.

“What?” Killian breathes, David behind him and making a sound like an umpire just missed an obvious strike call. “Swan…”

Emma shakes her head, pressing her lips together and the next few moments are a blur of explanations and the phrase I wasn’t really expecting it repeated several dozen times. David’s expression doesn’t change, even when some kid in his jersey stops him to ask for an autograph and glares pointedly at Killian.

“We’ve evolved into complete farce now,” Emma grumbles, and she’s not sure she’s entirely prepared for the look on Mary Margaret’s face. Like she knew all along. Like she knew as soon as they walked into the goddamn hospital room.

She shrugs. “I had some suspicions when I saw the distinct lack of ring when he was jogging the bases and you called him Killian like that was a thing you’d been doing.”“And you guys have been…” David starts, trailing off when Killian’s arm tightens around Emma.

“No, no,” Emma sputters. “No...that just kind of…”She cuts herself off, biting her tongue in the process and her eyes don’t do anything except meet Killian’s slightly cautious smile when he steps in front of her. “Hey,” he mutters, thumb ghosting just under her lower lip and she’d never moved the ring back. “I love you too.” Emma’s dimly aware of David’s rather loud too  but Mary Margaret shushes him and the whole thing still feels kind of cyclical.

And like hitting a bases-clearing double in the bottom of the ninth.

“Yeah?” Emma asks, an absurd response to declarations in the middle of the sidewalk, but that’s kind of them and kind of this and she wants to ignore baseball for the foreseeable future.

She wants to focus on the force of Killian’s responding smile instead.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I kind of thought that was almost obvious. I’ve pining for awhile.”“Before Toronto?” “Way before Toronto.” “Wait, Toronto?” David shouts. “What happened in Toronto?” “Not anything you actually want to know about,” Emma promises. “You going to be weird about this? Like...for the rest of the season or your careers?”

“More weird than your wine incident?”“Is that what happened to your jeans?” Killian nods, and Emma blushes because he was totally checking her out. David groans.

“I’m not going to be weird about this,” he promises. “I mean...I’ll totally wreck you at the plate if you do something stupid, but our set-up guy is garbage anyway and you’re on that ridiculous streak. It was only a matter of time before you played hero.”“And probably tried to impress Emma,” Mary Margaret mutters.

Killian tilts his head. “It’s more likely the second one.”“Figured.” He takes a deep breath, still twisted and in front of Emma with her finger hooked through one of his belt loops. “I may be a little weird about it,” Killian admits. “We’re totally coming for your divisional title. Wild Card stresses me out.” Emma laughs, some of her nerves evaporating and his chest is very solid when her head crashes against him. She’s fairly certain he mumbles I love you in her hair again and she smiles into his shirt, something that feels like a pitching rhythm and striking out the side. She needs to stop making baseball puns in her head.

They go inside the restaurant eventually – after another Boston fans yells get back to New York, Jones from the other side of the street – and Emma manages to keep all her wine in her glass for the rest of the evening. And the Yankees don’t win the Division, but they win the Wild Card game and Emma doesn’t sit down for any of the six games the ALDS lasts.

They win the series in New York.

She’s wearing pinstripes.

David’s only a little annoyed by that.

“I told you I was going to support whatever city I was in,” Emma says, and he rolls his eyes and Killian’s smile, somehow, gets wider and Mary Margaret looks overjoyed. She has since August.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” David grumbles. “Easy now with just one All-Star to root for.”“Your words, not mine.”

Killian kisses her. There’s a photo snapped somewhere behind them, but that’s become fairly normal in the last few weeks because it only took a few games for the New York tabs to realize he wasn’t wearing the ring and start speculation on the location of the ring and Emma was sitting along the first baseline when someone in a throwback Devil Rays jersey three seats away noticed the ring hanging over the front of the Jones t-shirt she was wearing.

They weren’t very subtle about it.

They actually planned it that way.

“What’s that you always say, Nolan?” Killian asks. “It’s not about the personal accolades, it’s about the team and the trophy.”“Agh, wait at least twenty-four hours after my season ends before you start taunting me with my own quotes, huh?” “That seems fair. Doesn’t it, Swan?” Emma nods, still charmed and happy and she’s got a good feeling about the rest of the playoffs because no one expected a Yankees run and she’s got World Series aspirations. Killian Jones, third baseman of the New York Yankees and World Series champion does, after all, sound pretty good.

It looks even better, a playoff run for the ages with an improbable sweep in the ALCS and a hit streak that ESPN claims is legendary and the New York tabs dub the rivalry over when Emma, David and Mary Margaret are spotted cheering in the team suite in the Bronx.

She doesn’t cry when they win, but she might when Killian kisses her, feet off the ground and arms slung around his neck and there’s not enough oxygen in the world to help Emma say everything she wants to.

Everything.

So, naturally, Killian says something to surprise her, because Emma’s not sure how she got on the field without security yelling at her.

Probably because they were distracted by David signing copies of the goddamn New York Post.

“When’s your lease up?” Killian asks.

“What?”“Your lease?” She has to blink three more times before she understands, and then she kisses him instead of answering him, and that’s kind of an answer anyway. “Yeah,” Emma says. “Yeah, that’s what i want to do.”

He signs his contract extension the same day she signs the lease and Emma keeps wearing Yankees gear and Red Sox gear depending on what city she’s in, but her allegiances become a little more obvious when she gets a slightly different ring.

That makes the New York tabs too.

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 16

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 6.5k

Chapter 15 | Masterlist

Mav took Penny up in the Mustang, leaving Rooster, Amelia and me in the hangar. "So, how did it go?" Amelia asked and my body tensed, only relaxing slightly when Rooster rested his hand on my waist. "Um, we'll be right back Amelia." She just nodded and buried her nose in her phone. I grabbed Roosters hand, leading him out towards Penny's car. "What's wrong?" He asked as I turned and leaned against Penny's Porsche. I inhaled deeply, trying to not cry while I try to tell him. "So, the hearing didn't go well." He grabbed my hands, holding them tightly in his. "Hey, whatever happened, I'm not going anywhere." I nodded. "They um, threw out everything." His eyebrows flew up, I could see his eyes widening behind his aviators. 

"Everything?" I nodded. "All of it. They said I probably tried to kill him in the car, they said I probably did something to Melissa." I took a deep breath, wiping my tears. "The judge even said my miscarriage was my fault." He pulled me into him, holding me as I broke down. "No, you listen to me. That was not your fault, that is all on him." I buried my face in his shirt, soaking it with my tears. "They denied my divorce." His body froze for a moment before his arms tightened around me. "So what now?" I leaned back from him, his hands coming up to my face and wiping my tears. "What do you mean?" He pursed his lips. "What do you want to do now? Do you want to stay here? Do you want to go back-" "No! No, I'm staying with you. I'm not going back." He nodded and kissed my forehead. "We'll get through this, honey. Me and you." I nodded as my hands came up to rest on his chest while his latched onto my waist. 

"My lawyer and I are going to try and get it moved out of state." He furrowed his brows. "To where?" I shrugged. "I'm not sure. He said it's a long and painful process but I'll do anything to get this divorce granted, at the bare minimum." He nodded as he held me for a few minutes. "So, was Dahlia good for you?" He chuckled and nodded. "She was, but she's needy." I nodded. "Very needy." He tucked some hair behind my ear. "You're so strong and I'm so proud of you Mags." My bottom lip wobbled as I pulled him into another hug. "Thank you for standing by me." He rubbed my back as he tucked his face into my neck. "I don't want to be anywhere else." He said as he leaned down to kiss me. I missed this, I miss him. Someone just kissing me because they feel like it. When I saw Aaron I was reminded of how little he truly cared and I know that if he didn't have everyone in his pocket, that I would've been divorced a long time ago and that he would be sitting in prison somewhere.

~~~

"They really denied the divorce?" Penny asked as she paced in front of the couch Rooster and I sat on. "And threw out all the other charges?" I nodded again. "Want me to make him disappear? I can make him disappear." I smiled but shook my head. "I appreciate it Mav, but they'd just arrest me. They are already sayin I tried to kill him anyway." Mav sighed, shaking his head. "I'm surprised Bobcat didn't kill him." I pursed my lips. "Well..." Maverick raised his brows at me. "You don't get to start that sentence and not finish. "It all happened pretty fast. Aaron was following us out of the courthouse and mom put me in the car as my dad stopped to talk to my lawyer. He came over, and mom moved in front of the back door, he shoved her and he opened the door. When he slipped his hand in, mom came back and closed it on his fingers." Mav's face paled slightly. "Your mom broke his finger?" I nodded. "Three actually. But I got out and had him by his collar against the car, then daddy took over." Penny raised her brows. "What did he say?" 

"Nothing." Mav hissed, knowing when my dad had nothing to say was dangerous. "He threw him to the ground and we went home." Rooster smiled at me and kissed my temple. "I'm proud of you." I smiled at him. "So, what's next?" Penny asked as she sat on the arm of the chair Maverick was in. "My lawyer and I are trying to get this taken out of state. We don't know who he's paying off, so it's better to take it out of the state completely." They nodded. "But it's a long and hard process. I don't know how long it could take but I don't care if it takes fifty years, I just can't have ties to him anymore." They nodded. "We're here, whatever you need Magnolia." I smiled at them. "You guys have no idea how much that means to me." 

We stayed for dinner, just enjoying time together. "Remember the first time I took you for a ride?" Maverick asked as he leaned against the older Kawasaki. "Yeah, I think that's the first time I had a real rush." He chuckled and I looked to the newer bike next to it. "I see you stuck with a Kawasaki." I said as I walked over, tossing my leg over the Ninja and sitting on it. Mav is only an inch taller than me so I didn't have to toe the bike. "Yeah, they're too good to switch up on." I nodded. "Mind if I take it for a spin?" He raised a brow. "You got a license?" I smirked and nodded. "I wanted a motorcycle license for so long. As soon as I could ride after the accident I went and got it." He narrowed his eyes at me as Rooster walked over, Amelia behind him. 

"Don't go far." He said before turning and grabbing the keys. "What's going on?" Rooster asked as I caught the keys Mav tossed. "I'm going for a ride." He raised a brow. "I didn't know you rode." I smirked and cranked the bike. "Of course you do, I rode you last week." I said before pulling out of the hangar and taking off down the road. I smiled as the wind whipped my hair around, the rush going through my body was almost as good as flying an F-18. Almost. I did as Mav asked and stayed close, being gone for only fifteen minutes before I pulled back into the hangar, laughing at Rooster's red face. I put the bike back in it's spot and turned it off. "You think it's funny?" Rooster asked as I got off. "A little." I smirked and backed away. 

"Come 'ere!" He yelled rushing after me as I squealed. After a few seconds he caught me, tossing me over his shoulder. "Sorry Mav, I need to get her home." Mav held his hands up. "Don't have to explain." He turned around so I could face them. "Bye guys! I love you!" I yelled as he walked outside, grabbing my suitcase from Penny's car, while keeping me on his shoulder. He walked over to the Bronco, setting me in the passenger seat before putting my suitcase in and hopping into the drivers seat. "I can't believe you said that." He chuckled as he pulled off. I smirked and slid over to the middle, wrapping my hands around his bicep and leaning my head on his shoulder. "I love you, Roo." He leaned down and kissed my head as we stopped at a stop sign. "I love you too, Mags." 

~~~

"Honey! I'm home!" I called as I walked in the door. Dahlia bounding over, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. "Hi baby!" I cooed as she stood on her back legs, front legs resting on my shoulders as she stood just a little taller than Rooster. She groaned at me before getting down, rolling onto her back wanting my undivided attention. I sat in the floor with her as Rooster took my suitcase. "You miss mama? Cause let me tell you, I missed you." I pet her for a little while longer before Rooster came back. "Your clothes are in the washer." I smiled at him. "You didn't have to, but thank you." He sat with me, loving on Dahlia for awhile. 

We spent a few hours together, curled up on my sectional. Rooster and I on one end and Dahlia on the other, "Did you kill any of my plants while I was gone?" His eyes widened and he jumped up. "Rooster!" I chastised as he grabbed my hand. "Plants are fine! But, I did do something in my backyard." I raised my brow as he dragged me out my back door, covering my eyes as we got to the gate. "Okay, hang on." He said as he opened the gate. He carefully led me into his yard before stopping. "Surprise!" He cheered as he removed his hands from my eyes. 

I teared up at the sight in front of me, my hand coming to cover my mouth as tears fell. "Is that a Southern Magnolia tree?" He nodded and walked over to the small tree. "When you were gone I really, really struggled. So I thought, why not have a Magnolia tree? To remind me of my Magnolia." I walked over pulling him into a kiss. "That is literally the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." He smiled and pecked my lips. "Then I'm glad I'm the one who said it." He said as he wrapped his arms around me. "Come on, I have a great idea to say thank you!" I said as I dragged him back to my house.

~~~

"Oh my god. Peach cobbler is my new favorite dessert!" He cheered as I cleaned up the dish I cooked the sweet dessert in. "Well I'm glad you like it. It's my great grandmothers recipe!" I said as I placed the dish on the drying rack above my sink. I jumped as arms wrapped around me, not hearing Rooster sneak up on me. "I love you, sweet girl." He whispered in my ear before kissing my cheek, sending a shiver up my spine. "I love you too, Roo." I said as I turned in his arms, resting one hand on his chest while the other rested over his shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leaned down, his nose brushing mine as he gave me a smile. "I never said 'thank you' for the cobbler." I furrowed my brows, "Yes you did, when I handed you the bowl." He smirked and kissed me. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, like they do every time but these were more intense, like instead of  thousands there were millions. My knees grew weak but I never worried because I knew he'd never let me fall. His hands ran from the small of my back to my thighs, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his waist. He turned and set me on the island, standing between my legs. "What are you doing?" I asked, biting my bottom lip. "Saying thank you." He placed a kiss on my cheek, slowly leaving opened mouth kisses down my neck. I started taking deeper breaths as my body heated up. 

"I love the way you react to me." He muttered against my collar bone. "I can't help it." I sighed out. He chuckled and kissed the exposed parts of my chest, his hands slowly pushing up the hem of my t-shirt dress. He lifted me slightly, pushing the dress over my ass and lifting my legs till I fell back on the island. "Rooster." I moaned out as he smirked. He lifted my legs over his shoulders, his fingers nudging the thong I had on. "God, I love when you're soaked for me." He said as he ran a finger along my clothed entrance, a whine escaping me. "Rooster, please." I begged pathetically. "I'll take care of you, pretty girl." He said as he yanked me closer to the edge of the island, getting on his knees. He nudged my underwear to the side, making my breath hitch in anticipation. 

My body jolted as I felt his tongue nudge my clit. "Fuck." I groaned, my head rolling to the side. My hands immediately ran down my body before wrapping his hair around my fingers. "Rooster." I cried as he buried his tongue inside me, his nose rubbing against my clit. The stimulation making my body feel like it was on fire. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl." I gasped, my back arching slightly as he removed his tongue, replacing it with two fingers. "Wanna come." I was struggling with my words, it felt like my head was swimming. He chuckled before licking up my slit, flicking his tongue against my clit. I squirmed, pushing away as his arms wrapped around my thighs, his hands resting on my lower stomach, pushing in slightly. "Fuck, Rooster. So good." I muttered as he reached a finger down, rubbing my clit as he licked my slit again. 

"Fuck!" I cried as he sped up, bringing me close to the edge. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Rooster! God, yes!" I cried as the pressure snapped, my orgasm washing over me. My back arched off the island as my head held my upper body weight, my ankles crossing on his back to pull him closer and keep him there. The constant cries that left my mouth were loud, pornographic almost. "Don't stop!" I cried as he continued to lick up my release. After a minute he did, getting up and bending over me to kiss my neck, his mustache covered in my slick and tickling me as I breathed heavily, trying to catch my breath. "You're welcome." I muttered as I turned to face him. He chuckled before kissing me, my mouth opening to let him in. "See how good you taste?" He asked against my lips, before licking into my mouth, allowing me to taste myself. "Mm, yeah." I said before biting his lower lip, pulling on it. 

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Mags." I smirked and nipped at his nose. "Just fuck me Bradley." He raised a brow. "What do you want me to do?" My face burned red at his question. "Fuck me into the mattress," I said, lifting my hand to hold his cheek. "Make me cry. Anything, I missed you and wanna feel you inside me. Need you to fuck me until I'm stupid on your cock." He quickly lifted me over his shoulder. "Fuck! You shouldn't say things like that!" He said as he rushed upstairs. He kicked the door close behind him, the slam sounding as he tossed me on the bed. I sat up, yanking my dress over my head as he slid off the Hawaiian shirt. I grabbed the white long sleeve he had on underneath and pulled it over my head as he reached for my face, pulling me in for a searing kiss. My hands wandered to his jeans, quickly unbuttoning them and pushing them down his long, muscular legs along with his boxers. 

I pulled away, smirking at him as I lowered my self to lay on my stomach. He watched as I wrapped my hand around his cock, giving a small lick to the tip. "Uh uh." He said, grabbing my chin with his thumb and pointer finger. My bottom lip jutted out just slightly. "I don't want to wait anymore." He said helping me onto my knees, leaning till I was on my back. "Just want to be inside you." He muttered as he kissed under my ear, his nose brushing my neck and his hand reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. "Then get inside me, honey." I said and he smirked, reaching over to the condoms I bought to keep in my bedside table. I turned my head to the left, spotting my floor length mirror, an idea sparking in my mind. 

I watched as Rooster rolled the condom on and I sat up, my hand immediately resting on his chest as his eyes flashed to me. "Can we try something?" He nodded. "Whatever you want, honey." He said moving so he was standing at the foot of the bed. I moved so I was on all fours, angled on the bed. "Behind me." I said with a wink. He smirked and got on the bed behind me. I was face down, ass up, smirking into the mirror. He was staring at my ass, running his tip through my folds making me moan. "Bradley." I called and he looked up, taking notice of the mirror and the look I was giving him. He stared at the mirror for a moment, looking into my eyes. He quickly moved, wrapping his hand around my neck and pulling me back into his chest. 

"Goddamn, dirty little girl aren't you?" He asked before licking up my neck, and up behind my ear. "Fuck." I moaned out, my head falling back as my eyes closed. He gripped my jaw, forcing my head forward. "Keep watching." He whispered before reaching to steady himself as he slowly slipped in. "You always take me so well, pretty girl." He said still gripping my jaw. He buried himself to the hilt, making me hum in pleasure as he picked a pace. His hips smacking against my ass, the sound echoing around my bedroom. "Fuck, Bradley." I gasped as he hit that one spot. "God, I love hearing you say my real name when I fuck you." He kissed my neck, gently nipping at it. I moaned as I looked, seeing him disappear between my legs. 

I grabbed his hand that was on my jaw and moved it to my neck bending over so I was resting on my elbows. "You're such a good girl for me. Yeah?" He asked as he kissed up my back, making it arch as I gasped. "Yeah, always wanna be your good girl." He ran his other hand up my back, reaching under to grope my breast, pulling me back onto him. "God, I love you pretty girl." He said as he ran his hand down my stomach, pressing down when he could barely feel himself inside of me, increasing the feeling and making me cry out. "God, I wanna fill you up with my cum. Keep you full of it." Something shifted in me and my muscles spasmed around him. "Oh, you like that?" I nodded as he sped up, his hips connecting with my ass at a rougher pace. "Yeah." He chuckled and let go of my neck, using that hand to brush my hair from my face as he leaned into my ear. 

"Want me to fill you up, pretty girl?" I nodded as we made eye contact in the mirror. "Please, Bradley." He smirked and reached down to my clit, playing with it as he slipped out. I watched as he slid off the condom, tossing it into the trashcan in the corner before slipping back in, making me moan louder. His hand returned to my stomach as the other one gripped my neck again. "God, I could stay buried in you forever Mags. Keep you full of my cum." I moaned out as he pounded into me faster than before. "Yes, Bradley." He chuckled. "You want me to fuck a baby into you? Huh?" I nodded. "Want me to make you a mommy?" I nodded as the stimulation grew. "Yeah, put a baby in me Bradley." He kissed my temple before pushing in on my belly harder. "Fuck, that's it! Make me a daddy, pretty girl." The knot tightened at his words. "Yes, Bradley! Fuck! Yes!" I cried as the knot finally snapped, making strangled gasps escape my mouth, my arms giving out till my chest was down on the mattress. I turned watching Bradley in the mirror.

His hands holding my hips tightly as he fucked into me, chasing his high. He leaned over me, ramming his hips into mine as I was gasping for breath. "Fuck! Take it, honey! That's it, pretty girl! Take it all!" My eyes rolled back as I felt him fill me up, his breathing labored as he stilled in me, his head thrown back. "Fuck, honey. Are you okay?" I took a deep breath. "Mm, 'm great." I murmured as I tried to calm down. "I'm gonna slip out, okay?" I nodded, hissing as he did. I watched in the mirror as he leaned back to look. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." I muttered before closing my eyes. 

I felt him shift before hearing a click. "I know damn well you did not just take a picture." I said, my southern accent becoming thick. "You told me too, pretty girl." He said kissing my lower back. "Come on." He said pulling me up and shifting till I was laying against my pillow. "Can't have any of this getting out." He said before scooping up our mixed release, and slowly slipping his fingers inside me, making sure none leaks out. "Bradley." I whimpered as he did so. He gave me a sweet smile, leaning up to kiss me gently. "It's okay, pretty girl. I've always got you." I bit my lip. "Were you serious?" He raised a brow. "About a baby?" He grinned and kissed me again. "I've never been more serious or sure about anything." I smiled at him as he laid next to me. "Hand me that pillow?" He nodded, pulling out another pillow and handing it to me. I lifted my hips and placed it under them.

"Is that supposed to help?" I nodded, turning to look at him. "Some say it does, some say it doesn't. I say it can't hurt to try." He smiled and leaned over to kiss me, shifting closer to me. "I love you so much, honey." I smiled at him, his hand slowly wrapping around my waist before slipping around and stopping on my belly. "This okay?" I nodded. "It's perfect." His thumb slowly rubbing against my belly. After a few minutes I noticed he was staring at his hand. "What's running through your mind, hun?" I asked as I rested my hand over his. "I just-we're really trying this?" I nodded. "What do you think they'll look like?" My heart swelled as a few tears built up. "Um, well-" I choked. "Hey, I wasn't trying to upset you." I shook my head. "No, no I'm not upset. I just-last time, he looked exactly like me, I couldn't imagine any part of Aaron in my baby. But thinking about a baby that looks like both of us?" 

He shifted closer, his hand staying on my belly as the other slid under my shoulders, pulling me close as he kissed my temple. "I hope they have your eyes." He said as he nuzzled into my cheek, making me laugh. "I was kinda hopin' they'd have your eyes." He raised a brow. "My boring brown eyes." I scoffed at him. "I think you mean the eyes I love and tend to get lost in." He laughed. "Oh, stop. You'll make me blush." I giggled at his words, his thumb still rubbing my belly. "I hope this works." I nodded and kissed his nose. "Me too, Roo." 

~~~

"ROOSTER!" I screamed up the stairs. "YEAH?" I huffed as my phone rang. "THEY'LL BE HERE INTWENTY MINUTES! HELP ME GET THIS FOOD OUTSIDE!" I yelled up as I walked back towards the kitchen for my phone. "GIVE ME A SECOND!" I smirked. "NO!" I giggled as I went back to the kitchen. It's been two weeks since the Uranium mission and the brass decided that the dagger squad should all be stationed here in Fightertown U.S.A. So everyone has come back and Rooster and I decided to do a barbecue to celebrate. I rushed in, snatching my phone when I saw Jerry's name. "Hi, Jerry." I said as I pulled the brownies I made out of the pan. "You will never believe what happened." I dropped my spatula as Rooster walked in. "What?" He furrowed his brows. "Your case was picked up by a judge in D.C." I threw down the towel I had on my shoulder. "WHAT?!" Rooster seemed shocked as I looked to him. "He has taken quite an interest in it and is creating all of the subpoenas we need. This includes the pictures on your phone, the cameras at the house, a subpoena for Bradley." I leaned back on the counter, my hand covering my face. 

"Are you serious?" He chuckled. "As a heart attack, Caila." I sighed. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Jerry." Rooster came over taking my hand. "I'll let you know when I have more." I nodded as the line clicked. "What's wrong?" He asked and I set my phone down before launching myself into his arms. "A judge in D.C. picked up my case. He has taken an interest in it and is creating every subpoena we need. Including yours." I said running my hand through his hair. "You're serious?" I nodded. "Jerry said he is as serious as a heart attack." Rooster had tears welling up in his eyes. "I love you." I giggled as he kissed me. "I love you too. I promise, everything will work out." 

"Are we interrupting?" I looked to find Phoenix and Mav, with Penny and Amelia. "No, I have news but I'll tell you guys when everyone else gets here." I said removing my legs from Rooster's waist and standing next to him, one of his arms around my waist, the other hand resting on my stomach. Ever since the day I came home, and we decided to try, he has kept a hand on my stomach. "Okay, well I'm gonna take all of this food outside. Mav, wanna help?" He nodded as they grabbed plates and headed outside to the tables that were set up in the backyard. "Amelia, go help them." Penny said pushing her towards Mav, who kissed my cheek as he walked by, grabbing a tray before motioning Amelia to follow. As soon as the door shut I was swarmed. 

"Are you pregnant?" Penny asked, Phoenix behind her looking concerned. "No." I couldn't hold my grin. "Not yet." I squealed as Penny grabbed my hands, her eyes wide. "Magnolia, you sure?" I nodded. "It kind of happened the night I flew back, we got carried away and agreed to try. But, I am trying to not get my hopes up." Phoenix gave me a small smile and nodded. "What about Rooster?" Phoenix looked outside to see him ruffling Amelia's hair. "I think he's more hopeful than me, any chance he gets he's touching my stomach." Penny smiled at me. "If you don't marry him as soon as you get your chance, I'm going to smack you in the head." I laughed at her words as the doorbell rang. "Yay! More people!" I cheered before rushing off to the front door. 

~~~

Everyone was here and we were sat in the backyard eating, just enjoying being together, seeing as we were going to be working together for awhile now. "So what was it you had to tell everyone, Caila?" Amelia asked and it hit me. "Oh!" I nodded as I finished the bite of food I had in my mouth. "So, when we got back from the mission I actually had to go to Atlanta for a hearing about my divorce and a few other things." I caught Phoenix's eye, she had Hangman's sleeve clutched in her hand. "They threw out all the charges and denied the divorce." There were a few gasps, Payback even dropped his plate. "But! We managed to get it moved out of state, they say doing that can add years but I got a call a few hours ago. A judge in D.C. has decided to pick up the case, he's getting everything in order. I don't have a date for a hearing yet, but as soon as I do I'll let you guys know." 

Phoenix came over, pulling me into a hug. "I'm always here." I smiled and nodded. She pulled away as Hangman pulled me into a hug. After a minute I went to Payback, "Let me get you some more food." He shook his head. "It's okay you don't-" "Payback, please. I insist." He sighed and nodded, I skipped off to the kitchen, fixing him a fresh plate of food and grabbing another beer for myself. I walked back outside handing Payback his food, and walking over to Rooster, falling into his lap with a laugh. "Hi, pretty girl." He said leaning down to kiss me gently. "Hi, my love." I grinned at him, holding up the unopened beer. Rooster took it, twisting the lid off and handing it back to me. "Mm, thank you honey." I said as I kissed him. "You're tipsy." I nodded. "And I plan to get plastered."

~~~

Two hours went by, I was pretty intoxicated, most of us were in all honesty. Bob, Mav, Amelia and Fanboy being the only sober ones. At this point Hangman and I were serenading everyone with one of my brothers songs, belting out the lyrics at the top of our lungs. I looked over and saw Rooster looking at my phone before putting it down, but about five minutes later he picked it up again. I furrowed my brows, letting go of Hangman and walking over. "What's wrong?" He furrowed his brows and turned my phone towards me. "Jerry has called you five times in twenty minutes." I furrowed my brows and took the phone, answering it. "Jer-" "Turn your tv on to TMZ right fucking now." I furrowed my brow and rushed inside. "Magnolia!" I ignored the calls and ran into the living room, grabbing the remote for my tv, quickly finding TMZ and turning it on. 

"If you're just now joining us we are currently talking about part-time country artist, full-time naval aviator, and daughter of country music hall of famer, Regina Motley. Caila Wilder, maiden name Motley." My blood was pumping in my ears, barely noticing Roosters arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me back into him. "Caila, I tried to stop this as soon as I heard." Jerry said over the phone but I was too busy focusing on the tv. "As most of us know, Caila has been with big shot Atlanta lawyer Aaron Wilder, for twelve years now and married for five years. But is she following her grandmothers footsteps? We remember the scandal that started!" My heart dropped at the words. 

"We've received word and pictures from a source close to the couple that Caila has been cheating on her husband. It seems she has been seeing fellow aviator, Bradley Bradshaw, Brad Brad as we've taken to calling him." The fake blonde on tv said with a weird smile. The bile crept up my throat her Bradley's name come out of her mouth. Pictures flew across the screen, one of us having brunch together the day after he flew to San Francisco.  Some when we were walking around, going into the jewelry store where he purchased the gold necklace I'm wearing. My hand flying up to hold it against my chest. Most of them were from the baseball game. But the one that really got me was in my driveway, I was standing between him and Aaron. They were at each other's throats and Melissa stood off to the side, smirking. Tears still flew to my eyes wondering what happened to her. 

"He was what apparently caused the fight that almost killed both Aaron and Caila." I squeezed my eyes shut as Phoenix took my hand, everyone was inside watching this. They showed pictures of the car, upside down in front of those trees, making me sink back into Bradley. "The fight started in their Atlanta home where they left from, Aaron driving her to her parents when she apparently lost it and grabbed the wheel, driving them off the side of the mountain." Tears fell out of my eyes as they spun the story that, no doubt, Aaron gave them. "But there is an aspect to this story that nobody knows." I shook my head, knowing exactly what it was. The remote being gripped so tightly in my hand I thought I would crush it. 

"Caila was pregnant at the time, and it wasn't Aaron's. Can you take a guess at whose it was?" We all knew it was a lie, even people who didn't know I had been pregnant knew it wasn't Bradley's. "Rumor is she was trying to pass it off as Aaron's, but she had just come back from being out of town. So instead of owning up to her mistake, sources say she snapped, pulling the wheel in hopes she would kill Aaron. But instead, she killed her ba-" I couldn't handle it anymore, I launched the remote at the tv with a scream, the remote lodging in the middle of the screen as I fell over the back of the couch, sobbing. Someone took my phone from my hand, wrapping an arm around my waist. 

"Who. The hell. Did this?" Rooster had venom in his voice, I assume he's the one who took my phone. "Magnolia, you gotta breathe." Phoenix whispered in my ear as she grabbed my shoulders. "Got it, thanks Jerry." I felt Rooster wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards him as his other arm went under my knees. "I'll be back in a minute." I buried my face in his neck, still sobbing. After a minute he set me down on the bed. "I'm so sorry." I cried as I clutched onto his arm. "About what, pretty girl?" He asked, brushing my hair out of my face. "For dragging you into this." He kissed my forehead, "No, no. None of this is your fault, honey." He laid next to me, pulling me into him. "Rooster this could cost us, everything. All you've wanted was to be a pilot and because of this you could lose everything." He shook his head. "Honey, I told you a few years ago, I would've walked away from it all. I'll go hand in my wings today if that's what it takes." I shook my head. "You've only wanted to be a pilot." 

He chuckled, kissing the back of my head before rolling me onto my back. "But I want you more." My sobs started again, my body shaking as my arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into me. "You know what they said was a lie. The accident wasn't your fault. Losing your baby, was not your fault." He pulled me close, cradling me as I sobbed, until they faded into little hiccups. "Are you going to be okay if I get up to go clean up downstairs?" I nodded. "Some alone time might be good." He smiled at me, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Oh, what did Jerry say?" He pursed his lips. "Apparently Aaron has had most of this ready in case things turned in your favor. He didn't know about the baby until your last hearing and threw it in." I shook my head, wiping my eyes. 

"Hey." He said, his hand resting on my stomach as he leaned over. "No matter what, I'm here and I love you." He kissed me sweetly before getting up. "I love you too, Roo." He smiled at me before getting up, walking out to go downstairs. I sat up, grabbing my phone and calling Jerry. "Caila? I'm so sorry, I'm trying to work to fix this." I shook my head. "It's not your fault." He sighed. "Your mother's team is doing damage control but this is a PR nightmare for her. My office phone is blowing up with media outlets and other reporters trying to talk to me." I tucked my phone between my shoulder and cheek, pulling on my thumbs. "I'm sorry, Jerry." 

"This is not your fault, we knew this was a possibility. They're trying to paint you in a negative light and using old scandals to do it. But you need to know something," I furrowed my brows. "This is blowing up on twitter already. People either hate you or they don't believe it." I nodded. "I had a feeling those would be the two responses." "Just-the judge in D.C. has agreed to keep your case, saying this needs to happen now more than ever. But people have found out who the judge is, and are already crowding the courthouse hoping to talk to him." I threw myself back on the bed. "This means when we go, there is going to be immense media coverage, people are going to crowd you. I just want to make sure you still want this, I can try to find another way." I shook my head. "No, this is his way of trying to win, and he won't." Jerry hummed. "Okay, I will make sure everything is in order and as soon as I can, and I will call you when we have a date." I nodded. "Thank you, so much Jerry." 

We hung up and I stood, slowly walking downstairs. As I landed I saw Fanboy cleaning up the glass from the tv, he saw me and stood up, staring at me. "You had to ruin such an awesome tv? This thing would've been great to watch Star Wars on." I chuckled at him, walking over and pulling him into a hug. "None of us see you differently, Mags. We know the truth." I nodded as I stepped back. "Where's everyone else?" He nodded towards the kitchen. "Putting food away." I huffed and marched in. "You guys didn't have to do this." Coyote shook his head. "We don't mind, you did make all the food anyway." He said as he put the rest of the barbecue in a Tupperware container. "Thank you." 

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

Phoenix walked over, pulling me into a hug. "Please let me kill him." She pulled away, a few tears threatening to fall. "He's not worth it." She huffed but nodded. "Shouldn't you be resting?" Payback asked and I shook his head. "Five minutes alone and I was going stir crazy." I said as I pulled out another beer. "We uh, we saw the blow up on twitter." Amelia said, holding up her phone. "I'll tell everyone they're all lies." I chuckled and pulled her into a hug. "Oh, where would I be without you 'melia?" She chuckled. "Bored." We all laughed at her as Fanboy came back into the kitchen. "Wanna hang around for a little while?" I asked as Rooster threw his arm over my shoulders. "Company sounds nice." Everyone agreed and we all pulled out more beers. This was going to be a very hard part of my life, but I knew with the dagger team having my back, I'd come out on the other side stronger than ever.

Taglist:

@mak-32 @rosiahills22 @dhwanishah09

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

I've got you - Derek Morgan x Fem! Reader

A/N: Do you guys like longer stories or should I stick to smaller, one-shot type ones? Let me know:)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of being attacked

Word Count: 4803

***= time skip

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being the target of unsub was very different then how I imagined it to be. From what I heard about most BAU cases, I’d probably be kidnapped or lured away by someone who presented themselves in such a way that I trusted them. Then once they had me I’d most likely be brutally tortured, held in a remote location and probably end up dead. But it’s nothing like that. At least not at the moment. It could change, I don’t know. Right now – I’m just waiting.

“Hey you!” Penelope’s cheery voice came through the phone.

“Hey Pen. How are you?” I said chuckling.

“Well thankfully today I don’t have to sift through a hundred different photos of some poor persons mutilated corpse as we have no cases. So right now, I’m pretty much up to nothing. I was sorting through some files, you know just tidying things up, but that got boring.” She explained happily. I could hear her twiddling with her fluffy pen in her hands as she spoke.

“Sounds perfectly uneventful.” I replied.

“It is and I couldn’t be more thankful.” She stated matter of factly.

“So can I do for you my love?” She asked.

“Well, I was just thinking I could swing by the office, maybe we could grab a bite to eat? I’m bored out of my mind.” I said sighing.

“It doesn’t surprise me; I still can’t believe they fired you!” Garcia exclaimed. I just rolled my eyes.

“I know, they literally had CCTV footage of Ryan throwing himself at me, yet they still think I was lying, it’s ridiculous.” I huffed.

“I could always do some digging; I’m sure your boss has some type of dirt on him. You could use it as blackmail to get your job back?” She suggested hopefully. I laughed at her words.

“As someone who works for the FBI I really don’t think you should be encouraging me to blackmail someone Pen. But thanks for the offer, I don’t really want to go back there anyways.” I explained.

“Understandable. But anyway, back to the point, yes we can go for lunch.” She concluded happily.

“Brilliant, I’m on my way I’ll be there in 10.” I hung up the phone and grabbed my stuff. It had been so long since I’d seen Garcia, or any of the BAU lot. Despite us being friends for a while now, our different schedules made it hard to see each other on a frequent basis. I checked how I looked once last time in the mirror before making my way out to my car.

********************************************************************

As I made my way up to the BAU offices, I could feel the nerves growing inside of me. It was stupid to feel this way, these guys were some of my closest friends. But it had been a good few months since I’d last seen them in person. I just really didn’t want things to be awkward.

“Y/N!” I heard a familiar voice call from behind me. I turned to see Emily stood with a huge grin on her face.

“Emily, hi.”

“Oh my god it’s good to see you.” She said pulling me in for a hug.

“It’s good to see you too, I’ve missed you guys.” I replied, a smile spreading its way across my lips.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Oh I’ve come to get Garcia, we’re going out for lunch. You can join if you’re free, she mentioned you didn’t have any cases today.” I explained.

“Yeah lunch would be great. I’ll go find the others they’d love to see you.” Emily replied before darting off to find the others. I could see Aaron sat in his office, looking very intensely at some files. I made my way up the stairs and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

I poked my head round the door and smiled at him. “Hi”

He looked up, his stern expression quickly replaced with a smile.

“Y/N, hi!” He stood up from his desk and walked over to me. He gave me a quick hug. “How are you?” He asked resting on his desk.

“Yeah I’m doing alright.” He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not believing me. Bloody profilers

“What’s going on? He asked.

I sighed, smiling at him. “It’s nothing bad.” I didn’t really feel like explaining that I’d been sacked. Even if wasn’t my fault. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, he wouldn’t judge me, but it was still awkward.

“If it’s nothing bad, then why don’t you wanna tell me?” He asked light-heartedly. He wouldn’t actually make me tell him if I didn’t want to, but he wanted me to know I could talk to him.

“I kind of got fired” I confessed. Hotch looked shocked.

“What happened?”

“Some guy was like non-stop flirting with me. But not just flirting, it was really weird. He kept asking me twisted personal questions and would always take pictures of me.” As I explained, I could see hotch getting visibly annoyed. “Then one day, he actually put his hands on me. In a proper gropey way. So, I told the manager and he told me I was lying to ruin this other guy’s career” I rolled my eyes as I finished, the memory of the incident replaying in my head. Hotch was quiet for a second before replying.

“We can lock him up if you want” He suggested causing me to chuckle.

“I’ll consider it.” Hotch smiled.

“Seriously though, that’s messed up. I’m sorry.” He patted me on the shoulder. “

It’s fine, it was a boring job anyway.”

“I’m sure. Well let’s go down, I’m sure the other will wanna see you.” He made his way to the door, and I followed after him. As we came down into the bullpen, I saw JJ, Emily, Reid, and Garcia all stood together. They all turned and smiled as they saw me coming down the stairs. We exchanged hugs and ‘how are yous’ before settling down.

“So, are you ready?” Garcia asked, grabbing her coat.

“Where you guys off to?” JJ asked.

“We’re gonna grab a bite to eat, you guys should come” I offered. They all agreed, and we went to leave.

“Hold up” A voice that made my heart skip came from behind me. I turned and saw Derek Morgan, flashing me that heart melting smile, walking towards me.

“So, you just thought you could walk your fine self into my place of work, and get away with not coming to see me?” He asked smoothly.

I laughed. “Good to see you too handsome.”

“Come here” He swung his arm around my waist and pulled me into him. Besides Garcia, me and Derek were the closest. He was my best friend. I cared about him more than I cared about myself. And if I’m being honest, I miss him more than anyone. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and buried my head in the crook of his neck. I felt his hands holding me close to him. Being in his arms again, as cliché as it sounds, it felt like home. After what felt like forever, we finally let each other go. I tried to hide the few tears that had managed to form in my eyes but when you’re surrounded by a team of profilers that can be quite difficult. Morgan placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, don’t cry gorgeous.” He said comfortingly.

“Ugh I know it’s stupid.” I groaned wiping the tears away. “I’ve just missed you all. So much.” I chuckled slightly.

“We’ve missed you too, sweet girl.” Garcia said nudging my arm.

“Morgan the most though. Your all he’s talked about for a while now.” Reid chipped in, earning a look from Morgan. I raised my eyebrows at him playfully.

“Oh, am I you now?” He rolled his eyes jokingly at me.

“Now don’t start okay, it’s not like that” He said chuckling. We all laughed and made our way out of the building. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morgan punch Reid in the arm. “You’re gonna pay for that pretty boy”.

*******************************************************************

I shouldn’t have been nervous. I’d been back with these guys for what, 3 hours, and it felt like we’d never been apart. I wiped away a tear that had escaped as I laughed at a joke JJ had made.

“So, Y/N, besides your boss being a complete idiot – what's been going on with you?” Hotch asked.

“Um not much to be honest. I’ve been helping my sister out with her son seeing as she’s back at work now.” I explained.

“He’s the same age as jack right?” Hotch asked, a smile forming on his lips. I nodded.

“She’s thinking about relocating, you know trying to be closer to me and her work so she doesn’t have to be away from him as much so they might end up being in the same class.”

“I’m sure him and Jack will be great friends” Hotch replied happily. A comfortable silence fell over us for a second, before JJ piped up.

“How’s the love life then Y/n?” She said smiling, her eyes flickering from me to Derek. I noticed him shift slightly next to me but didn’t think anything of it.

“Yeah, got your eye on anyone?” Emily chipped in.

“Um no, still as lonely as ever.” I joked.

Garcia scoffed. “Not true.”

I glared at her, willing her to shut up but of course she ignored me. “What about that absolute hottie you’ve been out with?” She smiled at me mischievously as she spoke.

Derek turned to face me. “Absolute hottie?” He repeated.

I felt my cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

“It’s nothing, just a couple of dates.” I said hurriedly.

“Well tell us about him” Emily said leaning forward.

“I don’t know guys it’s nothing serious.” I really didn’t feel like talking about him, mainly because of who he was.

“I don’t care I wanna know. Where’d you meet him?” She pressed. I sighed, she obviously wasn’t going to give up and by the look on everyone else’s face they were just as curious.

“We have mutual friends. And I went out for a drink with them one night and he was there.” I explained.

“Very nice.” JJ confirmed.

“What does he look like?” I was about to reply but Garcia beat me to it.

“Absolutely gorgeous. He has this beautiful sort of surfer boy hippie type blonde hair. And his eyes, ohmygod, I feel like he could stare into my soul. And don’t even get me started on that jawline. I could grate cheese with it.” Garcia gushed, placing her hand over her heart. Everyone chuckled before looking back at me.

“Sounds like a real dreamboat” Derek muttered. I glanced over at him, there was something about his tone that made me feel bad about talking about my date.

“What does he do?” Reid asked, finally deciding to join the conversation. I shuffled uncomfortably, glancing at Aaron.

“Um h-he’s a chef” I stuttered avoiding eye contact. Aaron chocked slightly on the mouthful of food he’d just placed in his mouth. Of course, he’d figured it out. My face was defiantly burning bright red right now. Everyone looked awkwardly from me to Hotch.

“What’s his name?” He asked, his voice steady.

“Sean” I said quietly. Everyone fell silent. Garcia’s mouth fell open. I’d never told her who he was, only showed her a picture but I guessed she’d never met him. Everyone waited for Hotch’s reaction. He put his cutlery down and crossed his arms. He just stared at me, not saying anything. I’d never felt more embarrassed. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Did you have fun?” My eyes widened. Safe to say that was not the reaction I was expecting.

“Well, yeah. He took me to a few really cool places, and he’s a total gentleman.” I replied. I thought I saw a hint of a smile grace his lips.

“I’m glad.” He said before turning his attention back to his food. We all looked at each other awkwardly.

“I-is that it?” I stuttered. Hotch turned his eyes to me.

“Y/N you don’t need my permission to date someone.”

“Yeah I know, but he’s your brother.”

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know, I just didn’t want things to be awkward.” I mumbled.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I don’t have an issue with it. If anything, I think you might be good for Sean” I let out a sigh of relief.

“Um well thank you Aaron” Everyone turned back to their food and after a few moments, conversation picked back up again. I looked over at Derek. He’d barley spoken to me since Garcia had mentioned I’d been on a date. I nudged his leg under the table causing him to look at me.

“You doing a sponsored silence I’m not aware of?” I joked. He offered me a tight-lipped smile but he didn’t reply. My brow furrowed.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked. He’s not one for being silent.

“Nothing, I’m all good pretty girl” He replied but he wouldn’t look at me.

“You don’t seem ‘all good’.” Whatever was going on in his head must have been important, we never kept secrets.

“Look at me.” I said, my tone soft. Derek sighed before he turned to face me, reluctantly meeting my gaze. I searched his eyes trying to figure him out. “What’s going on with you?”

“I said I’m fine would you drop it?” He snapped. I don’t think he meant it to sound as harsh as it did, but it took me by surprise. Everyone clearly heard the aggressive tone and snapped their heads to face us.

“Am I not allowed to care about my friend?” I shot back, not caring about the prying eyes on us. He scoffed at my words causing me to raise my eyebrows at him. “Something funny?”

“God can’t you just leave me alone? Just accept the fact that maybe I don’t wanna talk to you right now.” He said visibly aggravated. His words shocked me. He’d never spoken like this to me before and if I’m being entirely honest, it hurt. By the collective gasp that came from the table, it’s safe to say the others were just as surprised. I could feel tears beginning to prick in my eyes. I never cried if someone was rude to me but for some reason the fact that it was Derek, hurt like a bitch. His eyes flickered with regret.

“You know what fine, it’s not like I’ve been waiting to see you for the past 3 months. If you want to sit here and strop like a little kid then you do that Derek. But I’m not sitting around to watch it.” I grabbed my stuff and stood up “Here’s the money for my stuff” I placed the money on the table and turned to leave.

“Y/N, wait don’t go.” JJ called. “I’m sorry guys, it’s been great to see you. I’m sorry it was ruined.” I replied shooting a glare at Derek. Annoyingly, as he caught my gaze a stray tear fell down my cheek. I hurriedly wiped it away before practically running out of the restaurant.

*Third person POV*

Back at the table everyone glared at Derek as they watched Y/N run out the door.

“What the hell was that about?” Emily asked angrily. Derek leant back in his seat, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. He hadn’t meant to upset her. But the way she spoke about Sean, it shifted something inside of him. A feeling he’d never felt when it came to her. Jealousy. He had no reason to be jealous, it’s not like him and Y/N were together. They were friends, and she could date whoever she wanted. In fact, he’d even set her up a few times. But for some reason tonight was different. Maybe it was the fact it was Aaron’s brother? Maybe he was just upset at how the girls had gushed over him? But why would that matter?

“Derek.” Hotch’s voice came. Derek looked up, not realising he’d been ignoring them. “What gives you the right to speak to her like that? She was just looking out for you.” Hotch said his voice stern.

“I don’t know.” Derek mumbled.

“You need to apologise.” JJ added. Derek nodded before getting up.

“Actually, could you give me a ride? Y/N lives the road across from me and I need to grab some things to take back to the office” Reid piped up. Derek let out a small chuckle at Reid’s poor timing.

“Sure. Let’s go, kid.” The boys placed their money down before making their way to Derek’s car.

*1st person POV*

I closed the door to my apartment. and slumped down on my sofa, letting out an aggravated sigh. I could still feel the dried tears on my cheeks. Derek’s words replayed over in my head. Had I done something wrong? He was fine in the office? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to get an answer by sitting on my sofa replaying the events in my head, so I dragged myself over to my kitchen sink. Turning on the tap I splashed my face with cold water. Suddenly I heard my text notification go off. I went over and saw Sean’s name pop up.

“Hey, you, how’s your day been?” I smiled at the words. Sean was so sweet. I had enjoyed the dates we’d been on and he’s definitely someone I want to keep in my life, but I wasn’t entirely sure if he was what I was looking for in a relationship.

“It’s been good. I was able to go to lunch with the BAU lot which was fun. Although, your brother may or may not have found out about the dates we’ve been on.” I typed back a reply. I decided to leave out the fall out me and Derek had, not wanting to explain it to him just yet. Within a few minutes the notification sounded once again.

“He’s going to kill me” I chuckled at his response.

“He was surprisingly okay with it. Even said I might be good for you 😉” I put my phone down and went to change out of my jeans, the food I’d had earlier – as nice as it was – was causing some serious bloating. I threw on a pair of joggers and pulled my favourite grey sweater over me before curling up onto my sofa. I’d barley been able to turn the TV on before I heard a knock at my door. Sighing I got up to answer it. The door swung open and there stood Spencer and Derek, who straightened up when he saw me.

“Hey.” He said sheepishly.

“What do you want?” I replied shortly. I was still pissed at him. He had no right to talk to me the way he did.

“To apologise. I was a complete dick.” He admitted.

“Yep, you were.” I agreed leaning against my door frame. Spencer looked around awkwardly

“Are you going to tell me why?” I pressed. Derek sighed.

“I don’t know, I got jealous I guess.” My eyes widened slightly. Jealous? Why was he jealous. “Just the way you and the girls were gushing over Sean, it just annoyed me.” I scoffed at his words causing him to furrow his brow.

“Since when has my love life been any concern of yours?” I snapped. His reason was bullshit.

“I-It’s not I just-“ But I didn’t let him finish.

“Exactly it’s not. First of all, me and Sean have been out 3 times. It’s nothing serious. Second of all, even if it was that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like I’m a piece of shit. I was just trying to be good friend and make sure you were okay and that’s the response you gave me?” I could feel myself getting increasingly more annoyed. I saw his eyes glaze over with frustration.

“Well, I never asked to sit there and listen to how perfect Mr surfer boy was did I?” He replied. Spencer slowly backed away seeing where this was going and clearly not wanting to be around for it. I laughed at his words throwing my hands in the air.

“Why do you care so much? It’s not like you’re trying to take me out. I can date who I want Derek” I said frustrated.

“No, I’m not but I want to be able to see you. I don’t need some guy hanging around with you as well.” He said just as angrily. I stared at him. He couldn’t be serious right now.

“Well, I’m sorry Derek but you can’t control me okay. I deserve to be happy with whoever the fuck I want and if you can’t handle the fact that someone might be interested in me then that’s your problem.” I yelled and slammed the door in his face. I couldn’t believe him. He didn’t own me, it’s not like we’d ever dated, or he’d shown any type of interest in me. Yet somehow he expects me to just push Sean away because he doesn’t like him. I ran my hands through my hair annoyed. On the other side of the door, I could hear Spencer trying to talk some sense into Derek but I doubt he would be able to. I closed my eyes and leant against the wall trying to calm myself down. Suddenly I heard what sounded like someone running towards me. I opened my eyes and saw just that. Someone dressed in all black was suddenly running at me and before I had time to move had pinned my up against the wall. I tried to screaming but the person pressed a cloth over my mouth. I thrashed my arms about trying to escape their grasp. Luckily, my leg was positioned in between theirs so with all my strength I brought my foot to connect with their groin, causing them to fall to the floor.

“DEREK. SPENCER HELP” I screamed, praying the hadn’t left. As I went to open the door, the person grabbed my ankle and pulled me to the floor, dragging me backwards until they were on top of me. I flailed my limbs about trying my hardest to push them off of me or at least prevent them from doing whatever it was they were trying to do. I screamed desperately for the boys, tears streaming down my face. I was so scared, so wrapped up in trying to protect myself, I didn’t even hear the door burst open. It was only when the person from on top of me was dragged away that I opened my eyes again.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s me. It’s Morgan baby you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Derek pulled me into his lap and held me tightly as I sobbed into his arms. Spencer had the man on his back and was cuffing him. I pulled myself up so I could wrap my arms around Derek’s neck and held onto him for dear life. As I begun to calm down I opened my eyes. I looked behind Derek and saw another person, dressed in all black, stood in the corridor leading to my bedroom.

“SPENCER.” I yelled pointing toward the person. Both of the boys whipped their heads round and saw the person just as they took off running towards bathroom.

“REID GET HIM” Derek yelled as he put himself in front of me protectively. Reid took off after him. As they disappeared into my bathroom, I heard a few shoots go off causing me to flinch and cling onto Derek’s arm.

“Reid, you alright?” Derek called out.

“I lost him. He jumped out the window, down the fire escape. I tried to hit him, but I missed. I don’t know where he went.” Reid replied, his voice flooded with guilt. Derek groaned irritably.

“Okay. Call Hotch, get them down here to come collect this guy. Make sure the whole team gets here, we need to go through her apartment. Figure out how this happened.” Reid nodded before dragging the guy out into the hall and calling Hotch. Derek turned back to face me. I was still sobbing and shaking violently.

“Hey, baby, I’m gonna need you to listen to me okay. “ He said, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.” His voice was soft. I lifted my eyes to meet his, still crying frantically. “There we go. Okay I need you to take a few deep breaths with me. You ready?” He took a deep breath in. I tried to copy him but thoughts of being attacked kept flooding back, making it impossible to focus on anything else. “Hey, your safe. I’m here with you now and I’m sure as hell not leaving your side. Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise. Just breath with me okay.” After a few moments, I was able to calm my breathing, but I was still shaking like crazy. Derek pulled his jumper off and wrapped it around me. I pulled it close to my body, enjoying the warm I was gaining from it. Morgan helped me stand and we waited outside for the others. Soon enough, the black SUV pulled up down below us. I saw everyone jump out and practically hurl themselves up the stairs.

“Where is she? Where’s my girl?” Garcia’s voice bounced off of the walls causing a small smile to pull at my lips. When she caught sight of me she rushed over, her arms open. “Oh my god. Come here.” She wrapped herself around me in a tight embrace which I allowed myself to relax into slightly.

“Okay easy babygirl, don’t go crushing the life out of her.” Derek joked, prying her arms off of me. Garcia glared at him.

“If you weren’t the one who saved her life just now, I’d be slapping the hell out of you right now for how you spoke to her at lunch.” Derek’s eyes flashed over with guilt momentarily before Hotch walked over. “

Are you okay?” He asked me placing his hand on my shoulder. I nodded my head slightly. I wasn’t alright, I was terrified, but I knew they would need my help with this, so I just swallowed my feelings down. “Okay we’re going to need to run through some details with you to try and figure out who would have done this. Anything you can remember would be useful.” He explained.

“The first person-“ I began but JJ cut me off.

“No, not now. You need to rest. We’ll catch up with you first thing tomorrow okay?” She said offering me a small sympathetic smile. My eyes flickered over to my open apartment door. I didn’t want to go back in there, especially not alone. As if he’d read my mind, Hotch spoke up.

“You’re not staying here tonight. Morgan take her back with you, we’ll get cops posted out front as well. Just in case.” He instructed.

“You think the second guy, h-he’ll come back?” I tried to keep my voice as steady and as calm as I could, but I couldn’t hide the stutter. Hotch sighed.

“We don’t know enough about him yet. I would like to believe that he wouldn’t, but I can’t make you any promises. I’m sorry.” The relunctancy was evident in his voice, he knew that was the last thing I wanted to hear but he also couldn’t lie to me. I could feel the anxiety seeping its way back into me when I was suddenly snapped from my thoughts but an arm falling over my shoulders.

“hey, I’m gonna be right here with you the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you; I swear it.” Morgan said comfortingly. I leant into him slightly, wanting so desperately to find safety in him.

“Is there anything you need from your flat?” Emily asked softly. I nodded.

“I need my hairbrush, a-and I left my phone. Maybe some spare clothes?” I replied.

“Okay, do you want me to go get them?” She offered.

“No, it’s fine I can go.” I replied and begun walking over to the door. I stood in front of it, willing my legs to just move forward.

“Hey.” A voice came from behind me. It was Emily with Morgan.

“We’re right here with you okay. We’ll help you get everything.” She spoke. I entered my flat, the two of them following close behind me, scanning every part of it just in case. I gathered all the things I needed and quickly exited the place.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Derek said leading me to the car after we’d said goodbye to everyone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 anyone??

[clarawatson]

It Only Takes a Taste

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: You work at a diner. Aaron Hotchner falls in love with you. We’re not kidding around trying to make us all sound like profilers, just accept the diner life, we love it here. W/C: 1498 Warnings: none yet!  A/N:  First chapter of that diner!au i was talking about here! AO3 ps. I forgot to tag people, so: @willowrose99 & @genevievedarcygranger my beloveds. If you want to get added to the tag list jump in my inbox and i’ll try to remember to add tags every time i post. Where am I in this series?  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

~

When you first meet him it’s 5am and raining. You’re switching over shifts for your friend, Rita, because she’s been doing night shifts at the diner. This late into her pregnancy she shouldn’t be working, not technically, but she needs the money and she’s got insomnia because of the baby, so she works nights now. There’s always someone working with her, be it Joe (who’s got far too much muscle for a chef) or Lola (who can beat anyone to a pulp with a pie tray). In the early hours of the morning a bunch of tatt’ed bikies come and sit and talk about their extracurricular activities (definitely not legal) because one time there was an armed hold up and the police didn’t turn up until two hours after it had happened. People don’t like holding up a diner full of men who eat their own motorbikes for breakfast.

But when he comes in, he’s not any of them. He’s not even one of Lola’s nightly hook-ups (she needs the money, you don’t ask). He’s too well dressed in a grey suit (or is it black? Maybe it’s black), trying desperately to shove his I.D. badge in his pocket. He has a look about him that says ‘I’m part of one of the alphabet soup agencies’. A smile on his face, dead in the eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fumbles with his wallet as he squints to read the menu behind the counter. The rain’s stopped dripping from his hair, instead he’s got droplets like his woken with the morning dew upon him.

“Hi love,” Rita coos as she hangs her apron up. She has a look about her that says she’ll eat this man for her breakfast. It’s an effort not to curse those pregnancy hormones some days.

“Go home,” you tell her, swatting her arm. “Put your feet up, rest, sleep while the baby does or some shit.” Rita sticks her bottom lip out and pouts, but she’s making grabby hands for her purse, which is stored where the tea towels used to be. Far too high to reach even when one’s not pregnant. You grab it down for her, ignoring the showering of thank-yous.

The new guy (who is getting more and more handsome by the second) is still looking at the menu. He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop looking and order any time soon.

“Are you sure you’re fine to take the metro in this weather?” you check. She’s rubbing her swollen belly and looking longingly at the booths that haven’t had anyone sit in them for hours now. 

“Wait forty-five minutes and I’ll take you!” Joe yells. He’s slaving over something in the kitchen even though it looks like no one’s ordered in hours. “Wife gave me the car ‘cause of the storm!”

“Forty-five,” you repeat and point her towards the seat that she’s been eyeing off. Rita sighs, nods, then goes out to the seat. “What can I get you?” Usually when addressing the customer you’d add something gentle like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘dear’ because the customers like it and they come back because they think you’re treating them like a long lost friend.

He bats his dark eyelashes and rubs at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” He sounds tired, balancing on the very edge of exhaustion. He might just fall off into a pit of sleep that he won’t wake up from. Been there, done that. “Do you guys do coffee?”

You laugh and point to the brewed pot beside you. There’s one for each table, free refills with a pie purchase. It’s written in decorative lettering right above you on the blackboard.

“We can put it in a take-away cup. It’s before six so it’s free anyway,” you offer. The last bits a lie, but Joe doesn’t care about a cup or two of coffee going missing. He’ll catch it up later when he flirts with all of the mom’s coming through after school drop off. The new guy nods and pulls out a ten dollar note and shoves it in the tip jar. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he nods anyway. He’s like a broken bobblehead.

“I know.” He goes to the sweets display and searches through it like he’s looking for something specific. Maybe he is. You’ve not seen him in the diner before, and neither has Rita, but maybe he’s one of Lola’s regulars. Maybe you’d judged him wrong. 

“Anything caught your eye?” you ask, leaning over the counter as if you could see it from his angle too. Maybe you do it to show off just that little bit of cleavage. He notices, then looks like he’s done entirely the wrong thing as he licks his lips and blinks like a school boy.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and Rita giggles. You point at her and give her a stern look, but she just puts her hand over her mouth and lies down on the seat. She’s still silently giggling because her belly keeps bobbing above the table. 

“I just…” he has that exhausted look on his face again.

“Long day at work?” The answer is always yes for the people who work at the alphabet agencies. He nods. “Take a seat, grab some coffee, take a minute. It’s only just gone five, you’ve got time.” 

He nods. He looks like he’s gotten his words all mixed up and they’re just sitting in his mouth, refusing to leave. Tongue tied doesn’t exactly encapsulate what looks like is going on inside his head. He sits at one of the chairs in front on the counter, and takes the coffee cup gratefully as you pass it to him.

He’s definitely an alphabet soup man. He sits in this weird stance like he’s countering his weight against a gun. His shoulders are hunched forward as if he spends hours a day doing paperwork. He’s got a nervous twitch in his hands like sitting still is only going to bring the next case.

You think about making a joke about turning on the cellphone jammer, but last time Joe made that joke the whole place ended up swarming with cops. Absolute disaster. No one’s going to do that one again. 

“Cherry, berry or apple?” you ask, grabbing a plate.

“Sorry?”

“Cherry, berry or apple?” Rita repeats from her booth. “For the pie, sweetheart.”

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“Eat it,” Rita growled. You pull a face at her even though she can’t see you. The guy smiles.

“Apple, please.” Well mannered. Sweet. He looks elated as you slide the apple pie to him and hand him the canned cream.

“Not as good as fresh, but it’s better than nothing.” 

He puts a generous amount on his plate. You half think he might like it more than proper cream. Rita leans up just enough to look at him as he digs in, fanning herself playfully before sighing and collapsing back down.

Joe brings out his tray of caramel salted cookies. They’re thick enough to look like cakes with a gooey caramel center, and they usually sell out pretty quickly. The new guy watches them intently.

“How much trouble am I going to get into if I give those to my son?” 

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

You smile. That’s a good age. “How much do you hate his teacher?” 

He considers this with a gentle tilt of his head. “Not a lot. I’ll give it to him after school.” He pulls out his wallet again and Joe looks like he’s just hit the mother lode as he grabs one of the cardboard boxes. 

“If you really want to spoil your kid, y/n here can write really pretty on top.” You glare at Joe. He shrugs. He’s covered in cake batter and cookie dough, and smells like pancake batter. He’s always smelling sickly sweet, and like a well lived in home, despite looking like the living embodiment of Gaston. “She does it for my wife all the time.”

The handsome man’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then shovels the rest of his pie in his mouth like a starved man. 

“I have to go,” he says. He gives Joe another ten and tells him to keep the change. Joe looks like he’s about to break into a song and dance. You pour a fresh cup of coffee into a take-away cup and slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you a thousand times over then goes. With his cookie.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Rita screeches the moment the door shut with it’s little jingle. “I’ll-show-him-my-cleavage-but-I-won’t-ask-his-name?? No wonder you can’t get a date!”

“I’ll do it next time.” Not that there’s ever a ‘next time’ for these alphabet soup agents. They’re always looking for the next place to go to so they don’t have a ‘regular place’ that can be ambushed. 

But in a perfect world... you’d see him every day.

[jingerhead]

I have an idea for you (this is andrews-jorts-loving-pipe-dream btw). So, hear me out, Neil (or Andrew it doesn't matter) gets appendicitis (but he won't admit it) and during his fevered dreams before Andrew (or Neil gets worried enough and feels bad that he's going against Andrew's aversion to doctors) finally gets frustrated enough with his "I'm fine" mantra and drags him to the hospital, he starts imaging all of the foxes as Muppets.

Just an idea 😁😁😁

OMFG so here's a tiny bit that I thought of, I gotta expand this at some point (this ended up being longer than I meant it to be):

Neil was getting worried. The fever was definitely getting worse and Andrew hadn't stopped complaining about the stomach cramps. He hadn't eaten all day - hadn't had anything but water since he'd thrown up that morning - but he'd refused a trip to the hospital. And Neil understood why, but he was starting to think that he'd have to drag Andrew there even if he protested. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

Well, maybe eating would help. Neil had warmed up some canned tomato soup that would hopefully be easy enough on Andrew's stomach. He brought it into the bedroom, where Andrew had curled up under the covers, wearing the big black hoodie they reserved for bad days. The cats were curled up on the bed as well, seeming just as worried as Neil was.

"Andrew?" he called. All he got was a grunt in response, but that meant he was still coherent enough to listen. "You need to eat. I brought you some soup."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Andrew slowly blink at him. "I don't need soup, 'm not hungry," Andrew slurred.

"You haven't eaten anything today," Neil told him, trying to be as patient as possible.

"Hurts," Andrew huffed. "Fine, I'm fine. I'll eat it."

"Thank you," Neil said. "Here, let me take your temperature, first."

All Andrew did was blink slowly again as Neil put the bowl of soup on one nightstand and grabbed the thermometer. He'd never been this out of it before, not with a fever, and Neil was pretty sure Andrew had warmed up again after huddling under the covers. He'd been pulling them away all day.

"Can I take your temperature?" Neil asked.

"'ssss..." Andrew hissed.

Bad. Not good. The opposite of fine. Neil reached out anyway, gently tilting Andrew's head to get the thermometer at the right angle at his forehead. It wasn't until after he saw the number 103°F that he noticed Andrew's stare through his climbing worry. "What?" Neil dared to ask.

"Your..." Andrew trailed off. "Hair's like Beaker."

Huh? "Who the hell is Beaker?"

"From the Muppets?" Andrew slurred. "Yeah. 's all red and crazy."

It wasn't a laughing matter. Andrew comparing him to a Muppet of all things should not be funny, especially given the circumstances. But Neil still snorted. "Thanks, Andrew."

"You know Matt's kinda like Fozzie?" Andrew continued. "Aaron's face does the - does the - " He paused, frowning. "Kermit scrunch. Yeah, that's it."

"So, Katelyn is Miss Piggy?" Neil asked, looking for his phone.

"Yeah. Kevin's Animal. Nicky's a chicken."

"So, who're you?" Neil asked. He found his phone under some of the blankets, using that as an excuse to rip them off of Andrew's overheated body.

"We," he said, motioning for Neil to lean in. "We are the guys that judge everything."

He must've forgotten that he'd already labeled Neil as Beaker. Neil nodded along while Andrew started mumbling that he actually wanted Renee to be the old guy with him and started calling Aaron. "I wish I could record this," he grumbled. "You'll deny this until you die."

"Nobody we know is cool enough to be Gonzo," Andrew added.

"What the hell do you want, Neil?" Aaron asked when he answered the call.

"Your brother has a high fever and just called me a Muppet," Neil said, barely able to keep the smirk off his face as Andrew continued rambling. "I'd appreciate if you'd help convince him he needs to go to the hospital."

[kayy-writes]

Silent

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: kissing, implied smut, poor editing. 

Word Count: 894

A/N: Here’s a little bit of Spencer Reid for you. I mean, who doesn’t absolutely adore this man?

You sighed as you watched the trashy, early morning television show you secretly loved. It was Sunday, and the team hadn’t been called in for a case, which was a rare surprise. Not that you were complaining.

You chewed your cereal and laughed at the ridiculous events unfolding on the screen. The silence was nice, but there was something wrong. You could feel it in your gut. It was almost like something was missing. But you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

So, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, about to text Spencer to see what he was up to. That’s when you saw the list of notifications on your phone, listed under the Do Not Disturb warning at the top of the screen. Shit.

7 Missed Calls

Aaron Hotchner (2)

Emily Prentiss (1)

Penelope Garcia (1)

Spencer Reid (3)

“Well, shit.” The last missed call was from Spencer only ten minutes ago. So much for not being called in.

You scrambled to your feet and ran to your small laundry closet, hoping that your clothes were dry enough to wear. You popped open the dryer and sighed, realizing that you had forgotten to press the start button when you filled the machine over thirty minutes prior.

“Well, fuck.”

A pounding at your door startled you. Who the hell could that be? You turned and scurried to the door, peering through the peephole, instantly recognizing a mop of curly hair. A smile curled over your lips as you opened the door.

“Hey, Spence. Sorry I didn’t answer. I forgot to take my phone off silent mode,” you admitted. You stood back so he could enter your small condo.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay. Hotch wanted me to come over and make sure you weren’t robbed or something.” There was hint of worry in his voice. You believe that Hotch told him to check on you, but Spencer always worried about you, and probably would have come over anyway.

It was just another excuse to be alone with you.

“I’m fine, handsome. See?” You gestured to yourself, clad in your oversized nightgown and fluffy lavender robe. “I was just watching TV. Now, I have to find something to wear and pack. I’m guessing we’re heading out of town?” Spencer nodded stiffly, following you as you headed down your short hallway towards your bedroom.

“We’re headed to California to hunt what sounds like a serial arsonist,” he deadpanned. What was wrong with him?

Spencer reached out and gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm, turning you towards him just before you crossed the threshold of your bedroom. The moment the two of you made eye contact, he pulled you closer, making you gasp.

Your back hit the hallway wall with a thud, while Spencer pinned you against it. You grinned as you peered up at his amber eyes, filled with worry and love, and something else. They were darker than usual, like something was silently lurking under the surface.

One of his hands came up to cup your cheek. “I didn’t know what happened to you. No one could get ahold of you. I worry enough knowing you live here alone, but I know you need your own space. I just—” He stared down at you for a minute, then slammed his lips against yours. This kiss wasn’t like any other kisses you had shared with Dr. Reid. No, this one was hungry, angry, and sloppy. His teeth clanked against yours as his tongue instantly dominated your mouth.

He pulled away as quickly as he had initiated, huffing while he tried to catch his breath. You mimicked him, stunned. Sure, the two of you had been more than friends for while now, below the radar of the rest of the team. But Spencer was usually shy, slow, and gentle with you.

It’s amazing what fear can muster up, you thought to yourself.

Spencer stared down at you for a moment, then took a step back. “We need to get going. You should get changed and pack. I’ll wait on the couch.” His voice was strained, like it was taking everything in his power to hold back from something. Judging by his dilated pupils, you can tell what it was. There was something laying silent behind those angel eyes. But that would have to wait until the two of you were settled in California.

You turned towards your bedroom to do exactly what Spencer said, unable to get that kiss out of your mind. His ferocity made your entire body burn with excitement. And, you couldn’t wait to feel that fire again without a time crunch.

After changing into something presentable, and only lightly wrinkled, you gathered a few more outfits, your medications, and headed from your room. You found Spencer seated where you were only twenty minutes before, texting who must have been Hotch on his phone.

“Ready to rock and roll?” you asked as you entered the room. Spencer stood and smiled, offering his hand. You took it, towing your newly packed go-bag in your other hand, then followed him to the door. Your hand tingled as it laid in his, and the silence between you was ear-piercing. Something new was coming to surface in Spencer, and you hoped that in a few hours, you were going to learn just what that was.

[spencers-renaissance]

can't un-sing a song that's sung.

Summary: The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

Tags: drug use, overdose, hurt/comfort, guilty derek & hotch, angst with a hopeful ending, bedside vigils, protective derek & hotch NO MCD

Pairing: Gen (Platonic Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid; Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Major TWs, obviously. I'm just so angry that no-one did anything about Spencer's addiction in season two, so I decided to punish Derek and Hotch by having the (almost) worst-case scenario come to fruition. Fic inspired by this gifset & title from this poem (v short but v poignant) Fills the 'Overdose' square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card.

The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

His heart sinks, of course, and his stomach feels like it bottoms out. His chest tightens and he struggles to breathe for a minute and a half, his hands clamming up as his tongue freezes and he can’t find the words to respond to Hotch over the phone. But he isn’t surprised. And that, when it really and truly comes down to it, is exactly where his sins lie.

He races as quickly as he can to the hospital, not obeying the traffic laws by any stretch of the imagination as his hands grip so tightly at the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white and the pattern of the leather; the seams where it's sewn imprint themselves on his palm. His heart pounds rapidly and it’s all he can hear, blood thudding in his ears as the tight knot of anxiety sits heavy in his stomach.

He’s just pulling into the hospital car park when he realises that the last time he felt like this — God, the last time he felt like this was when he first realised Spencer was missing all those months ago. He heaves a dry sob as he abandons his car in a space he hopes is the right one, and slams his palm down hard on the steering wheel once.

He allows himself one more guilt-ridden, heartbroken sob before he forces himself to calm down, doing his best to ignore the tumultuous emotions raging inside him as he shuts the car door behind him and hurries towards the entrance.

It’s hard not to cry when he first locks eyes on Hotch. Seeing his calm, stoic supervisor in a state of utter disarray — red-rimmed eyes, messed up hair, ruffled clothes — somehow makes this all seem a bit too real. Maybe in the car ride over he’d still clung to a small, pathetic bit of hope that this is all a nightmare, that he’ll wake up in a minute and he’ll drive to work and Spencer will already be at his desk, beavering away.

In the harsh lights and bustling noise of the hospital corridor, he knows that’s not going to happen.

They don’t say anything as they stare at one another, both clearly struggling to bite back the raw emotion threatening to spill from their eyes, to unleash itself in a full blown meltdown. Eventually, Hotch sits back down and buries his face in his hands, and Derek joins him on the little two-seater bench.

He doesn’t claim to know much about hospitals or medical care in general, but he knows for damn sure that waiting on a bench outside the ICU is not good, and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about that too hard.

They’ve been sat in stony silence for countless minutes before Derek finally lifts his head, though he still can’t bring himself to look at Hotch again. “Have you called the others?”

Hotch swallows, and Derek can see the tear-tracks trailing down the side of his face out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to notice them.

“No,” he says, voice unsettlingly shaky. “Only you.”

He decides now is not the time to dwell on that. “Is he— is he going to lose his job?”

The only reason none of them had done anything sooner was because they knew how important this job is to Spencer. And Derek hates with a burning, roaring passion that their hesitation; their cowardly delay, might have cost him his life instead. Just the thought brings another choked sob from his lips, and this time the tears come with it. Before he knows it, his shoulders are shaking violently and all the emotions Derek is struggling to name finally come pouring out, right into Hotch’s lap.

He feels an arm wrap around him and he’s too broken not to lean into it, seeking comfort from the one person in the entire world who can offer it right now. Falling apart in his superior’s arms is not how he saw his Thursday evening going, but he’s too exhausted to care.

By the time he finally pulls away, Hotch is crying too, and they sit a little closer on the bench.

“Spencer won’t lose his job,” he says determinedly, looking Derek in the eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Derek knows that they will have to lie. Papers will be forged and Hotch will be backed into an impossible corner, and he knows that they could lose their jobs if they are ever found out. He doesn’t fucking care. They’ve already failed Spencer in a disgusting, immeasurable, utterly unforgivable way, and he’ll be damned if they ever do that again.

“Good,” he says, and that’s the end of that.

Derek doesn’t understand most of what the doctor tells them, but he doesn’t really care that much for the technicalities anyway. All he cares about is that Spencer had overdosed in the parking garage of his building and was found by a neighbour he doesn’t even know that well. He cares that a damn near stranger was there for Spencer when he wasn’t, and he cares that Hotch was called as his emergency contact, and as such, Derek can finally step up. He can walk into his room and hold his hand and tell him that he’s here now, and he’s not leaving again.

He cares that Spencer is going to be okay.

He’s still asleep when they’re finally allowed to take their seats by his bedside, and Derek tries very hard not to cry at the sight of him, but it isn’t easy. There’s still a bluish tint to his fingernails, and he looks pale and clammy under the oxygen mask. Medicine drips slowly into the line connected to the cannula in the crook of his elbow, and the heart rate echoing out from the monitors is still alarmingly quick.

The evidence of Derek’s failings is staring him right in the face, and it’s hard not to turn away, but he refuses to let himself. He has a lot to make up to Spencer, but he can damn well start by sitting with him here in his darkest hour.

“We all knew.”

Derek looks up from Spencer’s hand to meet Hotch’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We all knew, and we didn’t do anything about it.” The guilt in Hotch’s voice is momentous enough to rival Derek’s own, and it hurts to hear. Derek failed Spencer as a colleague and a friend-maybe-something-more, but Hotch failed him as a father figure.

He feels tears well up in his eyes again and he does his best to swallow them back down. “Emily did.”

A violent sob tears itself out of Hotch’s lungs, and it’s so loud that Derek almost flinches. “And isn’t that just so much worse? She barely knows him! I met him at lunch with Gideon when he was nineteen, I’ve known him for seven years! Before all of this went down, he almost called me ‘dad’. And I sat back and watched him suffer with both the PTSD of being kidnapped and the fucking heroin addiction he developed because of that bastard, and I did nothing!”

Derek’s at a loss as he watches Hotch break down in front of him, his voice breaking as he shouts, tears streaming down his face as he dissolves into sobs.

“He’s never gonna forgive me. Nor should he. I can’t stand myself right now.”

A little uncertain of the right thing to do, Derek stands up and crosses to the other side of the bed and wraps his arms around Hotch like he did for him only hours earlier. “We all fucked up,” he agrees, “but we’ll get through this. We might never forgive ourselves, but we can always do better. We can do right by Spencer as he recovers, we can help him get clean, help him keep his job, remind him of how loved he is. We can’t abandon that duty just because we failed at doing it before.”

Hotch sits back up and wipes at his eyes furiously, casting his eyes on Spencer. He reaches a hand out and brushes it through his short but untamed curls tenderly, his thumb caressing his eyebrow and forehead gently.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I won’t fail him again.”

Both Derek and Hotch spring into action as soon as Spencer stirs, waking up slowly through the layers of sleep until he’s staring at both of them with a look of terrified uncomprehension in his eyes.

“Hey,” Hotch says softly, hand moving to cup the side of his face. “You’re alright, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital with me and Derek, and everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Spencer slowly looks around the room as the realisation of what’s going on slowly dawns on him, and soon the anxiety is replaced with abject horror and to Derek’s dismay, he immediately starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, pretty boy,” he murmurs as soothingly as he can, following Hotch’s suit and tangling his fingers in Spencer’s hair. “Don’t worry about anything right now, okay? Hotch and I are gonna fix everything right up, and we’re gonna help you. We’re gonna help you like we should’ve helped you before.”

He hates that he loses his composure slightly at the end, but Spencer relaxes slightly so he takes it as a win.

“You can go back to sleep now, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, spotting the signs of exhaustion easily. “We’re gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’ll be here when you wake up.”

When he does finally awaken again, he explains through tears and strangled breaths that he didn’t mean to, that he wasn’t trying to die, he was just so tired and in so much pain that he hadn’t calculated the dosage right.

Hotch and Derek calmly explain that they’re not judging him, and that they’re going to help him through the hospital’s rehab program. Spencer refuses their apologies but they repeat them anyway, trying not to show just how much they hate themselves as they do.

They rope Penelope in, and she helps them make sure Spencer keeps his job, but otherwise their team is entirely oblivious to their chaotic and regret-filled Saturday night spent in George Washington University Hospital.

Most of all, though, Derek does absolutely everything in his power to make sure Spencer is happy, no matter how torn-up and scarred he might feel when he goes home to his own apartment. It isn’t much compared to his property business and his coveted role at the FBI’s behavioural analysis unit, but to Derek it’s his most important and worthy mission in life.

And if that spirals into something more, well. Maybe that’s just one good thing to come out of that small, stuffy, heartbreak-riddled ICU room.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

[pub-lius]

A Debunking and, in my Humble Opinion, Superior Version of Weird History’s “Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton”

I haven’t updated my blog in quite some time, and that is due to my schedule being primarily dominated by school. So, I decided my first step into posting semi-regularly once more shall be a more casual, more fun endeavor. 

If you have not heard of the Weird History youtube channel, good for you. It is yet another social media platform that misconstrues history to appeal to the public’s enjoyment of extremes and strangeness. I saw The Historical Fashion Queens make a video responding to their highly misinformed documentary on corsetry on Miss Abby Cox’s youtube channel, which I highly recommend. This intrigued me, and I decided to find a video I could dissect off my expertise, at first only for fun in my own time. This resulted in the production in a very long bullet list in the notes app of my phone. So here is my informal destruction of this godforsaken video.

Disclaimer: I am not at all excusing any of the awful things Alexander Hamilton did during his lifetime. I am absolutely the last person who would even come near to claiming that many of the things he did were justifiable in the slightest. Although, he might be the only historical figure which I have a very strong interest in the life of, as he was incredibly complex, and the part of me with a love of psychology finds him absolutely fascinating. There is also something to be said about the way we consider moral standards of historical figures. We are quite lucky to believe in the time that we do, and not all of our standards can apply to historical figures. This does not mean they should not be held accountable. I find that a way to criticize people while also praising them where it is due is by judging them based upon their intentions. In my opinion, Hamilton’s intentions were not to harm anyone in most situations, so I don’t think he was a terrible person, nor do I think he was a particularly good one. Then again, I don’t think either of those things about a mass majority of people, so let us proceed without further delay. (Note: I will also be referring to the collective Weird History channel as the Narrator to avoid any mental gymnastics, and all of my knowledge is coming from my memory of Hamilton’s writing and some biographies.)

Automatically, the video starts with mention of the musical, but that just reminds me that many use Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton as a basis of their statements about him without utilizing much critical thinking, so I am slightly nervous. 

The Narrator then refers to Hammy Ham man as “...one of America’s most undervalued founding fathers...” Now, it is debatable whether or not Mr. Hamilton is undervalued per se, but when it comes to the founding fathers, they are usually undervalued or overvalued. At this point, Hamilton is both.

I shall not subscribe, thank you for the offer though, Mr. Narrator.

Now for the first fact: “Historians don’t know when Hamilton was born.” Yes, this is correct, but I don’t believe this should be labeled as “hardcore”, but perhaps that is just me. One early document indicates that Hamilton was born in 1755, while all later ones point to 1757 as his year of birth. We know Hamilton was not always a completely honest man, so it is possible that he lied.

Also, they show an image of a baby, and I do not know if this is actually Hamilton, but they use a lot of strange imagery, which I found humorous.

“A self-made man born out of wedlock.” Now, this fact could indeed be “hardcore”, if this was not colonial America we are discussing. Hamilton actually wasn’t really special in this regard. Yes, his rise to fame was impressive considering his circumstances, but this wasn’t unheard of.

The Narrator then says that Hamilton’s mother, Rachel Faucette, was “estranged from her husband.” This caused me some confusion as it is a vast understatement. Her ex-husband was absolutely awful to her. 

Additionally, they claim that James Hamilton left his family behind for some reason that I did not write in my notes, but the most likely reason that he actually left was because of his awesome debt. James Hamilton also had a history of ambitious pursuits for money, so it would not be extreme to claim that he moved to another island to attempt to make a fortune in some trading endeavor.

They also cease to mention the Stevens family, who housed young Alexander while he was working for Beekman and Cruger, and had a great influence on him, but I digress.

“A college dropout who joined the Revolution.” Once again, this isn’t special. Many rowdy young Whigs left behind their careers and educations for pursuit of military fame in the Continental Army. They also do not mention anything of Hamilton’s expansive military career, which aside from being indicative of primitive research, but would produce more “hardcore facts.”

Although, they do discuss his application to Princeton college, which is interesting enough I suppose, although everyone who has heard the first two songs of the musical knows this story. His proposal for an “accelerated course of study” was likely inspired by Aaron Burr, as claimed by Chernow and Miranda, or James Madison, as supported by evidence provided by author Noah Feldman in his novel, The Three Lives of James Madison, which is an excellent read. Young Madison, having already completed a course, decided to do so again, but compacting a usually three year course into a shorter period of time. He hardly slept during this period, which was stressful upon his health, making Princeton more disinclined to allow a similar course to be taken.

The Narrator then claims that Hamilton “formed his own militia of 25 men.” Technically, yes? But not exactly. Hamilton joined a paramilitary group called the Hearts of Oak, and they drilled in Trinity Churchyard. This became ironic later. He then became a captain in the New York Artillery Company, and enlisted his own men, which was at one time around thirty or so, if my memory serves me correctly.

“Founded a bank that existed for over two centuries.” Ah, yes, a very hardcore fact indeed. Yes, Hamilton did establish the Bank of America, but Robert Morris was the one who inspired him to do so. Though, I do think the financial plan is a product of his own genius, but I will get into that much later.

I got an ad. :(

The Narrator also says that the misfortunes done to the New York shipping industry by the Articles of Confederation were the most prominent, if not sole, motivation for Hamilton to concoct his financial plan. He first recognized the need for a sound financial plan when he was in the army. You know, when he was watching men die of inadequate supplies because the government couldn’t tax the states.

This video, like Chernow’s biography and Miranda’s musical, claims that Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were friends when, in actuality, they weren’t really. Yes, they knew each other, and they didn’t hate each other until the end of Hamilton’s life, but they really didn’t think about each other much before the Election of 1800.

“Hamilton authored over half of the Federalist Papers.” Indeed, he did! I enjoy this fact. It isn’t very “hardcore” but it is very impressive. The Federalist Papers were arguably Hamilton’s greatest accomplishment, as he organized the entire thing and, as previously stated, authored much of them. I very much enjoy the Federalist Papers, as they give some insight as to Hamilton’s political and philosophical theories, as well as how he thought of the world. It makes for an interesting read if you have something you’re looking for.

Now, this may be a hot take, but Madison’s essays are by far more effective, as they were better organized. Hamilton and I share a common flaw, and that is the lack of brevity. 

“Involved in America’s first sex scandal.” Yes, we all know. I’ll get into the Reynold’s affair later because it’s its own beast to conquer. Basically what you need to understand information I shall provide later in this post is that James Reynolds extorted money from Hamilton, and if Hamilton failed to pay, Reynolds would expose the affair Hamilton was having with his wife, Maria. Hamilton paid, but when Reynolds was arrested for something else, he exposed Hamilton anyway.

“He worked with Aaron Burr to defend a man.” Once again, this isn’t very surprising. They were both capable lawyers in the same area, so it was basically inevitable. Though there was this one instance where Hamilton and Burr were working on a case together and Hamilton, being himself, insisted upon having the last word. Well, Burr was tired of him, and I can’t say I blame him, so he made every possible argument in his finishing speech, leaving Hamilton with virtually nothing. 

The Narrator also mentions Hamilton’s opposition to slavery, but he didn’t really outwardly oppose it as much as you would think listening to the musical or reading Chernow’s biography. Far from being the “fervent abolitionist” Chernow and Miranda glorify, Hamilton didn’t really do much for the enslaved. He helped John Laurens in his Black Plan and joined the Manumission Society, but other than that, he never made any attempt to progress the abolition of slavery. He also “purchased” slaves for his in-laws, and some argue that he “owned” some himself, but there is no contemporary evidence to support this that I have seen. The enslaved and servants that were in his household likely belonged to his wife.

“Founded a newspaper that still exists.” Ok.

“Died by duel.” I swear, this fact is by far the most unnecessary. They mention the duel so many times that it is already redundant. I completely skipped over this part, and the video ended, so I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

Well, seeing as this post is already longer than my attention span, I shall save you the pains of having to read any more in just one post. I shall make a follow-up to this where I give my own facts, which I believe are far more hardcore than “he founded a newspaper.” I hope you have enjoyed and this isn’t too terribly boring. I hope to get back to posting soon.

[mrvltwimagines]

Not In Control

AARON HOTCHNER X READER

SUMMARY: You never thought you’d become one of the victims that you fight for.

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

As you walked down the sidewalk, you were positive you weren’t even in your body. You felt as if you were ripped out of your skin and your soul was slowly dragging itself back to the current police station that you and the team were settled in, working on this new case. Your mind ran blank, your body so clearly shaken up but you just couldn’t get a grip on what you were doing or what just happened. Your shirt was untucked from your pants, a few buttons missing, exposing some of your stomach. Your pants didn’t feel like they fit right anymore, maybe it had to do with the panic sweat that accumulated all over your body making the pants stick to your thighs like glue.

“y/n?” You heard your name being called out in the distance. It was like your head was in a cloud, any sound ringing around you making it impossible to focus on anything other than simply walking without falling over.

“Jesus Christ, y/n? Are you with me? What happened?” The same voice popped back up, sounding panicked. You still didn’t register anything until you felt a hand on your shoulder, quickly bringing you back down from the clouds as a cry escaped your mouth.

“Don’t touch me! Stop!” Whoever’s hand it was, they were quick to remove it, and you were even quicker to fall to the ground, pushing yourself to the nearest wall.

“Y/n, it’s just me. It’s Aaron, and Emily’s here with me,” you blinked a few times, the sound of Aaron’s voice bringing you a bit more clarity to see that you were in fact not alone. You were in the entrance of the police department, the environment relatively quiet around you, and not just Emily but the entire team plus a few cops watching everything unfold in front of them.

Your hands were shaking, your heartbeat rising as you finally gained the ability to register what just happened. A sob escaped your mouth, and as you went up to begin wiping tears from your face you were met with the back of your hand being covered in blood.

“He wanted to hurt you, Aaron,” is all you managed to get out through the sobs that wouldn’t stop. You could feel yourself begin to hyperventilate, your mind racing and replaying all of what just happened to you. His hands covering your mouth and neck to shut you up as he pushed you against the brick wall, not even a block from here. His grimy fingers believing they had the right to your body as he stuffed his hands down your pants and threatened to kill you if you made any sound. You thought he was for-sure going to kill you afterwards, why wouldn’t he? What surprised you the most was that he didn’t go any further. Instead, after a few moments of violating you, his breath was back on your neck.

“Now tell Aaron, the ball is in his court. I’d love to see him try to top this. I’ve been watching how he looks at you. Boy, is that man in love. Hopefully this will hurt him. If not, at least I get the satisfaction of knowing it sure as hell hurt you,” he had the audacity to laugh after that, right before smashing your head into the wall behind you and ditching you right there in the alleyway. It didn’t take you long after that to get back on your feet, leading you to where you are now.

“Hey y/n, calm down okay? Can I touch you? Can I grab your hand?” Aaron was being gentle, his usual stern voice gone, and an upset, gentle one taking control of his vocal chords. Your tears haven’t stopped, and your chest felt unbearably tight, but you nodded to let him know that he could touch you. You needed him to touch you. You needed him to take away the feeling of the other mans hands.

Aaron moved slow as he sat down next to you and grabbed your hands, attempting you calm you down with soothing words and a low voice. You tried not to think about the incident and to just focus on what he was saying and the feeling of his hands in yours. You were calming down, enough to notice that the others had dispersed, clearly knowing that space was necessary and that they’ll be filled in on what happened soon enough.

“Now I need you to tell me who did this to you, and if you can manage to tell me, what they did to you,” Aaron calmly spoke, taking advantage of your more even breathing and seemingly clearer mind.

“I know I shouldn’t have been walking alone. You even told me not to and I went against your wishes and did it anyway. I’m so sorry, I’m so stupid, I just needed some air,” your tears started to pick back up at the memory of Aaron specifically saying that with a serial rapist and murderer being loose in this small town, that it simply wasn’t safe for any woman to be on the streets by themselves. You don’t know why you suddenly thought the rules didn’t apply to you, but you had wished that you listened. Aaron was always right after all.

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened so I can help,” he quipped back, getting desperate to get to the bottom of things so he can help catch whoever did this to you. His ability to stay focused on the actual Unsub was growing stronger now that you were the victim. All he wanted to do was hold you and never let you go, but you both had jobs to do.

“It was the mailman. I don’t remember his name, but r-remember? he even came into the station to give us a letter he had supposedly come across on one of his mail runs,” his face stuck in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, just hoping for a second of piece without picturing his face looking down on you, “he wanted to hurt you, so he hurt me knowing the affect it would have on both of us,” you sucked in a deep breath, just trying to get through telling Aaron what happened without full on sobbing again. 

“Did he-”

“Not fully. He just- he pushed me against the wall and just used his hands, but he didn’t take it any further,” you cut off Aarons question, answering what you knew he was going to ask, “but he still violated me, and he did it with the intent of hurting us. Then he slammed my head against the wall, and after that i somehow made it back here.”

He was silent for a minute while your crying picked back up. His hands squeezed your a bit tighter before he decided to move in a little closer and surround you with a hug. You could tell he was hesitant, but you pulled him even tighter against you, trying to memorize the feeling and replace the memories. 

“I’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you,” he started. You shook your head, knowing none of this was Aaron’s fault. In fact he even warned you, but even then deep down you knew it wasn’t your fault either, it was his. 

“C’mon, lets get you to a more comfortable place while i tell the team who it was so we can catch him, yeah?” you nodded, accepting his offer as he did most of the work of lifting you up. He brought you into a quiet room just off the main room that everyone was waiting patiently in. You passed the team who offered you distraught and worried faces, but you weren’t ready to speak out-loud to anyone other than Aaron. He was your rock, and while you wish none of this had ever happened to you, you sure as hell were glad you were with him. 

You didn’t pay much attention to Aaron as he stated he’ll be right back once you were settled into a comfortable chair. You pulled your knees up to rest your chin on them. You could hear Aaron talking in the other room, and the others talking back but the words weren’t clear to you. You just wanted to forget everything that happened. You felt guilt settle in your stomach knowing you could’ve avoided this if you had just listened to what you were told. Now you were putting the team in a weird situation because you were the one and only of this unsubs’ victims thats alive. You knew the most information out of anyone to be able to catch this guy, but all you wanted to do was forget.

Aaron was quick to come back in and announce that he was taking you to the hotel the team was staying in. You didn’t fight, knowing you would be no help here. 

“Are you going to stay with me?” you asked, as you sat in the passenger seat while Aaron drove towards the hotel. He looked at you briefly before nodding.

“Of course. I’ll still be working with the team over the phone, but i don’t want to leave you alone.” 

You were beyond grateful to have someone like Aaron. The two of you didn’t have a defined relationship, but you knew there was definitely more than platonic love between you two and you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by your side during this.

“He-,” you paused, knowing the words coming out of your mouth were going to be hard, “he didn’t rape me, Aaron. i just want you to know that. He took advantage of me in one way, but he didn’t fully assault me,” and by the way his eyebrows scrunched, you could tell your entire sentence left his mind running wildly.

“He still assaulted you, y/n. It should’ve never happened and you’re still hurt and most likely traumatized by it. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t “fully assault” you, he did enough.”

The car ride was quiet after that. You knew he was right and you were just trying to downplay what happened so you could try and convince yourself that it wasn’t that big of deal, but it was. No one has the right to touch your body without consent, everyone knows that and yet there’s still people like him that feel they’re deserving of forcibly touching you.

You were too deep in thought to realize that Aaron had already parked and began to walk around the car to your side. The sound of your door opening made you jump, before realizing it was just him. He didn’t question you, he figured you’d be stuck in your head for a bit, instead he just wordlessly helped you out of the car and towards your hotel room. 

The second the door closed behind the two of you, you could feel the tension in the room. Is he upset with you for not listening to him earlier? Is he judging you for not being able to fight back? or are these just things that you’re upset with yourself about?

“Are you upset with me?” you blurted out. At this point, the ability of censoring your words or thoughts were out of the picture. You were still wound up and hurt, and you needed the room to not be filled with unnecessary tension. You needed his comfort. His frown deepened as he made eye contact with your worried eyes. You were looking at him as if you might cry again, and he hated it. He hated seeing you so distraught when he knows you to be one of the toughest people he’s met.

“Why would i be mad at you?”

“I didn’t listen to you earlier about not going outside by myself,” you accentuated with your hands, “you literally said it was dangerous for any woman to go outside by themselves and i still did it! I must look so stupid!”

“Are you kidding, y/n?” a deep sigh escaped through his nose as he just stared at you, “In no way is any of this your fault. I need you to understand and believe that. No, i am in no way mad at you, so please get that out of your head. I’m worried. I feel a bit sick knowing something like this has happened to you, but i am no where near mad. I’m thankful you’re still alive. This is about you, and how you’re hurting, and i just need you to believe that i’m not mad and that i will do anything to help you work through this. We’re going to find this man, and lock him up for the rest of his life. I still feel like thats not enough for what he’s done to you and many others, but he’s not going to win in any way.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry again, nodding you head as Aaron approached you carefully and wrapped his arms around you. You could tell he wanted to say so much more, and that he wanted to do so much more, but there wasn’t anything he could do. 

“I love you, you know that right?” he whispered into your hair. You nodded. You’ve known for awhile that he loves you. It’s been shown in the light touches he’ll give you throughout the day. The way he looks at you when he talks. The way he hangs onto every word you say, and always forms a response just to hear you continue to talk. It’s also in the way that he’s always been the first one to approach you after a bad case to ensure that you were doing alright, and he always accepted your need for physical affection to help you cope with the tragedies’ you all experience. 

“I know. I love you too, Aaron,” you responded. He continued to hold you in a hug, before pulling away a bit to look down at you. He asked you questions along the line of you being hungry or if you wanted him to put on your favorite show so you could lay in bed and distract yourself for awhile. You accepted all of his efforts and by the end of the first hour of being in the hotel, you were cuddled up in the bed watching your favorite sitcom while stomaching a few of the fruits that were cut up and placed in front of you.

Aaron occasionally took calls from the team, working with them, but his body was always connected with you in some way, as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn't touching you. The mailman, who’s name you found out to be Daniel, was caught and arrested within hour four of you and Aaron laying in bed, and your mind was put to ease a bit knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone else. 

It was going to take awhile to cope with what happened to you. Everyone on the team knew that, but you were brought a bit of comfort and peace knowing you had all the right people surrounding and supporting you, and that you had Aaron to fall back on. You would get through this, it was just going to take some time.