#jj i can see the stench.

[johnbwas-here]

so you have money for drugs and alcohol but not your childhood friends medical bills…?

s m h.

@sarahcambabessss babyyyy… JJ’s being mean!

john b when did you take this?😒

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Green Eyed

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x Reader (Jj x reader & Jb x reader)

Summary - You want Rafe to admit you’re his girl so you set out to make him Jealous.

Warnings - drinking, language, oral, sex, choking, scratching, name calling, slight manhandling. 18+

The party was in full swing, red cups lined the kitchen bench and the stench of tequila wafted through the vents. You sat upon the couch, pressed between Rafe and Topper. Both of them talking above your head while you watched your best friend flirt with her coworker, you loved people watching. Especially at parties where they really let loose and show you their hidden personality.

“It’s rude to stare '' Topper jokes, his arm resting behind your head casually. Ignoring the glares Rafe was throwing his way, this usually caused an argument between the two of them. Rafe would say ‘don’t touch my girl’ and Topper would throw the ‘she isn’t your girl until you make her your girl’, it would just spiral from there. Honestly it was kind of draining, Rafe always telling people you were his girl but never officially making you his girl.

“So Topper, do you think Rafe is jealous?” You're adding fuel to the fire, smirking up at Rafe who’s brows are scrunched together in annoyance. You could practically feel the anger radiating off his broad frame.

“Why yes y/n, I do think he is jealous” Topper chuckles, his fingers dropping to your shoulder giving you a small squeeze. Rafe scoffs angling his body to face the both of you, anger still riddled his features.

“Please… I am not jealous” he states, no hesitation to his words. Your heart drops, did he really mean that? Or was he fucking around?

“Oh really?” Your eyebrows raise at him, a challenge. You were down for a challenge, you’d show him. “You wouldn’t mind if I did this then”.

Your lips are on Toppers before Rafe can even respond, your tongue invading his mouth. Your hands cup his jaw as his own hands greedily pull you in by your lower waist.

You feel his body move from beside you and when you pull away he’s storming through the party, fists curled at his side in anger. “That worked”.

“Sorry, I should have asked if that was okay” you say, giving Topper a soft smile which he reciprocates. “That’s alright, I’m down to make Rafe jealous any day. Bro needs to be knocked down a peg or two” he jokes, watching his best friend throw back shot after shot. The both of you laugh at how quick he was to leave, your feeling rather cocky until he’s pulling the girl you have such a deep hate for to his lips.

The breath is knocked out of you at the sight, his hands are feeling all over her body. She’s fucking loving it, practically humping him like a goddamn dog. He’s pushing her against a wall and slipping his fingers under her dress, the anger is bubbling within you.

“He’s a dickhead” Topper says beside you, his hand runs up and down your arm in a comforting friendly sort of way. “Don’t worry, I’m going to win this thing” you state, pushing yourself off the chair and storming into the dance floor.

There was no one else Rafe hated more than JJ Maybank and you knew he would be around here somewhere, your tapping Kiara on the shoulder giving her a smile which she reciprocates surprisingly. “Do you know where JJ is?” You ask, you don’t like your odds with her. She was fiercely loyal to her friends and hated Kooks to the core. She was a hit and miss when it came to being her friend, something you’ve dealt with since you were kids. “Probably outside smoking a joint”.

She’s turning back to her friends before you can ask anything else, you look back over at Rafe one last time and set out on your hunt.

Back inside Rafe is pulling away from the girl in front of him, turning back to the seat you once occupied. Grinning to himself when he sees you're gone, pushing the girl's skanky hands away from him and stalks back over to Topper. “That was low bro” Topper tutts, shaking his head at Rafe who rolls his eyes in response. “Where did she go?”.

“Oh you don’t want to know” Topper grumbles, Clearly unhappy you were going to use a pogue instead of a Kook. He was all good with this little game but didn’t like the idea of the pogues. “Tell me”

“Your not going to like it bro”

“Just fucking tell me!” Rafe shouts, fisting his friend's shirt in anger. “Went to look for Maybank”.

Rafes face is pure red, the vein in his neck threatening to burst. He shouts a few curse words and drops Topper back on the couch, storming his way through the house.

You're kissing JJ Maybank, someone you never thought you’d kiss. He always jokingly said how much you wanted him and would say he’d rock your world, you’d be begging to be a pogue, you just didn’t expect to be dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Right here?” JJ stutters, aware that you were not at all in private. Anyone could step behind the shade cloth and see you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. “Don’t be scared” you purred, stroking his cock slowly emitting a low groan from his chest.

Your tongue swirls around his head, swallowing him deep into your throat. Your cheeks hollow around him, tongue gliding up and down his shaft. He’s a moaning mess, fingers curled into your messy hair. Leaning against the wall for support, he was not surprised with how good you took his cock. “I always knew your pretty mouth was good for something” he groaned, rolling your eyes at his words you pushed him to the back of your throat, spit trailed down your chin.

Rafe was about ready to beat the absolute shit out of JJ, eyes staring hard from across the garden. His anger was radiating off him, his body shook with rage. “Fuck” he screamed, causing the bodies in the garden you scatter from him. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of Rafe Cameron.

The moment you hear his voice, you move faster against JJ, it only takes a few more strokes of your tongue and you're pushing him away and angling his cock to his exposed stomach. He’s shooting his load all over himself, eyes hooded and breath labored. He watched you pull yourself to your feet, wiping your mouth with your thumb. “Thanks” you breath, spinning in the spot you walk away from him and towards where Rafe and Topper stood.

You should feel slightly afraid with the way he’s staring at you, his eyes are dark with anger and the veins in his arms are straining hard. “Like the show?” You smirk, patting him on the chest. His fingers grip your wrist tightly and worry floods your veins at the tightness, screwing your face up in pain. Topper's hand comes up to squeeze Rafe’s shoulders, reminding him where he is and who he’s touching.

He lets your wrist go instantly but doesn’t say a word, you expect him to cave and admit he is jealous and finally ask you to be his girl. Instead he is once against stomping away, you roll your eyes hard and turn to Topper.

“He’s so damn stubborn! What the fuck!” You exclaim, snatching the drink from Topper you skull the half warm beer and pass him back the empty bottle. “I need something stronger”.

A fair few shots later, you're dancing like an absolute mad woman with Topper and your best friend. Glancing around the room looking for Rafe, expecting him to be lent against the wall watching. “Where is Rafe?” You question Topped, he shrugs and goes back to dancing.

You step away from them in search for him, suddenly feeling nauseas that he’s fucking some one else up stairs.

Your opening doors and searching high and low for him, the last bathroom stares you in the face. You knock but no one says anything, gripping the door handle you open the door. Rafe’s eyes meet yours and evil smirk paints upon his face, your eyes drop to the floor where you're supposed friends kneels in front of him. His cock burried deep in her throat, tears of pleasure soaking her cheeks.

You're slamming the door shut and running away from the bathroom, tears are threatening to spill. Topper and your best friend are nowhere to be seen, searching the crowd for anyone to hide with.

“What’s wrong” John B is questioning, his arm comes around your shoulder pulling you in for a hug. It was no secret that you and John B got along, he was the only pogue who didn’t just look at you as a piece of shit or a piece of meat. “Rafe”.

That’s all you need to say, John B nods and pulls you up the stairs. You follow closely behind him, walking into a room unoccupied. Moving over to sit on the bed. “He’s just so infuriating, he won’t admit he’s jealous, he won’t ask me to be his girlfriend” you blurt, covering your face with the palms of your hands. “I am purposely going out of my way to make him jealous and he just one ups me, I just caught him getting a fucking blow job from Beck! She’s meant to be my friend!”

John B takes a seat next to you and pulls you into a hug, your fingers crunch up the material of his shirt in anger. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, he lets you complain and mumble into his shirt for a few moments until he pulls you away.

He’s kissing you to stop your rambling, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Moving your body to straddle him, his hands run up the length of your thighs. “Let's make him jealous and you’ll even get an orgasm out of it”

You're nodding your head and pressing your lips to his, grinding your hips into him. You can feel him growing beneath you, your wetness begins to soak the material of your panties. Your grabby hands bunch up his shirt until he’s throwing it over his head, your fingers dancing across his chest and abs.

Dipping your hands low to unbutton his shorts, you step off him and pull your dress over your head. Your breasts sat bare, John B’s eyes trained in on your hard nipples.

“Just to make Rafe Jealous” you state, he nods his head and you step towards him. He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down onto the bed.

Rafe is wild, running around the house and outside looking for you. Topper follows close behind him, they both search for you. “You took it too far bro, if you just told her you were jealous she wouldn’t have run off” he says, rolling his eyes at his best friend. Rafe comes to a stop and turns his body, running the palm of his hand down his face. “Shut the fuck up… I already know that! She’s mine okay and I’m going to show her that she’s mine!” He growls, storming back off again. He runs up the stairs, pulling open doors. He just about falls to his knees at the sight of you laying upon the bed, somebody’s head between your thighs. Your face screwed up in pleasure, explicit moans fall from your open lips. His hand shoots out to stop Topper from walking in and seeing you naked upon a bed, your head turns to the door in shock at the sound of Topper grunting.

You're coming around John B’s tongue at the sight of Rafe watching, his eyebrows creased and he steps into the room. “You’ve had your fun, now get out before I break your goddamn face AGAIN” he growls, his eyes don’t leave yours. He knows if he sees John B’s lips glisten with your arousal he will pummel him. He watches as you sit up slowly, waving your hand towards John B. “It’s okay” you say, giving him a look of ‘this is what I wanted’, he nods his head and pulls his shorts back on and stumbles out of the room.

You reach for your dress, but Rafe is quick to snatch it from you. “Give it back” you exclaim, reaching for the material. Your bare chest presses to his, you could feel the thud of his heart rattling against you. The heat from his anger radiated from his body, he dropped the dress and enclosed his fingers around your throat.

“You know I don’t like to share” he growls, he walks you back until the back of your knees press to the bed. Tightening his grip around your throat, watching your face flush red. You let out a choked cry scratching at his forearm, he lets go slightly and pushes you down on the bed. “You were jealous Rafe, just fucking admit it!” You shout, you dig your nails into his forearm causing him to pull away from your throat. “Fucking admit it Rafe! Fucking admit that you want me to be your girl! If you don’t, I’m done” you warn, you press your foot into his chest and push him away from you. He stumbles back into the wall giving you the opportunity to grab your dress and run around the side of the bed.

“Admit it… I’ll put this dress on and I’ll walk out that door. You’ll never see me naked again” your chest is heaving, anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You weren’t sure he would admit, he was stubborn and could be such an asshole when he wanted to be. You weren’t sure you could take it if he let you leave, you were in love with him.

You both stare at one another, you begin turning the dress inside out. Before you can slip your arms back into the holes he is once again ripping it out of your hands, grabbing your jaw instead.

“Your mine… I own you” he growls, smashing his lips to yours. A moment of weakness takes over and you kiss him back, reaching around his neck with both arms. “Wait Rafe no.. Rafe stop” you mumble pushing on his chest, he wasn’t going to get away with it again. “Fuck! Y/n, I love you okay! You're my girl.. your mine!”.

You forget how to breathe, staring at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t expected him to say he loved you. His thumb caresses your bottom lip, your breath fanning over him. “I love you to” you manage to squeak out, your lips are on each other again.

Your naked body pressing against his, his greedy fingers grab and pull at your skin. His fingers reach between you to cup your cunt, already dripping for him. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m not going to punish you for letting fucking John B touch you!” He growls, biting down on your neck. You let out a squeal, legs opening just enough for his fingers to slip through and into your hole. “This pussy better be wet for me and not that fucking pogue” he states, his eyes have darkened with lust. His fingers roughly thrust deep into you, you let out a hiss when his thumb circles your throbbing clit. “Answer me”.

“It’s.. it’s wet for you Rafe!” You cry out, he drags his tongue down the length of your neck. Dropping just enough to enclose his mouth over your nipple, biting and sucking. You're trembling around him, nails digging deep into the skin of his shoulders. One of his hands holds your leg up, exposing your abused cunt to him.

“That’s it you dirty slut, fuck my hand. This is the only goddamn hand that’s going to be inside you until you die”

His fingers abruptly stop, pulling out of you sharply. The sound of your dripping cunt is heard over your gasp, your orgasm fizzles out leaving you high and dry. “Rafe! What the fuck!” You cry, he ignores you and begins taking his clothes off. His cock stands tall, he lets out a hiss when he fists the base. Pre cum drips down his hand, the tip is a deep red calling out to be sucked.

Your eyes meet again and he is quick to snatch you up, throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll. Moving your body so you were on all floors, ass up high and head down low. “I’m going to show you who fucking owns you and this sweet fucking pussy, do you understand me?”.

You're nodding your head furiously, your hair covering your face. A moment of sweetness he reaches down to gather your hair up and swipes it to the side exposing your face to him. That moment is quickly gone and he’s gripping your hips, he doesn’t give you a chance to steady yourself. Slamming his cock deep inside of you, no matter how many times you have fucked him he always stretches you out. Your cunt burns from the intrusion, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. His own hips meet your ass roughly, his palm pushes against your back stopping you from looking back at him.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pounds into you, his cock hits so deep you think you can feel him in your guts. Your cries are muffled by the blanket, tears stream down your face as you chase your high once again. “Fuck your pussy never ceases to amaze me”.

His grip is tight and you're sure you’ll have bruises in the morning, he’s relentless, letting all his anger out on your pussy. “So fucking wet”.

His words just cause a waterfall between your legs, dripping all over his thick cock. “Fuck… Rafe! Fuck!”.

Your walls are sucking him deep, pulsating around him. “Please.. oh god please” you cry, you want to cum so bad it’s to the point of pain now. It’s stirring in your belly, toes curling and blacked out vision.

“Not yet”.

He’s pulling out of you again, clenching your pussy down on nothing. That orgasm so ready to explode fades away again, he grips your hair and pulls you from the bed. He manhandles you until you sit upon his lap, his cock teasing your lips. “Ride me”.

It’s an order, and an order you shall take. You're sliding down his cock, bouncing against him for dear life. “Fuck.. that’s it your dirty slut! Taking me like an angel but really you're the devil”.

He’s kissing upon your neck and chest, leaving behind dark red bruises. Marking you as Rafe Cameron’s girl. You did not care, you wanted everyone to know you were his girl. Your tits bounce, pussy swallowing him until you can’t tell where you start or he ends. Buried so deep within you, you feel full. “Such a Fucking perfect pussy hmm”.

“Yeah.. oh god Rafe! I can’t take it! Please please Rafe… please let me cum” you beg, gripping onto his shoulders as you bounce hard and fast. “Go on, cum on this cock. Show me how much you love me”.

You do as you're told, you chase that high. You chase it until blood drips down his shoulder blades, your body trembling above him. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.. oh fuck! Oh my fuck—”.

You screams of pleasure can be heard from the first floor, your eyes squeezed shut, Rafe has to physically move you above him as you black out from the pleasure. His own release following, burying himself deep inside of you.

It takes you a few moments to come back to reality, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. Taking deep breaths to steady your heart rate, moving just enough to look him in the eye.

“You called me a slut” he’s quick to fall back into the usual Rafe he was when around you. “I didn’t mean it”.

“Good because if I’m a slut so are you… you let my friend suck your cock” raising your eyebrow up at him in amusement, he closes his eyes for a split second and looks back at you. “I think we are even”.

“Yeah alright, let’s call it even. So you do love me?”

“I do love you”

“Suppose I love you too”.

Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @eliana772 @gabys-gabs @applelovesposts @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @hdhdhsy @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @loverofdrewstarkey @bbycowboi @teresalesbian @imnotpretzelsstuff @its-ria-07 @jscameron @rafegirly (If you no longer want to be tagged please let me know and if you want to be tagged please let me know)

[grapejuicestyless]

Orange Juice

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: High school sweethearts, the picture perfect pair whose story crumbled as quickly as it started. All because of a reckless boy and his addictive nature and an emotional girl and her growing tiredness.(warning: Mentions of addiction(alcohol).)

“I need you!” He pleads, words broken and grass stuck to his knees as he stands from his spot on the ground where he lay face down, passed out in the front yard of the chateau once again.

He held her hands in his, pulling at her fingers until her knuckles seemed to stretch at his sheer force and determination to keep her put in place, to keep her with him.

“If that was true you would have stopped!” Her voice was shaky, tears burning into her cheeks and her throat constricting with each choked up breath. Still, she couldn’t look at him in the eyes, the same deep blue eyes that held her youth and captured her heart with nothing more than the twinkle of innocence and play.

She knew if she were to look back she would try to keep fighting it, and as much as she longed to always be there to help, it was obvious her help was nothing more than something that delayed his progress. JJ was his father’s son, whether they admitted it or not. No, he never laid a hand on Y/n’s skin, but when he drank his words shot to kill. He carried the same fire in his soul and a pent up rage that seethed through the cracks in his teeth each time he held a solo cup in his palms.

No amount of comfort or persuasion would stop the boy from sending himself six feet in the ground. He had drank them both dry and Y/n hated to admit that she had lost the fight, she had to throw in the towel. He wouldn’t get better until she was gone, and she knew it, even if he refused to admit that he needed to let the harsh slap of reality to beat him senseless for him to find his feet.

“You know it’s not that simple, baby! Please, tell me you know it, I’m trying, I really am. Please.” He cries, lips trembling all ugly as his nose runs and his cheeks become blotchy. He’s a mess, looks it and smells it too.

His boyish smell of sweet cedar and the sandy beaches covered with vanilla are masked with the stench of whatever he pours into his cup and day old cigarette smoke. His blonde hair isn’t messy in the cute way that he wore it when her hands would ruffle through each lock, but because he hasn’t made it to his bed in days, choosing to pass out somewhere from the front lawn to the living room if he ever makes it that far.

“Don’t bullshit me, Jay. You and me both know it, I’ve tried, and I’ve tried and we’ve wasted all that potential to get better and we’ve fought this before. We win the fight, but what about the war? What about me, the bed I sleep in and the pillow that doesn’t even smell like my fiancé anymore because he prefers to be face down passed out in our lawn!” Y/n rips her hand away from JJ’s like it’s poisonous, a bite that stings and slowly works its way into her blood.

Y/n’s not angry at him, her lover, her sweetheart fiancé. No, how could she ever be when even at his worst she can only ever see the good hidden deep inside of his abusive behaviors and dependence on all the wrong things.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home for so long, so long JJ and you never come back anymore. You’re too far gone to even remember that theres a warm bed waiting for you.” She cries, eyes closing and head falling into the boy’s shoulder as she sobs out sentences aimlessly.

The worst part is that it’s his own fault. His whole life he tried so hard to finally break free of his family’s name, the bitter memories of his abusive father and absent mother leaving him with a motivation to be better than they ever could have been. Yet, here he is half drunk with the same smell stuck on his breath and some half-assed apology ready to spew out at his lover.

“I’ll get better, for you, I will. I’d do anything for you.” She pulls away, looking at him with big doe eyes and a scrunched up nose. He thinks he finally has a chance to change for a second, to fix all his wrongdoings until she shakes her head, looking down at her feet and stepping away from him.

“No, no. Jay, no.” Wiping her cheeks, Y/n seems to finally let go of the innocence that once masked all of his imperfections.

“Your heart has changed, your soul has changed and you aren’t the man I love anymore.” Watching how she fiddles with the ring on her finger breaks his heart, no it absolutely crushes it. Reality is a sour taste to be swallowed down and JJ just can’t seem to get it down now that it’s all right in front of him.

“And I’ll always love you, and if you ever need me I’ll still be here-“

“No, Y/n/n, no.” He tries to follow her, the ring in his palm burning a circle on his skin. A symbol of their eternal love that seemed to redefine what ‘forever’ really meant.

“But I can’t be the one you rely on anymore, it’s not healthy for you.” She tries to reason with him, but he doesn’t want to hear it, he only wants her to hold him again.

“I love you!” JJ tries to make her see it, how his blood only keeps pumping even when he should be dead by now because in his heart he knows he’ll feel her touch against his forehead in the hot summer mornings and her hips against his in the late afternoons that seemed to always slip away far too quickly.

“You’re not your father, Jay.” She reminds him, making JJ stop in his tracks where he debates whether or not to cry or laugh in relief or anger.

“So thats it?” He decides to be angry even if he really isn’t, even if it’s his own fault for driving the girl away. Even if they both recognize that she needs to go away for some time.

“You’re just going to go ahead and carry on? Leave me here alone like I don’t even matter? What, was I pulling you down? Was it just too much?” He spits it like fire at her heart and she tries not to take it too harshly. Y/n knows he gets mean when he’s tipsy, and the empty bottles hidden in the long grass tell her that he’s well beyond that point now.

“I need you to get better.” She begs quietly, looking down as she speed walks down the old dirt roads that lead to a better part of town. She feels naked without the ring adorned on her finger or the weight of her soul hanging over her shoulders.

Y/n swears she can hear his sobs from across town, the broken cries wondering where his lover went in the late afternoon and the even louder ones in the early morning once the fog clears and he comes to terms with his faults.

It’s all in her head, their friends remind her, and they send her photos of him in the mail to tell her how he’s getting better. But the polaroids become further and farther in between, and soon the eyes she swore she never wanted to leave her life became those of a strangers, a stranger who knew everything there was to know about her.

“I haven’t drank in six months, on the dot.” He leans over the kitchen table, indents from his rings and scratches from pen evident in the wood. His hair is just the same as it was when they first met, a blonde mop of waves that sit perfectly around his tanned face. Only now he doesn’t look so tired and he doesn’t smell so sour.

She can only smile at him, letting the crowd fill in around them and filter out through the door as time passes and the moon sets underneath the horizon. She still thinks about how light her finger feels without the handmade ring on her finger, the promise that was within the bent metal weighing more than any diamond any man could ever buy her.

“Can I get you a drink, to celebrate? Theres orange juice in the kitchen, bought it for our friends. It’s yours if you want it, just glad you could visit.” JJ doesn’t know about the piles of photos she keeps of him, the photos that she never had the heart to unpin in her room in the chateau. He’s acutely aware of the fact his friends had been sending the girl updates, he had even asked them to at some points, just so she wouldn’t carry so much worry and guilt as he put on her all those months ago.

“I’ve missed you.” He says it softly, hoping partly that the faint music and the dying chatter from the outside will drown out his confession of love for the girl in front of him, but the sad smile on her face tells him otherwise.

“Feel’s so empty here without you, like I’ve been waiting for you to come home.” He kicks the splintered wood, hands in his pockets and his eyes darting to the orange juice sat warming on the counter like it was placed there just for him. He knew it was, and he knew who did it too.

But Y/n started to cry before JJ could even begin to thank her for all she has done for him, for sacrificing everything just to see him get better.

Shes blubbering something about regretting how she just up and left him like that, how she keeps his memories with her and still wakes up smiling when she thinks of him in her sleep. But more importantly, she cries about how she doesn’t think that she can ever have him again.

Of course, it’s not her fault that she associates his condition with her. Each relapse happened in her company and each stage was only worsened by her staying. She had to leave for him to get better and now to her, it was evident it was for the best.

JJ knows she’s wrong, but how could she? It’s his own fault for what he’s done to her but it’s really not even his fault. Falling dependent on a substance that only ever caused harm was something he started to do for fun, he never intended to become addicted to it, to become mean. They were both just victims in an incredibly cruel situation.

“It’s like you said, Y/n/n, just like you said. My heart has changed, and my soul has changed, and this town has changed, and this world has changed!” He takes her hands in his, showering her his ring and offering a new beginning to their tangled love story.

“But I have not.” It’s so quiet when she says it, JJ almost misses it. She hesitates, flinching away from the ring and refusing to put it back on for the fear that the reoccurring nightmares she had conveniently left out of his condition would come true again.

“The last time you were drunk you were face down, passed out in our lawn.” She looks at him, closing his fingers around the ring and standing from the table.

“Theres orange juice in the kitchen, bought it for you. It’s yours if you want it, I’m just glad you could visit.” She admits softly, slipping past him as calm as she can keep herself, hoping that he can’t hear the way that her heart cracks with each inhale of air.

He whispers something about still loving her, and even though she never says it back, the fact that she’s just admitted to buying the drink specifically for him with the hopes of him showing up gives JJ hope, a hope that he secretly knows will only leave him more devastated in the long run, but one that keeps him going.

He pours himself a glass of the orange juice later that night, the crowd long gone and empty solo cups scattered along the lawn. The ring in his pocket weighs down his cargo shorts pockets and burns through the fabric to his skin, but deep down he knows that he’s changed, he’s been better.

Like she had told him the day it all came crashing down, he is not his father, so he will try and try until he can mend what he broke and the wound is nothing but a scar left behind to show his strength and resilience.

JJ prefers apple juice over orange juice, but as he takes a sip of the tangy liquid, he decides it tastes sweeter than usual, and he really likes orange juice better than any other drink.

[writingfics-passingtime]

For the mixtape drabbles! She Keeps Me Warm (Mary Lambert) + Kate Bishop x reader? 🥺

I finally watched Hawkeye, just for you, anon! Thank you for this beautiful request 💜

Even If I Tried

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song prompt: She Keeps Me Warm

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader (no pronouns used)

Words: ~800

CWs: SFW. Some fluff and kissing. A near-kitchen fire.

You start swallowing the thick stench of something green, leafy and burning the moment you walk into your apartment. You drop your bag immediately and rush through the smoke-hazy air that’d settled in the front hall.

“Babe?” There’s an edge of nerves in your voice. Kate swears under her breath when she hears it and wonders if there’s any way to salvage- “What’s going on?”

Flying into the kitchen, waving a hand in front of your face to fend off the assault of burnt broccoli, you swan to the stove and take control of the situation. Kate steps back, starting to explain, “It’s- um, actually it’s supposed to be smoking like that because it’s uh… a flambé dish and-” she kicks herself when she sees your first move is to turn on the extractor fan above the stove, so she tries saying, “and you’re supposed to let the room fill with the aroma.”

You turn and raise an eyebrow, feeling a smirk begin to form. Instead, you hold it back. Just to see how far your girlfriend would dig herself into this whole. “You’re supposed to fill the room with the aroma?”

“Yes,” Kate seals her lips tight as she nods, obfuscating her glance as she so clearly bullshits on the spot. “This dish is all about creating atmosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” you repeat.

“It’s fine dining.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Your smirk lets loose. The universe always has the best comedic timing.

“Shit,” Kate swears under her breath and rustles past you to climb on the counter and access the smoke alarm.

You call after her, “Is the sweet symphony of the smoke alarm part of the atmosphere?”

“It- how the hell- it is actually,” she continues flubbing her way through the explanation as she tries to find the button to turn the alarm off. While she’s sufficiently distracted, you turn all three of the burners off. They were all set to high, absolutely incinerating whatever the hell food this used to be.

She jumps down and lands expertly in front of you, standing with a false confidence before turning back to the stove. You see the flash of panic cross her eyes when she realises that this… fine dining was not salvageable.

“Kate…,” you start, placing a gentle hand on her upper arm.

She seals her lips and closes her eyes, as if she’s transporting herself to somewhere else, shaking her head furiously. You’re grinning now. “Kate,” you say again, and she screws up her face when she hears the humour in your voice. “Oh, babe,” you laugh and pull her close, beyond endeared at her denial as the food keeps sizzling in its own charred remains. Catching a glimpse at the recipe on her phone, you nuzzle your nose against the place behind her ear and tease, “Kind of a big step, going from hot pockets to this-”

“Oh, come on!” Kate grunts and tries to shrug you off, but you laugh and pull her closer. She pouts for a second or two. Then, completely called out with nowhere to escape, your beautiful yet culinarily-incapable girlfriend sighs in defeat. With a wince, she looks at the stove and then lets her forehead fall against your shoulder.

“The onions really stung my eyes.”

You grin wider and run a hand down her back. “I’ll kick their ass.”

“Mmm-already done,” she sniffs and looks at one of the pans that was filled with something at various stages of destruction, mumbling, “I showed them.” She turned back to you and started blurting out, “I wanted to do something nice for you because you’ve been working so hard and your mom said you had this a lot growing up so I thought it would be cute,” she gesticulates wildly, trying to defend herself while you just watched on, filling with a love so warm you could burst. “But, phew, let me tell you…” she looks back with wide eyes. “Broccoli burns fast. I mean you really gotta watch those suckers once they’re in the pan.”

She finally stops for air and looks at you for approval, forgiveness, assurance, all of it. As always, you give her everything.

“I love you,” you pour out in a single breath before kissing her lovingly, gripping both of her hips to pull her in close. When she kisses you back you can taste the smoky air on her skin, and it makes you smile.

“I’m-,” Kate pulls back and reaches for her phone. “Gonna order us a pizza.”

You circle her wrist and tug it away before slowly backing her against the counter, a safe distance away from anything hot. “Later,” you whisper against her mouth before once again savouring the taste of her blushing lips.

In the warm haze, she kisses you.

Until the smoke alarm goes off again.

[veeluvss]

SURVIVOR

Chapter five

JJ entered the bar with her red dress on. Her hair was plaited beautifully down her back and her nails were painted too. Since Elle had been called into work, she travelled home, showered, got ready and came back out ready to start her hunt. She was angry still but she had control now, she wanted to kill anyone who could ever hurt another woman and she knew the best place to find these people were at bars. She headed straight to the bar and ordered herself two shots of vodka and vodka with orange juice. That was enough to get her flirty. She didn’t necessarily want this, she was gay, and she had a girlfriend but she had to protect the women from the creepy men who deserved to die. Deserved to be plastered all over the media with the word ‘Rapist’. She shot down the vodka and stalked out the people in the bar. It was a Saturday evening and it was crawling with men, fewer women. She sat down at a table on the edge so then she had a nice view of the whole place. 

She could see the sweat in the air and the stench of alcohol filled her. Hot bodies filled the space and JJ felt so out of place. She hadn’t been to a bar in years, never mind one which prioritises men finding ladies. It wasn’t long before she saw the men advancing on women. But the women took it, for the most part.

She was two drinks in when she noticed the man in the opposite corner, stalking women. He watched them and wrote notes down in a little book he had in his hand. It disgusted JJ. She watched him like a hawk, making sure he didn’t move. But then he did move. JJ didn’t catch him at first, she was at the bar getting a drink but when she looked back, he was gone. She scanned the bar and spotted him heading out the back door - she didn’t trust he wasn’t alone. She slid through the rivers of people, said some sorry’s as she pushed past and burst through the back door. She heard the scream first. It was a sickly scream, one which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. But JJ didn’t have time to analyse the scream, she shot into action.

The man was leaning against the girl. Her dress was around her hips and his hands were all over her. She was fighting against him but just wasn’t strong enough. JJ came out of the darkness and jumped onto his back, pulling him away from her. “Run,” JJ told her. She didn’t need to be told twice. The man fell on the floor as JJ jumped off him, ripping him off his feet. He cried out in pain as his head hit the ground with a solid thump.

She kicked him before straddling him, bending down to begin beating his face. She was overcome with anger as Dr Tretter’s face clouded her vision. Do it naked. She picked him up before throwing him back on the ground. Groans echoed through the alleyway. Punches and kicks were heard over them. “Stop,” the man begged but JJ didn’t. “You think you can get away with raping these women? And writing it in your stupid little book?” JJ hissed in his ear before throwing him back down again. She grabbed the book from his pocket and he attempted to grab her arm but she ripped him off with force. She threw it against his face and watched the spirals hit his eye. Her anger made her stronger, and more aggressive than normal. “You think you can control what I do; what other women do?” She cried, smacking him with the back of her hand. “You’re a worthless rapist piece of shit you asshole!” She screamed and grabbed the piece of glass from her shoe. She unwrapped it quickly before beginning to carve into his forehead. He screamed out in agony. The slice of glass dug into his head as she carved out the words RAPIST. When she was done, she plunged the glass into his chest before pulling it out, letting him bleed to death. She ran to her car, which she’d already parked further up the alley and rode down. The human-sized bump didn’t faze her as she drove over his limp body. She sped down the street and away.

Panting, she struggled to catch her breath. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white with rage. She was still so mad, it hadn’t helped this time. She drove and drove, music on the radio blasted. 

Eventually, she began to calm down. She sang the songs and watched her white knuckles go back to their usual pink but didn’t hesitate to notice the bruising or the pain escaping them. Not only that but she was covered in blood. Her arms were splattered - her head was banging with pain. She wanted her bed. She wanted Elle. She hated that she wanted Elle but last night, it was everything, tonight that was all she wanted. She sighed and picked up the phone to contact Elle. It rang through a few times but she didn’t pick up, instead, she texted. 

JJ: I miss you, I’m sorry. Are you home? 

Her reply came almost instantly.

Elle: In a meeting. Home in an hour. We need to talk. 

JJ sighed as she pulled into the driveway. At least she had an hour to clean up. She knew Elle would want to talk, she was the communicator in the relationship. Ever since her incident with William Lee, Elle had been in therapy and it taught her a lot which she applied to her relationship. Now she was one of the top lawyers in the state - her speciality being sex crimes. It was ironic really. JJ got out of the car and ran to the house hoping none of the neighbours saw the state of her. She stripped off naked in the laundry room and threw her clothes into the wash along with the ones she sort of washed in the shower and ran up to the bathroom. She got in the shower and watched the water turn pink. 

Elle got home an hour later and JJ had dinner waiting on the table. She’d ordered from Elle’s favourite Chinese place and had laid the table out for the most romantic meal. She wanted to make Elle happy, happy with her again but also distract her from talking about what was going on. Elle came in and slid her shoes off at the door, she was met with the sweet aroma of food. A smile spread across her face as she entered the living area. “Well, hello,” she said, taking in the view of her girlfriend. JJ played with her hands nervously from the other side of the table. “This is amazing. What’s the occasion?” “I wanted to make it up to you, here, take a seat,” JJ pulled out the chair and Elle smiled widely before sitting down. “Thank you, baby,” she said. “Dig in,” JJ muttered as she sat herself down but Elle wasn’t letting her go that easy. 

“What have you been up to today, then?” she asked. “Just the gym, then I came home and went back out again,” JJ replied. 

“Where did you go?” “Just this bar downtown, I felt like a drink.” “A drink? You never drink.” Elle asked, suspiciously. 

“I just felt like it.” JJ shrugged and dug into her sweet and sour chicken. “JJ, you’ve not been yourself since you ended your undercover mission.” “Do you expect me to?” “No. Not at all but I expect you to at least talk to me about it,” Elle sighed and put down her fork. She suddenly wasn’t feeling hungry. “I don’t want to talk. I have my therapist and Emily to do that with,” JJ replied.

“But you’re not letting me in.” “Why should I?” “Because I’m your girlfriend, JJ,” Elle sighed. They’d had this conversation almost every day since JJ got back and it was becoming boring. JJ didn’t say anything back, only swallowed her food and took another large mouthful. “And whenever I bring up the fact you're my girlfriend, you shut down.” “I just wanted a nice evening with you, why did you have to bring it all up?” JJ whined. “Because I can’t have a nice evening with all of this bad energy.” “There’s no bad energy.” JJ mocked. “There’s loads, don’t be ridiculous,” Elle sighed. “I just want you to tell me what you’re feeling, JJ, so I can help.” 

“I’m feeling pissed off that we’re having this conversation again, Elle.” “Then tell me what went on and we won’t be having it.” “Fuck this!” JJ cried. She stood up and walked from the room, slid her shoes on and left the house again. She couldn’t face the conflict anymore. She couldn’t face any of it anymore. She had to stop. She had to kill. She had to get it out of her system for the second time today. Elle made her so goddamn angry! 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Birthright: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

The other half of the team is just arriving at Chrissy and Mary's house. Chrissy is Charlie's pregnant wife who lives at the house with them.

"What happened with Stephen?" Hotch asks.

"Rossi is with him right now. He didn't kill those girls. I'm better off here. I can feel the victims. They're here or they were tortured here. Their energies are everywhere."

JJ and Derek head to the house to talk to Chrissy while the rest of the team hangs back and waits for her approval. When Chrissy nods in agreement for your team to search, you head off in the direction where the energies feel the strongest.

The other officers notice this barn in the back of the property, and the closer you get to it, the stronger the feeling gets. Something is inside this barn, and you're not so sure you want to see it. However, you need to get it open, so the officers produce bolt cutters to snap the bolt lock on the front door.

The big double doors open, and you head inside cautiously. The stench inside is disgusting, and when you find the source of the smell, tears flow down your cheeks. There is a tree stump in the middle of the barn, and there is an axe lodged into the middle of the stump. That's not the thing that is making you cry.

The thing that is making you cry is the body parts littered on the ground, and based on everyone else's reaction, only you can see them.

"This is where he cut them up," you sniffle and look away from the stump.

You wipe your eyes as Spencer wraps his arms around you to comfort you. He kisses the top of your head, and you lean into his side.

"Are you okay?"

"No, but I can handle it," you sigh.

"Obviously this is where he's been torturing them, but where's he keeping them?" Emily asks.

"Somewhere isolated. He can't risk storing them close to his house."

"They're close," you say and pull away from Spencer. "I can feel them. I can feel Tara. She's alive, but she's close."

"Do you know this property?" Hotch asks John.

"No, I only had contact with Robert in town."

You look in the front yard and see Mary get out of her car and walk over to your team.

"Ms. Wilkinson?"

"Chrissy called me. What's going on?"

"We're looking for Charlie." She doesn't seem all that shocked about this, so you press on further. "Don't you want to know why? You knew Charlie was an angry kid and made excuses when he killed the neighbor's cat. You saw the path he was going down. It's why you moved away from this place. You knew what happened here."

"No, that's not true."

"You were afraid of the person he came from. You thought if you just took him away from his father's home, and you kept it all a big secret, then everything would be okay."

"I protected him," she tries to say, but you continue.

"The problem is, with a boy like Charlie who has so much anger and so many questions, needs to know where he came from. He wouldn't quit until he knew, and then one day, he figured it out."

"It was over, John," she says to the old sheriff. "You didn't have to worry about any other girls getting hurt. I did not want my son to have the legacy that his father was a murderer."

"Where's Charlie now?" John asks.

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't," she sighs.

Chrissy might be more help than Mary is being right now, and you can't be in this barn. You turn and head inside the house with Hotch where JJ is talking to Chrissy.

"Chrissy, where does Charlie go to be alone?"

"The barn."

"Where else?"

"I don't know," she stutters.

Spencer is rummaging through the house in search of something that could help you figure out where Charlie is when he comes out holding a notebook in his hands.

"This was locked in the closet. It looks like it was Robert's journal before Charlie got his hands on it."

"What does it say?" you ask.

"So, Charlie went looking for a father figure and this is who he found," Hotch sighs.

"He was killing animals. It's clear he already has murderous impulses, and finding this must have made him feel like it was okay, like it was almost his birthright."

"Is there anything in there about where he keeps them?"

"Nothing yet.

"Keep reading," Hotch orders.

You pat Spencer's back as you pass by him and head back outside to the barn. Maybe there is something inside here that can help you figure out where the girls are or where Charlie is. Derek and Emily are discussing the peace sign that Karen carved into the wall that would bring her peace whenever Robert would come for her. There is no peace sign here, so this is the only place where Robert and Charlie would cut the girls up before disposing of their bodies.

"Karen said he'd make her walk outside," Emily says.

"Do you think she can handle coming back to this place?" Derek asks you.

"For someone who has buried this for twenty-seven years, she is going to need all the support she can get. I know if I looked my rapist in the eyes, I wouldn't be able to handle it, and that happened over a decade ago. I'll be here to help her through it, though."

Emily was the one who called Karen over, and despite her not wanting to, she knows she is the only one who can help find these missing children. Stephen came with her for moral support, and as soon as she arrived, you could feel just how scared she is. She is terrified, so you approach her with a gentle and calming aura so it's not worse for her.

"Thank you for coming. We all know this can't be easy for you."

"She's been shaking the whole way here," stephen says.

"Karen, look at me." You wait until she does. "You survived. Robert cannot hurt you anymore. You are strong."

"You can do this, mom."

Karen takes a few steps to the bar and she recoils in disgust.

"Oh, God. That smell was a part of me. Who's that?"

You look behind you to see Mary Wilkinson standing three and eyeing Karen from a distance.

"That's Mary Wilkinson."

You're not sure if it's a good idea to say her last name, but she has to know who she is. At the mention of her name, Karen sees red. You could feel her fear turn into rage, and you step in between the two women, but she pushes you off to the side.

"The wife? He tortured me every single night. Could you hear my screams? Did you kiss him when he was finished with me?!" she screams at Mary.

"Please, Karen, don't do this to yourself," you beg, but she doesn't listen.

"What did she think he was doing in that barn every night? Did you ask? Did you ask why he wanted to be away from you? Why? Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you help?"

Karen is a sobbing mess, and that causes Mary to snap.

"I killed him!"

"What?"

"Before Charlie was born. I came home, I saw this place, and I knew what he had done. I couldn't let my innocent baby be brought into this."

The statute of limitation is up for what Mary did, but if you're being honest, you don't care that she killed him, she must have done it for a good reason. Karen, after hearing this, she calmed down quite a bit. Mary and Karen take some time to regroup before everyone heads inside the barn.

Karen tries really hard to remember something about her captive days, but it's like something is inside her mind blocking out the traumatic experience. She is now allowing herself to remember, and this is where you come in.

"I... I don't know where he'd take me. He always had that bag over my head," she sighs.

"You do remember something. I'm going to help walk you through it. Close your eyes for me." You wait for her to do that before continuing. "What did the ground feel like? Take a few steps."

Karen takes a few steps and reaches out to her son, and Stephen grabs her hand to let her know she is safe and he is with her.

"Leaves and twigs," she finally says. "It was a long walk. There was a hill. I stumbled. There's something soft and cold, but it--it's covering something hard."

"Like wood?"

"Rocks," she corrects. "Taller than me."

"That's along the north side of the property," Mary speaks up.

Now you know where the girls are hidden.

"Karen, thank you for doing this. You helped so much." You step outside the barn and see Hotch exit the house with Spencer. "Hotch, we might have something."

"Alright, it's your time to shine," Derek says, patting you on the back. "Do you see anything?"

"So much energy is here that I can barely make out the color of your eyes."

"They're brown. Let's go."

You take the lead on this one and follow the strings of blue energies leading out of the bar. It's like they know you're connecting to them and following them. They guide your way around the property, taking you through the trees and to the north side of the property. All the energies kind of blend and swirl around each other in one main trail, but each individual kind of energy stems from the base like a spine.

That represents each girl trying to get away and escaping his grasp, but they all take the same trail to where they all ended up eventually. The trail of energy takes you to a clearing where there are rocks leading to a caged off area. If you weren't looking for it, you would have skipped over it easily.

Hotch and John take off the grated cage door and enter carefully, calling out to whoever might be in here.

"Hello?"

"Help us!" a girl says from deep inside the small cave. "We're in here, please! Oh, my god."

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Derek asks once he walks inside.

There are only two girls inside, one of them is Tara. There is another girl who is passed out, and the ambulance is called for both of them. When they arrive on scene, they assure your team that both girls are going to make it after some hospital care.

"Where the hell's Charlie?" you sigh. You see Mary standing off to the side with a guilty look on her face, and you walk over to her in determination. "Where would Charlie go?"

"I don't know," she sighs.

"What about your husband?" Hotch asks.

If Charlie had taken up Robert's hobbies, then he would have gone to places where Robert would have gone.

"Well, there's a place on the battlefield. It's over the ridge."

"Can you show us?"

It's Mary's turn to lead the way, and the closer you get to where Robert used to hang out, the more you felt Charlie's angry and hateful rage. You also felt someone else's, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Suddenly, a gunshot echoed off the trees, and you picked up your pace. Standing in by a statue is Chrissy, there is a gun by her feet, and Charlie is lying dead on the ground in front of her. Derek rushes over to Charlie to check if he is alive, but he isn't.

"He's gone," Derek sighs.

"He came at me. I had to do it," Chrissy says with a monotone voice.

Mary looks at Chrissy, and the two of them have an understanding through their eyes. You know Chrissy is lying, but you're glad that someone like Charlie is off this Earth, no matter how bad that sounds.

JJ is off to the side with a stressful look on her face, and you take this opportunity to talk to her about what's been bugging her.

"What's been going on? You can talk to me, you know this."

"If you stop caring, you're jaded. If you care too much... it'll ruin you."

"Story of my life," you scoff, but you take this seriously. "It's better to care, JJ. We did everything we could. Sometimes we get it right but sometimes we don't. It's always better to care."

"You really believe that?"

"I do. If you stop caring, then they win, and I refuse to let someone like Charlie ever win."

This whole case has gotten everyone stressed out, and it doesn't help that Haley filed for divorce with Hotch. He's doing the best he can, but she doesn't get that sometimes, it's not about her. You're thankful you found someone like Spencer who is also in the same line of work as you, so he understands that work has to come first sometimes.

Mary and Chrissy had to live with horrible people who did horrible things. In the end, they killed them because it's better than having them rot in prison. You understand why they killed their husbands.

You don't know what you'd do if you found out someone you love had the capabilities to do something so horrible.

"A simple child that lightly draws its breath and feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?" - Wordsworth

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[chefediaboiv]

Clappers

Im gonna keep leaking the secret. The traffic of geeks hits speeds of dumb, no I don't want or wanna give you a lollipop but she likes when I speak in tongues. Telling me to shut the fuck on my freedom of speech on who and why on the breach of my plush fund? Oh no come come. I can lead you to who's holding out for some gum drops, eyes red as the devil's dick; bloodshot. Jay won't even tell silent Bob what's in his glove box, pictures of a dogma. No honor with cheap shots from Wisconsin, thank you Ohio. Every card I drew scary, no hate on your Bible. That's a Dilbert, who's line was a diamond dick and your still hurt. Sure wish any cigarette you had came from the cancer team, that's what you get for not figureing out how to play the tambourine. All this child abuse, you knew better then to raise your hand at me. Now your festering about a little spinal tap, learned a time attack. Then get pissed off that I already know how to take my time with tacs, toe tagged the FM radio hobby as the time ticks. Now somebody is using a pencil to cassette rewind it back but I'm sick. Touch that door and you'll see how much more elaborate I convince. It could take years for a nigga to come up with some timeless shit, just tell him to take his time with. That bit of advice is profound, timeless shit. I struck out an entire team for seven innings, remember what I said bout the crazy man's flexes. I wasn't kidding, repeat is a better answer then lemurism. I've never met so many black people that can't keep a riddim. For a frosted flake, Toby McGuire is a great position and drew uncles Bill for the trouble. Oi, it's no mystery to me why they Jake Gyllenhaal'd her bubble boys, image is more important then the pro ferrets Sara Bellum, you told him some shit that you're actually scared to tell him. My mojo loco and your ex husbands a career felon, they update every time I wipe my ass. He say, she say, he's the shit and I can't smell him. There's no amounts to the fucks I give that I won't tell em. It's over boy with your mud donk, any reason my actual opponents don't show to get mud stomp. A Papai I see era in you rushing to Wilson, for a Pat on the back you better belichick the whole million. Your religion must be Christiana Aguilera trust me your coaches know the rent. I'm not gonna waste words on fools, hold your sense. Your too bitch for my blood, trust me I know the stench. Can you keep up I hear a go home baljeet attack in the distance, castration is what we do to the wimp men. You thought Sheldon was smart I make the big bangs lookalike simplins, your name doesn't get points on this SAT little chitterlins. Looking to buff your GPA, you may wanna put in the effort. King's orders for negating the other way, Sepatown Sa da tay! Go that way. Stool pigeons and what they do, on your ride to badder Babe Ruth's who don't mind the bandito's payday. Remember comic view didn't work out for your laced little JJ, is it gold Dupree. Your a little behind the times, spell check doesn't go with loose leaf. Never seen or heard my talents, play that role loosely. There is no max with no Goofy, Billy Blanks keep the wiz on hold til bacalito learns from smarter people. Great see ya Moana about vitamins, there you go cutting into your time again.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Simp | JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: JJ is in love and the Pogues like to tease him

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Word count: 0.8k

Prompt: Hi love, could you write 36, 39 and 50 with JJ x reader, please? (taken from this list)

-

JJ was in John B's backyard, grilling food on the fire and drinking beer with the Pogues when his phone went off. He took it out of his pocket and smiled, seeing your name on his screen.

''Hey, baby. You off work soon?'' JJ asked, missing you.

''Can you please come and get me? Marissa was supposed to drop me off, but her shift ended early and my mom is working. I could walk, but...'' You bit your lip, not feeling like walking by yourself at night. Your work place was relatively close to your house, but you can't really be safe anywhere. There's creeps and weirdos everywhere.

He didn't even hesitate. ''I'll be there.''

You made out a female voice in the background. ''Is it Kie that I hear? Are you at the chateau?''

JJ took a sip of his beer. ''Yeah, we're having a Pogue-style barbecue.''

Your stomach rumbled. That sounded tasty. ''I want that too. Is there anything good left? Or did you and the boys eat everything already?''

JJ laughed. At the last barbecue, the boys had eaten all the hot dogs and fish, leaving only the bottom of the marshmallow bag for you and Kiara. It wasn't very nice.

''Kie is currently making grilled cheese. It smells amazing.''

''Well, hurry your cute little ass and pick me up. I'm starving.''

JJ grinned with amusement. ''See you soon. I love you.'' He hung up and stood, feeling stiff from all the food he ate. Perhaps he should have stopped after his second hot pocket. JJ stretched and slipped on his jacket, fishing for his bike keys in his pocket.

''Where are you going?'' John B asked, eyeing his best friend.

''You didn't even finish your second beer,'' pointed Kiara, raising her eyes from the toast she was grilling.

''My girl just called me. She needs a lift so...''

Pope snickered. ''God. You're such a simp.''

''You okay to drive?'' Kiara asked, not liking the idea of her friend driving under the influence.

''Like you said, I didn't even finish my second beer.''

.

You waited on the curb for your boyfriend, fumbling on your phone while you waited. You replied to a couple messages from your friends, asking about your weekend plans. Alas, all that was in store for you was work. Interesting, uh?

Your head snapped up when you heard the rumble of a motorbike and sighed. Finally. Your feet were sore from serving tables all evening and you couldn't wait to take off those disgusting clothes and shower.

JJ stopped right in front of you, cutting the engine before taking off his helmet. ''Why aren't you waiting inside? It's safer.''

''Everything's been turned off. It was too hot,'' you explained.

It was sweet of JJ to care for your safety - especially at night -, but you had only been outside for seven minutes. You were fine.

He hummed and greeted you with a kiss, pulling you against him. You could smell the smoke of the fire in his hair and clothes, and taste the beer on his tongue.

''Ready to go?'' JJ asked, breaking off. He went to grab the second helmet and hand it to you, but you grabbed hold of his shirt collar, begging him back.

''I wasn't done kissing you.''

JJ grinned and happily attacked his lips to yours again, shamelessly making out on the sidewalk.

.

When you returned to the chateau, you borrowed John B's shower and ordered your grilled cheese from Kiara, looking forward to eating after washing the stench of the restaurant from your body.

''What took you two so long? We were starting to believe you weren't coming back.''

''Traffic,'' JJ explained, sitting back in his chair.

''At 9pm?''

''We thought you ditched us and went somewhere to fuck. You know, like you always do.''

A smug laugh left JJ's lips. ''Jealous of my sex life, Pope?''

Pope shook his head, lying. He was jealous, but he wouldn't want everybody to know when and where he was having sex. Unlike JJ, he liked to keep it private, not to brag.

''My dad's home. I'm not taking her there.''

After your shower, you joined your friends outside, smelling fresher than when you arrived. You greeted everyone and allowed JJ to pull you on his lap. A beer was offered to you, along with the grilled cheese Kiara had prepared.

''Thanks, Kie.'' You took a bite and hummed. It felt so good to eat after a long shift.

Behind you, JJ wrapped an arm around you and kissed your shoulder. He was on his third beer and was getting a little cuddle-y. You leaned back into his touch.

''Do you want a blanket?'' he asked, feeling goosebumps on your legs from the night air.

You shook your head. ''I'm good.''

John B and Pope shared a look. ''See, he's a fucking simp.''

JJ gave them the finger.

[dontsh0vethesun]

you're my achilles heel - E.P

(Part of my Red (Taylor's Version) fics)

Song - State of Grace

Pairing - Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary - A case goes awry when Y/N puts herself in danger for Emily but does her Achilles Heel truly make her weak?

Warnings - canon typical violence, mention of blood and injury

Word Count - 2538

Achilles heel /əkɪliːz ˈhiːl/ noun

a weakness or vulnerable point.

We were sitting in one of the SUVs on our way to the house of our unsub; Derek was driving with Hotch in the passenger seat, I sat in the back with Emily beside me and JJ on her other side - Rossi and Reid were following in the other SUV. We'd been on this case for a few days now and had finally tracked him down, the profile suggests the possibility of him putting up a fight but of course we were hoping we could go in, arrest him and finally head home.

As we pulled up outside the house, his car in the driveway indicating we were in the right place, I gave Emily's hand a reassuring squeeze - she looked to me with a smile and squeezed back before we climbed out of the car. We always give one another a silent gesture of reassurance, a promise to be safe, a non-verbal 'I love you' before entering a possibly hostile or dangerous situation.

We all put on our vests, a slight anxiousness in the air as none of us knew what kind of environment we're about to head into - we never truly do, just hope we can keep any danger to a minimum. "Emily, JJ, Y/N go through the front, Derek, Dave through the back. Spencer and I will hang back in case he tries to make a run for it." Hotch instructed, we nodded in agreement before making our way to the house.

We stayed silent with our guns drawn in front of us, JJ and I stood either side of the front door as Emily kicked it down, splinters of wood flying everywhere at the impact. The floorboards beneath our feet creaked as we stepped on them, making our way through the downstairs of the house, the walls were rundown - a stench of mildew accompanying the rotting wooden features of the house.

We heard shouts of 'clear!' from the others from where they had looked, we responded with our own as we checked the other couple of rooms before we made the silent decision to head upstairs.

Emily, JJ and I went left whilst Derek and Dave went right, all rooms were clear - just one last room to check. I looked to Emily and JJ with my gun raised signalling I was going to go in first, they nodded that they'd follow behind. I pushed the ajar door open with my foot, hearing the squealing of the hinges through the deathly silence of the house.

The room was as rundown and dirty as the rest of the house, the eerie silence carrying through too. The three of us checked around the room and saw nothing, we were about to explain to the others that it was empty - he wasn't here. Until a loud creaking came from above us.

It all happened so quickly. One moment we were safe, the next our unsub was jumping through the hatch above us from where he'd been waiting - lurking - in the attic. Emily had her back to him, his quick movements catching us all off guard, as he landed on his feet his arms reached out to grab her but I couldn't see her hurt, I couldn't stand by and watch when I could interfere.

"Emily!" JJ shouted as she saw him land behind her, his hands were mere centimetres away from grabbing her as she turned to face him. Before he could grasp onto her I pushed her out of his reach, she stumbled to the side as he continued his assault stepping further forwards to me.

"Y/N, no!" She shouted as she regained her balance, looking over and seeing him grab onto me. We had been in the room for about a minute before he made his appearance so had holstered our guns, JJ and Emily quickly withdrew them again as his hands harshly gripped onto my upper arms.

I lifted my arms as much as I could beneath his grip to fight him off but his large stature had an advantage over me. In just a few seconds he'd spun me around so my back was flush against him, grabbing my gun in his movements. "I won't be needing this." He muttered, throwing my gun onto the floor at Emily's feet and pulling a large knife out of his back pocket holding the blade against my throat. "A gun won't cause quite enough pain."

He walked us backwards so we were further away from the door, by now the eyes of Emily, JJ, Derek, Dave, Hotch and Spencer were on me - darting between the unsub's face, mine and the shining silver pressed against my neck, guns drawn and held in front of them as they stood in a line trying to get a clear shot. "Put the weapon down." Hotch shouted though it was as though no words left his mouth - the unsub carried on without acknowledging him.

He kept the knife in its position as he switched hands, the other reaching into his back pocket again but this time bringing out a zip tie which he fastened around my wrists, bounding them together in front of me. "Owen, just put the knife down and we can talk." Rossi spoke calmly so as to not aggravate him further.

I looked to Emily as he held onto me tighter, his arm around my waist trapping me against him, the knife threatening to pierce my skin; she looked me in the eyes, worry written all over her face. He began to laugh slightly beside my ear, his hot breath on my skin - warm and sour. Looks of concern and confusion were shared between the team, my anxiety levels increasing astronomically at how cold and callous he was.

"Did ya'll ever hear the story of Achilles?" He asked, though rhetorically, nobody said a word just letting him continue. "When he was a baby Achille's mother, Thetis, held him by the ankle and dunked him in the River Styx." He explained, the knife still not budging though his other hand was carefully peeling at the Velcro of my vest - nobody could intervene without the almost certain result of the knife piercing my jugular.

He was careful enough to stay behind me in a way a clear shot couldn't be taken - we were at a dead end and all we could do is hear him out and listen to his ramblings. "She turned him into a hero - strong and his entire body invulnerable - apart from the part of his foot where she held him, the proverbial Achilles Heel. His heel was his downfall, his weakness and according to the legend, his death was caused by an arrow to this part of his body." By the time he'd explained this half of my vest was unfastened, his hand move to work on the other side.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked, sick of being held by him and wanting this to end. At the sound of my words his fist clenched around my throat, restricting the airflow to my lungs; the team looked on in horror as he squeezed. I kicked my leg backwards making contact with his but his stance never budged, I couldn't breathe, my vision started to blur.

"My point is." He snarled, saliva from his wretched mouth flying onto my cheek due to his proximity. "I found yours." He loosened his hold on my neck and I gasped for the air I'd missed out on.

At his statement, everyone realised what he meant and sadness washed over their stoic expressions though they brought up the brave masks again quickly to maintain composure - show no weakness in front of the unsub, don't let him know he's caused an emotional response. Emily's eyes were shining with unshed tears as she looked me in the eyes, contact never wavering until she followed my vest as it was thrown to the floor landing in front of her feet.

"You are stupid, you are weak - throwing yourself at me instead of your precious lover." He seethed, his breath against my cheek, his face so close that the tip of his nose touched my face. "She is your Achilles Heel - your weak spot, your love for her is your downfall. What do you think of that?" He laughed slightly with his angry words, dripping from his lips like venom. "Answer me!"

"I don't think it makes me weak." I spoke, voice wavering slightly despite me trying to choke back the fear bubbling in my throat.

"Oh? You don't?" He laughed mockingly, fingers squeezing my throat once again though not as tightly this time as he awaited my response.

"I-I don't think it makes me weak, I think it makes me h-human." I coughed out, the restriction of air affecting my speech. "I won't accept that my love for her makes me weak. After all, Achilles died a hero right?" I tried to smile, to reassure them it was okay, that I was okay - I didn't want him to thrive off my fear.

"I see. Then maybe both of you can be killed by your weakness - it'll kill her to watch you bleed out huh?" He asked before plunging the knife into my stomach, pain burning through my body as blood began to pool in a red circle on my t-shirt. As quickly as the knife entered my flesh it was out again and back in just a few inches from the original wound. A low groan of pain erupted from my lips as tears trailed down my cheeks, legs threatening to buckle beneath me though his arm around my body kept me standing.

He pulled it out again and thrust it into my side, a cry coming from me due to the immense pain coursing throughout my body; looks of helplessness were plastered onto everyone's faces as he had stabbed me in quick succession only over a few seconds. A clear shot still couldn't be taken so I used all the energy I could muster up to swing my head backwards - the hands he'd kept at my neck the whole time to keep me from moving my head now absent.

My skull collided with his, a sickening crunch of his jaw and his teeth sounding throughout the room, a grunt of pain flying from his mouth. As his hold on me loosened my body slumped to the floor, weak and exhausted from the loss of blood. A shot exploded through the room and the next thing I knew his body fell onto the ground beside me, slumped with a bullet hole in his forehead, blood oozing down the bridge of his nose.

"Medic!" Hotch shouted as footsteps grew closer to my body, my vision was growing blurrier by the second and my hearing was muffled almost as though I was underwater.

"Y/N stay with me, stay with me please." Emily spoke, her hands holding either side of my face as my head rested in her lap, fingers stroking fallen strands of hair out of my face as she sniffled, tears rolling down her face. I reached up and wiped them away, mustering up a small smile. She grabbed my hand and held onto it tightly, pressing a kiss against my knuckles.

I coughed and heard a barely audible gasp from JJ who was crouched beside me putting pressure on my wounds as blood fell onto my lips. "Stay with us Y/N/N." Derek whispered, his hands pressing onto my other wound hoping to ease the flowing blood.

"I love you Y/N. Please, just keep your eyes open. Please." Emily uttered, looking down into my eyes that felt heavy. So heavy. They grew more and more difficult to keep forced open, fluttering shut until I couldn't open them again.

What felt like minutes later my eyes drifted open once more, though this time the dingy, unkempt room was replaced by the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The eerie quiet was replaced by the beeping of machinery and hushed voices partaking in tense conversation. The searing pain flooding through my body had been taken over by a dulled ache, a throbbing in my head and a gentle, warm grasp on my hand.

I squeezed my eyes shut from the sudden brightness attacking my retinas, opening them again and coughing slightly due to the dryness of my mouth. My lips felt rough and wrinkled with dehydration, my mouth as though my tongue had turned to cotton wool. I squeezed the warmth in my hand knowing it was Emily, rolling my head to the side to look at her.

"Hi, you're awake." She grinned, the sparkling smile a relieving contrast to the red and puffy eyes looking into mine.

"Hi." I spoke, almost a whisper with how raspy my voice was. I sat up with some difficulty, sharp pain in my torso and a fuzziness within my skull, Emily helped me get into a comfortable position, hands gentle on my body. The rest of the team (plus Garcia) stood from their seats, finding various spots around the bed I was lying in, JJ handed me a polystyrene cup of water which I took gratefully, emptying it in just a few seconds.

"How're you feeling?" She asked, bringing the water jug over and filling my cup again with her motherly smile - nose and cheeks holding a pink hue, the whites of her eyes red from tears.

"I'm okay." All eyes in the room looked at me, slight annoyance and concern written on their faces at my answer. "My head hurts. And my neck. And here." I spoke sheepishly under their gaze, pointing towards my torso which was stitched and bandaged up beneath a hospital gown.

"You had us worried kid." Rossi added, fatherly tone in force.

"You made Derek cry." Spencer added, though his eyes were rimmed with red from tears he'd shed. I looked to Derek with a smile, he was like a brotherly figure to me and I could see he'd been worried.

"Damn right I did. I don't know what I would've done if we'd lost you. You idiot." He returned, the last part spoken in jest as a smiled pulled at his lips.

"Sorry." I laughed, wincing in pain as I did so.

"Do anything stupid like that again missy and you and me are gonna have words." Penelope exclaimed, poking my leg from where she stood at my bedside, a grin peeking through the faux scowl on her face.

"We're glad you're okay Y/N." Hotch smiled from the end of the bed, the others nodded in agreement, Emily's grasp on my hand tightening.

"You are an idiot Y/N/N." She spoke. "I'm sorry you went through that and not me."

"Shush Em. If it happened again I'd do nothing differently."

"You're so stubborn, you know that?"

"Uh, yeah." I shrugged making her laugh with an eyeroll, the rest of the team chuckled lightly at our banter and at the fact that they all know how stubborn I can be.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Does this hospital have any snacks? I'm hungry."

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hey I really love your fics!

Could I please request a fic including hotch x jock male reader. Could be a first meeting or introduction to the team?

Thanks

You wanted to meet Aaron's team formally, and had been wanting to do so for a while. You imagined it being a sit down at Rossi's, with good food and nice drinks. But it seems you have no such luck.

Instead, they first meet you at a football game. You're sweaty, covered in dirt, and you were 100% sure you stunk. And there Aaron was, his team members behind him as he walked towards you.

"Good game babe," He said softly, "I couldn't hold them off, they wanted to meet you,"

You smiled, "Not to worry, as long as they don't mind the stench," Aaron gave a small chuckle, kissing you gently. Your friend, Ben, gave a loud whistle.

"Ooh (Y/N)'s getting some!" He yelled, Aaron blushed slightly while you glared at Ben.

"You're such a dick," You laughed, Ben cackled loudly before wandering off to the changing rooms. "I'm sorry about him, he's an ass,"

"Come on, let me introduce you," Hotch said, softly taking your hand in his and walking towards the team. You following behind, looking like a lovestruck teenager, despite your age. "I would like you to meet my boyfriend, (Y/N),"

"Hi," You said, giving them a grin. "Sorry for-" You gestured to your Jersey and the mud that covered you from head to toe.

"You were pretty good out there," Morgan said, "I'm Derek,"

"Thanks, it's been a while since I got back out there, I tore my hamstring, so I've been benched for a while. This was my first game back," You answered.

"Well, you couldn't tell," JJ reassured.

"How about we all go back to mine and have a nice dinner together so we can all properly get to know you?" Rossi suggested, turning to you.

You nodded, "That sounds good. Might have to stop off at mine first and have a shower though,"

"See you in an hour then?" You all nodded and parted ways. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

[isthisthingeven0n]

hear you : a.h

after celebrating your promotion with hotch, it tragically ends in an accident with you hospitalised and comatose. yet, somehow you can hear everyone around you, wishing for you to wake up. (1.9k) 

all my links

hear you / every word 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if you wished the events had happened in a different order.

If you hadn’t left the restaurant first and walked ahead whilst Hotch admired the fleeting moment. You were laughing giddily as you turned to face him, his arms were crossed over his chest as you danced, still joyful after celebrating your promotion. Perhaps if he caught up to you it would’ve been someone else lying on the ground.

Yet, as you lie on the ground, life draining from your gaze you can’t help but wonder; what if?

The events that lead to you strapped to a hospital bed lifelessly could have all been avoided. If the driver hadn’t drunk away his sorrows before picking up his children, families would still be together and one less hospital bed would be filled.

All you can hear is the monotone beeping of your heart monitor. The stench of antibacterial sprays and gels embed themselves into your nostrils alongside the fragrant flowers from Garcia that litter your private room. But out of everything in your environment, there’s one thing you’re still waiting on; to hear him, to hear Hotch by your side.

What you’re currently certain of is that you’re asleep, comatose. Yet, you can hear everything. This was the sort of thing you’d witnessed happen in TV shows, and you’ve listened to Spencer sitting beside you, explaining to Penelope that there have been no claims of comatose patients hearing voices. How they can hear movements or faint sounds, but no details of conversations. All you can do is wait whilst you remain trapped in your own thoughts, unable to react to anything said.

Your daily routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked multiple times a day by various Doctors and Nursers. They’re very caring as they monitor your heart rate, brain waves, temperature and your comfort levels. You listen to them report technical jargon to one another, and now you wish you paid more attention to Spencer last week after he visited his old Doctor.

Thankfully, you’re allowed to have visitors which makes all the difference- even if they are oblivious to the impact they’re making.

The first person to visit you tends to be Garcia, you can hear the urgency in her footsteps as her heels click against the lament flooring. She sits with you for a while before work, telling you about how Morgan keeps singing out of tune whilst she is on the phone to him. You wish you could laugh at the little things she describes, hearing about your family try and carry on without you.

Spencer stops by after work with JJ. You can hear how his voice cracks when he sits beside you, JJ on your other side as she rests her hand on yours. Spencer recites facts about comatose patients and if often interrupted by JJ with some happier news about Henry and describes the drawing she brought. You wish you could see it, feel the textures of the paint and cotton he used.

Yet, as much as you love your family, he still hasn’t been.

“Hey, baby girl.” You hear Morgan walk over toward you, pulling the ancient chair out as it squeaks against the floor. “Garcia tells me you’ve been on your own all day,” He begins and you internally chuckle. “and we can’t have that so I thought you’d love nothing more than your best man to come on by.” Morgan nudges your hand playfully and laughs to himself.

You’re desperate to laugh along, joke back like old times, tell him how much Penelope has been going on about their phone conversations and the workplace issues that have arisen.

“I know you haven’t seen him yet,” Morgan’s tone changes, the light-heartedness has dropped. “but he has been trying, trust me, we see it every day.” A sigh follows from him, and Morgan drops his head in his hands, thankful you haven’t had to witness the state Hotch has been getting himself into.

“He tries every day to come and see you, baby girl. He, he makes it to the entrance of the hospital and just,” Morgan knows exactly what it is, but he doesn’t want to tell you.

Sometimes, the silence is enough for you to figure it out. ‘It isn’t his fault.’ You want to yell out, scream at the top of your lungs, but you remain motionless, simply listening.

Hotch enters the hospital every day since the accident. He came in with you, running by your side as you were wheeled straight into surgery. He stood still as the doors slammed in front of him, taking you out of his sight.

“But erm, we found out about the guy who caused this. His name was Robert Kingshill.” Morgan starts, unaware that both Penelope and Spencer have already explained the details to you. You home in and out of Morgan’s explanation about how Robert was an abusive husband, his children both under 5 years. “He died on arrival.”

‘And no one will miss him.’

“Sorry to interrupt,” A new voice chimes in, one of the nurses who has been seeing to you; Savannah. She’s sweet, attentive and engages with your family. “I just have to check her vitals, I’ll be a few minutes at most.”

“Of course, do you want me to step out?” Morgan asks, his voice softening after he clears his throat. You can almost picture him sitting up straighter, flashing that signature Derek Morgan smirk.

“It’s okay, are we still on for dinner tonight?” Savannah asks, catching you completely off guard as your heart rate spikes. “Shit.” She mutters, watching as your heart rate relaxes once more, back to a normal pace.

“What was that?” Morgan speaks up, concern lacing his tone.

Savannah remains silent for a moment, too long for your liking. “Just a spike, they can happen now and then.” She brushes it off and steps out of the room, leaving Morgan with you alone once more.

*

“Do you think she can hear us?” Garcia asks as her hand remains in yours, holding it gently whilst Emily hovers by the window, watching as the rain falls against the window.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes. “I don’t know, Pen.” Emily states as she turns around. “But if she can, it’s kinda rude for her not to wake up.” Emily chuckles, and Penelope joins in for a second.

“If you can hear us, Y/n,” Penelope starts, and you can hear the shake in her voice. “we all love you, and miss you dearly.”

“We’re all still here, and will be until you wake up.” Emily adds as she smiles to Penelope, holding her hand out as she gladly accepts as tears fill her eyes once more.

Sniffing to herself, Penelope glances over to the empty doorway. “And, and Hotch misses you, Y/n. I know, I know he hasn’t been here yet, but he loves you, and Jack does too.”

The thought of Jack causes your heart to ache, how you miss that boy deeply in the evenings when you would go over. Jack would always ask for your help with homework or read with him before he went to sleep. Last month, he called you ‘Mom’ and you didn’t know how to react, neither did Aaron. But you let it happen, and carried it on.

Just as Jack felt he had a new Mom, he was at risk of losing her too.

“Come on, we ought to go, let her rest.” Emily states as she walks over to Penelope, taking her arm.

If only they could hear you. You were done with resting.

*

It has almost been a month. At least that is what you hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. With ease, you can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. You’ve heard them discuss your frequent brain activity, which is a good sign. They’re now thinking you’re going to wake up, that it could be any day. But then again, they’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.

Another Doctor walks in and checks over you, nothing out of the ordinary as you wish he would stop humming that awful TV show tune. “You have a visitor this morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He states which is unusual, your visitors are never announced to you, they just sort of appear.

Your ears perk up to the sound of shuffling, quickly followed by a restricted sob, one you sadly could pinpoint; Aaron.

“Hi, Y/n,” Aaron quietly speaks up, his voice hoarse as the chair scrapes across the floor and he reaches out, taking your cold hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner.” He turns to business mode, forcing confidence even though he’s breaking apart, seeing you like this. “I just,”

‘It’s okay, Aaron. Take your time.’ You want to tell him, that it’s not easy, nothing about this is. But you simply listen as he exhales shakily and he takes lifts his other hand, enveloping yours into both of his.

A small sigh breaks the moment of silence. “Jack, he keeps asking about where you are. I’m running out of options here, Y/n.” He chuckles out of worry. “Jessica has been great, taking care of him and everything, I’ve barely left my office since the accident.” Hotch explains, seeing flashes of light illuminating you that night, like an angel. The excitement in your expression turning to pure terror as he ran toward you, but was too late.

Hotch was always too late to save the women he loves.

“I just, I need you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters. “I can’t lose you too, I just can’t.” Soft cries sound from him as the door opens, and he sniffs quietly.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll come back later.” Someone speaks up, and Hotch nods to them before returning his attention to you.

He tried not to stare at the evident wounds and scars that will line your skin forever. The stitches on your forehead from where you hit the ground.

Hotch will never forget how he held you in his arms as you were bleeding, eyes glazed over as he yelled for you to keep your eyes open.

“I know sometimes things aren’t always easy for us, with cases and barely having time to ourselves. But I really wanted that night to be special, you deserved a night to be reminded how wonderful you are.” Hotch chuckles dryly, looking around the room. “Look where that got us.”

‘It’s not your fault, Aaron.’ You scream internally, wishing you could just take hold of his hand, squeeze it tightly and never let go. ‘Please, just listen to me, please.’

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t know if I can do this, Y/n.” Hotch’s voice hitches as his hands begin to slip out from yours. “Reid mentioned how talking to comatose patients is supposed to help but er, I guess we’ll eventually find out.”

Rising to his feet, you plead for him to stay, to not leave you here alone.

“I love you Y/n.” Hotch calls out as he stands in the doorway, seeing your chest rising and falling rhythmically, remembering the days where you’d lie beside him in bed, enjoying the moment of tranquil before Jack wound run through the door, waking you from a deep sleep. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

As Hotch turns the corner, he can’t stop the tears from falling as he collapses against one of the walls. Silent cries sound from his lips as a Nurse approaches him, but he brushes her off.

“Aar,” Your lips begin to part, a faint sound leaving them. But then silence returns, and you’re still trapped in your mind, wishing he could return.

PART TWO

[reidingmelodies]

Anatomically Correct

Summary:  It’s your first Valentine’s Day with Spencer, but it turns out cooking isn’t his strong suit.

Genre: Comfort/Fluff Includes:  Mentions of food Word Count: 1.1k Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

A/N:  Woke up this morning and felt the need to write a lil’ something for Valentine’s Day, so here we are!  Happy Valentine’s Day, loves! ♡

It wasn’t a secret that Spencer Reid was a genius.  In the year you’ve been together, you’ve learned an astronomical amount of information from him, be it over early morning coffee or late night movie marathons.  You learned about the inner workings of coffee more times than you can count, each time falling deeper in love with the man on the other side of the table.  You’ve learned about the probability of actors doing their own stunts over bowls of popcorn, always ending in love filled glances and whispered thanks to the universe for blessing you with this wonder of a man.

You were starting to wonder if there was anything he wasn’t an expert in, but now, standing in his kitchen surrounded by clouds of black smoke, a blaringly loud fire alarm, and the remnants of garlic bread stuck to the oven’s wire rack it was clear there was one thing your genius boyfriend wasn’t as gifted in.

Your nose crinkled at the stench, immediately depositing the brownies you had brought with you onto his countertop and darting your eyes towards your boyfriend’s figure.  He was standing under the fire alarm with a kitchen towel, arms waving as he tried to blow the smoke away from the roaring object. His apron was clad in small conversation hearts, but as much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him and read every single one you had more pressing concerns- like keeping his apartment from catching on fire.

Springing into action, you opened the windows throughout the apartment to get the smoke out, taking note of the bouquet of roses and flutes of champagne sitting on his dining room table along the way.  Even in the midst of a culinary disaster, the only thought on your mind was that you were so in love with Spencer Reid.

Making your way back to the now silent kitchen, you found Spencer slumped against the counter, tears shimmering in his eyes as they locked with your own.

You moved to his side, pulling him into your arms and running your fingers through his slightly tangled locks. As the two of you stood there, his breathing pattern synced to yours as you whispered words of reassurance in his ear, eyes widening as you glanced at the spread behind him.

What looked like Rossi’s pasta maker was attached to a stand mixer, strands of pasta dough still hanging from the flour covered machine.  There were scattered bowls of spices and fillings laying in between two trays of misshapen ravioli.  The burnt garlic bread had been removed from the oven, and while it was now the color of charcoal you could still see that the bread had been cut into the shape of a heart.�� 

You pulled away from Spencer, catching a lone tear that fell from his eye with your thumb as you gazed at him, eyes filled with an ever loving admiration for the man in front of you.

“You did all of this for me, Spence?”

He raised a brow, head slowly turning to look at the disastrous meal you were currently gushing over.  He looked back at you, studying the way your lips were curving into a smile at his confusion.  

“I just-I wanted to do something nice for our first Valentine’s Day together, but i-it didn’t really work out” he let out with a sniffle, effectively snapping your heart in two.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him to look at the meal he had prepared instead of you and he begrudgingly obliged, resting his left arm over your shoulders as you snuggled into his side.

“Spencer... no one has ever made me a homemade meal for Valentine’s Day before.  Seriously baby, is this homemade pasta?”

You glanced up and caught the way his eyes sparkled at your praise as he softly nodded his head.  “I went to Rossi’s last weekend when you were out with Emily, JJ, and Penelope.  He taught me how to make ravioli with a ricotta filling and garlic bread, and he just- he just made it look so easy”.  He paused, picking one of the ravioli up and bringing it to your eye level.

“But then I- I figured since it wasn’t too hard to make I would cut each one to look like a heart.  Then all of the pieces were sticking together and the hearts looked more like ovals and I forgot the garlic bread was in the oven and- and then you got here just as the alarm started going off”.     

He finished his explanation, looking down to see you entirely focused on the ravioli in his left hand.  

“Spence, baby, you made me dinner.  You didn’t just order food or buy a box of pasta from the store, which would have been fine and I still would have loved it, but you- you made me a homemade meal, Spence!  I’m so freaking in love with you”.

He laughed, laying the piece of pasta on the counter once more and finally gathering you into his arms.  You gladly snuggled against his chest, relishing in the feel of his hands running down your spine.

“Besides,” you continued with a smirk, “if you tilt your head to the left a bit it looks like an anatomically correct heart- that’s better than anything I can do, baby”.

Spencer shook his head, pulling away from you slightly to lay a kiss on your forehead and you had never been happier to see his bright smile gracing his features.  “I love you too, darling.  So much”.

Your lips finally met his, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in the feel of his lips slowly gliding over yours, his hands gently grasping your face.  It was over all too soon, a grumble from your stomach piercing the otherwise silent room and drawing Spencer’s attention to the food on the counter.

“How about we order pizza instead?  I’m pretty sure that place we both like has a special on heart shaped pizzas,” He suggested, stomach turning at the prospect of actually eating the food he had made.  You nodded eagerly, gesturing towards the dessert you had walked in with in the first place.

“Brownies and wine in the meantime?”  You asked, pulling out your phone to look up the pizza menu.

Spencer nodded, pulling you close to him once more and silently thanking the universe for blessing him with a Valentine as wonderful as you.  “It’s a date”.

***

“It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize how much you love them” -Agatha Christie

Tag List:  @calm-and-doctor​ @averyhotchner​ @reidyoulikeabook​

Link to join my taglist ♡

[maybebanks]

I Noticed You

jj maybank x kook! reader

“Alright, Sarah. Bye now,” you groaned, stepping out past her white painted bedroom door.

“Noooo,” she whined, “don’t leave,”

“I gotta go.” You pouted, “my dad wants me home,”

“Fine. Be like that.” She waved you off.

“Your parents are way less strict then mine!” You argued.

“Uh huh,” Sarah responded sarcastically, “I’m gonna miss you, bitch,” she smiled.

“Okay...see ya,” you waved while walking through the door.

You continued down the hallway, it was a sort of narrow hallway, but you’ve been down it many times before.

“Hey Y/n,” you heard Rafe’s voice call for you, he was leaning casually against his door frame.

“Oh..hey,” you answer, stopping infront of him.

You had to look up to talk to him because he was taller than you.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Rafe asks. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. I mean, he’s always been nice to you, but he was nearly 20. And you were barely 17.

You nodded, following his gesture for you to come into his room.

He closed the door after you. You just stood by the window. Raising your eyebrows at his suspicious actions.

You looked behind you and saw their backward looking fresh, a Pogue, you think his name is JJ but you didn’t know him well, mowing the lawn.

“I have to be quick. I promised to be home,” you mentioned.

Rafe smiled, not saying anything, just looking at you.

You fumbled with your crop top, “So..what’s this about?” You asked.

“You know how long I’ve been trying to get you alone. You and Sarah...it’s non stop,” he said.

“What?” You asked, very confused in general.

“You were at Toppers party right? Damn..when I saw you snort that coke I was like...this girl...she’s bad,” he chuckled.

“Oh...that was-that was a mistake. I don’t do drugs like that anymore,” you reassured, feeling regretful about that mistake.

He laughed, “don’t lie to yourself, baby. Just think of the fun we could have together,”

Is this some kind of flirting?

“Look...uh, I have to go. Talk later?” you opened the door a bit but Rafe slammed it shut.

“What the hell?” You asked angerly.

Rafe scoffed, “hanging out with Sarah makes you a real bitch,”

“Rafe...I have to go!” You raised your voice. This seemed to anger him. For next, he lunged towards you, trapping you against the wall.

“You think you can tell me what to fucking do?” He asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

When you saw his eyes, you could tell he was high.

“No, I’m-“ you began but stopped yourself when the door creaked open.

Wheezie’s brunette head peaked through the crack of the door.

When she saw both of you, her eyes turned confused.

Rafe moved off of you, “Wheezie, get out of here,” he ordered.

She didn’t argue like she usually would, she didn’t even exchange a glance at you. Just left the room, leaving the door a crack open.

“Shit,” you whispered involuntarily.

“Tell me, Y/n, what’s it gonna take?” he asked.

“Hi!” Wheezie shouted over the loud noise of the lawnmower. Waving her hand towards the boy out in the field.

JJ chuckled, he mowed the lawn for the Cameron’s once or twice a week. Wheezie was basically the only Cameron to talk to him, she would test out flirted to him, even though he was a pogue.

JJ turned the lawn mower off, walking over to Wheezie.

“What’s up?” JJ asked, honestly, he enjoyed a break from his work, and he would never get in trouble becuase Wheezie would defend him.

“So...uh...I don’t know for sure. But I think Rafe is gonna hurt her. And he’s kinda....you know, I mean he does drugs. I saw him this morning! Anyway, he’s in his room and I think-“

“Whoa! Slow down! Who’s gonna hurt who?” JJ asked, now concerned.

“Just put on a shirt and come with me!” She demanded, pulling him by his wrist towards the house.

“I don’t think your parents would be okay with me comin’ in,” JJ chuckled again.

“Just...okay...you know Y/n right? She’ll kill me if she knew I brough you into this becuase she hates attention or whatever but I’m worried, because you know...Rafe has a thing for her and I’m just worried he might try to kiss her and...” She trailed off, but JJ knew what she meant.

He frowned, “You sure I should go in there? What if she wants it. I mean, a lot of kook girls hook up with Rafe,”

“TMI!” Wheezie exclaimed, “anyway, Y/n isn’t one of those kook girls. She’s wayy too good for Rafe. Plus I think she’s into surfer boys,” Wheezie shrugs.

JJ sighs, “alright fine. But you owe me for this,” JJ began walking up the stairs, “what, you not comin’?”

“I am not about to get yelled at by Rafe. Plus I’ll cover the fort down here, so my parents don’t get involved.”

When he finally made it to the second floor, he heard your voice. You weren’t strangers, you’ve met once or twice, but JJ always thought you were way out of his league. And that was saying something.

“Rafe seriously. My dads gonna kill me!” You stated, pushing against Rafe’s rather buff chest.

“Who cares about your dad, Y/n. Just get on your knees,” he stated.

JJ felt disgusted. Even he knew that was no way to talk to a girl.

He stood outside the parted door.

“No, asshole,” you said bluntly, trying to get around him again.

He grabbed your wrist, harshly, pulling you back so you hit the wall. You moaned in pain when the doorknob from his closet door hit your back.

That’s when JJ interfered.

He pushed open the door to make his presence known.

You both looked up at him at the same time.

Rafe immediately stepped back from you, and you pushed the sleeve of your shoulder back to covering yourself.

“Everything alright in here?” JJ asked, studying the situation.

Rafe sniffled slightly nervously, he knew he probobly couldn’t take JJ in a fight due to all the drugs he’s on.

Rafe looked at you, to which you immediately understood, “uh...we are fine. Thanks JJ,” you answered, clearly nervous.

He was surprised, and unexpectedly flattered, when you addressed him by his name.

JJ thought fast, “there is a car here for Y/n,” JJ lied. But you believed it, and so did Rafe.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck, “Okay Y/n...have fun.” Rafe said as you stepped out of the room.

You wanted to flip him off, but JJ was right behind you.

When you got outside, JJ was about to tell you there was no car, but he couldn’t when you thre your arms around his torso, a hug, where you rested your head on his chest.

“Whoa,” he chuckled.

“Thank you, J, you have no idea...” you mumbled.

JJ slowly moved his arm to hug you back. But when his hand reached your mid back, you took a sharp intake of breath and pulled away.

“Sorry, for that. You really saved me back there,” you explained, looking up at him.

“It’s not problem. Oh and by the way, there’s no car here for you,” JJ mentioned.

“Oh...right. Shit I kinda need a ride. You looked around. Until your eyes landed on JJ again.

He studied you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You asked.

“No...” JJ shook his head, “this is the most you’ve ever talked to me,” he blurted. Kinda regretting not usuing his usual approach when talking to girls.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you before. I just didn’t want to get you in trouble,” you explained, “but I have noticed you,”

Your phone dinged, and that’s when you remember to check the time, “shit,” you blurted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...my dads gonna kill me. I was suppose to be home like an hour ago,” you sigh, still nervous.

You noticed JJ tense, “I can give you a ride? The van is gonna smell like weed though,” he winked, gesturing for you to follow him.

You nodded, following him down the driveway to where his “busted” van was parked.

“I’m not usually this helpless, you know,” you blurted, wanting him to know you for the real you.

“Oh believe me, I know,” he chuckles, opening the van door for you.

He was surprised by himself, again. He’s never cared enough to open the door for anyone. But it was so simple you probobly wouldn’t notice.

You smiled, at him and hopped in. There were some all black aviators and a red SnapBack on the seat. Which you moved so you wouldn’t sit on them.

As JJ walked around the van, you couldn’t find anywhere to put them, with all the clutter around, so you just decided to wear the sunglasses and his hat.

When he opened the car his eyes widened in excitement, “looks good on you Y/n,” he said starting the van.

“Who the hells that? I’m JJ,” you joked. When you took a deep breath, you scrunched you’re nose at the stench.

“Whoo,” you sighed, “it’s strong in here. What’d you hotbox or something?” You continued with the JJ impression.

“How do you know me so well?” JJ laughed and grabbed the hat off your head and placed it backwards on his own.

“Just guessin’,” you shrugged, moving the sunglasses farther down your nose.

“Where’s your place?” JJ asked as he turned the wheel.

“Uh...” you trailed off when you noticed Rafe running out of the house, looking angry, waving at the van.

“Shit! JJ go!! Drive!” You commanded. Grabbing his hand and forcing it on the wheel.

You knew Rafe would judge you for spending time with a Pogue, and he would also be mad.

“Calm down, princess,” JJ responded, stepping on the gas.

You immediately retracted, “sorry.” You muttered.

He pulled out of the driveway quick and started heading down the wrong road.

“Where are you going?” You asked, slightly nervous now.

“Back to my place. Since you didn’t tell me where yours was,”

“Wait...uh it’s down that road. I’d really love to hang but I gotta be home,” you told him.

“Ya sure?” JJ said turning the wheel and heading down your street.

You nodded.

“No, I mean, kook princess, would be down to hang with a Pogue?” JJ asked.

You pointed to the pastel yellow mansion with terra-cotta roofing, “of course JJ, I think you’re dope,”

“Holy shitt,” JJ moaned when he saw your house, admiring its beauty and the boat you had parked in the front.

“Jesus, what id give to be a kook,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it-“

“Y/N!!!” Your father shouts, he must have seen you pull in.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

JJs heat started to race, that was so damn hot.

You pulled of the sunglasses and placed them on the dash.

“See ya later, and also, you can come over any time use any materials you like. My brother got a new surf board and then went off to college, it’s all yours if you want it,”

JJ smirked, perks of having a kook friend that lived with a family that bought status symbols with their money, “can I get your number?”

“Yeah, it’s-“

You both stopped at the banging on JJs window.

Your father, was urgently yelling, “Y/N get out here right now. Your late for training, god damn it,” it was muffled, but you both understood.

“Training?” JJ questioned.

“See you at the Cameron’s,” you winked, then hopped out of the car and joined your dad inside the kook mansion.

JJ contemplated a life with you, only for a moment, then pulled out of your, rather long, stone driveway.

happy friday !

my masterlist

[whump-town]

The Paths to Revenge

Warnings: same old, same old... just some stabbing

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Summary: Doyle nonsense but make it Hotch/Morgan for the fun of it.

Clyde goes first.

“No one else can know,” JJ had whispered feverishly. She’d looked nearly insane, had come unattached in her months away from them and now pulled back into the whirling black hole of the mess he created by force, cruelly unnatural. “He will kill her. If he—” she’d choked on the words, tears starting to fall down her face. She had looked up at him with a wordless inquiry, sadness and disappointment laced in the fingers she wove into his. If this wouldn’t break him, what would? If he couldn’t cry now, for his best friend, would he ever cry again?

“You can’t tell Derek.”

It’s not their first secret. Hotch severely doubts it's their last.

The grace with which Derek Morgan seems to live has always bewildered Aaron. There is something about the way that Derek breathes gentleness, cupped hands so gentle his fingers could pry apart and life would still be captured in his hands. The fluttering of delicate butterfly wings twitching in his warm palms. Torn between desires, Aaron could never understand if he wished for those palms to close around his throat. To solidify him as something wretched, so undeserving of Derek’s endless, gentle love that he might stifle it once and for all. In another breath, he wishes he could curl himself up to be something so small and so delicate that Derek might hold him like that. Like something worth preserving, worth loving.

Those hands do not wrap around his throat, applying crushing pressure until Aaron is no more. They come to frame Aaron’s face, their warmth seeping into the bone chill of his body. Thumb stroking along a worry line stretched wide by his deep frown. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Derek whispers, he’s desperate to be them again. For Aaron to settle back down and find him, to lean into his touch. Hotch’s weary but tense with panic and restlessness. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Derek can’t keep watching this and he’s not sure how much longer Aaron can keep it up. “I can see it in your eyes, I can always tell.”

Before their relationship, Derek had been jealous of everything that Emily and Aaron had. At the time he hadn’t known it for what it was, his unrequited love making him bitter. He had just seen the way they looked at one another, the way they worked and he’d wanted to be that person for Aaron too. Emily’s intuition had lead her to find Aaron after Foyet’s attack, all based on nothing more than a feeling. While Derek had felt boiling rage and the inability to so much as look at Aaron while he suffered alone in that hospital bed. Derek had been jealous of how easily they spoke with one another, in a language no one else really understood. How Emily could comfort Hotch — she was allowed to touch him and hug him and press a kiss to his cheek or even drag him down several steps by the ear to reprimand him like a child. While even comforting gestures Derek attempted seemed to piss Hotch off.

But now Emily’s dead and Derek wishes she was here. So that he can hear Aaron laugh again. To argue loudly and pointless about Sean Connery vs Daniel Craig — how Aaron’s never cared about either but he gets all soft around the edges listening to Emily and Derek bicker more and more as the night goes on. To be happy and close.

And, maybe, Derek just misses his best friend too.

Both of them.

It starts with Clyde. National television doesn’t pick it up, it’s the sort of affair that’s quickly suffocated to prevent mass media from getting word. It reaks with the proper stench of death, Clyde Easter bound to a chair in his London flat. His own blood in a pool at his feet, head hung in the final submission of death. Severally tortured. The strain of an entire week of torture, hunger, and exhaustion taking its toll. Died of a heart attack. Aaron doesn’t need to be told what’s happening, he couldn’t even talk about it if he wanted to. He’s only given what he’s needed, a warning that he’s next and to watch out.

Aaron just prays Derek isn’t there when it happens. He’s allowed this one small grace.

“Ice cream,” Derek says more to the room than to Aaron, the idea had dawned on him so suddenly he’d spoken it out loud. Having spent another weekend inside, moping from their bed to the couch to the kitchen back to their bed, Derek is buzzing with energy he needs to do something with. Grief and this lie Aaron holds sucks him rather dry of the will to do anything. It seems the energy he’s supposed to have has gone to Derek, makes him worse. “Ice cream,” Derek repeats with a clap of his hand. “I’m going to get ice cream and you don’t have to come with me but I’d really like you to.”

Aaron looks up, hair a mess on the top of his head and shoulders sinking impossibly low in their joints as exhaustion sweeps over him. He’s incapable of so much as looking at Derek, having to see how hopeful and how loving he’s being looked at. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved and now he’s got it and he can’t face the vulnerability that cracks through his sternum every time Derek touches him. How every demonstration of love is such debilitating proof of how broken he is. How hopeless.

“I’ll bring you back a tub of Rocky Road.” Derek slides his jacket on, he’s not annoyed. No matter how convinced Hotch is, Derek isn’t even bothered. He knew he was going to get ice cream alone and, though he’d rather not do it alone, that’s okay.

Once his feet are shoved into his sneakers he comes back around the side of the couch and kisses the top of Hotch’s head, messing further with his hair. “I love you.”

Derek couldn’t remember what the last thing he said to Emily was. It kept him up at night trying to piece together every last second he had before she was taken from him before the nurses pulled them in opposite directions. Did she know he loved her? How glad he was that she was someone that not only he could trust but that Aaron had too? It’s the sort of thing that weighs down heavily on him. Now he can’t leave anyone without saying it.

Aaron has the opposite problem. Pulls away so that in case this happens again he won’t get hurt.

“I love you too,” he answers but hoarsely and to the sound of Derek walking away.

Jack is with Jessica. She takes Hotch’s emotional distance with grace, allows him this little period of reprieve while he tries to get back into the swing of things. He’s lost both of his best friends in a year’s span of time and is still really struggling to understand how to integrate himself fully into his relationship with Derek.

Life, it seems, has been throwing hard balls and it’s not getting any easier.

Derek kicks his shoes off at the door, more Aaron’s habit than his but he’s learning to uphold it. “I got rainbow sprinkles,” he calls out. “I know you have a reputation to uphold but I also know you love them—” Derek tosses the bags up onto the counter, smirking even in his slight confusion. He’d figured Aaron would have come looking for him once the front door opened. He’s vigilant about that sort of stuff. Even if he does know logically it’s just Derek. “Hey—” he’s greeted by the dark living room. It’s undeniably odd. “Where’d you—” Derek smirks when he sees Aaron’s back, even bowed and distressed it’s still undeniably him. “Aaron?”

A gun cocks at his head and Derek freezes, eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Sit down.” Derek opens his mouth, going to argue or fight but Aaron looks away. Gaze sinking to the floor as his head rolls down, chin on his chest. “Sit down!” Derek listens, not out of fear of the gun just in his line of sight but because he can’t think past the sight of blood smeared across the side of Aaron’s face. The way his right eye is red with blood, his temple drooling angrily down his cheek. “I have to admit,” the dark of the room caves to what little light is in the house, and Derek tenses. Recognizes him immediately.

“You fucker—”

The gun is moved, away from his head and to Aaron’s bowed temple. “Sit. Down.”

Derek hadn’t even realized it, he’d just stood like he could do something in the face of a gun. Now he certainly can’t, being the cause of his own life’s end is one thing but to hurt Aaron is another. He sits back down, eases his way back to a sitting position with his hands on the table. He won’t do anything fast.

“You know what I want.” Ian Doyle stands in their house, smirking at the wet sound of Aaron’s blood dripping on the floor. “Tell me where she is.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, a snippy — “she’s dead” — but Aaron looks up at him. The look they share is laced with mixed truths and the bold lie woven between the three men. His bloody eye, pupil blown wide staring back at Derek with all the answers he needs. Emily had died for them. She’d chased down her past and fought it all alone for them. Derek wondered if that meant she didn’t trust them, didn’t think they were capable of undertaking this threat with them. Looking at Aaron, watching his chest rise and fall in choking breathes, Derek wishes he couldn’t understand the solemn warrior trope. That he didn’t know the truth.

“She’s dead,” Derek mumbles but he’s not so sure about that anymore.

Ian smirks, unfooled. “See,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s what your friend here keeps telling me.” Ian shakes his head, taking the muzzle of the gun and grazing it across Hotch’s head. Trailing it through his hair. “I remain unconvinced.”

Aaron looks hopelessly up at Derek, a tear sliding down through the blood on his cheek. Caught on his eyelash, trailing over the duct tape on his mouth.

The knife comes out of nowhere. Slammed down into Aaron’s thigh with no warning. The duct tape obstructs his breathing, leaves Aaron gasping, struggling to breathe. He groans, sucking in air through his nose but it’s not enough. Aaron’s eyelids flutter, his head tilted back as he trembles. Face drained of color, his breathing getting worse. More strained, shallow.

Derek jerks his head away, clenching his teeth when Doyle jerks the knife back out of the wound. Aaron makes an awful sound, pained and unconscious.

“Tell me!” Doyle slams his fist down on the table. Completely ignores Aaron’s noises, his pained cries as he wheezes around the ducktape. “Tell me or I’ll kill him.”

Derek shakes his head, “no, no—”

“It’s not that hard,” Doyle sneers, patience is gone. “Her for him, choose!”

Derek shakes his head again, his own tear falling down. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Derek starts to tremble, rage replacing hopelessness. Angered to the point of tears. “She’s dead! We buried her!”

Doyle shouts, “fine! You want to keep playing games?” Doyle raises the knife up between them, letting the blade punctuate the question. “You will always lose Agent Morgan. Always—”

“No!”

Aaron’s eyes fly back open, a scream muffled by the duct tape. “I’ll find her,” Doyle promises. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Aaron’s head falls down to chest, eyes falling shut. “And when I find her, there’s nothing that you’ll be able to do to stop me.” Doyle reaches down, fingers slick with Aaron’s blood, and pulls the knife from Aaron’s chest. “Last chance,” Doyle whispers with a grin. He steps back, “last game, last question: me or Agent Hotchner?”

Derek doesn’t wait for Doyle to get out of sight, he moves immediately to the other side of the room. He steps behind the chair Hotch is tied to, seeing for the first time the ropes wrapped around his arms. The way he’s constrained to the chair, unable to move. “Aaron,” Derek lifts his head up, his fingers under Aaron’s chin. His skin is clammy, cold against Derek’s palm. “Aaron, hey! Look at me, keep your eyes open. Aaron?” His head is heavy, limp in Derek’s hold. “Aaron, please. Stay with me.”

He stops breathing in the ambulance, airway preserved by the tracheal tube bulged in his throat. His heart beats too quickly, pounding away in his ribcage. Derek feels like just yesterday he was living this exact horror movie, Emily’s cold hand unresponsive in his. Dark hair a crown on poignant contrast. Life held in the balance, raw existence. Again, Derek feels the pitter of a heartbeat against his fingertips. Again his breath is held as nurses pull him one way and his heart is torn from his chest.

What will JJ have to say this time?

Will the same tears shine in her eyes? The same trepidation? Their lie is bleeding out on a stretcher being pushed down a luminescent hallway. As pale as the death they created. Perhaps this is the price one pays when meddling with things beyond control. Things that are not to be messed with. The evil Derek’s mother forbade him from playing with. Worse than the handmade ouija board under his bed, death’s creator laying on his chest.

Lying dead in his arms.

Derek Morgan sits for six hours, entirely alone in the waiting room. Each breath could be the last he shares with Aaron and he won’t know for several more to come. They labor on, Aaron’s controlled by machines and Derek’s by the flood of emotions weighing him down. He can only control himself for so long, holding down the bitter failures of the last few days. His anger is intense, uncontrollable.

“You lied.” It’s the middle of the night, Garcia’s hair still pulled back in pigtails and JJ’s in a clip at the back of her head. The waiting room isn’t full of special agents, dressed to the nines ready for a fight. Derek sees only their family, leggings, and sweatpants, and he can’t take it.

“You lied,” Derek repeats to the floor. “She’s not dead and now Aaron—” his voice catches. Derek rubs his hands down his eyes, looks up at them unashamed of the tears falling down his face. Her fault. JJ and her stupid lie. “I’ll never forgive you. If he dies… If he dies because of this stupid shit, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Derek—”

“Not now.”

Sixty-two hours. Over two days of sitting and measuring machine regulated breathes. Three nights of sleeping in a chair, falling asleep to the sounds of machines and thin blankets pulled to his chin. Aaron twitches and each time Derek thinks he’s going to wake up but his pleas are meant with more silence.

It’s sitting. Waiting. Watching. The waiting room has become his third home, where he’s kicked to when Aaron’s getting another test or scan. He’s left with only the anxieties of the unknown. He spends hours just drumming his knee, head in his hands. That’s a long time to sit and think about all things you’ve said in the past.

They hunt him down, attempting to softly fill in the holes with medical jargon. Stammering and averting his gaze to the tiled floor under his feet. “Uhm,” he rubs at his eyes. “I--I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t care that the doctor looks stunned, entirely caught off guard. “Someone else,” he mumbles, head still ducked as he steps into the room. Leaving the doctor in the hall. “Tell someone else when they arrive.” He just can’t do it. He can’t hear all that medical bullshit and still have this blind hope that everything will turn out.

He grabs a chair from the ones lining the wall across from Hotch’s bed, pulling it right up to Hotch’s side and throwing himself into it unceremoniously. Derek looks everywhere but Hotch. He got a glance in and he knows what there is to see. Tape twisting Hotch’s lips around the tube down his throat. All pale skin, still hands, and machines. Derek huffs, shaking his head, and picks at his cuticles. They’ve all been through so much but Hotch…

They never really get a break, do they?

He wishes he could go back to when it was just the three of them. Hotch, Gideon, and himself against the world. When it was Hotch’s desk he kicked his feet up on, watching him eat his lunch or snack in a certain order. Thirty years old and still saving his dessert for after his sandwich and carrots. The only person Derek’s ever met that cared or noticed the apparent lack of yellow and green M&Ms compared to the other colors. Also, the only person Derek knows who sits and sorts them out. Putting them in a neat line and two of each color-- one M&M for each side of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes sting and he rubs them roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull it together. He’s not going to cry over Hotch sharing those odd M&Ms with him. Not going to think about how close they used to be, how things have changed for the better and the worse. He’s not going to die, so there’s no need to think like that.

They’ll be fine.

Everything is fine.

Garcia finds Ian Doyle, he never left Virginia.

Emily’s already on a plane coming over.

Killing Clyde Easter was revenge. It had been personal. For creating Lauren Reynolds and then for taking her away. Hurting Aaron was just convenience. Doyle knew Clyde’s death would sting but it would be no reason to come home, no reason to bring Emily home. There would be nothing she could do about the affair by the time she got word of his death. Hurting Aaron, though. Hurting one of the people Emily had supposedly died to protect, would work like a charm. It would draw her out.

Ian Doyle hadn’t planned for Derek Morgan. Not fully. He knew Derek would arrive when he needed him to, with enough time to keep Agent Hotchner sparingly alive. To make sure Doyle made it clear he knew Emily Prentiss is alive, to stir the team. Pin them against one another. Even against their downed leader. Take out the strongest first -- and that’s where Doyle hadn’t really known them. Aaron is fearless, he’s stupidly brave, but he’s not stupid. He won’t be blinded by his feelings. What Doyle did was stifle their logic, he disabled the one person who would have allowed Doyle to escape. What Doyle did was piss off five agents tired of losing the people they love.

Aaron gets worse on his own.

Garcia stays home, someone needs to be there in case Hotch wakes up. It’s not hard to figure out why they’d want to leave her behind. She’s stronger at home, has what she needs. And Derek’s terrified something will happen.

Ian Doyle finds Declan, it’s all the same story. Confused children and manipulative adults. There are no bittersweet reunions -- not between biological father and son and not between Emily and the others. Doyle and Emily have set fire to the families they had. Held a lighter over the portrait and watched the color melt to grey and then to black. Piercing a hole in the heart.

The airstrip lights up in heavy gunfire.

Derek doesn’t fire a shot. He wishes he had, for his own selfish fire starving out. He doesn’t shoot for Aaron. This isn’t what he’d want. This mess that they’ve all made. Aaron’s morals are always getting in the way of things but as Derek lowers his gun he’s flooded with relief. His anger abating, exhaustion seeping in. Ian Doyle dies on the tarmac. Spread out on his back and choking on blood. It takes four minutes.

It doesn’t feel long enough.

Not after everything he’s taken.

“Derek?”

He can hear it in her voice.

“I think-- Oh God, I think something is wrong.”

Emily had died. Derek had watched the monitor run-flat.

She’s a ghost and Aaron’s dying. This time no matador’s cape will dance, shaking free the threat with deadly precision. No magician to pull up the curtain, to show them the trap door.

“How is he?” Emily asks

“Alive,” JJ mumbles. “They’re not sure for how long--” she shrugs and Reid makes a choked sound, blushing and wiping his face clean of the tears still dry on his cheek. JJ just glances at him. “He’s holding on, Morgan’s with him.” The dismissiveness in her tone is not a reflection of how she feels, truly. It’s just a protective measure to ensure she doesn’t break. If she stops for even a moment she will cry and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is going to work out.

Aaron can’t die now. He’s laced hesitation into Derek’s logic. Changed too many things about him -- taught him the magic of rainbow sprinkles and how to cut hair with nothing but kitchen scissors and the bathroom mirror. Derek’s learned the magic of loving his best friend. Hating the person he shares a bed with. Being unable to sleep without the heat of Aaron’s body close by, no more than a breath away.

With those gentle hands, meant to capture thrashing wild things, Derek Morgan cups Aaron’s face. “I can see what you’re thinking,” he whispers. The intubation machines are gone, one step forward. Aaron lays flat on his back, an oxygen mask over his face. Across his bare chest are machine leads, pads left stuck to his chest. His heart is giving out. “Don’t--” Derek shakes his head, clearing his throat. He uses the back of his hand to push away a tear. “Don’t leave me, Aaron. Not now.”

Every muscle in Aaron’s body is stiff with pain untouchable by the maxed-out morphine. Cold sweat streaks across his body, makes him shiver, and clench his teeth down when the small movements spike worse pain. The thin sheet across his hips does nothing. It feels colder than the rest of the room, not even the reassuring pressure of it seems to help. His muscles ache from the tension. From the rounds he’s lost against the crash cart.

If he could force his jaw open, unclench it from the pain, he’d beg Derek for a blanket. Something warm or comforting. For relief. Anything.

He wakes to movement. It takes him too long to realize it’s his body being moved. “Easy.” Aaron looks up, confused by the sight of Emily and Derek standing side-by-side. “Here--” They work together, moving his body slowly. They try not to hurt him but he feels lit up inside. A pyre in his chest set ablaze with a match. Agonizing. He closes his eyes tight, detached enough to lose focus of where their hands are on his body.

“Aaron?”

When he can open his eyes again, he’s looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

There are pillows under one of his sides, another tucked under his thigh.

“Don’t--” He’s not even aware he’s doing it, not until he’s looking at the hand Emily’s just smacked. “Are you an actual child? Stop touching everything.” She stands and he watches in amazement as she bends over him and fixes the oxygen canal under his nose. Her hand grazes his cheek and she’s real. She’s here. When she notices his confusion she smirks, “seeing a ghost, Hotch?”

“Emily.” Oh, Derek. Hotch looks over at him, a dopey smirk he’s not even aware of spreading across his face. When Derek sees it, he loses his tension. The sting of his reprimand, who still thinks it’s too soon for Emily’s dead jokes, is gone. “How do you feel?” he asks even though he’s not sure Hotch has managed to find his words. His answer is that smile, growing wider as Derek kisses his cheek.

Aaron closes his eyes the second he sees Derek freeing his hands, sighing contently before Derek can even lean over and cup his face in his hands. They’re warm from the coffee he went to get, familiar in all the safest ways. “I missed you,” Derek whispers. Derek kisses him again, on his smiling lips. Unbothered that Aaron’s too out of his mind to work his mouth, just hums back, turns further into Derek’s touch.

Recovery will not be fun. Aaron got his wish. His best friend and his boyfriend back and it hardly cost him a thing. They'll both smother him, taking turns bossing him around.

He's never been so relieved to hear them arguing this early in the morning.

[myjjbaby]

hey I have a jj request? So y/n is a pogue in the gang and they are all heading out for a boating day. When they all arrive at y/n s house she doesn’t come out. She is slightly new to the gang so they don’t relly know abt her home life. Jj and John b go inside to find her, they see broken glass and debris everywhere in the house and even some blood. They find her sobbing hiding under her bed. When she sees them she immediately tells them to leave. They say no (jj is protective)

your home

author’s note - here’s a little gift because i almost have 300 followers because of you. so, thank you guys so much :)

synopsis - requested by anon! you and JJ are more alike than he could ever imagine.

warnings - eludes to domestic violence and mentions blood. 1.2k of protective JJ

“You’re worthless!”

The yelling was ringing in your ears, though your mother’s voice was long gone and she could be found sprawled across the ratty tan couch, blackout drunk. That was her excuse every time, baby I’m sorry, it was the alcohol and y ‘know I’d never hurt you in my right mind, yet she still cradled her drink like she should’ve held you, her daughter. Her fingertips are still brushing the glass bottle on the hardwood floor beside her.

The shattered tinted glass lined the ground as you crawled through the living room and towards your bedroom, grazing the wall to keep you steady. Your hands stung as the sharp material pierced your smooth palm. But you held back your whimpers and cries, fearing the passed out woman’s wrath. You’d deal with the pain silently if it meant one more moment of serene silence in behind the walls of your white picket fence home.

You ripped the bottom of your shirt, the gray fabric turned muddied as you wrapped it tightly around your hands. Ignoring the familiar stench following each hit, you hid your aching cheeks in your bloodied palms. This one was bad. Worse than ever before. You worried the bruises wouldn’t fade fast enough for your overly observant friends to miss the marks. JJ would notice, you were sure.

Pulling your glass scratched knees up to your chest, you gave out harsh heaves, trying to silence the sobs pressing against your lungs. You felt lost, like the marsh’s waters were rising around you, muting the summer breeze pushing through your windows and emphasizing the ringing that hadn’t left your body.

“Where is she?”

JJ was getting worried. The Pogues had agreed to spend the day of the ‘HMS POGUE’ and enjoy the last moments of the August sun, but you weren’t out on your family’s dock.

“I’m sure it’s fine, JJ.”

“Let’s just wait a couple more minutes and then you can head in to check.”

Kiara and Pope were trying to reassure the blonde boy, but JJ and John B were still worried, quietly waiting was never something they excelled at.

“That’s it.”

“JJ-“”

“No! I’m not waiting, my girl might need me, so fuck waiting.”

The friends exchanged glances at JJ word choice. My girl. They weren’t shocked, you and the Maybank were always closer, more affectionate, than the rest of the Pogues.

“Alright? I’m going in there.”

JJ didn’t look back to see if his friends were going to follow him, hurried steps were close behind him when JB clapped his hand on the blue eyed boy’s shoulder.

“Let’s get your girl, yeah?”

They both smiled before heading closer to the seemingly peaceful household. The lawn was perfectly mowed, the white paint wasn’t cracked anywhere on the panels. The perfect home.

The two friends stepped up onto the porch, the screen door squealing when JJ pulled it open. The house was eerily quiet, lacking your familiar giggle they always could identify you with.

“Y/N?”

Your heart dropped, through blurred hearing you could make out JJ’s smooth voice reverberating against the wall. You winced when glass cracking sounded in the silent home. You could feel the drowning sensation continue to push against your lungs, choking gasps slipping from your lips.

JJ looked down when he stepped on something haphazardly thrown on the floor, a broken beer bottle was stuck to the bottom of his worn white converse. His pulse sped up when he saw an environment so similar to his place. He shuffled through the entryway, John B following close behind, but they stopped short seeing your mom laid out on the family couch, liquor glass splayed around her sleeping form. Red dried around her dry knuckles.

“Wha- what,” the blonde boy’s heart beating harshly against his ribs, “Y/N? Baby girl, where are you?”

John B tapped JJ’s shoulder frantically, making out pained whimpers from your room. The two boys rushed into the yellow painted room, JJ’s heart stopping when he made out your curled in form.

“Baby?”

“N- no. No, stay back,” he froze, hearing your cries, “please, just- just stay back.”

“Okay. Okay, Y/N. I’m staying right here, yeah. Can you see me?”

You shook your head, a mixture of panic and hurt overwhelming your senses. His heart broke seeing you so helpless.

“Okay. Can you breathe,” another whispered gasp, “baby… I need you to breathe with me. Can you hear my breathing?”

You just cried, curling further into yourself hating that JJ and John B were watching you so closely.

“P-please, just- just leave,” neither of them moved, “leave!”

“Alright, John B can you go out to the boat? I’ll meet you back at the chateau?”

The brunette saw the pleading look in JJ’s eyes and nodded and patted his back before stepping out of the room.

“Baby girl,” he teared up when you flinched as he crouched by you, “hey, hey. I’m not coming closer, okay? It’s your move. I’m just staying right here.”

JJ winced at the cracks in his voice, willing his pain away. The last thing he needed was you being edged by more emotions clouding your senses. Your fingertips were trembling, something you’d never been able to control, when you reached out towards JJ and gripped his purple shirt in your hands.

“Hi, baby, there you go,” he moved closer, watching for your reaction, relief flooding his veins when you let his arms wrap you in their warmth, “come back to me,Y/N. Can you feel my shirt?”

Your eyes welled up with fresh tears when you nodded, the smooth, worn fabric grounding you to the boy’s arms around you.

“Good. That’s really good. Breathe with my chest, can you feel it rise and fall?”

With you hiding in his neck, JJ felt your tears dripping onto his warm skin but he didn’t care as long as you were with him. You listened to his heartbeat as it settled to a calming rhythm thumping against your ear, your chest breathing in time with him subconsciously.

“Why- why didn’t you tell me, baby?”

“I didn’t, um, want you to- you to worry,” you hated the quiver in your voice.

“I’m always going to worry. Always, baby girl.”

JJ let out a breath when your heavy eyelids finally shut. Still cuddled into his chest, JJ lifted you onto his lap, familiar calloused fingertips lulling you to fall asleep against him. Your whimpers settled into sniffles as you finally let your mind rest.

“I’m going to be your home, baby. We’re going to be happy and I’m gonna keep you safe. Just me and my girl.”

[brelione]

Its Alive (Rafe Cameron X Reader)

Rafe stood on his balcony,leaning with his elbows on the railing and a cigarette between his teeth.He always smoked whenever he had the house to himself but Wheezie would still complain about the stench whenever she randomly walked into his room.

He checked the time on his phone,trying to figure out why he hadnt heard you at all yet.He learned your patterns and how the moment your parents would leave the driveway you’d turn on your speaker and go for a swim.

He’d always sit on the balcony,squinting his eyes and trying to get a better view of you.He heard your slider door open,your feet hitting the hot concrete,putting down your phone and your towel on one of the chairs.You heard a small splash from your pool,eyebrows furrowed and letting out a small scream.

Rafe stood up immediately,trying to figure out what was wrong. “NO-NO-SHIT!”You screamed,acting on adrenaline as you hopped over the fence and into the Cameron’s yard,trying to find their pool net.He stood up,abandoning the half of his cigarette and running through the back door,watching as you went back over the fence.

He heard you shouting that everything would be fine,confused as he lifted himself over the fence,almost impaling himself as he slid onto your grass. “Um-what are you doing?”He asked,watching as your desperately tried to get something inside of the pool net.You ignored him,too focused on the task at hand,finally getting the animal into the net.

You flipped it out of the net and onto the concrete,getting on your knees and petting at its stomach. “Shit!”You exclaimed,beginning to press your fingertip onto its chest over and over again. “Do you need me to help you?”He asked,trying to remain serious as he kneeled down opposite of you.

 “I dont know!”You nearly shouted,screaming when a stream of water came from the squirrels mouth,its paw scratching you as it rolled over. “ITS ALIVE!”You shouted,the squirrel running off,leaving you smiling.

 “It was just a squirrel,jesus.”He laughed at you,looking at the little wet paw prints across the cement.You glared up at him,pulling up your bathing suit top as you stood. “I brought it back to life,doesnt matter what it was.”You answered,grabbing the net and handing it to him,tucking your hair behind your ears.

He watched you as your grabbed your phone from the table,checking the time. “Im impressed.”He frowned,realizing he didnt even know your name. “Thanks.”You spoke softly,awkwardly.He just nodded,not really knowing what to say. “Sorry I stole your pool net.”You mumbled,crossing your arms over your chest,only causing him to look downwards.

 “Its-its fine,it was for a good cause.”He mumbled,rolling the net pole between his hands. “Cool,so um….i’ll see you around?”You licked your lips,watching him nod. “Yeah,yeah okay.Um...can I use your door so I dont have to hop the fence?”He asked.

You nodded,showing him the gate opening that you had completely forgot about,sending him an awkward smile as he walked back into his yard. “Oh,im Rafe,by the way.”Rafe blushed,biting the inside of his cheek as you were about to close the door. “(Y/N).”You answered before closing the gate door,smacking yourself in the face,embarrassed.How did you fuck up that bad within five minutes?

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