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sweetpeterparker · 2 hours

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Miscommunication (the fun kind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption? i think that’s all, nothing NSFW in this one

Synopsis: Your good friend Penelope sees you in a bar and begs you to sit with her and her work friends. You realise you like one. She also realises you like one. She however, thinks you like the wrong one.

The moment Penelope spotted you, she gasped. “Oh my god!” You spun round on your seat on the bar towards her running over to you in unrunnable heels, a brilliant smile gracing her face and a surprised one falling to yours as you saw each other.

“Penelope?” You hopped off your bar stool and pulled her into a hug. “It’s been too long darlin’. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in years.” You gushed, definitely over exaggerating your circumstances.

“Didn’t we go for coffee last Thursday?” She giggles, and you see the familiar glint in her eye that she only got after a couple of margaritas.

“Like I said, years!” You giggled right back, and she held your hands, leaning in towards you more.

“Who are you here with?” She questioned, looking around.

You shrugged casually, “I came with some girls from work, but they all left with guys and I decided to drink my loneliness away… Except I haven’t actually had a drink yet because I’ve been sitting here debating whether I really want to drink alone.” Your words, though holding a little weight, came out with a laugh and a self deprecating sigh.

Penelope gave you a look, and you knew she was brewing something. “What if… you come sit with us?” Before you can ask questions or protest, she continues, “You know I’ve always wanted to introduce you to the team, which is who I’m here with, and it would be good for you too ‘cus it means you can drink not on your own.” She gives you puppy dog eyes, and clasps her hands together waiting for your answer.

You relent, deciding the sooner you had an interaction with her FBI friends the sooner it was over. You had heard some things, and they seemed lovely, but they were her friends and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be very welcome with your job as a journalist. “Okay fine, but you can’t mention my job. I don’t want them to hate me on the first impression.”

“It’s okay they know, I told them ages ago about what you do. Alright you stay here, I’ll go tell them and then I can introduce you.” She was practically buzzing, so excited you could see it in the air around her. She shuffled away happily, and came back to drag you over a moment later.

As you approached the group, she introduced you in order of where they sat around the table. “That’s JJ, Derek, David, Hotch, Emily, and Spencer. Everybody, this is my friend Y/N.” She smiles all big and goofy and then scrunches up her face in disappointment. “There’s no chairs left.”

You take this as an opportunity. “Well, I suppose that means I should g-“

“Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab one from over there.” Spencer quickly finds a solution, standing to walk over to an unused table and fetch another chair. You follow him with your eyes as he lifts it over. Doctor Spencer Reid. Penelope had mentioned the man on multiple occasions. Ever the problem solver, you gathered from her ramblings on the things he would do and say.

Penelope sits in the chair between JJ and Derek, and the latter lets his arm rest on Penelope’s shoulders. As you sit down in Spencer’s sacrificed chair, he pulls another one in between you and JJ, and you both awkwardly smile at each other before you look down to your hands in your lap. “Thank you.” You whisper to him.

“What for?” He whispers back.

“The chair.” You mumble, and he nods.

“It’s no problem.”

“Okay, I say we get some drinks. How bout it, pretty girl?” Derek's words snap you from your awkwardness, and you smile, realising he’s given you a nickname already.

“I am in dire need of a beer.” You reply, and Emily looks at you from your right.

“Beer, huh? I woulda coined you for a vodka redbull kinda girl. All for the thrills.” She looks at you with a smirk and you shake your head with a giggle.

“I’m normally a whiskey kinda girl actually, I get that from my parents. I only very rarely drink vodka, it just makes me want to make out with people.” The embarrassment soaks in the moment the words come out of your mouth and you realise you’ve just told a group of behavioural analysts that vodka makes you horny.

“Alcohol oftentimes does have the effect of making you sexually confident and can heighten feelings of affection and make you more open to try things sexually. One could assume that your specific set of hormones are just more affected by the chemicals in vodka in comparison to other alcohols.” Spencer pulls his lips into a straight line, and you giggle at his readily available information. Penelope wasn’t joking.

“Thanks, Doc.” You bump his shoulder, and he looks a little confused but mumbles a “No problem” anyway. As he looks away towards Derek and Penelope, you take the chance to study his features discreetly. The angle of his jaw perfectly contrasts the softness of his eyes, the honey brown colour almost sparkling within the dim lighting of the bar. His cheeks are tinged pink from the currently inaudible teasing from Derek, and there’s a little smile on his lips that you could almost envision yourself kissing.

Derek breaks you out of your head a second time. “Hey pretty girl, you wanna go get those drinks now?” He flashes you a grin and you smile, nodding.

“Yea let’s do it. Does everyone know what they want?” As you’re trying to split everyone’s orders between you and Derek, Penelope gives you a look that says “do you have the hots for my friend?” and you give her a look back that says “maybe..” she gasps and the whole table turns to look at her, making her realise that she’d turned the conversation into an out loud one now.

“You know what? Us girls can handle those drinks, Derek. Why don’t you have a seat.” She drags you up to the bar and orders quickly before she forgets, and then whips round to face you.

“You like him. I saw it on your face. You like him!!” She whisper shouts and you glance back to Derek and Spencer hunched over the table chatting. You smile.

“Look at him! Of course I like him, who wouldn’t like him? He’s simultaneously cute and hot and I swear men aren’t supposed to work like that.” You whisper shout back at her, and her smiles sadly.

“I wish I could set you up, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is amazing so I can’t even be mad about it.” She sighs, and you slightly deflate.

“Oh man, I can’t believe the first time in years that I actually want a guy he’s taken. Just my luck, I suppose.” You laugh, and grab the drinks that have been sat on the bar. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You shrug your shoulders and head back over to the table with her, handing everyone their drinks and sitting back next to Spencer to sip your own.

After an hour or so, conversation was going a tad dry, and you decided to use an old icebreaker your college roommate had taught you to get things flowing again. “Okay, one after the other I want everyone to tell the group something embarrassing. It can be anything, as long as it’s about you.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Derek starts.

“There was this one time I was flirting with a girl while I was out with my mom. Now that was my first mistake, my mom comes over and starts talkin to this girl askin if she’s my girlfriend. I said momma I’ve only just met her, and she said ‘well then you better hurry up, this girl is far too beautiful for you to pass up’. Before I could even speak, the girl says ‘I think you’re too beautiful to pass up’. She was talkin to my mom! And I just thought hey maybe she’s just tryna get on moms good side, you know? You win over mom, you win over me. But then she spent 10 minutes flirting with my mother until I had to drag her away. My mom will not stop bringing it up just to mock me.”

Spencer cracked up beside you at the story, and you couldn't help laughing a little with him.

Penelope pipes in, “Tell them when this happened.” He grimaces.

“Last year.” He barely says it loud enough to hear, but you all catch it and it sends you all into a fit of laughter.

Rossi reminisces about the time he proposed to one of his ex wives, and she said no. In public. Then later in the day said yes, telling him she just wanted to embarrass him the way his public proposal had embarrassed her.

Hotch talks of the time he finished work early and decided to pick up Jack from school. The teacher had asked him if he was Jack’s grandfather, and he had to explain that he most definitely was not.

“I once hugged my friend from behind to tell her goodbye at a party. It wasn’t my friend.” Is all Emily gives for details. She grimaces at the sheer memory of it, and you can’t help the little smile that graces your lips.

“My turn then?” You question the group, and they nod. “I probably should’ve used this time to think of what I was gonna say. Well I suppose I’ll use the only one that’s currently present in my mind,” You turn to face Spencer, “I was gonna ask you out before Penelope had to drag me away and tell me you were taken. Which was slightly embarrassing for me in the moment, but as I’m saying this I realise I’ve just embarrassed myself even more.” You nod through your internal pain at how stupid you felt, and took a deep breath before trying to move on. Spencer looked too taken aback to let that happen.

“You were gonna ask me out? And Penelope told you I was in a relationship? Why would she do that?” He looks plain confused now, and you mirror his expression.

“I never told you Spencer was in a relationship. I told you Derek was in a relationship, because I thought he was the friend you said you liked! Wait. So when you said he was hot you meant Spencer?” Now even Penelope looked confused, although not exactly for the same reason you were.

“Yes! Of course I meant Spencer! No offence Derek, you’re lovely but you’re not my type.” You rushed, giving him a sheepish smile.

“And I am?” Spencer speaks again.

“Pretty much yea.” The smile he gives you at your words makes you look away nervously.

“So what you mean is that if you hadn’t been told I was taken I could have went on a date with you?” He’s looking inquisitively at your face now, tracing for signs of a lie as he waits for you to respond.

“You still could go on a date with me.” You suggest, with a little shrug and a smile that reaches your eyes.

“I’d like that.” He nods, slightly enthusiastic but trying to play it cool.

“Me too.” You nod with him. “I should probably be heading home, I have work I still need to catch up on. But I could give you my number and you could take me to your favourite place or something. Somewhere I can get to know you just from looking around.” You suggest, gathering your things and scribbling your number down on a spare napkin.

“That sounds good- great. That sounds great.” His eyes are filled with a mixture of excitement and something else you’re not sure about, but the look on his face makes you smile.

“Call me then.” You nod finally, getting up to leave. You give everyone their goodbyes, hugging them all lightly and giving Spencer a little wave.

Over the next few days the anticipation of his call is almost overwhelming. And when your phone begins to ring, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen, you bite your nail before clicking the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

A/N: I don’t actually really like this, but it’s fine. I wanna do a part two, someone tell me to do a part two plsplsplspls. (May rewrite this once i’m not jet lagged and cramming it between studying but idk)

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sweetpeterparker · 11 hours

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I know nothing about spencer actually, since I never watch his series. But I read on one of your fics that spencer is germphobia?

Could I request one where spencer gets home after a case for a week and found reader sick in the bathroom?, and she's kinda locked herself since she knows spencer germphobia?

You know that kind of fever where you sweat and throw up nonstop

It's been so long after you write spencer. I miss your spencer a lottttttt TnT

Thank you for requesting! I’m not totally sure if Spencer is canonically confirmed germophobic but he’s definitely sensitive to germs, so we’ll roll with that :)

cw: nausea, vomiting

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 832 words

You’re not at your best, shaky and sweaty, but when you hear the front door open you move quick as a flash.

“Hello?” Spencer’s call echoes through the apartment.

“Hi,” you say back, quieter than you intend. Still, he finds you easily, and you’re glad you reacted fast when the handle on the bathroom door jiggles. “What are you doing here?”

Spencer’s taken to staying at your place, but when he’d called you from the jet to tell you his case was over you’d said to go back to his apartment. With what he knows about how sick you’ve been the last couple of days, you thought he’d listen.

“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he answers simply. He doesn’t try the handle again, but his voice sounds just on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit, breathing through another wave of nausea, “but I’ll be fine. You should go home.”

“I am home. Open the door.”

“Spence,” you sigh. The tips of your fingers are cool against your temples, and you press them in to quell the uneasy feeling that comes with having your brain so muddled. “You don’t want to come in here.”

“Why can’t I decide that?” There’s an odd scraping sound on the other side of the door.

“Because you’re too nice. I know how you feel about germs.” The mutinous acid vat of your stomach revolts again, and you cough a couple of times, swallowing forcefully.

“I’m just as likely to get sick from pressing an elevator button,” Spencer insists gently. “Seriously, let me in.”

“Go home,” you plead.

“I’m coming in.”

You sigh, bending to lean your head against the cool porcelain of your tub. “What, are you going to kick the door in?” He’s told you about his coworker Morgan doing that, but you don’t think of your scrawny (though you love him for it) boyfriend as capable of such measures.

“Not quite.” Another scraping sound, and you sit up as your bathroom door tips outward. Spencer catches it before it can fall, easing it down onto the floor before stepping over it. He’s taken the whole thing off its hinges.

“Show off,” you say tiredly, too spent to do anything about it as he walks over to you.

“Yeah, well,” Spencer lifts some flyaway baby hairs off your neck, cool knuckles pressing to the hot skin, “I didn’t want to damage your door. You didn’t tell me your fever was this bad.”

“I told you I was sick.”

“I feel like ‘sick’ is more or less ambiguous,” he says, not unkindly. His touch moves to your face, long, slender fingers laying down across your forehead. “How high is it?”

“Dunno.” You swallow thickly. “Haven’t checked. Are you okay?”

“I touched a dead body yesterday; so long as I shower after this I’ll be fine. How have you not checked?”

“I can’t—find—” You cough as bile rises in your throat, bending over the toilet “—the—”

“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer rubs your back. Your coughing turns into retching. “I got it. I’ll look for the thermometer soon, okay?”

You nod, tears pressing at your eyes as you dry heave. The muscles in your throat and abdomen spasm painfully.

Spencer makes a sorry sound, his hand coasting up and down the ridges of your spine. “You haven’t been eating anything, have you?” It’s not really a question. “We need to get something in your system. You know that ‘starve a fever’ saying is an old wives’ tale, right?”

He sits with you until the fit abates, then stands and leaves the room. You hear cabinet doors opening and shutting, and before long he’s got a wet rag cooling the back of your neck, you’re sipping water out of a straw, and he’s sticking your previously missing thermometer in your ear.

“I’ll probably have to go soon if I want to get to the store before it closes,” he’s saying quietly, free hand settled comfortably north of your knee. You’re trying really hard not to breathe in his face. “It’d be good to have some cheerios or something for you to eat, and something with electrolytes.”

The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it close to read the screen, a frown pursing his pretty lips.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” you ask, though at this point you really want him to as well. “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Spencer sets the thermometer aside. “You’re not freaking me out,” he says, hands gentle as he takes the rag from your neck and folds it onto a new side before putting it back. You almost sigh. “The worst thing that can happen is I get sick, and” —he meets your eyes, mouth tipping upward as he shrugs— “if that happens, it can’t be helped. But if I went back to my apartment, and I was fine there but you were still sick here by yourself, well, what’s the point in that?”

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sweetpeterparker · 18 hours

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A Truth Universally Acknowledged - Series Index - COMPLETE

Summary: “It doesn’t matter that he hates me, it doesn’t matter…I just wish I knew why.”

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, fluff.

Content Warning: Angst, but nothing extreme.

Comment/message me to be added to the series taglist!

A/N: The title for this series comes from the first line of Pride and Prejudice, which this fic is loosely inspired by. The series will have 5 chapters.

comment/message me if you’d like to be added to the series taglist.

– Chapter 1 –

– Chapter 2 –

– Chapter 3 –

– Chapter 4 –

– Chapter 5 –

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sweetpeterparker · 20 hours

Text

9 Months of Getting to Know You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k (i got a little carried away...)

~Masterlist~

Description: A drunken night leads you to a pregnancy with your boss. You've never had feelings for him before, but could a baby change your entire relationship?

Warnings!: allusions to sex, implied sex, flirting, angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, crying, um those bueatiful things called *hormones*, Aaron hotchner being hot, cursing, more fluff

A/n: I haven't written in so long, and I'm so sorry for being away!! There are probably so many spelling mistakes in this, be warned! Also, if you dont understand the set up his, this is written in like different sections, a snippet from each of the 9 months of pregnancy.

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

September 15, 2010

You're eyes fluttered open as you breathed in the morning air. Light shone through the blinds and the air was calm.

The bed was comfortable, the pillows dragging you back to sleep. Your eyes drifted closed.

An arm found its way around your waist and you burrowed into the person beside you.

Your head lay on his chest, your legs tangled together.

It wasn't until you felt his skin on your own that your eyes snapped back open.

Just about the same time his did.

You didn't even recognize him at first. His disheveled hair and sleepy eyes. But you couldn't mistake that face for anyone else.

"Hotch!" You squealed.

"Y/l/n! What are you doing in my bed?" He shouted right back.You stared at him wide eyed and he had a similar look on his face.

"Your bed? What are you doing in my bed?" Your voice got higher as each word left your mouth. What the hell happened?

You looked sound and realized you were in fact, in his bed, in his room, in his house!

You both scooted away from each other and you felt the sheet slip from your chest. It took a moment to notice that you were indeed naked. "Oh my god!" Hotch shouts before slamming his eyes shut and looking away.

"Oh my god." You repeat as you bring the sheet to your chest. "I'm naked! Are you naked? Why the hell are we naked?" You stuttered out while trying to stay calm.

"Yeah, I uh, im naked too." He replies shyly as he shifts so that he can hide himself. "Why the hell are we naked?" He repeats your earlier question turning to look at you, and you try to think back to the previous night.

"I...I don't know. I just know I was really drunk." He nods, because he was too. You both just sat there staring at each other before you asked the dreaded question.

"We didnt… we didn't have sex did we?" You asked. He was silent for a few minutes trying desperately to think back to last night.

"I-I don't know." He says exasperated. You nodded and take a deep breath before wrapping the sheet around yourself, grabbing your clothes and scrambling to the bathroom. You got dressed as quick as humanly possible and quickly came back out of the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go. And we, can just pretend this didn't happen." You suggest and grab your phone before bolting out the door.

"Y/n wait-" but you were already grabbing your keys from the table by the front and leaving.

Your mind was running a million miles a minute and this mornings popular question kept running through your head.

What the hell happened?

* * *

September 30, 2010

It had been, an awkward couple of weeks to say the least. You still had no idea whether you and Hotch actually slept together and you both mutually decided not to mention it and to avoid each other at all costs.

And it was working just fine.

Awkward, but fine.

That is, until you got sick.

Puking often, sore boobs, you were bloated and you just felt exhausted.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay? This is the third time this week that you've run to the bathroom to throw up." Garcia paused as she paced outside of your stall. "Maybe you should go to a doctor." You leaned back from the toilet seat before moving right back up to puke again.

This was getting old.

"Maybe you're right, Pen." You got up and gathered your things. Garcia assured you that she would clear it with Hotch while you called your doctor and left for a quick pop in.

The appointment took a while, per usual and the doctor insisted on drawing blood. She came back quickly to ask you some questions.

"Okay Y/n, how long have you felt like this?" She asked, a clipboard in hand ready to record your answer.

"Um, about two weeks I think?" You say, unsure of when the puking started.

"Okay, and when did you last have your period?" Your blood ran cold at the question. And it all came rushing back. Being drunk, the did we did we not sex thing, Hotch. You were three weeks late.

"Oh god. I'm, I'm three weeks late." You stuttered out and the doctor's eyes grow wide.

"Is there any way you could be pregnant?" She asks hesitantly and you close your eyes, begging the tears to stay at bay as you nodded your head slightly. A nurse walked in the room and handed the doctor some paperwork.

"Well, the test results just came back in, and you are in fact pregnant Y/n. We will need to get you started on some prenatal vit…." Her voice drowned out as everything went fuzzy.

Pregnant?

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

You were pregnant.

And Hotch, your stern, strict, bossy untit chief.

He was the father.

***

October 2, 2010

Four days. It had been four days. Four days since your world came crashing down.

Since you found out you were pregnant.

You wanted to be excited. You had always wanted to be a mom.

Not like this though. Definitely not like this.

Because you had to tell your boss that you were pregnant with your baby. And that you were not giving it up.

You couldn't.

Penny knew. You told her as soon as you got back. She was the only one. She just didn't know who the father was.

But she was begging you to just tell the father. Ot was obviously eating you alive.

Morgan and Prentiss even began noticing your lack of engagement. And even though it had only been 4 days, they still noticed.

Stupid profilers.

You decided to just rip off the bandaid. You waited until everyone left the office, knowing he would stay after. You slowly made your way up to his office after Reid finally left.

You gently knocked on his door, hearing a soft come in. You walked in and took a seat across from his desk and waited for him to acknowledge you.

"What can I do for you y/l/n?" He asks after looking up from his paperwork.

"Um, I need to talk to you. It's important, Hotch." He sets down his pen and folds his hands together in front of him. His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

"Okay, what's up?" He asks, brows still furrowed.

"T-there really isn't a good way to say this." Your voice shakes as tears spring to your eyes. Hotch's expression grows worried.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He asks quickly.

"Yeah. I think so. Um but, I just need you to not freak out okay?" He nods and you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I'm pregnant." You say. Hotch nods along in understanding but looks confused, wondering why he would freak out. Until it hits him. That night. That drunk night. "Y-you're the father." You day softly, in case he didn't realize.

His face is frozen, showing no emotion at all. He takes a deep breath before evening his mouth. Just to shut it again. It takes him a few minutes to speak.

"Pregnant? As in-" you cut him off.

"Pregnant Aaron. I'm pregnant." Your voice is soft and he just nods. You both sit in silence before Hotch stands up and begins pacing back and forth muttering to himself.

"Hotch?" You say hesitantly.

"Hmm?" He asks, stopping for a moment.

"Can you say something? Plese?" You begged. He only said one thing.

"What the hell happened?"

* * *

October 9, 2010

A week later you were sitting in the waiting room of your new obgyn's office. Hotch sat beside you, rubbing his thumb over his fist. Your knee bounced up and down nervously as you sat and waited for the lady to call you back.

"Y/n Y/l/n?" She finally calls and you and Hotch follow her back to a room where you wait in awkward silence once again.

The doctor finally comes in 20 minutes later with a smile and warm welcome.

"Alright, so miss Y/l/n are you and your husband ready to see the baby?" She asks after going over the technical stuff.

"Oh, um no he's not we're not-" he speaks at the same time, stuttering just as much.

"I'm not her, you see its complicated." She just laughs and nods in understanding.

"Oh don't worry, I get it. We get couples like you guys all the time." You ignore her comment and watch as she gets the stuff for the ultrasound. She rubs the ointment on your stomach and it's freezing to say the least. You wince at the cold and subconsciously grab Hotch's hand, squeezing it as you wait for her to show you the picture.

A faint beating is heard and she looks at you both with a smile.

"That's the heartbeat." She tells you and you feel Hotch squeeze your hand as a smile breaks out on your face. "Would you like to see your baby?" She asks and you mod vigorously.

She points to a little bean on the screen and you gasp lightly, as tears spring to your eyes.

You looked at Hotch and he stared at the screen, a soft smile adorning his face. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. You hoped your baby was just as beautiful as him.

You quickly shook your head of these thoughts as you turned and desperately tried to focus on the doctor's words.

There was no way you were attracted to your boss.

There was absolutely no way you could ever be attracted to your boss.

Right?

* * *

November 26, 2010

Thanksgiving, your favorite time of year. You all gathered at Rossi's, a feats prepared before you. Fall decorations surrounded the room alongside the sound of laughter.

If only you could enjoy it.

If only you weren't worried for them all finding out.

You and Hotch had discussed not telling the team shortly after your first ultrasound. They didn't need to know until they really needed to know.

Which may have been sooner than you though considering the growing bump and the constant urge to throw up.

Rossi broke you away from your thoughts as he called you all to the dinner table. You all sat down, smiling and laughing along to Morgan's awful jokes and Garcia's teasing. While you all waited for Rossi to bring in the turkey, the topic moved to relationships and somehow the focus landed on you.

"So Y/n, what about you baby girl? Got anyone special?" He jokes raising his eyebrows up and down. You giggled awkwardly avoiding Hotch's obvious gaze.

"Um no, I-I dont. What about-" your voice cut off as you got a whiff of Rossi's turkey as he walked into the room. You suddenly stood up not being able to hold anything down anymore. "Oh god-" you ran from the room straight to the bathroom, Hotch following soon behind to hold your hair back.

He rubbedd your back softly as he whispered soothing words as you puke your guts out.

As soon as you finished you quickly washed up and Hotch walked back out with you.

"Y/n, you okay?" Prentiss asks, sending you a worried glance.

"Mhmm, fine." You turn slightly as you sit down and JJ gasps. Your eyes shoot to her and you know she knows.

"No way." She says softly. "No way!" She says a bit louder. You look at Hotch worridly and you know that now JJ knows everything. "No way." She says one more time after seeing the look you sent Hotch.

Everyone looks confused before you sigh and take a deep breath.

"There is no way that you are pregnant!" JJ says and you look shyly at your plate.

"Well…" you trailed off and the whole table erupts. Questions begin flying about when and how long and who the father was. You glanced at Hotch again and they all shut up, adorning the same look JJ had on her face.

"Before you all freak out, just know we were very drunk, and we barely remember what happened. But uh, I am pregnant and Hotch is the father." You look down shamefully and you can see Hotch does too. Though why, you're not sure.

The team just stares at you wide eyed.

One stupid question going through their mind.

The only question anyone can seem to ask.

What the hell happened?

* * *

December 17, 2010

Another month goes by and you and Hotch are close. You have become friends, good friends. You joke and you tease and you mess with each other. But he's also caring and sweet and sincere.

He takes care of you and he comforts you.

And he fucking confuses you.

Noone ever told you that when you're pregnant you're emotional. That your feelings are all mixed up. That you want to cry all the fucking time.

But apparently, that's a normal thing, according to your doctor.

But is it a normal thing to start growing feelings for the man that is both your baby daddy and your boss? You're not really sure.

Which is why you decide to just ignore Hotch and push him away.

In your emotional state of mind, it was your only choice. Admittedly it was hard considering he had insisted you stay with him until the baby was born.

So here you sat, curled up in the guest bed, crying because you can't get a hold of yourself.

You check the time and it's about 2am when you hear a knock on the door. It slowly opens and Hotch walks in, worried look on his face.

"Hey, hey, hey. Honey, what's wrong?" The word slipped from him before he could stop it, but you barely noticed through your crying.

"I-I don't- hotch what are we gonna do?" You ask desperately for an answer. Suddenly all of your insecurities hit you like a brick and you start rambling. "I mean, we aren't together, I'm pregnant, we're having a baby. We work so much! When will we have time to watch our kid? And we don't live together so our kid will have to grow up switching back and forth from houses. And hotch I had to do that, I can't do that to my kid." Your breathing grows rapid and Hotch tries to calm you down.

"Y/n, I need you to breathe. Breathe honey. Just breathe with me." You match your breathing to his and slowly begin to calm down. It isn't until your completely calm do you realize that he has his arm around you, you pressed into his side. One hand clutches his shirt while he shushes your cries.

"I know it's scary. But we'll figure it out. It will be okay. We will figure it all out." He says soothingly, running his hand through your hair as your sobs subside.

This was going to be such a long pregnancy.

* * *

January 22, 2011

Soon enough it was time for one of the most exciting moments of your life. Finding you the gender of your baby. You were showing quite a bit now and you were so excited to figure out what your baby was going to be.

You both sat in the office, like you did at the first ultrasound.

You got called back quickly and only twenty minutes later your doctor was asking you if you wanted to know the gender..

You nodded vigorously and Hotch chuckled at your reaction.

“I just want to know. I’m so impatient I think it would kill me not knowing.” You say with a smile stretching across your face. Aaron, as he has insisted you call him many, many times, grabs your hand and holds it tightly.

You wait with baited breath as the nurse spreads gel across your bump and begins looking at the monitor. She smiles softly and turns to you.

“Your baby is very healthy, which I know you are happy to hear.” She takes a pause for a moment. “I am very happy to share with you that you will be having a baby boy.” You feel Aaron squeeze your hand as tears fill your eyes. You can hardly believe it, a baby boy.

You let out a watery chuckle as Aaron leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach. Your heart soars and you don’t know if it's butterflies or nausea that flutters in your stomach. Maybe both.

But that’s a discovery for another day. For now you celebrate with your boss, the baby boy you will have in only a few short months.

* * *

February 14, 2011

Unfortunately the bubble of happiness could only last for so long. When Hotch informed you that you would be benched from this moment on, you were extremely, well frustrated. You understood why, of course.

But it left you with days and days of bordem and uncertainty for your team.

You knew this wasn’t good for the baby, so you needed to find a hobby, something to distract you that you could very well end up raising a child yourself if a case went wrong. Worrying about Aaron this much was new to you, and a very unwelcome feeling when so many other feelings flooded your mind about this man.

To distract yourself you decided that cooking and baking was the way to go. You had asked Rossi for some recipes before they left for the most recent case and you had decided to make food for Aaron the night he got back, especially because it was the week of Valentines.

Of course you had not been planning a romantic dinner. Rather a thank you for not leaving and for being so supportive in such a weird situation.

He called to let you know they would be flying back the day of Valentines, and you were ecstatic. It was perfect. You had begun the recipe in the early evening, serving a special pasta with some delicious brownies you had made on your baking adventure the past week. You put the food in the oven so that it would stay warm and poured Aaron some whisky before heading to the sink to wash some dishes.

Aaron is welcomed home by the smell of dinner and the woman carrying his child humming while doing dishes. He isn’t able to hide his smile, and his heart beats out of his chest at the domestity of the situation. He watched you for a moment before making his presence known.

“Hey.” He says softly as he enters the kitchen. You turn to him with a smile.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s Day.” You grab a rag and dry your hands. “I made dinner.”

“Smells delicious. One of Rossi’s?” He asks and you giggle as you pull dinner from the oven.

“Yeah, I don’t trust anyone else other than the Italian chef himself.” Aaron chuckles and tries to help you move evrything to the table.

“Let me help, you’ve been on your feet way to long anyways.” You roll your eyes but let him help nonetheless.

Dinner was a nice affair. It was quiet, but not awkward, more peaceful than anything. For some strange reading however, you found yourself staring at Aaron quite often. His features illuminated in the dim lighting of the kitchen, and despite the tiredness so obvious on his face, he looked quite handsome.

It stole your breath, realizing how long you had been staring and you quickly looked away.

You shook your head in disbelief, blaming the pounding of your heart and the heat on your face on pregnancy hormones.

But really, how much longer would that excuse work?

* * *

March 27, 2011

The day started out like any other. You had however woken up, a bit more tired than usual, back aching. Your feet were swollen, and you felt too huge to even sit up.

One of those days you supposed. You grumpily got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

Hotch was doing the same in his own room, unbeknownst to you however, he was thinking about you. How you should be in his room, waking in his bed.

His feelings had grown extraordinarily since the news of your pregnancy. But it’s to be expected, hormones are flying, you’ve been living together, so many intimate and domestic moments. It was bound to happen.

He wonders often if you are pushing the feelings away like he is. Are you feeling it too? Are you pretend inf it’s not there? Are you imaging the family you could be if you two were together? All of these were questions Hotch constantly asked himself.

If only he had the courage to talk to you about this. If only he could-

“Aaron!” His thoughts are cut off by yoir voice yelling his name from your room. “Aaron!” He’s leaving his bathroom in an instant, he swings open your door so fast you think it might fly off the hinges.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He begins panicking as he looks you over. “Is it the baby? Honey, what’s wrong?” You calm him down by placing your hand over his.

You draw him closer by his wrist and press his open palm to your stomach.

“What are you-?” He begins asking but quickly shuts his mouth when he feels it. A small thump. Barely there, but noticeable enough.

It’s his son.

He’s kicking.

Hotch stares at his hand on your bump as the baby kicks harder right in his palm.

“He knows it’s you.” You whisper. Aaron looks up at your face, tears gathering in his eyes. He brings himself to his knees, eye level with your baby bump.

“Hi buddy.” Another kick.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a giggle.

“I read somewhere that it’s good to talk to the baby, it helps the baby realize who you are.” Makes sense. He places both hands on your belly.

“It’s your dad.” You smile widely at his words. “I just want to say hi, and that we can’t wait to meet you.” Another kick.

“Keep talking.” You murmur.

“Uh, I- I can’t wait to see you. I can’t wait to hold you and take care of you. Your mama has been holding you for so long I think it might be my turn.” Hotch chuckles and so do you. “We love you buddy.” He presses a lasting kiss to your stomach before standing and grabbing both of your hands.

“He’s kicking.” Aaron says and you smile, nodding as a tear escapes your eye. His hand reaches up to swipe it away, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing your cheek gently. You're so close together, you see him lean in slightly closer, your lips close. You can feel his breath fan you face. And just as you lean in, lips almost meeting-

A shrill ring brings you both out of your trance. You move away from each other quickly and Aaron takes a moment to compose himself before answering his phone.

“Hotchner.” He says, his voice gruff as you try to collect yourself. What just happened?

You were going to kiss. He was going to kiss you, your boss, your baby daddy, the man you have grown to care for was going to kiss you.

You didn’t think you could really blame this feeling on pregnancy hormones anymore.

“Hey.” Aarons soft voice stops your thoughts and you turn to face him.

“Yeah?”

“That was JJ, we have a case.” You nod.

“Of course, I’ll uh, I’ll see you soon then. Let me know when you guys land.” He nods, leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek and takes his leave.

And you stand in the middle of your room, with feelings you can no longer push away. Feelings that are very much there and that, apparently always have been.

* * *

April 19, 2011

Another month passes and the moment when the baby was kicking is not spoken about. Of course there are plenty more times where the baby kicks and Aaron wants to know about it, but other than that the topic is avoided.

He has however, been acting strangely. You can’t quite figure out what it is, but he is softer around you, even more so than before. He is caring, meeting we’ve need you have, whether it would be driving to the store in the middle of the night for a craving or reading you a story on the couch. Like you are doing now.

Your head rested on his shoulder while he read to you softly from the novel in his hands.

His gruff voice swarms your mind like honey, and the warmth from his body lulls you to sleep.

It isn’t quite a deep sleep, but you are just so damn comfortable curled up with him.

Aaron swears he will wake you soon, but for now he rearranged himself so he is laying on the couch, an arm thrown around you. He grabs a blanket, and wraps you up so you are warm.

He swears he will wake you up.

He promises himself.

But alas, he falls asleep circled around your protectively. He was just too caught up mesmerizing the features of your face to realize quite Joel’s tired he had been.

He awakens with a soft jolt the next morning. It’s enough to jolst you, but you are quick to murmur softly and fall back to sleep. Aaron waits with bated breath for you to begin softly snoring before he looks down at you.

Sunlight streams through the windows and shines on your face, making you look almost angelic to Aaron. He smiles slightly, and presses his hand to your protruding belly. He speaks softly to the baby, whispering words of love and care and that’s what tou wake up to.

You don’t want to disturb the peaceful air, or interrupt Aaron so you pretend to sleep, making sure your breath is even as to not give you away.

“You are going to have a great mom.” You hear his say. “She’s so strong, and brave, and beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.” You fight to keep the blush from your face. “And I love you both so much.” Your breath hitches slightly b ur it’s enough for Aaron to notice. He holds his breath and thinks you just shifted in your sleep. He decided to take his leave, standing slowly and leaning down above you.

“I love you sweetheart.” He murmurs and presses a kiss to your hairline before making his way to his room to get ready for the day.

He loves you.

He loves YOU.

And yeah, you definitely, stupidly, one hundred percent love him too.

* * *

May 5, 2011

It’s been almost a month since Aaron had whispered those three words to what he had thought was your sleeping form. It had been a month since you had last spoken to him properly with awkwardness in the air. It had been a month since you had let him near you other than reasons for the baby.

And Hotch was pained. He was physically pained by you pulling away. It hurt more than he could describe because he didn't know what he had done.

Had he offended you? Had he hurt you in some way? He hadn’t the slightest idea.

Meanwhile you had been stewing on even more than the confusing feelings. Like how were you going to work with an infant at home? How were you and Hotch going to live? Would it be together?

Everything from that first time Aaron had found you crying came crashing back. That was the last time you had pulled away from him so much, and at the time the problems seemed solvable, but now, now they were here. The due date was a month away and you felt completely helpless.

Aaron was done with the avoidance however, and on a particularly bad day (dealing with Strauss), he came home angry.

Your avoidance only made things worse.

“What is your problem?” He demanded after you brushed him off. You were stunned, but figured he would have said something sooner rather than later.

“I-“ you could say what you really wanted to say. “I just don’t know what we are going to do!” Your voice raised slightly and Aaron rolled his eyes.

“This again? Really?” Hotch was beyond pissed. He knew he shouldn’t be taking it out on you, your feelings here were valid, but he couldn’t seem to get past the blinding rage in front of him.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m burdening you with my issues.” You say sarcastically.

“I work all day and come home to complaining. Of course you're burdening.” His words hit deep and you turn away from him.

“What do you care! You don’t have to listen! It’s not like we are in a relationship!” That strikes him deep. Especially because he knows how much he loves you.

“Thank god.” He murmurs and tears prick your yes.

“If I’m that damn bad I will gladly leave Aaron!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” You stomp off, not knowing how the conversation had escalated so quickly. You slam your door shut and crumple to the ground in a fit of tears. Why had you said that? Why had he said that?

What had happened, and why did it happen so quickly?

Aarons heart clenched as he heard your sobs from the kitchen. Sometimes he hates his stubborn and stony nature. He was being rediculous, taking out his frustrations on you for no reason. And calling you a burden.

“Dammit.” Aaron murmurs before making his way back to your room. He knocks hesitantly. “Y/n?” He calls and you try to silence your cries.

He opens the door slowly and takes a look at your broken state. He falls to his knees and quickly pulls you into your arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” He says and you continue crying into his shoulder. “I should have said any of that. Strauss was on my ass all day and I just, I’m sorry.” He says and you nod in understanding through your tears.

“I just, I-“ you hiccup and Aaron shushes you, cradling your head against his chest.

“I’ve got you. Let it out. I’ve got you sweetheart.” The term of endearment warms your heart, but you continue crying. Because you love the man who is holding you, but you don’t know how to tell him.

You know you will work out plans and how to live and how to work. But how on earth will you figure out doing all of it with the man you love? Especially when he doesn’t even know.

* * *

June 11, 2011

The day the baby comes is hectic, but also very calm. On a rare day at the office, you had decided to pop in for a visit.

“Hey mama, what are you doin in here?” Derek welcomes you with a hug.

“Just wanted to visit my favorite profilers.” You say as JJ notices you and also greets you with a hug. Soon the whole team is gathered around Derek’s desk, catching up and gossiping about office drama.

Aaron dooms comes out of his office and notcices the crowd.

“Y/n?” He asks and you send him a small smile and wave. “What are you doing here? You should be on bed rest.” You roll your eyes as your team mates chuckle.

“Oh hush I’m fine. Besides, I was going stir crazy in that apartment.” You laugh along with the team and even Aaron gives a small smirk.

“Fine, but please take it easy.” Hotch leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, shocking you in the process. You knew he loved you, but you had never thought he would show it like that in front of the team.

Although, your thoughts quickly change when a searing pain shoots through your back.

“Agh!” You exclaim lightly and all heads swivel to tou.

“You okay sweets?” Garcia asks rubbing you back, but you wince.

“Um… I-“ you can’t for a word before water gushed between you legs.

“Oh my god.” Reid mutters.

“Oh my god.” Rossi shouts.

“Oh my god!!” The girls squeal. You look right into Aaron’s eyes and he grabs your hand.

“Oh my god.” You say. “My water just broke.” Your voice is trained as another contraction shoots through your body and suddenly everyone is moving and running.

The next thing you know you are in a car being rushed to the hospital.

“Just deep breaths Y/n. Big deep breaths.” Reid encourages from the passenger seat. Morgan’s driving and Aaron is gripping your hand in the backseat.

“Tell me that one more time Reid! I fucking dare you!” He flinches at your words but knows it’s just because of the pain. You are quickly rushed from your vehicle to a room once arriving at the hospital.

Hotch is the only one with you as your contractions hit quicker and quicker than before.

The doctor is in the room sooner than you are ready for and everything seems to be happening too fast. You turn to Aarona me find him staring right at you.

“Aaron, I’m scared.” You whisper, but he hears you nonetheless.

“I know, but I’m here. Just a little longer and we get to meet out baby boy.” His words encourage you. The doctor tells you it’s time to push and the. Your pushing with all your might.

“You’re doing so well honey.” Aaron allows you to squeeze his hand as you yell out in pain. “So proud of you.” You push and push, sweat gathering on your forehead.

You’re panting and you’re tired and you’re crying, but the whole world stops when that cry fills the air. You don’t even realize it’s over, until the doctor is placing your healthy baby boy in your arms.

“Hi baby.” You coo at the newborn. “My sweet sweet boy. It is so good to meet you.” Tears leak from your eyes as your exhausted body sinks into the bed. Aaron stands behind you, and arm wrapped above the top of the bed.

“He’s beautiful.” He murmurs. “I’m so proud of you, look at our boy.” He’s so happy he can barely contain himself.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to hold your son?” You ask and look up at him.

“Yes.” He whispers and takes the delicate baby from your hand. “Get some rest sweetheart, we’ll be here when you wake up.” You nod and smile, falling asleep to the sight of Aaron and your precious baby boy.

* * *

You wake hours later, your key slumped and groggy from the extraneous activities that filled your morning. The team is gathered in the corner taking turns cooing at the baby. They leave one by one, not realizing you are awake.

You watch as Aaron bounces the baby in his arms.

“You’re only a few hours old and you are already so loved.” He walks over and take a aseat in the chair by your bed. “You are so beautiful, just like your mama. I love you both so much.” You’re taken back to that first moment, when the baby first kicked. How Aaron was so delicate when he spoke to your child. How he told the baby how much he already loved him.

“You know, I don’t think I ever would have realized how much I love your mama if it wasn’t for you.” Aaron says and you smile despite your façade of sleeping.

“I probably wouldn’t have realized either.” You say, startling Aaron for a moment. He readjusts the baby in his arms and stares at you for a moment.

“What?”

“I love you Aaron.” You smile at his shocked expression. “I think I always have.” He sitter for a second before carefully handing your boy. Once held in your grasp, Aaron leans over and places his lips firmly against yours. You smile as pieces click into place in the most chiche ways. You love this man with all of your heart, and he you.

“I love you. And I love your child, and I will love you both for the rest of my life.” You smile tiredly and peck his lips one more time before adverting your attention to the infant in your arms.

“We need a name.” You say softly and Aaron nods.

“How about Jack?” He suggests and you love it already.

“It’s perfect. Jack David Hotchner.” You say and Aaron laughs.

“Daves gonna have a field day with that.” You giggle and press your lips to Aarons again.

“God I love you.” He says and you nod.

“I love you too.”

The end <3

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

Thank you so much for reading <3<3<3

Have a great week :)

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

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Bumper to Bumper - A.H

a/n: this is so self-indulgent i am probably the worst fucking parker you've ever seen it's wild & i also just watched a vid of mgg parking someone's car and went feral so there's that

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader (i don't think there is any use of pronouns just nicknames like honey)

warnings: none? rough day, reader is beefing with parking, tooth-rotting fluff

wc: 800

"Hotchner," came his voice, rough like sandpaper across the line, as you fought back the swell of tears, your lower lip caught in the anxious trap of your teeth.

Your eyes fixed on the parking spot before you, the very sight of it forming a lump in your throat as your frustration mounted. The morning had unfolded like a series of unfortunate events--your coffee machine had sputtered its last, your favorite book left forgotten on the porch to be ruined by the rain, and now, this parking spot seemed to mock you, its yellow lines almost pulsating with contempt.

Your hand glided across your dampened cheek, exhaling a shaky breath as you juggled the phone between your ear and shoulder. "You know, I don't think I've said this enough, but you're an exceptional boss. Honestly, you're—"

You sensed the sigh in his breath before he spoke. "What do you need?"

"I know I'm late," you managed to get out, a small hiccup halting your sentence as you did everything in your power to avoid crying, but the waver in your voice gave you away. "But I have a good reason--"

Once more, he stopped you mid-sentence, as he often did. "Where are you? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, it's silly."

"If something's wrong, I want to hear it. What's happening?"

"I just... I can't seem to park my car," you choke out, cheeks aflame with mortification. "I've been trying and failing, over and over, it's embarrassing. The spot's too tight, and of course, it's the only one left because 'M late."

"Hold on, I'll be right there," he said, and the line went dead.

You were left staring at your phone, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over you. You cringed, feeling smaller with each passing second, knowing he was swamped with work and here you were, unable to perform the simplest task of parking a car.

The moment you saw him step out of the building, your racing heart began to slow, his presence alone easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. He approached and opened the driver's door, and you were suddenly spilling over with apologies, the traces of tears still evident on your cheeks.

He looked at you with a gentleness that melted away the last of your defenses, reassuring you with a simple. "It's okay. I got it."

He took your place behind the wheel and parked the car with ease. As you stood there, you realized how his unwavering steadiness had become a pillar you leaned on more often than you'd like to admit.

As he stepped out of the car, you approached, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. I know it's such a small thing..."

He gave a slight sigh, one that seemed to brush away your concerns, a hint of a smile in his eyes and said, "There's nothing to apologize for. Don't be so hard on yourself," he reminded you gently, his hand coming to rest on the soft of your shoulder.

A silent nod was all you could muster as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, and your nose, slightly pink from the number of tissues you had abused this morning. In a soft plea, you murmured, "Can I have a hug?"

Without a word, he simple open his arms, an unspoken invitation that you immediately accepted. As you nestled into his arms, your body relaxing as you inhaled his familiar scent. A soft sniffle escaped you as Hotch quietly said, "Five senses..."

You closed your eyes and focused on the sensory details--the comforting touch, his reassuring voice, the sight of his concerned gaze when you opened your eyes, the taste of the air mingled with his cologne, and the grounding scent of him. As your breathing evened out, he gently placed his hand on the pulse point at your neck, counting your heart rate in his mind.

You stepped back, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "I suppose driving school is next on my training agenda?"

Hotch's expression softened into a subtle smile. "I'd agree, considering I just got you that car, I'd prefer it if you got the chance to enjoy it first before crashing it," he teased back lightly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Promise."

Hotch glanced at his watch, a decision forming in his eyes. "I think I can free up some time later. How about we get you another copy of your book?"

As your smile broke through the clouds of your frustration, it was as if the sun had pierced through the overcast sky of his day, bathing him in a light he never wanted to leave. "Really?" you responded, practically glowing with delight.

Hotch's heart swelled at the sight, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Gently, he cupped your face, drawing you closer to plant a tender kiss on your forehead. "I love you, honey," he said, his voice a low rumble.

You giggled, a little surprised by the public display of affection, you blushed, responding with a shy, "Love you too."

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

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Curtain call - Spencer Reid

Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc

Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you.

Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show.

But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands.

“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:

“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”

“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?”

“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”

“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?”

Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the curse fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.

Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and immediately, Agent Morgan exited the room.

Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.

"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to lift up your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.

'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'

'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'

'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'

'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."

'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'

'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'

"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.

One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.

Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.

The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."

You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."

The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.

taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

Text

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it.

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments.

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.”

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.”

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.”

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.”

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him.

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?”

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.”

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.”

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says.

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?”

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.”

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something.

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.”

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep.

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks.

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.”

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity.

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses.

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.”

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him.

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly.

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.”

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?”

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus.

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel.

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent.

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses.

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?”

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?”

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.”

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.”

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this.

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.”

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.”

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks.

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?”

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves.

“That’s ridiculous.”

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.”

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.”

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.”

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.”

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.”

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.”

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?”

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.”

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today.

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?”

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.”

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.”

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here.

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.”

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here.

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

“Really?”

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.”

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning.

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says.

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!”

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.”

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.”

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.”

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

Note

i rlly wanna see how aaron would react to reader accidentally starting her period and leaking on his white sheets. i just know he would be so caring and conforming !!

stains

he soooo would cw; fem!reader, period talk, blood mentions, language, fluff <33

Even on the weekends, Aaron doesn't tend to stray from routine.

Apart from setting an alarm - he presses a kiss to the first patch of your skin he can find, rolls out of bed, and then opens the blinds so the morning light can naturally assist in waking you. Trailing into the en-suite bathroom, he hears you let out a gentle squeak, stretching from your laid position in bed.

He preps his toothbrush, blinking once, twice, in attempt to rid the heavy sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth is number one on his morning agenda; not only because it was the hygienic thing to do, he simply could not stand having horrid breath.

Despite the brushing sounds echoing in his head, he doesn't miss your low,

"Shit."

"Honey?" His attempt to speak was muffled, as his toothbrush was in his mouth. He tilted back from the sink, just enough to allow him to peer into the room, to see you.

You were sat upright, a handful of sheets in hand, meeting his eyes guilt-stricken. "I'm sorry. It wasn't due for another three days and you know I'm typically always on schedule and always prepared-"

"Hm?" Freeing his mouth from the toothpaste, quickly flicking the water on/off to rid the residue and wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he re-entered his room.

As he came closer, your flushed cheeks were vividly noticeable, the remorse in your eyes even more intense. You clarified, "My period."

"Oh," his expression softened, before alternating to deep concern. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? Aaron your bed-"

"What about it?"

"It's stained - the sheets. Fuck," you scrambled up, not wanting to ruin them further, wincing in pain as you did so. You quickly padded past him to the bathroom, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet. He followed behind.

"And? Sweetheart if you think I care about that," he chuckled, sweetly shaking his head. "Do you have...?"

"In my bag."

Feminine products - Aaron redirected himself, finding your overnight duffle tossed hastily near the foot of his dresser. As he rummaged through it, he mentally cursed himself for not already having a supply waiting under his sink, and mentally added such to his future shopping list.

He grabbed the other necessities - an extra pair of underwear, t-shirt, opting to grab your favorite pair of shorts from his drawer. One he hadn't worn in quite a while as you had claimed sole ownership.

You sheepishly accepted the items from him, refraining from lifting your gaze. "Thank you."

"Hey," With a finger he lifted your chin, causing you to meet his soft, brown eyes. "It's okay."

You shook your head in shame, prompting his hand to fall.

"It's your body. It's natural. It's- this is not an inconvenience to me, it is for you. Plus, this is exactly what they invented stain remover for."

Despite yourself you laughed, wrapping your arms around your middle. "I suppose."

The ends of Aaron's lips itched upwards, successful in his goal to crack a smile. Although, his amusement sobered back to concern, "You never answered my question from before. Are you alright?"

You grimaced. "Crampy."

"Advil then?" Aaron asked and you nodded. He placed his hand on your lower abdomen soothingly, the warmth of it calming your tensed muscle. That was the thing about his touch, it never failed to relieve any aches or discomfort, physical and emotional. "And a bath? I recall you saying that helps, with easing the pain."

"Please."

He quickly obtained the pain reliever, started the bath. "Don't worry about the sheets, I'll strip and get 'em in the wash. Hand me your clothes too." He ran his hand under the stream of water, regulating the temperature as you immediately began to protest, claiming, 'it was your mess, your doing,' but Aaron kindly shut you down, "Nope. Let me handle it, I insist."

"And if the stain doesn't come out?"

"I've been meaning to dispose of them anyway. They're getting old, they've fulfilled their job well." After flashing you a sympathetic smile Aaron stood, his age vaguely showing when his knees cracked as his legs straightened. He placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to dissolve your current, growing pout. "Just relax."

You willingly met his eyes this time. You tousled his hair, still disheveled from sleep, paying extra attention to the short hairs behind his ears. Your nails scratched at his scalp, expressing your gratitude silently.

"And if it makes you feel any better, this isn't the first time I've had to soak blood from linens."

"It doesn't," you rolled your eyes at his injury-prone occupation, but he did however manage to pull yet another smile from you. A gentle laugh came from deep within his chest at your response. "But thank you."

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

Text

as you lay in bad with hotch, you can’t help but try to count the freckles on his chest.

“What are you doing?”

Your finger traces across Aaron’s chest lightly. “Counting your freckles,” you whisper.

He huffs out a small laugh. “Why?”

“Because they’re cute,” you smile, looking up at him. The light blush that dusts his cheeks makes you grin wider.

“You think they’re cute?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

You nod. “Mhm. Very.”

“Well, do you want to know what I think is cute?”

“What?”

Aaron kisses your forehead. “You.”

Your face grows warm, butterflies erupting in your tummy. “Hey, don’t try to change the subject. We were talking about your freckles.”

“I think I’d much rather talk about you,” he counters, the kind of smile that he only shares with you curving his lips.

“You’re just distracting me. I didn’t finish counting,” you pout.

You let your gaze fall down to his chest again, your eyes tracing along the freckles that are mapped out like constellations. Aaron laughs, making your eyes flicker back up to his.

“You are… something else,” he says softly.

“I try,” you tell him, and lean forward to press a feather-light kiss to his lips.

He cradles the side of your neck with his hand, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline as he responds eagerly. “So? How many did you count?” he mumbles into the kiss.

“I–I got distracted,” you say, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh no. After all of that?”

“Hey! I can’t help it that you’re too pretty for me to concentrate,” you exclaim, slapping his shoulder playfully.

“Pretty, huh?”

“Shut up.”

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sweetpeterparker · 1 day

Text

He’ll Have To Get In Line

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta amps up the star crossed lovers act when Finnick takes a liking to you

Masterlist

As you waited to get into your chariot for your second tribute parade, you calmed your nerves by petting the horses. You kept your head down with a plan to stay away from the other tributes until you knew what you were dealing with. Your plan was tossed aside when one of the tributes, Finnick Odair, saw you by yourself and approached you. He was noisily munching on a sugar cube as he walked up to you, making you look up. You noticed his bare chest, and then perfect chiseled face before gulping.

“Sugar?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked, too distracted by his lack of apparel that you weren’t listening.

“Sugar cubes. They’re good.” He explained as he held up a sugar cube.

“No thank you. I think those are for the horses.”

“Eh, who cares. They get enough of them. And they’re not the ones headed into a death game, right?” He chuckled and popped another into his mouth. You weren’t expected him to make light of your situation since no one else ever really did so you faked a laugh along with him.

“That was a fake laugh. But I’ll forgive you since we’re friends now.” Finnick said as he popped another sugar cube into his mouth. You felt embarrassed that he caught on to your inauthenticity but he didn’t sound upset. He had a way of being very blunt in what he said but charismatic with how he said it.

“We’re friends? We don’t know anything about each other.” You pointed out.

“But we share two things in common. We won our games and we’re painfully good looking. Now, come on. Try a cube. They won’t have these in the area.” He said and held one out to you. You didn’t comment on him calling you good looking but took the cube from the palm of his hand with a coy smile.

“Taste it. It’s sweet.” He said with a debonair grin. You looked him in the eyes and bit into the cube, tasting a sweetness you had never known.

“You like it, don’t you?” He said and already knew your answer.

“I might.” You admitted as you popped the rest of the cube in your mouth.

“I knew you would. I saw you standing over here with the horses and said to myself, that girl likes it sweet. I just knew I had to offer you one.”

“Well, thank you. You were right.” You smiled and realized you had been smiling like a child the entire conversation so far. You quickly dropped your face and covered your mouth self consciously, but Finnick had already moved on.

“Oh my. Forgive me, I didn’t notice what you were wearing until now. Thats certainly a get up.” Finnick smirked as he looked you up and down.

“It’s for my district.” You said in embarrassment and covered yourself with your arms. The clothes Cinna had dressed you in were beautiful but far from something you’d pick for yourself.

“I know. I like it.” Finnick replied with a wink. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and the effortless charm he was just exuded and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Oh. Well, thank you. Cinna designed it.” You told him. The way Finnick was looking at you in the moment made you forget most things you knew, but nothing could make you forget to give credit to Cinna for his remarkable abilities.

“I should’ve known Cinna was behind this. He’s great. But it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. No one’s gonna be looking at your outfit.” Finnick shrugged and looked you up and down again.

“What makes you say that?” You frowned. Finnick smirked a little as he reached towards your face and tilted your chin up with his thumb. You sucked in a sharp breath and stayed perfectly still as he gazed into your eyes.

“That pretty face is gonna get all the attention. Who could look away?” Finnick asked.

“Pretty?” You asked in almost a whisper.

“Extremely. But I’m assuming there’s another name I can call you by. I’m Finnick. And you?”

“Y/n.”

“And so you are. Lovely name for a lovely girl.” Finnick said and shot you another wink.

You smiled at him and momentarily forgot all about the parade and your nerves. You were so focused on the handsome boy in front of you that you didn’t notice Peeta in the distance. He was staring daggers at Finnick and trying to figure out what would possibly warrant him needing to touch your face. When he saw you laugh at something Finnick had said in a louder laugh than he had ever heard from you, his jealousy got the better of him. He walked up to where you were and stood beside you.

“Oh, hi Peeta. This is Finnick.” You said and gestured to Finnick. Finnick gave Peeta a wink but it was different from the one he had given you. Peeta’s jaw clenched and he stood up a little straighter.

“The parade is gonna start soon. Shouldn’t you finish putting on your outfit?” Peeta asked Finnick.

“This is my outfit.” Finnick chuckled and gestured to his shirtless torso and skirt made of fishing net.

“Oh. Wow. It’s so….unique.” Peeta replied and made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

“I know. My stylist likes to play up the whole pretty boy Capital darling thing. He said wearing a shirt would dull my charm.” Finnick shrugged and flexed his arms a little. Peeta heard you gulp and felt white hot jealousy go through his veins.

“I think he’s right.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“Do you? So it’s working then? I’m charming you?” Finnick asked and took a step closer to you. Peeta couldn’t help but roll his eyes all the way to the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I’d call it charm. But you’re definitely evoking some emotion.” Peeta said with a tight smile. Finnicks eyes left yours for a second to clock Peeta. He looked him up and down and smirked a little.

“You know what I think? I think that you and I should train together. I’m sure we have a lot to teach each other.” Finnick said as he turned his attention back to you.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You shrugged.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you out there.” Finnick gave you one last wink before walking away. You immediately smiled and waved to him as he left.

“See you!” You called after him. Peeta stepped in front of you once Finnick was gone to bring your attention back to earth.

“He was so nice. He probably heard about me and wants to learn archery.” You said with a smile.

“Bullshit.” Peeta mumbled.

“Woah. You need to put a coin in the swear jar for that one.” You laughed in surprise and folded your arms.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Peeta said genuinely. He felt bad for popping your bubble just to ease his own jealousy.

“Hey, I’m just kidding. It was entertaining to hear you swear. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I had it in me. I have a lot of things in me.” Peeta insisted and suddenly worried if you saw him as less of a man now that you’d met the muscular and valorous Finnick.

“Like what?” You chuckled and raised and eyebrow.

“Nothing. Never mind. What else did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I blacked out a little. But we talked about the horses. And sugar.”

“Really, that’s all? You guys were talking for a while.” Peeta frowned.

“Honestly, I didn’t do much talking. He came at me with so many compliments and I was stunned to silence.” You realized.

“Compliments? What did he say?” Peeta forced a laugh so he didn’t come off as jealous as he felt that another man was complimenting you. It wasn’t just that he complimented you, but that you clearly liked it.

“He said I was pretty.” You admitted with a shy smile on your face.

“That’s it?“ Peeta scoffed.

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” You asked and touched your cheek insecurely.

“No! Of course I do.” Peeta quickly explained. “I think you’re so pretty. I just don’t touch your face to tell you that.”

“Yeah. I guess he was pretty friendly.” You agreed and kept your hand on your face as you replayed him touching your chin.

“If that’s your way of putting “handsy”, then yes. Very friendly.” Peeta mumbled.

“I don’t know why I even care what some boy thinks. I guess I’m just not used to the attention. I can’t even remember the last time someone told me I was pretty.” You admitted as you played with the frills on your outfit. Peeta felt bad for making little of what Finnick has said when it clearly meant something to you.

“Maybe people think it but just don’t tell you.” Peeta said in a soft voice.

“I doubt it.” You shrugged.

“Well, don’t. Because I happen to think that you’re-“

“Good luck out there, pretty girl.” Finnick called from his chariot across the room. You looked over at Finnick and waved to him.

“Thanks. You too.” You called after him.

“I’ll have my eye on you.” He winked at you as his horses pulled him out of the room. You didn’t know what to say to that so you have an half hearted thumbs up while Peeta rolled his eyes.

“So what do you think? Should we train with him?” You asked once he was gone.

“Absolutely not.” Peeta said immediately.

“Really? Why not? He was the youngest ever winner of the games. He’s gotta be good, right?”

“I’m sure he is. But he’s not someone we should keep around.” Peeta replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he asked me once if you and I were really in love or just putting on a show. And judging by his tone, I’m guessing he knows the answer.” Peeta whispered to you.

“He did?”

“Yeah. Right before telling me there isn’t gonna be any sugar or flour in the area so I’ll be out of luck.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. Peeta felt his jealousy return when he heard you laugh at Finnicks joke.

“Sorry. He was trying to be mean but that’s kinda funny.” You admitted.

“You think he’s funny?” Peeta asked quietly.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I only just met him.”

“Hm.” Peeta hummed and looked to the side.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking. You always have something to say. Until now, mysteriously. Is everything okay?” You asked him and touched his shoulder. Peeta looked at where your hand had been and sighed before looking in your eyes.

“He’s been talking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot.” Peeta admitted.

“Really?” You asked and didn’t hide how intrigued you were.

“One of the other tributes told me brings you up every chance he gets ever since we won the last games. He even said…” Peeta began but then trailed off.

“He said what?” You urged and shook his arm.

“He said he’s gonna have a hard time killing someone so pretty.” Peeta admitted. Your curiosity about Finnick quickly turned into fear.

“Was he joking?” You asked quietly.

“I think so. But I don’t find it funny.”

“Neither do I.” You agreed. You finally stopped thinking about Finnick long enough to look at what Peeta was wearing for the tribute parade. His shirt was made of the same material as your corset and bared his arms. You had never seen his arms exposed like that and wanted him to know you liked it.

“I like what Cinna put you in.” You changed the subject and nodded towards his outfit.

“Thanks. It’s cool and all but definitely not something I’d chose for myself.” Peeta laughed softly as he climbed into the chariot.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve been waiting to show off these arms for a while.” You teased him. He held out his hand and helped you climb up into the chariot.

“You really do look beautiful tonight.” He told you.

“Thank you. But I don’t really feel like me. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes. And their face.” You admitted as you pressed your fingertips into your cheeks and felt the layers of makeup you had on.

“I know the feeling. But it’s just for tonight. You can be you again tomorrow.” Peeta assured you.

“So can you.” You told him with a soft smile. He held out his hand and you held it the way you did the first time you rode in the tribute parade.

“We can be us.” He said.

Following the parade, you dismounted your chariot and let Peeta pick you up to help you off the platform. Once your feet were in the ground, Finnick came running over to you and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“There she is. Great job out there today.” He said once he pulled away. Peeta was once again staring daggers at him and took a step closer to your side.

“Thank you. But I didn’t really do much. I just kinda stood there.” You shrugged.

“That’s all you need to do. And I swear, you were the only one I had my eyes on.” Finnick said and touched your chin again. Peeta cleared his throat and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. Finnick noticed this and looked into Peeta’s eyes with a cocky smirk.

“So, what will you do with the rest of your evening now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?” Finnick asked you, making yours and Peeta’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm. Maybe just me then.” Finnick said with a causal shrug. Peeta clenched his jaw and stepped forward to let Finnick know he needed to back off. Finnick laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“Ah, I’m only kidding Peeta. I wouldn’t try to steal your girl right in front of you.” Finnick assured him.

“Oh. Good.” Peeta relaxed a little when he heard Finnick refer to you as “his” girl.

“I’d wait until your back is turned.” Finnick quickly followed up, making you laugh in surprise.

“Come on. I’m joking.” Finnick grinned and patted Peeta’s shoulder.

“Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?” Peeta asked with a tight smile.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you guys. I’m like this with everyone. I just like to have a little fun so don’t take it out on me in the games, okay?” Finnick said and patted Peeta’s arm again, making Peeta yank it back and give him a look.

“I’ll let you guys go. We have a lot of training to do tomorrow so don’t keep her up all night, all right Peeta?” Finnick laughed as he walked away.

“No promises.” Peeta grumpily called after him. You stepped in front of Peeta and folded your arms once Finnick was gone.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, huh?” You teased him.

“Shut up. He started it.” Peeta grumbled.

“And you certainly ended it. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” You said and started walking towards the sleeping facilities. Peeta followed you to the girls ward and lingered outside your door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Peeta asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You want to? I assumed your want the big fancy bed in your room all to yourself.”

“I just don’t want people to get suspicious if they see us sleeping in separate rooms. Since we’re madly in love and all that.” Peeta explained with a coy smile.

“Good point. Come in.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and let him into your room. You slept on his chest like you usually did and he forgot all about Finnick.

In the morning, you and Peeta went downstairs join the rest of the tributes for a welcome breakfast. When you walked into the room together, Finnick was the first to greet you.

“Good morning, you two. I hope you got some sleep.” Finnick said with a suggestion wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Not much.” You said through a yawn. The other tributes at the table snickered and exchanged knowing looks with each other. You realized how that sounded and felt embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whispered to Peeta.

“It’s okay. Roll with it. It helps our act.” He whispered back and gave your arm a squeeze.

“Here. I saved you a seat.” Finnick said and gestured to the two vacant seats beside him.

“Please, no. It’s too early for him.” Peeta leaned in to whine in your ear.

“We have to be polite. You’ll be okay.” You whispered back.

“Fine. But I’m not sitting next to him.”

“I’ll sit in the middle.” You assured him and took the seat right next to Finnick. Peeta watched the way you smiled at each other and realized he made the wrong move.

“How did you sleep?” You politely asked Finnick.

“Not great either so I got up early and went for a run around the garden.” Finnick told you.

“This place has a garden?”

“It does. Have you done any exploring of the facilities yet? I could give you a tour if you’d like. We can start in my room.” Finnick replied, making Peeta choke on the water he had sipped.

“She and I already looked around. We just didn’t find the garden.” Peeta cut in.

“Well the offer still stands. I could use the company.” Finnick said with a suave smile that made Peeta roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“I’ll think about it.” You answered to be polite. An awkward silence followed and you could sense that Peeta was upset. You picked a piece of bread from your plate and took a bite.

“What kind of bread is this? I’ve never seen this in 12.” You turned to ask Peeta. He stopped being grumpy and smiled at the question.

“It’s called challah. I’ve seen it in my recipe books but I never had the ingredients to make it.” He answered you.

“It’s good. It’s sweet.” You commented and took another bite.

“Here. Take mine.” Peeta said and put his bread on your plate. You smiled gratefully and moved the eggs from your plate onto his.

“I don’t like them anyway. And I know you do.” You explained.

“Thank you.” Peeta smiled at you.

“Gross.” Finnick snickered. “Get a room.”

“We will. But we need to eat first.” Peeta snapped, making you laugh in surprise.

“Good one.” You whispered to him. The rest of the meal went by without anymore comments from Finnick or Peeta.

Training began later that day. You and Peeta stayed close by each other and built up your weakest skills while keeping a close eye on the other tributes. Meanwhile, Finnick was having a gallant time showing off at the different training areas. He didn’t take anything to do with the games seriously anymore so he was just there to have fun. You and Peeta watched him hit targets with ease with his trident and bask in the applause. You then looked down at what you were doing, which was leaning how to paint your body to camouflage into the ground. Peeta was teaching you some simple painting techniques but you couldn’t help but get distracted by Finnick’s skills.

“Not for nothing, but should we consider being allies with Finnick?” You asked Peeta.

“I thought it was just gonna be me and you in there.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“I want what you want.” He replied and looked into your eyes.

“I just wanted you. But if he asks us, it wouldn’t hurt to be his ally. He has been training for this his whole life. It would be better to have him on our side than hunting us.” You shrugged.

“That’s the thing. He doesn’t want me as an ally. He only wants you.” Peeta reminded you.

“Why just me? You’re stronger and can fight.”

“Because he’s in love with you.” Peeta said loud enough to draw the attention of several tributes, including Finnick. Peeta hung his head in disappointment as Finnick sauntered over to you.

“Uh oh. Talking about me, I hope.” Finnick said with a grin. “Come with me, Y/n. I want to show you how it tie a fisherman’s knot.”

“She already knows how to do that.” Peeta grumbled.

“Oh really? What about a sheep shank?” Finnick asked you.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Follow me and I’ll show you.” Finnick offered and held out his hand. Peeta watched the way you took his hand to stand up and clenched his jaw. You started to follow Finnick until you heard a little groan from Peeta. You didn’t want to upset Peeta, but you did want to learn a new knot.

“Peeta should come too so that he can learn.” You stated.

“Peeta’s busy. Besides, I don’t think knots are really his thing. He’s more into arts and crafts, right Peeta?” Finnick asked and shot Peeta a wink. Peeta stayed silent as he glared at Finnick.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Peeta with an apologetic smile. Peeta tried to focus on his painting but could not stop looking up at you and Finnick. Finnick did the classic move of wrapping his arms around you to show you how to do something which made Peeta sick to his stomach.

“Wanna take me for a walk?” Finnick laughed as he wrapped a knot around his neck. You laughed as well and Peeta couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when he realized he didn’t have to take it. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, you and Peeta were supposedly in love. That meant he didn’t have to stand by and watch some guy flirt with his girl. Peeta marched up to you and spun you around by the waist before planting a kiss on your lips. You stumbled back in surprise before kissing him back. Finnick watched the kiss and chuckled softly, knowing exactly what Peeta was doing. You gave him a confused by pleased smile when he pulled away but he just kept his usual cheery smile on.

“Sorry. I just need to borrow my fiancé for a minute.” Peeta said to Finnick before pulling you aside.

“Go right ahead.” Finnick replied.

“What was that all about?” You whispered once you were out of earshot.

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna check out the poisonous berry catalog in case you’re looking for me.” Peeta said innocently.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” You said and narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. Peeta pecked your lips again before going over to the catalog. You touched your buzzing lips before going back to Finnick.

“Well somebody’s jealous.” Finnick chuckled.

“Leave him alone. You’re antagonizing him.” You scolded playfully.

“I know. And it’s very fun.” Finnick insisted.

“Well knock it off. He’s a good guy.”

“I know he is. But I’m bored of the other tributes and you guys are fresh meat. Let me play a little, okay?”

“All right. But I think he’s playing too now.” You warned.

And that’s exactly what Peeta was doing. Now that he remembered his advantage over Finnick, he used it anytime he could. He started kissing you when entering or leaving any room and making sure it was always in Finnicks line of sight. His hands were often on your hips or arm when standing near each other and he always had a grip on your leg when sitting. Finnick would always chuckle and look away, knowing it mattered a lot more to Peeta than it did to him. Peeta’s need for your attention also increased and you found that he was always right by your side or lingering just around the corner. You didn’t mind since you were anxious about the upcoming games and having him around always calmed you. But you couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he checked to see if Finnick was watching each time he kissed or touched you.

You were talking to Finnick in the hallway one day when you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders. You knew it was Peeta without looking because of the amused look on Finnicks face.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peeta said and pecked your lips.

“Hello Peeta.” Finnick said curtly.

“Hello Finnick. Were you unable to find your wardrobe? I could loan you some shirts, if you’d like.” Peeta offered when he noticed that once again, Finnicks chest was bare. You clocked the sarcasm underneath Peeta’s kind tone and turned your head to laugh.

“That’s okay. I prefer it this way. It lets me move my arms more freely.” Finnick said and flexed his arms to prove his point. Peeta saw your eyes go wide and clenched his jaw.

“You must be really strong, Finnick.” You noted as your eyes stayed glued to his arms.

“I do a lot of heavy lifting back home. Go on, feel them.” Finnick said as he stared right into Peeta’s eyes.

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously and gripped Finnicks bicep like he asked. You didn’t want to deny the offer and seem rude, and you seriously wanted to feel his muscles, so Peeta was gonna have to take one for the team.

“Wow.” You gasped. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I bet you haven’t.” Finnick grinned and shot a smug look at Peeta. Peeta could do nothing but watch with jealousy brewing in his eyes, and that was all Finnick needed.

“Well, I should get some rest. We have another big day tomorrow. But I’ll be looking forward to when my eyes can see yours again.” Finnick said and nudged your cheek. You smiled timidly while Peeta rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“See you around, Peet.” Finnicks chuckled and clapped Peeta on the back. Once you were alone, Peeta let out a sigh.

“Did you really have to touch his arm?” He whined.

“I guess not. But I wanted to. We are facing death right now and I’ll probably never get another chance to feel like a normal girl my age so I’m just trying to have some fun. You should try it sometime.” You said and came off just as annoyed as you felt. Peeta was surprised your tone and gulped.

“I can’t have fun when he’s lingering around you all the time like a hawk.” He mumbled.

“Who cares what he’s doing?” You groaned.

“I care.” Peeta snapped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he immediately felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” Peeta apologized. “It’s just that guy. I can’t stand him. I thought he was trying to get into your head to psych you out before the games but he’s gotten into mine instead. He drives me crazy.”

“Oh, I get it. So that’s why you’ve been kissing me so much lately? You wanted to get back at Finnick?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I just wanted to remind him that you and I are a team. Not that he seems to care.” Peeta sighed.

“I care.” You said and put your hand on his shoulder. Peeta put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes apologetically.

“But I also don’t like you using me to get ahead in your little competition with Finnick. I’m not a trophy, you know. I’m a person.” You reminded him.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I should’ve have rubbed our relationship in his face like that. Especially not without asking you first.”

“Thank you for apologizing. And it’s not that I didn’t like all the kissing. I just didn’t like that you were only doing it to bother Finnick.”

“I mean, that’s not the only reason I was kissing you. I happen to like kissing you. Annoying Finnick was just a pleasant side effect.” Peeta admitted as a blush covered his cheeks. You smiled at him admitting it and took a step closer to him.

“Well then it’s a good thing we’re on the same page, then.” You said as you toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

“We are?”

“We are. But no more fighting with Finnick. We really need him as an ally so you’ll have to learn to be civil.”

“If he can learn to keep his hands to himself then I can learn to be civil.” Peeta mumbled.

“Peeta.” You said warningly.

“Fine. Yes. You’re right. I can be civil.” Peeta said begrudgingly. You were pleased with his answer and kissed his cheek to thank him for listening. A rosy blush covered Peeta’s face and he smiled fondly at you.

“But I guess I can’t really blame him. Because I’ve had a hard time keeping my hands to myself around you too.” He said and took your chin between his fingers the way Finnick often did.

“That,” you smiled, “I’m okay with.”

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Text

love, i found you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: how anchovy berzatto came into your and carmen's lives. or the story of anchovy berzatto, dumpster kitten turned spoiled cat.

contains: mentions of animal being abandoned/ stray kitten. small, malnourished anchovy but nothing graphic (i won't do that to you i promise). mainly fluff. language. richie being a hater a little lol.

word count: 2.9k+

“Chefs, keep the stations clear-”

“-Has anyone seen Richie?-”

“-Jeff, I need more branzino for the seven fishes-”

“-Heard, Tina. There, uh, I think there’s some-”

“-Carm, have you seen the books for tonight?-”

“-Has anyone seen Richie? Richie! Where the fuck is he?”

A chaotic melody of screams meshed together in some kind of disarray of harmony, one speaking over the other, the sound of pots and pans clashing, hisses of sizzling food in them a backtrack to the madness.

“I’m right here, Sugar.” Richie scoffed, buttoning the front of his jacket. He patted your shoulder in passing, cheek pressing lightly to yours, muttering, “How’re you, sweetheart? Doin’ good?” In passing.

He was the first to notice you, even over Carmen. The rest of the staff bustling through the kitchen prep, trying to squeeze everything in before the family meal. Carmen had invited you to family, but you were starting to regret agreeing, feeling useless and in the way in the face of the hectic nature.

“Where have you been?” Sugar huffed at Richie, heels clacking in a stomp towards the office. “I have a million fucking things- oh, hey.” She paused, eyes lighting in a greeting when they landed on you.

“I didn’t know you were here. How are you?” Sugar hugged you, a soft side hug in greeting that you returned stiffly.

“I’m good. How are you?” You muttered, eyes still scanning the kitchen.

Sugar let out a dry laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Ask me in about an hour.” She shook her head. “I have a million fucking things to do as I was telling Richie.” She turned, eyes narrowing pointedly at the man. “Only two dishwashers showed up tonight.”

“You’re shitting me.” Richie groaned. “That fuckin’ jagoff- take a chance on me, bullshit.”

“Yeah, so Neil needs to wash utensils tonight between the floor, ok?” Sugar jabbed a manicured nail into her clipboard.

“Is there anything I can do?” You squeaked, much smaller than you meant it to. Richie and Sugar turned to you, both blinking, like they’d forgotten you were even there. “Carm invited me to family, but I can help. I can wash dishes if you need me too. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“That would be-” Sugar nodded in a sigh, a small smile spreading across her face. “Did I ever tell you I love you? Seriously.” She turned to Carm, who was passing behind her. “Carm, don’t ever fuck this up with her, you hear me? I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmen muttered, and you knew by the drone in his voice he wasn’t listening, too consumed with other things, discarding vegetable scraps into the trash.

“This thing is fuckin’ full. Can they not- Oh, hey.” Carmen’s features softened at the sight of you, spine straightening gently. “When’d you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” You leaned forward, his lips brushing your cheek softly in greeting. “I didn’t want to disrupt. You seemed… busy.”

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, uh, that’s a word for it. Busy, out of my fuckin’ mind because this trash is fuckin’ full!” He boomed at no one in particular.

“Now, I gotta take this out and replace it, and that puts us back, and every second counts, does it not, cousin?” Carmen rambled, glaring at Richie, yanking the sides of the trashcan off the rim.

“Look, I didn’t know that the two didn’t show-”

“-No, of course you didn’t. Can’t pay attention to shit-”

“-Alright, let’s bring it down.” Sugar lifted her hands, eyeing Carmen with a slight nod of her head towards you.

“Sorry.” Carmen muttered, eyes lifting to you. “Sorry, cousin. I-I’m just, we’re fuckin’ booked, an-and I’m so far behind-”

“-I’ll take it.” You squeaked, a little too eagerly. Carmen’s brows furrowed, you cut him off before he could finish. “No, seriously, you’re all busy. I’ll go take this out and then I’ll help make sure the utensils are ready.”

“N-No, I can’t ask you to do that. That would be shitty.” Carmen shook his head, pulling the trash bag out of the can.

“Good thing you didn’t ask me. I offered.” Your hand wrapped over his, squeezing his closed fist gently with a tiny grin. “Go, I got it.”

Carmen beamed, cheeks tinging pink. If he wouldn’t have been in the middle of the kitchen prep rush, he would’ve kissed you, pressed you right up against the wall and smooched you sloppy. Instead, he let you take the trash.

“Gary!” Richie called behind you. “Make sure you let her back in, alright? Just knock and he’ll let you back in. You’re a fucking life saver, y’know that?” Richie beamed, pushing the heavy steel door open so you could duck under his arm.

It was surprisingly warm- well, warm-ish for Chicago in the winter. No snow, no need for a heavy jacket but brisk enough for a chill. The dumpster lid was already flipped over, and you were thankful for that, slinging the bag over the edge, turning to go back inside.

You stopped, halting just as you’d turned. The tiniest squeak of a cry, desperate and alert. You turned scanning the alley walls, the corners by the dumpster until you heard it again, that same pitiful whimper echoing off the metal of the dumpster- inside the dumpster.

You hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t leave it, whatever it was, it sounded pathetic and in pain. Your eyes flickered back to the building, you could see Gary in the small window, head turned towards the others. They were so busy, you couldn’t ask Carmen or even Fak.

“I’ll be right back.” You cooed towards the dumpster frantically. “Just hold tight for me, ok? I’ll get you out, one sec.” It was silly, but you felt the need to say it, even if just for yourself.

Sprinting towards the door, you knocked on the glass rapidly. Gary pushed it open. “I need your help.” You stopped him before he could walk away. “J-Just for a second. I promise.”

Gary’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, are you- you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I mean,” You turned towards the dumpster. “There’s something in there. I think it’s a cat? I think it’s hurt.”

“A cat?” Gary’s eyes widened, still, he followed your furious pace towards the dumpster. “Wait, I-I don’t think- Lemme get Carm-”

“-No, he’s busy.” You shook your head. “It will just take me a second. I just need you to help me get down.”

Gary paused, watching you in complete awe- maybe horror- push off a discarded crate towards the ledge of the dumpster. “This is- no, this is fuckin’ crazy, I’m sorry. You don’t know what that thing has-”

Your small gasp cut him off, eyes rounding in awe. There in the piles of trash, a fuzzy blip of orange fur nestled into the black bags- a tiny, scraggly kitten, mewling helplessly.

“Oh my God,” You muttered. “It’s a baby.”

“A baby?” Gary gawked.

“A kitten baby.” You corrected, lip jutting. “I have to get it.”

“I really don’t think you should be doin’ this.” Gary looked back at the door then to you. “You can’t go in the dumpster, c’mon.”

“You want to go in instead?” You huffed, eyes rolling at his disgusted snarl. “Just- I’ll do it.” You leaned to the side, taking a deep breath of fresh air, swallowing down a gag at the expected smell.

Holding your breath, you let yourself fall into the dumpster, the squishy bags of trash uneasy under your feet. The small kitten whined, crying at the shift of your weight.

“This is fuckin’ insane.” Gary muttered, shaking his head.

“Aye, Sweeps, what the fuck?” Richie’s voice boomed, the slam of the door making both of you jump. “Take your smoke break later, you jagoff, I need your-”

“-I’m not-” Gary huffed in annoyance. “She’s in the dumpster.”

“Who?” Richie asked.

“Me!” You swallowed a retch, the pungent stench of the trash filling your senses as you crouched closer towards the kitten. At least it wasn’t summer.

“Why the fuck is Carmen’s girl in the dumpster?” Richie roared. “Carmen! Get out here now, cousin!”

“Why is she in the dumpster? Why the fuck are you in the dumpster?” Richie’s furious stomps were muted from the outside. You cringed, still trying to hold your breath, coaxing the small kitten into your hold.

The poor thing, so small- so fucking small. Shaking in your hold, crying and whining, but turned into the warmth of your palm. A cry bubbled from your chest, mixing with a gag at the smell.

“Cousin, what? What the fuck is-” Carmen bounded outside, stopping when he saw the top of your head pop up, out of the dumpster. “The fuck?”

“Your girl’s in the garbage.” Richie shook his head.

“Yeah, why the fuck- Baby, w-why are you- What are you doin’?” Carmen jogged towards you, hoisting himself over the side of the dumpster, arm extended for you.

“She found a cat.” Gary rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“A cat?” Richie repeated.

“A kitten.” You showed Carmen, pulling the small thing from your chest, where you cradled him close to you.

Carmen blinked at you. “You went in the dumpster f-for a cat? A cat?” He shook his head, confused. “Baby, that thing could have diseases a-and rabies and shit-”

“-He’s starving.” You countered, lip jutting in a firm pout. Carmen hated the way he could feel himself melting. The determination in your glare, ferocious yet soft.

“I could hear him crying, a-and I couldn’t leave him.” You shook your head, petting the tiny kitten’s soft fur.

“So you climbed in the trash?” Richie snarled in disgust.

“Climbed right in the dumpster.” Gary nodded.

“Alright.” Carmen looked over his shoulder at them, a pointed glare on his face. “Just- Lemme get you outta there, alright?”

“Here,” You handed him the small cat, carefully cradling him. Carmen hesitated, a grimace in his scowl. Your eyes narrowed at him, a warning. “Hold him gently.”

So he did, of course he did, it’s what you wanted. Passing him to Richie with the same snarl of instructions, pulling you out of the dumpster, a firm hold on your waist as you climbed back over.

Richie was passing you the kitten with a grimace of disgust, dusting his hands off dramatically. “There. There’s your garbage cat that can not come back in the restaurant. Cousin,” He glared at Carmen. “We don’t want another fuckin’ C. Get shut down for havin’ fleas or shit.”

Carmen glared at him. “No, he’s right.” You nodded. “Can you bring me my purse? I’m going to see if I can get him checked out. I’ll be back.”

“Let me come with you.” Carmen offered, motioning for Gary to go get your things, untying his blue apron.

“Carm, no. You’re busy. I can do it.” You shook your head.

Carmen rolled his eyes. “No, I’m comin’ with you. Last time I let you do somethin’ alone. End up in the fuckin’ garbage.” He snorted playfully. “Besides, I think there’s a place down the street. The vet has been in a few times. I’ll see if I can, y’know, coerce him to squeeze us in.”

“Coerce?” You lifted your brows playfully, petting the tiny kitten gently, trying to still his quivering.

“Yeah, coerce.” Carmen rolled his eyes, swapping his apron out for his jacket, handing you yours. “Give ‘im a free dinner or somethin’.”

“No fuckin’ way, no.” Richie shook his head. “Cousin, you’re already late- Sydney is pissed, and you’re not bringing that fuckin’ flea bag in here.”

You held the small cat close to your chest, still damp from his bath at the vet. Carmen’s coercing had worked, Dr. Vallenti had took the bribe happily, squeezing you both in for a check up. The tiny kitten, barely two pounds, malnourished and positively pitiful. You didn’t even have to ask, Carmen knew from the way you held him close to your chest, eyes rounding just barely when the vet asked if you’d be keeping him.

“Of course,” Carmen nodded easily, squeezing your knee gently. “Just give him whatever he needs for right now, and what we need t’get. We’ll get it.”

“He doesn’t have fleas, Richie.” You sneered, cradling the small cat in your jacket to keep him warm. His shake was down to a soft tremble, not as constant but still there.

“Yeah fuckin’ right, rabies then-”

“-Cousin.” Carmen sneered. Richie stopped with a huff, throwing his arms up and muttering something as he stormed away.

“Here,” Carmen muttered, a hand on the small of your spine, pushing you into his office. “I’ll grab you a bowl and a plate for his food, alright? You just, just stay in here, ok? Richie’s right, he can’t be out.”

“I’ll keep him in here.” You nodded, sitting in the small chair. “Do you have a towel?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab that too.” Carmen slung his jacket off, running a hand through his messy curls. “I, uh, I gotta get scrubbed up and put my stuff on, but if you need anything just yell, alright?” He ducked out to the small closet, snatching a towel and two dishes off the drying rack.

“I’ll be alright.” You hummed, fingertip tracing down the kitten’s tiny head. He purred under your touch, made your chest burst with warmth.

Carmen’s lips pulled in a smile, putting the dishes on the ground for you, shedding his own shirt. You were entirely enamored with the cat, that was for sure, not even a sideways, ogling glance at Carmen’s shirtless figure.

“Shit.” Your head snapped up, wide eyed at Carmen. “I forgot the dishes. I-I’m so sorry, I can-”

“-It’s alright, baby.” Carmen dropped his pants, biting back a smirk at how your eyes did drop this time. “Tina got her son and his friend to come in. We’re good, baby.”

“Oh.” You nodded, eyes lingering on his boxer clad ass, before back to the kitten. “Good.”

Carmen shrugged on his chef’s coat, walking over to you. “It’ll be kinda a late night.” His eyes softened in apology. “I’ll have someone run you a plate when we get outta the weeds, alright?”

“Thank you.” You muttered, head tilting back for a kiss. Carmen obliged, your lips pulling him in for a longer kiss than he expected, sweet- left his body burning with heat. “Thank you.” You repeated, eyes shining sweetly.

“C’mon.” Carmen whispered gently, shaking his head at you. “You know I would do anythin’.” He pressed a kiss to your head, looking down at the small kitten before he left.

“I think he likes it?” You whispered, on your stomach next to Carmen.

It was nearly two in the morning, the two of you just returning back to the brownstone you called home. Lying on the freshly laid tile of the kitchen, you watched the small cat explore the space.

“Yeah, think he’s gettin’ used to it.” Carmen muttered, shaking the small stick so the feather danced over the kitten, grinning when he’d scrunch and bat at it clumsily.

You pressed your head into your hand, watching the kitten prowl, ears finally perked up instead of flat back in fear. “We have to name him.” You blinked, looking up at Carmen.

“Yeah,” Carmen grinned. “Yeah, that-that would be a good idea, right?” He beamed playfully.

You smiled, gently petting the kitten’s back, smiling at how he arched into your touch. “I think it should be something kinda with the restaurant.” You suggested. “Since that’s where we found him.”

“Yeah? Like Bear?” Carmen muttered.

Your nose crinkled gently. “He doesn’t really look like a Bear.”

“No,” Carmen agreed, shaking his head. “More like a Garfield.”

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. “That’s such a gimme name.” You shook your head. “Maybe not the restaurant, exactly, but… similar?”

“Yeah? Like Trash Can?” Carmen muttered, lips curling playfully.

You gasped lightly, smacking his leg playfully. “No.” You huffed. “Something maybe with food?”

“Carrot?”

“No.” You pouted lightly, head tilting towards the small cat, occupied with Carmen’s sweatpant strings. “What about, like, Anchovy?”

“Anchovy?” Carmen snorted in amusement softly.

“Yeah, like the fish.” You shrugged softly. “And cats eat fish- well, in the cartoons they do, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know, baby.” Carmen grinned softly down at you. “You think he looks like an Anchovy?”

The small kitten turned, perking towards Carmen, padding happily over to him. Your face lit, glowing with beaming pride and adoration as Carmen scooped up the small kitten, let him rub his face into his chest sleepily- sweetly. You thought you might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sight.

“Alright.” Carmen laughed lightly. “Think you’re right. Think he’s an Anchovy.”

“Anchovy Berzatto.” You hummed, crawling between Carmen’s spread legs, petting the tiny cat. You smiled so brightly at Carmen, his own cheeks burned, flaming under your radiant affection.

Your lips caught him again, pulling him in for a sweet, longing kiss over the small kitten’s head. Your hands in Carmen’s hair, pulling him closer and closer, kissing him like a lifeline- it made his head swim, chest swell with adoration.

Anchovy chirped, teetering on a meow and yawn, little paw stretching in Carmen’s hold. Your forehead pressed to Carmen's, you ducked down to coo at the small kitten, moving to sit in between Carmen’s legs, your back to his chest.

Home with your little family, complete with the little kitten, Anchovy Berzatto.

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Text

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.

There you were.

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.

From: Richie

‘Look at table nine.’

Sugar huffed.

To: Richie

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?

To: Richie

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’

From: Richie

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Note

And here is the other Carmy one!

Can I please request a fic where Carmy and Sugar have a younger sister, who is around 15 or something, running away and just showing up at Carmy’s doorstep, imagine him coming home to his apartment and seeing his lil sister asleep on her tiny backpack that she brought and he’s just like, “Y/n????” Carmy calling their Mom to let her know that Y/n’s at his apartment, his sister literally clinging to him and begging him not to send her back to their mother. Their mom giving the okay for her to stay with him, and Carmy looking at Y/n’s puppy dog eyes and agreeing. Omg ALSO him letting her work at the restaurant!!!!! Something that he always wished Mikey would’ve let him do!! UGH HIM PRETTY MUCH MENTORING HER AND GUIDING HER IN COOKING. Y/n following behind him like a lil lost pup. Her kinda being an assistant to her big brother!! He’d make sure she gets to school safely and I feel like he’d make sure she’s getting whatever she needs at school!! The staff taking care of her too like she’s one of their own, showing up to events at school, helping with homework, etc. Especially since Carm struggled in school, he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to her. Sugar may feel a littleeee offended that Y/n chose to go to Carmy instead of her, Y/n just has a special relationship with her brother and really looks up to him (probably wanting to be a chef like he is) 🤧 The staff being so fond of her and taking care of her

𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎

A/n- I love this so so much! so sorry this took a little I’ve been on a bit of a break. This is a lil short but im just trying to get back into the groove of writing ): im working on the other reqs too!

Throwing everything you could fit into your bag, you glanced around the room once more. You never wanted to come back here.

Now where you would go? You didn’t know.

You wandered around the streets for a little, getting some food and once it hit 9 pm, you knew you had to go somewhere.

You found your feet padding against the stairs up to his apartment, remembering his address by heart.

“If you need anything, I’m always here, alright?” Were the words that rang in your head everyday ever since the funeral. Every time she yelled or asked you for a drink, you thought back to your brother.

He had given you a little slip on paper with his address on it, the numbers written quickly and sloppily. You kept it ever since.

You raised your fist, rapping on the door. When there was no answer, you did again. He wasn’t home you soon realized.

You sighed, putting your pillow that was underneath your arm onto the floor, knowing it could be a little until he was back. You ended up falling asleep on the floor.

And later, you woke up to a voice.

“Jesus…” he mumbled, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Hey, y/n.” He said quietly, “c’mon, get off the ground.” He held a hand out for you, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and grabbed his hand.

“Carmy.” You murmured sleepily, he chuckled quietly and began to unlock the door. You followed him into his apartment.

“What are you doing, y/n?” He asked you, motioning for you to sit down on the couch next to him as he got a glass of water.

“I… ran away.” You admitted, taking the glass.

His eyes widened, he stayed silent for a while until he spoke up again.

“Why’d you come here?”

“It’s the only other place I had to go.” You shrugged, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Fuck… okay, let me…” he pulled out his phone.

“Wait, don’t make me go back. Please, don’t.”

“I’m just gonna let her know you’re here. I’m not sending you back.”

He went to the other side of the house, quietly talking to her.

He glanced back up at you, looking at your eyes and sighing when he put the phone down.

“You can stay here. Just until-“ he spoke, walking over. But he was cut off when you ran over and wrapped your arms around him, thanking him multiple times.

His hand was on the back of your head as he looked up at the ceiling.

———-

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you.” He said, he entered the room, seeing everyone sitting down at the table.

“Hey, everyone.” He greeted them all, you standing awkwardly behind him.

“Y/n?!” Sugar practically shouted when she saw you. She ran up, giving you a tight hug.

“Is that the shrimp?” Richie asked, standing up to get a good look at you now.

“Hey, guys.” You said to them both.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” He asked, giving you a hug as well.

“Oh my God! I missed you, what are you doing here?” She continued. You gave her a smile and looked at Carmy.

“Uhm, everyone, this is y/n. My sister.” He motioned to you. “She’s gonna be working here from now on.”

A bunch of people started talking at once, all greeting you.

“Wait, seriously?” Sugar asks him. He nodded.

“I.. ran away.” You told sugar and Richie. They both stayed silent for a moment.

“You chose to stay with him?” Sugar asked you, cracking a small smile again.

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know your address.” You told her.

She just smiled and gave you another hug.

“The foods gonna get cold,” Carmy said, nodding towards the table with a small smile. You sat in an empty chair next to Carmy.

The next weeks were the best, you felt more free than ever now. You learned how to cook better, and Carmy was more patient with you than he was with the others.

You seemed happier, and that was all that mattered to him.

You were a part of their family now.

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Note

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”

“Did you call them?”

Your eyelids are getting heavier. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”

“We really don’t have time to waste.”

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!”

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”

“No,” you say apologetically.

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”

“When was the last time you were below seventy?”

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”

“I understand.”

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”

“What do I get in return?”

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Text

drunk in love

in which fem!reader gets extra affectionate with spencer when she's drunk and he's just happy to be there

fluff! warnings/tags: drunk!reader, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, spencer loves you so bad, short n sweet, that's it a/n: this is for the person who requested spencer taking care of drunk!reader and they're just being really cute and kissy and i lost your request i'm sorry but i hope you see this!! if you guys like this pls let me know, i have spencer helping drunk!r with a bath locked and loaded and its also so cute oh my god i love him goodnight

“Spence,” you say, voice pretty and airy as a song, pressing butterfly-light kisses with soft lips all over the side of his face.

“What?” he asks fondly, fighting to keep his grip on you secure as you keep trying to fall down and bring him with you. This bar isn’t necessarily a dive, but he’s sure the floor is still sticky and he’s not interested in checking.

“I really love you so much. I love you so much more than anyone else has ever loved anyone before.” It’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve told him you love him so much in ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel any less wonderful to hear. “Say it back!” you pout, settling against his chest.

“You didn’t give me time to say it back,” he explains patiently, looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. “I love you so much, too, baby.”

Suddenly you’re too flustered and shy to make eye contact.

“Call me that again.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. His smile flickers wider.

“What? Baby?” You nod into his chest. He smooths your hair. “I call you baby all the time.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because I love you,” he agrees solemnly.

You squeak, covering your face with your hands. Not for the first time tonight, he wonder what exactly was in those drinks Penelope kept ordering for you.

“Kiss?”

He gently grabs your wrists.

“You have to show me that pretty face if you want a kiss.”

Your hands slide down your cheeks and you tilt your head up. Now that your face is on display, pretty and shiny in the low lighting, Spencer ducks down and kisses you sweetly, one hand on the back of your head, the other pulling your wrists down and out of the way. He makes sure to not let it go on for too long. There are still plenty of people around, but more saliently, you are quite drunk.

“Good?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he pulls away.

“Can we kiss forever?”

“We can try,” he muses.

“I love you,” you say again, plainly. “I wish there was a word stronger than love. I feel like I’ve said love so much it’s lost all its meaning.”

“Keep saying it,” he encourages. “I like hearing it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper. Spencer leans down for you to cup your hand to his ear clandestinely. Sweet vanilla perfume still clings to your warm skin, lingering on your neck, mixing with the smell of fruity cocktails on your breath and making him dizzy. “I think JJ has a crush on you.”

He chuckles, straightening. Grieving the loss of your scent for just a second in the back of his mind—until you’re pressing against him anxiously, and it returns.

“JJ is married, babe. I don’t think so.”

You pout.

“No, but I really think she does! It makes me sad!”

Spencer doesn’t believe it for a second, but he knows hard logic and persuasion aren’t really going to do much for you right now. So he loops an arm around your waist and reigns you in.

“You don’t need to be sad, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter who has a crush on me because I have a crush on you.”

“Just me?” you ask anxiously.

“Just you. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. I have a huge crush on you.”

He realizes his voice has taken on that saccharine quality that Derek would give him shit for, and it’s probably visible in his eyes as he leans close to you, but he doesn’t care at all.

You raise your chin, wordlessly asking for another kiss. He delivers. The fabric of his shirt tugs where you grab onto it, attempting to bring him closer even when he draws away from the kiss. Of course he allows it, narrowly avoiding stepping on your toes as you pull him to you like a dog on a leash.

“Can we go home? I wanna cuddle.”

Oh, yeah. If Derek were present he’d have the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face right now. Luckily he’s not here right now, and even if he were, Spencer would still brush your hair aside and say, absolutely we can go home and cuddle.

“Of course we can. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?”

“Mm… can we Irish goodbye?”

He chuckles.

“I think you should say thank you to Penelope for buying you all of those ridiculous drinks that are making you so nice.”

You make a face.

“I’m always nice.”

“You’re not always this nice,” he reminds you with a small smile, resting his hands on your waist. You frown.

“In my head I am.”

He kisses your head. It’s impossible not to.

“I know. Come on, let’s say bye. I want to go home too.”

“You think I’m not usually nice?”

“Of course I don’t think that. I think you’re so nice.”

“Oh my god, can we get ice cream?” You gasp, already distracted and pulling him along by the hand as you weave through the sparse crowd.

He smiles to himself, happy to follow your lead as long as you don’t let go.

“We can definitely get ice cream. We can do whatever you want.”

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Text

take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”

“You never did sports as a kid?”

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”

“But my teasing’s okay?”

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

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sweetpeterparker · 2 days

Text

Asa Branca

Summary: it's your husband's birthday and you can't help but throw a surprise themed party for him inspired by his favorite holiday from your home country.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!brazilian!reader

Warnings: FLUFF!!!!! Tiny bit of self doubt from Hotch, a small mention of violence (I mean, it's a CM fic what else is new)

Word count: 3.2k

Author's note: ATTENTION ALL BRAZILIAN HOTCH GALS AND DUDES!!!!! And non Brazilians too!!!! I am bringing you a little bit from my country's beautiful culture with a lot of fluff! I came across this concept last year when Bella @madwomansapologist (HI BOO) posted headcanons for Marvel characters enjoying a traditional festa junina and I was obsessed™. Then in a quiet evening @hotchfiles indulged me as we discussed how Hotch would totally listen to Roupa Nova and HERE WE ARE!!!!!!!! I hope you guys like it!!! Halfway through I noticed this had everything to be a gender neutral fic so if you see any reference or description to the reader's gender PLEASE let me know! The original characters are the same from Give Peace a Chance but you don't have to read that one for this!!! ENJOY A SNIPPET OF OUR BEST HOLIDAY (according to me and only my opinion matters) 🤍

He was going to like it, right?

Of course he would. That's what you kept telling yourself as you continued to sneak decorations throughout the week on David's house. You threatened the entire team to keep a secret and you didn't even know you had it in you to actually threaten federal agents, definitely didn't expect them to agree on the spot. Derek even threw a ‘sir yes sir’ your way. Your sister, Jessica and Penelope were helping you with the organization and your mother would come over a couple of days earlier to help prepare all the food.

The only person more excited than you was probably Jack. Back in June, the three of you traveled back to Brazil, more specifically, to your grandmother's hometown in the countryside; and the boy couldn't contain himself when your grandma dragged all of you to the local church’s festa junina. You explained to Aaron that those parties would happen for the entire month of June to celebrate the nativity of São João - St. John, the Baptist. Although it was a religious holiday, it became bigger than that and represented rural society.

You didn't expect him to like it so much. Your family welcomed him with open arms, your grandma would offer him food all the time and she asked you once if you were feeding him properly, going all the way to ask your mother to translate her question to him to make sure you were being a good spouse. He was definitely amused when you told him and asked your mother to tell her that ever since you started living together, he had to change his entire wardrobe because his suits wouldn't fit anymore.

Your grandma congratulated you on that and he couldn't understand why, the same way he didn't understand why Jack showed up with a R$100 saying that ‘grandma sneaked into his hand’ and told him to buy himself a gift. You just waved him off when he wanted Jack to return the money.

For the next three weeks you went from party to party with your family, Aaron being more than eager to join and even left without you once to join your cousins.

So it made sense to throw him a themed party.

You were five days away from his birthday, sending a list to Penelope with all the songs you wanted at the party. Aaron was reading to Jack when she answered.

Uh oh, we have a problem.

You tensed up, typing the answer right away.

It better not be a psychopath or I'm going after them with a chainsaw.

I'm so sorry…

You tried your best not to be upset about it. They were great at their job, you couldn't remember the last time Aaron spent more than four days away since you began dating. So they could get back on time. You continued to plan as they all left, David gave you a spare key to set everything up, he was confident that they would get back soon so you allowed yourself to feel optimistic.

Thankfully, David had been right. They caught the unsub on the third night, leaving the precinct straight to the airport to go home. Aaron sat by the leather seat across from David, texting you that he would be home by the morning. His eyes moved across the jet, frowning as he saw Spencer, Emily and Derek whispering to each other.

“What's going on?” He asked David, who looked over his shoulder just as JJ joined them.

David looked annoyed but shrugged it off.

“They are like children”, was his response.

Aaron wasn't convinced. Especially when he heard Emily say your name. But he was too tired to question their behavior, he would talk to you on the next day when he got home. Right now, he needed to close his eyes for at least 30 minutes. He managed to sleep through the whole flight, waking up as the plane landed at 7 in the morning. You were still asleep since there was no sign of a reply from you, he was struggling to stay awake as he drove home.

The apartment was warm, he smiled as he could still smell baked cookies in the air and stole one from the kitchen before heading to your bedroom. His smile only grew when he saw you and Jack sharing the bed. You were facing away from the door, laying on your back while Jack hugged your arm, keeping you from fully turning on your side. Aaron was extra careful heading to the bathroom, making sure neither of you would wake up and didn't take longer than fifteen minutes in the shower.

You were both sleeping peacefully when he returned, now clad in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, and then he joined you in bed. Jack barely moved, Aaron figured that you were both up until late for him not to be awake and running around at 8. And he had to pay extra attention to know that you were breathing.

It was definitely a surprise to wake up to Aaron in bed. You checked your phone to see a text from him hours ago and it was past 10. Jack wasn't in bed anymore and you could hear the TV coming from down the hall. You were silently leaving the bed, hoping that you wouldn't wake your husband but he was the lightest sleeper in the entire world and you only felt an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back.

“Where do you think you're going?” You chuckled, turning to face him and quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. His arms caged you in, keeping you close against his chest and your smile only growing as he kissed your neck, you could feel him take a deep breath against your skin. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too”, you said, your voice a little gruff from sleep. “Now go back to sleep.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He joked, not moving an inch.

“No, I just know that you didn't sleep for the past three days”, you responded, pulling his hands from you as you moved back to get out of bed. “I'll wake you up when lunch is ready.”

“Your grandmother would be proud, looking after your husband”, he teased you, his eyes already closed as he was half asleep.

“I'm a great wife, I know”, you replied, hearing him chuckle. You circled the bed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you. Have sweet dreams about me.”

“Always do.”

He was practically out before you even reached the door. It was a bit harder to hide the party now that he was home. You kept texting your sister and Penelope, coordinating things from a distance since you couldn't just leave without making Aaron suspicious. But the fact that you were on your phone way too often got him noticing.

He did the one thing he had promised he wouldn't do. Profile you. You were incredibly secretive, carried your phone wherever you went and kept texting someone all the time. From the time he woke up until you got ready to sleep again, it was enough to start to crawl under his skin.

He was away for too long. He worked too much and left you alone to take care of Jack. He wouldn't hold it against you if you had met someone else. But he hoped you would talk to him about it before moving on. You were married for two years, did you have enough of him already? But he wouldn't confront you right away, he wanted to make sure it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.

And he was positive that it was the case. He woke up to a whole breakfast prepared, Jack had made him a drawing and a custom tie that said ‘best dad’. It was adorable. You claimed to have a whole birthday prepared and it started with lunch in a restaurant you both had been wanting to try for a while now but didn't have the time.

“Are we going to aunt Alex's house?” Jack asked as you were all heading home and you gasped, looking back at him. “You forgot.”

“I did”, you grimaced, looking at Aaron. “I promised Jack he could go to Alex's house for a sleepover.”

“That's okay”, he said, glancing at the rearview mirror at Jack. “Do you have your things ready?”

“Yes, I packed yesterday.”

“I'll drop him off then”, Aaron told you, placing his hand on your knee as he drove. “You can stay home, take a painkiller.”

“But it's your birthday”, you whined. You had complained earlier that you had a headache and wanted to try to get some rest.

“I think I'll survive”, he responded, earning a glare from you. “I'll be back in a second.”

You complied but he could tell you were bothered. Surprisingly, you didn't try to argue with him when he left towards Alex's house. Jack ran inside, clumsily rushing upstairs as soon as your sister opened the door.

“Hi! If it isn't the birthday boy!” Alex exclaimed with a grin, proceeding to give him a tight hug as he chuckled. “Come in!”

“Oh, I just came to drop him off”, he told her, already preparing to head back to the car. He wanted nothing more than to be with you. “Y/N wasn't feeling well.”

“Headache again? I'm gonna send you a colleagues phone number, he's a neurologist”, your sister's motherly tone made him smile. “So… Any big plans for the night?”

“Probably not, I'm gonna go back to check on Y/N. We'll probably stay in for the night.”

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your day. Jack is in good hands.”

“I know, thank you for that”, he said.

It was already past 6pm so the sun had already set as he drove back home. He was ready to have a calm evening with you, when his phone rang. He looked at David's name on the screen and let out a long breath, dreading that call.

“Hotchner.”

“A 25 year Old Rip Van Winkle”, Dave's voice reached his ear. “I'm about to open the bottle for you. What do you say?”

Aaron chuckled.

“I'm flattered.”

“C'mon, let's celebrate.”

He let out a sigh. He was worried about you but it was a rare thing for him to just enjoy a drink with his friend. So he agreed. He tried to call you on his way to Dave's house but it rang until it went to voicemail so he texted you to let you know he would be back soon. Traffic was extra packed for a Saturday so it took him an hour to reach his friend's house.

“There he is!” Dave smiled, patting his shoulder and Aaron frowned at the red plaid shirt he was wearing. “I didn't think you were going to show up. Where's Y/N?”

“Wasn't feeling well”, he answered, his frown getting deeper and he breathed in. It didn't take him more than a second to recognize the smell. He had seen your mother prepare it. Red wine, cinnamon and cloves. Dave started to walk ahead of him towards the kitchen. “What are you cooking?”

“I'm not cooking”, he simply answered.

“Surprise!”

The chorus of screams startled him, taking a step back as he took in the presence of several people in David's backyard. Including you.

The entire backyard was decorated with colorful paper, fairy lights, even a bonfire. The entire team was there, JJ brought Henry, your sister was there with her husband and the kids, Jessica too, even your parents were there. Jack comes over to him, running while holding onto his straw hat before hugging his legs.

“Didn't I just leave you at Alex's house?” Aaron chuckled, picking his son up as you approached them. You looked gorgeous. All dressed up in plaid, black and boots. “How did you pull this off?”

“I'm not gonna reveal my secrets”, you said to him, grinning as you wrapped your arm around his waist and he leaned to give you a kiss. “Happy birthday. Again.”

“Happy birthday!”

He accepted the team's hugs, also taking a plaid shirt you handed to him.

“Is your spouse single, by any chance?” Emily asked, there was a cup of the mulled wine and a plate with food in her hands. “I mean, if that's the treatment you get for being married…”

“I'm afraid they're off the market”, Aaron answered, his arm snaking around your waist to kiss your head.

“I'll plan your birthday party next year”, you told her.

“Can it be the same theme?” Emily gasped. “It doesn't have to be the same, as long as you or your mom cooks.”

“I'll see what I can do about that.”

Aaron definitely wasn't expecting a surprise party but he was happy that you had planned it. Everyone was dressed appropriately, JJ even had pigtails, Mari looked adorable in her pink outfit which almost matched Penelope's colorful dress. Your mother had made all the dishes he had commented he liked.

Caldo verde, paçoca, mungunzá, pão de queijo, pamonha, tapioca… He feared that by the end of the party, he still wouldn't try everything.

“How long have you been planning this?” He asked, you were setting up the music with Penelope's help.

“Two to three weeks”, you answered him with a shrug, choosing a specific playlist which of course you had set up. He recognized the melody and the genre, it was forró, he would often hear you singing it but much to your disapproval, he was still helpless in his Portuguese so he couldn't make up the words, except that it was romantic. You turned around, wrapping your arms around him. “Too much?”

“It's perfect”, he affirmed, cupping your face to give you another kiss.

Your smile was contagious and before he knew, he was swaying away with you, proving that he also remembered how to dance. Two steps to one side, two steps to the other.

“Me leve onde eu quero ir, se quiser também pode vir”, you were singing along. Most of the guests were also dancing, your parents in their own world, your sister and brother in-law were trying to teach the team which made laughter echo around along with the music but his focus was on you. “Escuta meu coração que bate no compasso da zabumba de paixão.”

Your eyes were glowing, you couldn't stop smiling and he never felt more in love with you.

“If we weren't already married, I would propose to you right now.”

You laughed at his words, your hold on him tightening as he pulled you even closer.

“Did you really like it?” You asked, biting on your lip as if you expected him to say otherwise.

“Are you kidding? Definitely the best party I ever had.” He kissed you again. “I'm only missing your grandmother's corn cake.”

“There's one waiting for you at home”, you told him, a satisfied smile on your face.

“I love you.”

You danced for a few songs, your sister started to set up a karaoke and that was probably the worst and best idea to have amongst people drunk out of their minds with wine. It was the worst because she challenged everyone to sing in Portuguese; and it was the best because this was the most fun the team had in ages.

“C'mon”, you said to Aaron, pulling him towards the microphones.

“No.”

“Please”, you whined, also under the effects of the wine. You gave him the sad puppy eyes and he let out a sigh, easily complying. You chose the song and then gave him a serious look. “You know this one. We can't lose.”

“We’re not keeping score”, he reminded you, amused by your competitiveness.

“Well, I am.”

You were determined as the song started. Everyone was cheering, making you grin. Aaron was laughing as you started, looking offended when he didn't join.

“C'mon, Hotch!” Derek cheered him on.

“Diz que é verdade, que tem saudade! Que ainda você pensa muito em mim!” He tried to sing along with you as best as he could and from how your mother and sister were laughing, he wasn't doing a good job but just to see you screaming at the top of your lungs, grinning while Emily and Derek tried to sing too, it was damn worthy to embarrass himself. “Diz que é verdade, que tem saudade! Que ainda você quer viver pra mim!”

They all applauded you and his effort, only for your sister to drag her husband too and force him to do the same. He also recognized that one, pulling you close to dance again.

“Na minha fantasia, o mundo era você e eu”, you sang along, letting him twirl you around. “Eu perguntava ‘do you wanna dance?’, e te abraçava ‘do you wanna dance?’ Lembrar você… Um sonho a mais não faz mal!”

Aaron stopped by the backyard doors after checking on Jack, who was sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms in a massive bed with Eric, Henry and Mari. They were all deep asleep, just like you said they would be.

“It's part of the Latin American culture, they're fine”, you had told him.

It was well past two in the morning when everyone started to say their goodbyes. JJ was the first to leave with Emily and Spencer, taking a sleeping Henry with them; next was Derek and Penelope, each of them taking at least two containers with leftover food prepared by your mother. She had ignored every single protest coming from Dave to just leave everything the way it was and that someone would be there the next morning to fix it. You had joined her with your sister, only the decorations stayed behind.

The food that hadn't been taken by someone was safely tucked inside Dave's fridge and all the dishes were washed.

“Thank you for helping out with the party”, Aaron told his friend as they all headed out.

“Didn't have that much fun in years”, Dave responded. “You're all welcomed to throw more parties like this one.”

“And you're welcomed to join us when we go back home to Brazil”, you said to him, giving him a hug. “You're gonna love it.”

“Just tell me when.”

Aaron was grateful for all of your effort and everyone's presence, but his favorite moment was to lay down next to you after he showed you how much he appreciated everything you did for him. Your head was on his chest as he held you close, hearing your calm breathing.

“Thank you for today”, he murmured, his lips on top of your head.

“You don't have to thank me”, you dismissed. “I'm glad you liked it.”

“I was talking to your sister's husband back there”, he mentioned. “He said that they are going to the northeast for the holidays with your parents.”

“Yeah, they're leaving on December 21st, I think.”

“Why didn't you tell me? You don't want to go?”

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze as he frowned at you.

“I just accepted that you couldn't go”, you shrugged.

“I still have ten days off”, he mentioned. “Strauss definitely won't mind.”

A smile grew on your face.

“You really want to go?”

“To spend the holidays at a paradisiac beach getting to see you half naked all the time? I don't see why I wouldn't want that.”

You laughed at his words, his grin matching yours. You gave him a kiss, his arms tightening around you.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

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