#“You laughed at me not getting diagnosed”

[lady-of-tearshed]

ok…hear me out, a fic where cassian has a kid (prob adopted or smth) that’s nonverbal bc trauma or disability reasons, and it kinda wears on cass so one night he’s like talking to rhys about how his kid isn’t normal, and the kid went to get some water but overhears the whole thing - just angst to comfort

love your writing btw💗💗

Beautifully different

Pairing: Nessian & Their kids (Oc!Briana & Oc!Zion)

Summary: Cassian has a lot of pent-up frustration and worries about his son, Zion, who is diagnosed with selective mutism. He slips up in front of Zion, and now he has to apologize and make it better.

Word count: 1368 words

Warnings: Disabled child (selective mutism), angst, miscommunication, a bit of swearing, allusion to Nessian conceiving another child.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

“It’s called selective mutism,”

Cassian could still remember the confusion and worry that had set in his head the day Madja had announced the diagnosis of his son, Zion. 

Cassian’s grip tightened around his mate’s shoulders, his jaw clenched with anger. “So he’s not talking on purpose?” 

“No,” Madja’s voice had softly reassured him and Nesta, whom was crying against Cassian's chest. “No, it’s not how it works. It’s a rare childhood anxiety disorder. It’s the brain response to a trigger that makes Zion unable to speak in certain situations or around certain people,”

He remembered how it made his stomach twist with guilt, how the sight of his mate crying in his chest at the hard news had brought tears to his own eyes. But Madja’s comforting hand on his shoulder had calmed him down, grounded him. Her voice had enveloped his heavy heart and soothed his ache like a soft salve. 

“It is not your fault, to any of you,” Her other hand gently rubbed circles on Nesta’s back, calming down her sobs with her reassuring words. “There are treatments to attempt to cure this, and things you could do to help Zion’s condition to go away,”

“We’ll try anything,”

Cassian was a bit late to pick up his kids from Feyre’s studio. Madja had deemed it helpful to sign up Zion on recreational activities with other children for him to interact with, so Cassian and his mate did. Of course, Briana, the perfect big sister that she was, had insisted that she absolutely needed to go too so she could hold Zion’s hand if he got too shy (but mostly because she absolutely adored her auntie Feyre, and she was overly excited to make some art with her.), so Cassian and Nesta had no choice but to agree. As if he would’ve ever denied anything to his little princess anyway… 

The doorbell rang when Cassian pushed the door open.

“DADDY!”

The tiny bundle of curly hair wrapped in pink chiffon jumped into his arms, and Cassian caught her up in his arms before twirling her around. He bit her chubby cheeks playfully, making Briana’s melodic giggle to fill the room. “Hello sweetie, I suppose you had a great day?”

“The bestest day ever!”

Cassian huffed a laugh before putting her down on the floor slowly. He lifted his eyes and scanned the room, searching behind every canvas where the paint decorating them was still fresh and shining. Finally, his eyes landed on the one exposed on the easel exposed in the farthest corner of the room, where Zion sat, absentmindedly applying the same shade of blue all over the white canva. 

Cassian had to hold back his cringe, and forced himself to not look at all the other kids' artworks and compare them to his son’s. Instead, he just caressed Briana’s hair. He crouched down to be face to face with her, and smiled.

“Hey, why don’t you go and play outside with your brother for a while? I need to talk with Auntie Feyre,” Briana opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian poked her nose and cut her off. “Alone.”

Briana sighed dramatically, pouting a little before taking her little brother’s hand and cheerfully dragged him along to the swings outside the studio. 

Cassian waited until he was sure that both of his kids were outside, playing, and not paying attention to him, then he made his way inside the studio. His ears led him to where water was running, and leaned in the doorway to where Feyre was cleaning a shit ton of paint brushes. Sometimes, the warrior wondered how she dealt with such messes weakly, for fun. 

A chuckle left his throat at the thought, and made Feyre’ face snap up from her task. A bright smile flashed over her red, blue, purple and yellow painted face. Feyre tried to wipe it away, noticing Cassian’s amusement glinting in his eyes, but her attempt very much failed, as it only resulted in spreading the paint all over her face even more. 

“Are you here solely to make fun of me, or to actually pick up your kids?”

Cassian chuckled, scratching the back of his neck while a flush of embarrassment creeped up his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit late to pick up the kids I know… I was…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the mental image of how busy him and Nesta had been. “Busy.”

“Busy making more of those little ones?” 

Nosy woman. 

“How has it been for them today?”

“They’ve been good. Briana has made some progress on her painting today…” Feyre frowned, hesitating. Then she shrugged, avoiding the topic. “They’ve been good.”

“And Zion?” Cassian pushed, moving closer to where Feyre was washing the paint brushes. “Has he… made any progress? Did he make any friends?” 

Feyre left the brushes in the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, he tried a different shade of blue on his canva today… He didn’t participate actively in the group today but…” She bit her lip and placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “Maybe it’s normal, perhaps that’s just how he is you know… Maybe he’s happy like this-”

“Well I am not. A child needs to have social interactions to develop, Feyre. He’s not normal,” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his face heat up, his breathing getting as heavy as the guilt resting on his soul. “Madja was wrong. That kid will never be normal. He’ll never be like the other kids,” 

Anger bubbled up within him. How was his son not normal, when his daughter was? “Where the fuck did I mess up-”

A thud that came from the other room cut off Cassian. Both Feyre and his face snapped to the door, where a tiny wing peaked out. 

Feyre’s face twitched and she patted Cassian on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside with Briana… and I’ll make sure that the front door stays closed while you talk it out.” 

Feyre quickly made her way out of the studio, cheeks red from the embarrassing situation. She carefully avoided eye contact with Zion’s heart-broken face. 

Cassian only stayed in the middle of the supply room, staring at Zion’s tiny wing peeking out of the doorway. He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “Zion…” 

Zion hesitantly moved from his hiding spot and slowly dragged his feet in front of his father. His head was kept so low that Cassian couldn’t even see his eyes from where he stood. He kneeled in front of his boy, his warm palm coming to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed off some tears staining Zion’s cheek, but he still avoided his father’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I…” 

Cassian’s throat tightened, cutting off any sounds when the silent room filled with Zion’s choked sobs. He brought his face to his chest, his own tears now falling on top of his son’s head. He held him tight against him, as if he was afraid that the boy’s heart would crumble if he’d let him go. “I’m sorry, Zion. So sorry…” Cassian whispered against the boy’s ear, his hand rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Zion sniffled, his face now tilted up to look into his father’s eyes with so much sadness.

“I said horrible things, I’m sorry. Every kid is different, I know. I just…” His voice broke. Cassian looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. He calmed his sobs down before taking control of his voice again. “I just want you to be happy, my son,” His eyes met Zion’s, the same shade of hazel eyes staring back at him. “But… I guess sometimes I need to remain myself that being happy for you sin’t the same as being happy for me,” 

Zion nodded, his little hands coming to wipe away Cassian’s tears, the same way he did for him. 

“Are you happy, Zion?” Cassian whispered, his face painted with concern. 

“You make me happy.”

And these were the most words Cassian had heard from his son, but the most beautiful ones anyone had said to him in all of his immortal life span.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan

[intercomkris]

I hate when one of my “friends” tells me that he’s just won’t be himself when he’s around me / when literally doing the most weirdest shit to me or saying the most insensitive stuff to me.. like times like this is why I REGRET making friends with people outside of my friend group

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle

[1000dactyls]

I wanna know if you have any thoughts on Valka and Sroicks parenting and how that affects hiccup? Because I'm loving so much of your content rn, especially your drawings!! But when I see stuff like Tgirl Hiccup while I think they would be supportive, I don't think they would be ... the best because their not really the best. Like ofc they tried even Val when she came back, but it doesn't and won't ever make up for everything else it's so complicated, and nuisanced would love to hear your thoughts!!

Im going to break this post into addressing stoick and valka separately because valka is such a non-entity in hiccup and stoick’s familial life. valka’s section will be underneath the ‘read more’

But I definitely agree! Unfortunately for Hiccup (and also not to project ijbol), it’s so hard because stoick’s best isn’t enough. Oh, stoick tries! He tries so hard — between the movies and the shows, he so clearly cares for his son. But he can never be just Hiccup’s dad; Stoick is the Chief of Berk before he’s Hiccup’s father, and both he and Hiccup know that. Hiccup grows up self sufficient and is used to a lonely home. The kind of free reign that he gets (and the resulting knee-jerk reaction he has to any kind of responsibility after 15 years of said free reign) doesn’t make for great conditions to cultivate a healthy, loving, traditional parental relationship

Still — i think stoick is more supportive than we give him credit for, at least going off the RoB/DoB characterizations. (Again, I haven’t finished watching RTTE, so Im not gonna speak for anything there.) When Hiccup makes moves for more freedom and responsibility, even as early as s01e01 “How to Start a Dragon Academy”, Stoick works with Hiccup to grant him that freedom. He makes attempts to connect to his son, albeit misguided and inevitably circling back to his own interests/role as the chief of Berk and not just Hiccup’s dad. For example, s01e07 “How to Pick your Dragon” shows Stoick ending up listening to Hiccup about getting a dragon, even though he mostly gets a dragon because it further suits his interests as a chief, which he realizes on the flight Toothless and Hiccup take him on. Which also leads to the core conflict of the episode! Because Stoick’s attempts to understand Hiccup are ultimately rooted in his own narrow perception of the world, that there is a Right way and Wrong way to do things, and Hiccup’s way is most definitely not the right way.

But Stoick listens. Over time, he picks up the signs when his child is frustrated and genuinely asks how he can help (s02e15 “A Tale of Two Dragons” 3 options talk). And after the events of the first movie, Stoick makes more attempts to involve Hiccup in his going-ons, such as the portrait of the chief’s family or contacting Johann to find a beloved childhood plushie. So i think stoick tries, and his best isn’t enough, so thank god hiccup isn’t dependent on only stoick and the both of them know this. And just because the both of them know this doesn’t mean that stoick doesn’t try to improve their relationship at all. In the end, he’s just really set in his own ways and his own traditions.

So in a world where Hiccup is trans, I do think Stoick is supportive no matter what direction Hiccup ends up going. Is he confused? Yes, always, because there isn’t a very established tradition even if Berk does have a history of trans folk. I think stoick has to try really really hard, and he messes up a lot in the beginning. Like, you know when your parents are trans affirming in a really weird and even insulting way? That happens a lot for Hiccup and Stoick. But they work together and Stoick works to try and get on Hiccup’s level, whether that means sending terror-mail to Johann to inquire about trans literature or gender-affirming clothes or dialing Gothi to move Hiccup’s t/e prescription to the front of the line.

……..argh, Valka.

Of course Valka tried when she came back, but the conscious decision to stay away for twenty years and miss some of the most important milestones in your child’s life says a lot, and I think Hiccup also knows that. Especially because of how similar they are, even though Valka would immediately accept and adore and absolutely love Hiccup and all his Hiccup-ness right off the bat… I think he’s aware of how different and better his life could’ve been with Valka’s understanding presence. In the end, one parent stayed and tried their best. And one didn’t really try at all, not until they reconnected again.

And like! I dont think Valka and Hiccup would ever be as close as Stoick and Hiccup were. Like it is one thing to idolize your parent in absentia and build up this idealistic wholesome perfect image of who they are, getting your characterization from their partner who never got over them even after 20 years. And it is another thing to meet that parent and realize… wow! They also don’t measure up to what I needed them to be as a child.

And so for all of Valka’s understanding, for all of the easiness it is for Valka to understand Hiccup, especially in a world where Hiccup is trans — it’s not Valka who had to deal with the bureaucracy of Hiccup’s gender change, nor aided in the social transition for people Hiccup has spent his entire life with. It’s not Valka who asked uncertain, blunt and somewhat invasive questions about Hiccup’s new identity, or found weird and strange ways to support it. It’s not Valka who would’ve gotten an entirely new wardrobe commissioned or talked to Gothi about medical transition.

Like, I think Valka tries, and it’s easy for her to understand the idea and support Hiccup. But i dont think she’d ever be Hiccup’s first choice when it comes to questions about who s/he is, not when there are people who stayed and tried much harder than her, and know far more about Hiccup than she ever did and maybe will.

[sexynetra]

HELPPPP

[milflewis]

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[abandoned-as-mustard]

Autistic child stereotype: lines up all the toys, sorts things according to colours, constructs elaborate patterns, covers ears for overly loud noises, likes the stim toys, organises things

Me as a childcare educator: lines up all the toys, sorts things according to colours, constructs elaborate patterns, covers ears for overly loud noises, plays with the stim toys too much, organises things

Also me: i wonder why this children's stuff is so cool and satisfying. this is such a fun coincidence. maybe it's because i'm so creative and empathetic.

[drivemysoul]

sorry just. jesus christ.

[philsmeatylegss]

Feel valid with your trauma from being a glass child and not have you biggest trigger get set off by feeling not heard or search ‘glass child’ on tiktok and see half the videos of people going “poor me I made my sibling a glass child wah wah” and the other half are actual glass children with comment sections calling them ableist or dramatic when they even say they don’t blame their siblings

[elytrafemme]

what do i have to do for it to matter. people get medication and people get treatments and people get sympathy and people get explanations and people get diagnoses and people get to check all the boxes. it feels like my brain is physically forcing itself not to be too close to an explanation because at the last moment all symptoms will suddenly go away (i’m going to fucking kill Dahlia actually, because I think she’s the reason this keeps happening to me and even if she isn’t I’m just going to keep going until i find the bastard who is responsible). i go to therapy for five fucking years and nothing ever changes. it took whoever i was before this to fucking die before i could be split into this system and that was the most change we ever went through positively was someone fucking disappearing. 

oh mare you could have bipolar ... if your hypomanic periods were more rhythmic :/ or if the manias were worse lol :/ you could have psychosis but its not that bad :/ schizophrenia but you’re too “functional” you talk too “articulately” you’re never getting “anywhere” :/ you could have BPD but your life would be sooooo much more miserable mare and aren’t you happy :/ you could have CPTSD but you can’t even remember what happened to you can you? :/ 

I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I’ve done EVERYTHING right I have been so much BETTER about recovery than anybody I have met in my entire fucking life and I get nothing for it. I go to every therapy session I do all the positive self talk I try not to be toxic to people I try EVERYTHING more than ANYBODY. and all I get? Nothing. I never get ANYTHING. 

[kavehater]

Dahlia took extended leave from uni and told me I should do the same but my sem is almost over and my parents wouldn’t let me stop uni not to mention not let me bedrot nor would they send me to therapy I just want to exist in peace like

[dandy-lad]

.

[cerealxperimentslain]

Hey! Hey you! Look at the original post!

Please Help Hala Daoud get to Egypt for treatment of her debilitating illness (MS)

If you laughed at the haha funny gollum clip, please give me another moment of your time.

Hala (@/halakamak) was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2021. Multiple sclerosis is an autoimmune disease that targets the central nervous system, and if left to progress can be permanently disabling. There is no cure, but there is treatment that can mitigate the damage it does to the central nervous system. Hala needs this treatment, so she can avoid becoming permanently disabled by the disease, but after the collapse of their healthcare system it is not available in Gaza anymore. The medication is also extremely expensive, $12,000 for just one dose that lasts only 6 months, and she must now pay this all on her own. Please help her get to Egypt to purchase this medication!

in four months she has only raised €1,566 of the target €17,000

VETTED row 954 on The ButterflyEffect Project

VETTED number 307 on @/el-shab-hussein & @/nabulsi's Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

[sunriseverse]

xue yang strikes me as the type that evaded the autism diagnosis due to Everything Else so it wasn’t even considered and bc his traits are so different than xxc’s and sl’s he doesn’t even know. song lan doesn’t know either. xxc has a inkling. but half the time sl thinks xy is irritating him on purpose. xy doesnt even know what he did wrong!!!!!! he also doesn’t know he’s stimming and he can’t quite put in words that he feels like he HAS to do it without thinking he sounds ridiculous. surely no one would understand that? right? (real pity, because if he could articulate it then song lan would probably know what he’s talking about.) they’re both very upset and they’re not going to talk about it either. [jump to a week later] *xxc voice* We are having an Autism Talk. Sit down.

but on a lighter note after xue yang actually does find out what stimming is he definitely purchases booty shorts with “STIM TOY ❤️” on the ass. xiao xingchen loves it. song lan thinks it’s funny but he won’t admit it he’s like wow that is so stupid xue yang. meanwhile as he’s saying this xxc is like *squish* *squish* *squish* *squish* *squi

YES YES YES WXACTLY. LIKE. YOU GO YOUR WHOLE LIFE THIS WAY AND YOURE LIKE. THIS IS STUPID I CANT TELL ANYONE BECAUSE THEYLL JUST TELL ME IM BEING WEIRD AND DOING IT ON PURPOSE. BUT THEN……..IT WAS LE AUTISMÉ ALL ALONG!!!!!!

also laughing myself to DEATH over that concept. you’re right he WOULD have those shorts 100%. he gets the diagnosis and he’s like a qing. give me your laptop i’m blocked on taobao but i need to make a very important purchase. and then they all reap the rewards of it <3 (except a qing who has to watch them be DISGUSTING and do PDA in her PRESENCE………qing-jie i’m so fucking sorry you deserve to be paid recompense for this.)

[okwonyo]

KISSES’ REMAINS , 或 𓈒𓈒 leaving lipstick stains on them.

( 𝒷 ) INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff established relationship pouty and dramatic jakewon cautions ˚ non-idol au kissing skinship flirting

jiah says ： making this was really fun, i hope you all have ad much fun reading this ♡ㅤ

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

would love anything, even when you are just doing your makeup. he would love seeing your focused face and the way you smile after finishing the little thing your were doing. seeing you getting dolled up makes his heart stutter— you are always so beautiful.

“what are you looking at like that?” leaning on the doorway, your voice would cut him in the contemplation of you putting on your lipstick. your eyes would meet in the mirror and he would watch you turn around.

“at the prettiest girl in the world,” he would assure, while walking toward you. you would roll your eyes fondly, turning around to take a tissue and kiss it— to remove some lipstick from your lips. but he would lean over, his cheek offered to you, “no need for that.”

you would give him a puzzled look before realizing what he is asking for and kissing him, “is it better?” he would turn his face to you with a grin.

without even looking at the mirror, gaze focused on the lipstick stain you left on him, you would smile. “much better.”

JAY

would come back, with a relieved sigh as he feels himself get swallowed by the warmth of his home, to you looking at you with a funny face before and after kissing him.

he would study your face for a while as you study his. he would narrow his eyes as he would still hold your waist with one of his arms, “what?”

the laugh you would be fighting to keep will not reassure him in the slightest, “have you seen yours in the mirror today?”

he would thinking about it, looking up while pulling you closer. “no,” a pause, you would open your mouth a bit in sudden realization. confusion would take over him again, “why?”

you would give a smug grin, kissing him on the lips again. “nothing at all,” you would say as you look at the proof of the kiss you landed on his neck this morning.

and he would accept your answer, who he is to question you anyway?

JAKE

separation anxiety is not a myth, and you out of all people would know it— as your boyfriend has been diagnosed with it several times.

“why do you hate me?” he would dramatically whine, his hands gripping onto yours for dear life, as if you would disappear if he lets go; which you would.

you would giggle, “i have to go take some clothes at mine,” he would try to protest but you would cut him immediately. “and no, i can’t just wear your clothes.”

his lips would form a pout, his star filled eyes looking up at you and pleading you to stay here with him.

you would stare right back at him— he would really make it harder for the both of you.

one if your han would come cupping his cheek, he would lean into your touch still all sad. you would give him a kiss, right after on his nose, “here,” you would say while staring at the lipstick stain, “a keepsake from me. i will be back in a bit.”

(he would then insist on coming with you anyway.)

SUNGHOON

“you have lipstick all over your mouth,” you would tell him breathlessly as you pull away from the miss you just shared— although the end of your sentence would be a bit muffled due to the man following your lips.

he would hum against the corner of your mouth, “i heard this is what happens when you make out with your girlfriend,” he would final pull away with a smirk on his face, “i’m not sure, though.”

you would chuckle at your boyfriend’s words, while absentmindedly staring at his rose tainted lips, all red and sticky. at the way he wears the remains of your kisses so beautifully.

his words would snap your out of your daydreaming, “be careful at who you look like that, babe,” and you would shoot your eyes back to his, before rolling your eyes.

you would bring your thumb to his lips and he would stare down at you during the sweet time you take to wipe the lip product off his face.

his mouth would fall agape and he would lick the side of his lips, “we are definitely kissing again.”

SUNOO

it would be a dream come true.

just him sitting on a chair, looking pretty as usual and minding his own business. then you, staring at him because, well, he is beautiful.

while sitting on his laps too. with one of his hands on your lower back and the other on your thigh. so close from each other that you would be a few seconds away from melting together.

you would cup his face and he wouldn’t budge, liking to be held by you, “you are so cute,” you would say before kissing his cheek.

he would smile, his adam apple moving along the movement, “guess we have that in common,” and you would not restrain yourself from kissing his other cheek.

he would find himself with two lipstick mark on his face, multiple pictures will be taken.

JUGWON

“this is not fair,” he would say, crossing his arms under his chest. “do you prefer me or you lip combo?”

and you would give him a judgemental glare to which he would dramatically gasp, his arms falling to his sides. you would snort, teasingly, “stop hurting your own feelings.”

he would sigh, stepping closer to you. his wide eyes looking directly into yours, pouting a little as he speaks up, “can i have just one kiss?”

you would stare right back at him, your whole defense arguments and initial morals slipping through your fingers as he keeps on waiting for your answer— who even looks at anyone like that?

he wouldn’t need an answer to slip one of his hands on your cheek and other one on the back of your head. his chest would press into yours as he mouth messes with yours. he would pull away when he is sure both of you are out of breath.

you would push him away playfully, “see now you are the one with a lip combo.”

RIKI

would not even aim to be kissed at first. just dropping his arm on your shoulders as you both walk in the streets.

the sun would be bright, but not as brighter than you are to him. his eyes would often draft from the road in front of him to your face. he would study your features attentively.

“i like your lipstick,” he would say without thinking much of it and his heart would skip a bit when your eyes would look up to him.

the wide smile forming on your face would make him flustered, “yeah?” and he would nod.

then you would warp your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down towards you and, as you still walk, pepper multiple kiss on his face; on his cheek, his mouth, his mouth, the corner of his lips. he wouldn’t be able to not laugh.

“now you have some too,” you would say after pulling away.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.