This here is part 2 to my Rossi x reader fic Feeling Forgotten From Long Ago. @ohmypageet and a couple of anons requested this sequel. It’s been awhile since I’ve written rossi x reader so it may be a bit rough but I think that i’m quite pleased with how it came out. Also, I may or may not have written this at 1 in the morning so I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed. Please enjoy :)
After what happened you’re left all confused, etc and you’re not quite sure what to do anymore. The team protects and sides with you, but you begin to contemplate transferring. Meanwhile, Rossi defends you against Strauss and eventually realizes he is still in love with you and thus breaks up with her, but can he win you back? ooohWEEoooh
Things were different after the…slap. At first, everybody was shocked. You didn’t generally go around slapping people, but once you explained your reasoning, the team gravitated toward you as if to protect you as the deflected their malevolent glares toward Rossi and his new lover.
At first, you enjoyed the criticism directed toward Rossi. He deserved it after all. He had broken your heart, and so you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel just a little bit nice to see his choices bite him in the ass. But after a couple of weeks of it all, it started to just feel… rude.
The entire situation was crudely similar to a daily game of middle school dodgeball.
Gathered around a conference table in some humid, nondescript police station, tasks would inevitably have to be divided and glares would inevitably be distributed in your ex’s direction.
“Y/n and I can go back and recanvas the first crime scene, ask around some more,” Rossi offered, doing his best to ignore the dirty glares of his teammates.
“No, no, I’ll go with y/n.” Morgan hurried to say. Emily made a similar comment, JJ took a step toward you, and Rossi frowned at the way his coworkers had treated him. He hadn’t expected the team to so readily take your side, hadn’t intended to hurt you as bad as he had apparently done.
Even Hotch, one of Rossi’s oldest confidants, took your side, “I think it would be best if you stayed here at the station and coordinated for the rest of us, Dave.”
And thus, the David Rossi was forced to submit to the mob of profilers that all believed he had wholly hurt their friend. The worst part? He had hurt their friend, and he was starting to regret it.
The worst part of choosing Strauss wasn’t the way he was treated at work, though. It was the nights. Oh, the nights. It was in the dark of night when Rossi really felt his mistakes illuminated, his blunders cruelly highlighted by the way darkness and silence fell simultaneous and left him to brew dangerously.
“Erin?” He said as he shut the door behind him, “Are you here? I’m back from the case?”
It had been one of the hard ones. All the cases were difficult. In their line of work, that was a given. But every once in awhile they would get a case that felt impossible and evil and so fatally trying that it challenged the team and all their abilities, leaving them exhausted beyond comprehension. It had been one of those cases.
All he wanted was to collapse onto the nearest surface and just breathe again, but Erin was waiting for him in the dining room, a dry smirk reaching her lips, “Welcome back, Dave.”
“Today was the worst day.” He deadpanned, hoping she would bite, allow him to vent the way he always did when she ranted about bureaucracy or sexism or some combination of the two.
She didn’t respond the way he had hoped, just tilted her head and nodded as if she understood completely, “That sucks. Did y/n slap anybody else today?” She nodded for a second, “Could you set the table for us? I’ll get some wine.”
Rossi sighed, not in the mood to sit down and eat and mindlessly chatter over candlelight. He weighed the idea of defending you. After you had struck her in front of all of her suboordinates, Strauss often acted unnecessarily cruel when it came to your character. He was too exhausted to spark a battle he always somehow lost. He did what he was asked to do nonetheless. He wandered after Strauss into the kitchen where she had already grabbed the plates, turning to hand them to him.
He reached out to grab him and it had never been more shockingly clear how much he missed you. Strauss was standing there, grinning placidly with two glasses of wine at the ready. It was good and all, lots of men would love to be in his place, but all Rossi really wanted was to be somewhere with you, quietly destressing as the pair of you talked about your days, especially the bad ones.
His hands wrapped around the plates, Rossi froze, “I’m breaking up with you, Erin.” He said, feeling more clearheaded than he had in weeks.
“I’m breaking up with you. Goodbye.” He set the plates down and turned on his heels.
It was cruel and impersonal and so painfully sudden, without explanation, he knew all this, but he couldn’t stand himself being in her presence and pining after his ex, after you. Rossi shut the door behind him just as a strangled mixture of a gasp and a sob jumped off of Erin’s lips. He didn’t hear it. He was already halfway to his car.
After the hardest cases, you were always too highstrung to go directly back home, and so you usually lingered back at the office, alone with the sound of vacuum cleaners on other floors and fax machines whirring messages from other time zones. It was a calm and decisive environment, placid in its routine.
You settled in at your desk, stacks and stack of paperwork were typically spread out like blueprints across the surface. On this particular day, however, there was one single sheet. A transfer request.
You hadn’t marked it yet, hadn’t decided if it was worth the drastic measures, but you were leaning towards a yes. You hated the way the others were treating your ex. You hadn’t minded at first, but it got tiring and rude after awhile and you had started to pity the man for the treatment he was receiving. You didn’t want to be the cause of such unhappiness, not when you were so regrettably unhappy as well.
For as much as you hated David Rossi for breaking your heart, you were still in love with him, and you hated that fact more than you hated the man himself. You hated the way his absence and betrayal made you feel like fire had become of your veins.
You were stuck. Stuck between miserably leaving a place that you loved and staying someplace where you made somebody that you loved miserable. You were trapped.
And you didn’t even notice when you were no longer alone, too mesmerized by the conundrum the paper before you had set out.
“Y/n? Y/n?” Rossi repeated from across the office, exhausted, dejected, and oh-so in love with you, “Y/n?” You didn’t notice, didn’t hear, and Rossi felt like his world was crumbling. He crossed the room in a matter of steps, moving his hand to your shoulder, “Y/n?”
You shuddered at the touch, and reluctantly looked up, tears had long ago begun to well in your eyes, an exhausting combination of frustration and anger and yes, a little love as well.
“What do you want, Rossi?” Your voice rasped out, harsh among the silence of the office.
His eyes flickered down to the transfer papers laid out across your desk and his stomach dropped like an elevator in an abandoned building that had finally had enough, “Don’t leave.” He begged, voice soft yet hardened, miserable.
“Why not?” And the honesty of the phrase was nearly unbearable, but you struggled on, “For what I did, I could literally get fired at any moment. Strauss hates me. You hate me. I’m tearing the team apart. It’s not worth it anymore, is it?”
“No, no, no, no, no” Rossi whispered, shaking his head fervently as he lowers himself down to his knees, “Y/n, I broke up with Erin. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just…” He paused, making sure he was looking you in the eyes before finishing, “I’m still in love with you.”
Your intake of breath was sharp and the world slowed down, before you slapped him, then soothed the blow with a kiss, long and hard and slow, “Dammit, David Rossi. I hate how much I love you.”
Because you do. God, do you love him. He hurt you, he hurt you bad. And somehow he still managed to be the constant center of your thoughts.
The two of you sat there for a long time in silence, a somehow simultaneously hopeful and hopeless silence, foreheads pressed together. Your tears dried and his grip loosened on your knees while he remained on the ground. You listened to your breath even out and synchronize with his, a familiar rhythm that you found disturbingly quickly.
You let him hold your hand as the pair of you sat like that and he calmly began padding circles against the heel of your palm, calm undulations of relaxation.
“It’s late.” He eventually whispered reluctantly.
You nodded, “Walk me to my car?”
There was that David Rossi Grin that you had known and loved.
And so you walked down together, and you let him hold your hand in the elevator where it’s quiet and the lights seem harsher and begging for something to be said. Out of nowhere, Rossi starts to laugh.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Well,” He paused, considering whether or not to continue, “I just think it’s kinda funny how you seem to have a slapping problem. It’s okay, we’ll work on that.”
You rolled your eyes at him and allowed the awkward silence to resume.
“I hope you know we’re starting over. Completely.” You said eventually, needing to fill that void. You glanced over at him to find him watching you before you continued, “Tonight, I’m going to my place and you’re going to yours and tomorrow you will take me out on a proper date and we will talk about what… we are.”
“I know.” He said, simple and honest. The elevator doors opened and the two of you stepped out, started walking.
“We’ll get back to how we used to be. We will. But, David, you’re going to have to wait. Goodnight, David.”
Before he could say anything else, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and got into your car.
David Rossi watched as you started your car. The taillights glowed brightly beneath the stone blanket of the parking garage, the sole source of light as you often were to him. Staring was all that Rossi could manage to do as he racked his brain in an attempt to figure out why exactly he had let you go in the first place and how the hell he ever thought you weren’t absolutely worth the world.
“We’ll be landing in 15 minutes” the pilot said over the PA system on the plane you were on, startling you awake. Though you were having quite the nice dream you couldn’t wait to land and finally see your fiancé. The last time you saw Axl was right before you left on a two week business trip, which was the night he popped the question to you.
The plane had finally landed and Axl was picking you up, you practically trampled the people in the aisle way to be able to see him. The moment you saw him your heart dropped; he was standing there holding none other than Erin’s hand looking very engaged in their conversation. You looked at your hand where the small diamond ring was before you stormed over to see what was going on. “Axl what the fuck is this? I leave for two weeks and you go back to her?”
Axl jumped up and threw Erin’s hand down and walked over to you. Attempting to grab you; you pulled away, not wanting him to touch you at the moment. “Y/N it’s not what it looked like! Baby, I fuckin’ missed you… Let’s go home and talk this out, please.”
You couldn’t even look at him; you just proceeded to walk away to baggage claim until you heard a female voice which made you whip around. It was Erin. “Y/N, I swear I wouldn’t do anything to ruin yours and Axl’s relationship!”
You got dangerously close to Erin which made her frozen in place, flinching when you spoke. “I don’t want to hear it out of you; I know he still loves you. And you, Axl? I’m getting a taxi; we will talk about this at home, but I will not sit in the same car with you right now.”
Flagging down a taxi, you threw your bag in first before you slumped down onto the puke stained seats. Your anger had turned into tears, spending the whole way home crying thinking about your future. When you arrived home you told the driver not to leave, you never knew what could happen. Walking into yours and Axl’s bedroom you saw a delicately folded piece of paper labeled ‘Erin’. Unfolding it as fast as you could; you saw the top of it was a note for her above a song he wrote for her, ‘Erin, I will always love you’.
Not wanting to fight with Axl about any of this, you folded up the piece of paper, placed your ring next to it, grabbed your bags and headed back to the airport. You had to go see your best friend, Duff. You didn’t intend on telling Duff you were coming, you were just going to show up and stay there until you figured out your next move.
Duff was surprised to see you at your door, but even more so to see your tear soaked face at his front door. “Y/N, what the hell is going on? Where’s Axl?”
Struggling to speak through your sobs, you told Duff the news. “H-He was with Erin and they were holding hands at the airport. Duff, he wrote a love song for her and it was on our bed. I left the engagement ring on the bed and left.”
Duff leaned against the doorframe and ran his fingers through his hair before taking you into his arms. “Shit, Y/N, that’s really shitty… I don’t even know what to say besides shit. I know what you need, you need a drink.”
Walking into the kitchen with him you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, setting them on the counter for Duff to fill with none other than vodka. The two of you went back into the living room where you laid on the couch while Duff stared at you in offense to taking his spot. As the night went on you told him of your business trip; until you were interrupted by the phone, the two of you looked at each other knowing who it was. “No man, she’s not here I’m sorry. What happened?”
You nodded your head at Duff, thankful he didn’t rat you out to Axl. Beginning to feel tired after Duff returned to the couch, you grabbed your half full cup and headed for the guest room. “Thanks for letting me stay here, it means a lot. I won’t be here long I promise, just until I find a place of my own.”
He got up to come hug you, seeing that you were yet again crying. “You’re my best friend; you can stay here for however long you want. Things will turn around, I love ya Y/N.”
The next morning you woke up to go make yourself coffee, grabbing a mug and starting the pot you waited for the coffee to brew. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a body sitting at the small kitchen table and assumed it was Duff. “Good morning Du-… Axl?”
You dropped the coffee mug onto the floor, letting it crash into a million pieces once you saw it was Axl and not Duff. Axl walked over to clean up the jagged pieces of ceramic scattered all over the floor as you stood there in shock. You heard Duff’s footsteps coming down the hall; he started talking before he stopped in his tracks, shocked at the sight of the redhead. “What the fuck is goin’ on in here Y/N?! Oh shit… Hey Ax… Uh, I’m gonna head back to bed.”
Axl stood up to throw away the collection of the broken coffee mug pieces he had in his hand before he finally spoke to you. “Duff’s a bad liar, I knew you were here.” He shoved his hand into his back pocket, pulling out your ring and laying it in his palm. “I think you forgot this, Y/N.”
You gently closed his palm and took a step back to lean on the stove. “No, I left that there on purpose. As many times as we’ve talked about Erin and you being over her, I never believed you. I just never had evidence to prove it until now. First the airport, then I find the love note and love song to her. Go home to the girl you really love, Axl. Don’t waste your time with me.”
Axl walked over to you and leaned up against the counter next to you. “I know it looked bad yesterday, but I was telling her about you. I was telling her I found someone who replaced the void in my heart she left. It was huge, Y/N, and you filled it. The love song you found? It was from before we even met; you have nothing to worry about. I love you.”
Axl brought the ring out once again, opening his clenched fist to reveal the small, yet beautiful diamond. You grabbed it and slowly slipped it back onto your finger, looking up at Axl with your eyes glistened by tears. “I love you, Axl. Please take me home.”
Axl wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into his chest and squeezing you tightly. Duff walked into the kitchen with a gigantic grin smeared over his face. “I knew it!!! Group hug!!! You crazy kids in love.”
A lot of really great Holtzbert fics have been written that show or describe Holtzmann’s internal urge to prove theories, to gather more data in relation to Erin or her attraction to Erin. I postulate though that Holtz would be more of a direct and tactile experimenter, giving little thought to theory or reason, touching Erin’s shoulder when she walks by her sometimes just to feel her shiver, nudging her playfully when they’re all joking around with each other after a bust to make her blush, licking her own lips and watching it draw Erin’s eyes to her mouth. She’s the engineer after all. She creates what she wants. And lately all she wants is Erin to love her. For Erin to want her.
It’s Erin that’s been writing actual calculations down in pages of a notebook she has hiding under her bed, Erin who has a pro-con list, a graph of her own reactions (X axis) to Holtz actions (Y axis), and a list of possible leading questions constantly running through her head that she could use to start a conversation with Holtz about the way she looks at her, like she’s not Erin Gilbert but like she’s Everything.
Finally one day Holtzmann is smiling at her from over a book she’s skimming, some trashy end-of-the-world dystopian novel, the kind Holtz loves speed reading while drinking four cups of coffee on lazy Sunday mornings, and Erin’s internal calculations aren’t enough anymore. She doesn’t need integers or graphed curvatures or the letters a,b,c or x to tell her that the warmth inside her chest feels like her heart is going to flutter out her mouth on butterfly wings if she doesn’t do something, anything.
She usually flicks her eyes up, blushes, and looks away when Holtz catches her looking. But on this day she meets Holtz’s gaze head on and she locks eyes with her and she smiles back. Her smile widens as Holtz puts her book down in response, it goes slack in anticipation when after she nibbles her own lip a little bit just to tease the blonde, Holtz stands almost wobbling before regaining her footing and strutting over, her own smile shifting into a satisfied smirk that is barely containing a manic grin of excitement inside of itself, like one of those Russian stacking dolls. It’s so much like the look she gets on her face after inventing something truly dangerous that Erin can’t help but grip the sides of her desk in nervous anticipation.
Later, when they’re both out of breath and their lips are numb, swollen, maybe she gets why Holtz loves explosions over any written hypothesis. She finally has enough data to formulate a pretty hefty conclusion. Sometimes you need a mad scientist with calloused fingers and burn marks on her overalls to do the risky work for you. Other times, you need to let your own fingers dance across cream colored skin. You need to play with fire. You need to tilt your head up towards the sky and let loose an unfettered scream, formulas and reason be damned.
Erin’s not going throw her notebooks in the trash anytime soon. But, she decides, grinning at the ceiling with her back flat on cold wood and crumpled papers, that being hands on has its moments.
I have YET to see the movie but I want all your autistic headcanons about Holtzmann. Spoiler free please?
I’ll keep it as spoiler free as possible! ^u^
Her main two SIs that have never really changed were engineering and the paranormal. she combined/combines those two as much as possible, so she was super psyched to be able to do that with her friends
wears her big overalls as a pressure stim, but a crop top underneath it (when she can get away with it) because cool air feels really nice on her skin (i’m p sure temperature stims are a thing, because if they are then holy fuck do i do them). she also likes to sit in front of fans before moving immediately to somewhere hot and then back again
holtzman loves playing with the ectoplasm a little bit too much. it feels really nice on her fingers. what do you mean it might be dangerous, erin got covered in the stuff and she was fine!
def has a shirt that says “autistique” on it.
usually wears her chew necklace, but she also has a smaller version that she takes with her everywhere that fits around her wrist
her goggles/glasses/whatever hella rad things those were she was wearing are also a pressure stim for the area around her eyes
in the early morning she wears her weighted blanket around her like a cape
that’s all for now, i hope this doesn’t spoil anything….
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