#**jj-kind hearted bastard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theemporium · 2 years ago

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[REQUESTS OPEN]

a belated happy birthday to the biggest rafe sympathiser i know @1986harrington enjoy the shameless smut between the two hottest characters on the stupid boat show that brought us together :) it’s also severely unedited but you have waited long enough so hey ho ignore the mistakes

[4.7k] when sneaking around with boys from different worlds is all fun and games until you get caught. and they get curious. (smut)

It was wrong.

You didn't owe either of them anything, and you never gave the impression that what you shared with each of them was exclusive. You didn’t even expect them to return the favour.

But still, deep down, underneath all the pleasure and thrill, you felt a little bad.

Not that that would make you stop. How could you stop?

It was addictive. Something so primal and unexplainable about nights shared between the two boys, nights where neither of them knew about the other, nights where they thought they were the only ones to have you. No one would ever understand, you were sure there were a handful of names and phrases they would throw at you if they ever did discover your secret.

But you didn’t want to stop.

You thought you were being clever with it, that you were getting away with it. You knew there was a risk, but that was a part of the thrill—the fact you could get caught.

You just didn’t expect it to happen like this.

It was a weekday, a simple Wednesday and the last thing you expected was a guest. You had been sat on your bed, phone in hand as you aimlessly scrolled through with your textbook open before you in some false pretence of studying for the test you had later that week.

You hadn’t been bothered with your outfit—simple sleep shorts and a tank—when you heard three, consecutive raps against your window.

Frown painted on your lips, you made your way towards the window to pull the curtains back, only for your eyes to widen at the familiar blond seated on the edge. You quickly unlocked the latch, pulling the boy into your room before he lost his balance on the thin slit of wood.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, heart thundering in your chest and a smile unknowingly growing on your lips at the roguish smirk on his lips.

“I was passing by the neighbourhood,” JJ stated simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

You raised your brows. “Were you now?”

“I might have gone on a little detour,” he added with a wink, and you couldn’t even blame your body for the way you flushed in response. He was a pretty boy with even prettier charm, and god, did he know it.

“My parents could hear,” you said, though it wasn’t a very convincing argument nor had it ever stopped either of you before.

“Is that an offer to find a way to keep you quiet?” JJ countered, his fingers already instinctively reaching for you as they slipped beneath the hem of your tank and glided against your heated skin.

Your lips twitched. “Got any ideas?”

“I can think of a few, princess,” he murmured as he ducked his head down, his lips against the skin of your neck and you couldn’t help but lean your head back with a happy sigh.

JJ Maybank was one of those boys that were so naturally pretty, that it hurt. The ocean blue eyes, the surf swept and tousled blond hair, the killer smile and the taste of sea-salt on your tongue. He was the kind of boy your mother warned you about, that pretty face that was so inviting but you knew had the power to break your heart.

He was the definition of a pogue, and maybe that added knowledge just made him ten times more tempting to you. He was the last thing you should ever want, and yet the forbidden nature of it all made you crave him even more.

Between the heated kisses and lingering touches hidden away in the shadows, knowing that JJ Maybank was the last person you’d want to be caught with was what made you keep coming back for more.

He was bad news for a good kook girl like yourself, but then again, the same bastards that made those rules clearly had never tasted JJ Maybank.

“Jay,” you murmured in a breathy sigh as he began to guide you through your room in small, shuffled steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress and you fell back against the bed. You barely had a chance to push yourself further up the bed when he was already crawling over, his lips pressing kisses on any visible patches of skin before he made it to your lips.

“Say my name so pretty,” he muttered against your lips, and you just knew that if you pulled back now, you’d see a smug smile on his lips.

“Maybe if you put that mouth to use, you’ll hear it a lot more,” you retorted, albeit in a breathless voice, but the snap was still there and it thrilled the blond as much as it thrilled you. To the world, you were a little goody-two-shoes, but behind closed doors was a whole other story.

“Making demands now, princess?” he mused as he pulled back enough so he could see your face, his fingers tracing down your jaw as he spoke. “Got any more orders, Your Highness?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and flashed him an innocent look. “Take your damn clothes off, Maybank.”

His grin was wide. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

His moves were always quick and agile, kneeling at the bottom of the bed as he tugged the tank top he was wearing over his head and threw it on your bedroom floor. His hands moved to his shorts, but you slapped his hands away as you took over, undoing the button before looping your fingers through the material and tugging him back down over you.

“So impatient,” he teased as he moved to push the material of your tank top higher up your stomach.

“I just know what I want,” you said to him with a certain spark in your eyes.

“And what’s that?” JJ asked, eyes darkening in interest.

“Want to know my dirty fantasies, Maybank?”

He bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his groans. “Oh baby, there’s nothing more that I wanna know.”

You grinned. “Then earn it.”

His lips were on yours before you could even finish your sentence, the material of your tank pushed further up until it was tucked just beneath your tits. His thumbs brushed against the skin of your stomach, smiling in delight as your body shivered with the light touches. There were a handful of ideas in his head, so many ways he wanted to take you on these prissy pink sheets with your parents just down the hall, but he couldn’t quite choose one—he wanted you to choose, he wanted you to choose how he’d ruin you. He wanted you to choose—

“Well, isn’t this an interesting development?”

Both of your heads snapped towards the door as the unfamiliar third voice sounded through the room.

And much to your own fucking horror and embarassment, it was Rafe Cameron who stood leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable emotion darkening those ice blue eyes of his.

It shouldn’t have thrilled you as much as it did.

“What the fuck?” JJ spat at the kook casually standing a few feet away, using most of his body to cover yours even if the sight was nothing Rafe hadn’t seen before. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Rafe raised an unamused brow. “I could ask you the same thing, pogue.”

The blond’s glare hardened. “I don’t think you can.”

Rafe’s gaze moved towards yours, and you knew he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth.

“Got some light you wanna shed on the situation, sweetheart?” he asked with his head tilted, and maybe it should’ve intimidated you but it didn’t. It really didn’t.

“I–” you suddenly sat up on the bed, not bothering to pull the tank top down even when two sets of eyes settled on the plain of your torso. “I can explain.”

“That would be ideal,” JJ gruffed out, eyes narrowing at the other boy before he looked back at you.

You looked between the two boys, both so fucking different from each other and yet you craved them all the same. They couldn’t be more different, and yet the thing that connected them was you. You were all they had in common and, selfishly despite the moment you were currently dealing with, you didn’t want that to stop.

“Never heard you so quiet in the bedroom before,” Rafe mused, his words thick with lust, rage and something else that made you clench your legs together. “Then again, never thought you’d slum it down with a pogue so I guess there is a first for everything.”

“Because your prissy kook ass is so much better?” JJ countered with a scoff.

Rafe’s brows furrowed together. “Yeah, actually–”

“Stop!” you hissed at the two of them, pushing yourself off the bed as you stood in the space between the two of them. “Both of you stop this pissing contest, it reeks of fragile masculinity.”

This time it was JJ who spoke, something mixed between confusion, lust and anger painted across his face like he couldn’t quite decide himself how he felt.

“What the fuck?” he gritted out.

“Don’t give me that look,” you said with a scoff when you saw Rafe giving you a similar look.

“One wasn’t enough?” Rafe commented.

“I didn’t hear you wanting to be exclusive,” you snapped back, looking between both boys. “Neither of you.”

“So what? You open your legs for a pogue?” Rafe sneered.

“Jealous?” you retorted and the boy’s shoulders tensed, which only made your smirk widened. “Oh, you are.”

“I’m not,” Rafe muttered, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“Jealous I didn’t come running to you, Rafe?” you continued to push him, hearing the blond behind you let out something between a scoff and a laugh.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You still did in the end, didn’t you?”

JJ chuckled. “Only when she was desperate enough.”

Rafe’s tongue pressed against his cheek as he glared at JJ before his eyes found yours again. “So, who was it?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who was what?”

“Who was better, sweetheart?”

“Better?”

You could feel the heat of JJ’s chest pressed against your back before you felt his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“He wants to know which one of us fucks you better, princess,” JJ murmured, his words feeling thick and sweet despite the snarky undertone.

Your breath hitched and the blood roaring in your ears seemed very hard to ignore now as you stared ahead at Rafe, who had closed the distance until he was just inches away from pressing his chest against yours.

“Answer us,” Rafe spoke so softly, but his words were a command.

“I–” you opened your mouth but no words came out.

Rafe raised his brow.

“Need a little reminder?” JJ’s voice was lower, rougher as his fingers skimmed along your neck as he pushed your hair over one shoulder. His head dipped down, tip of his nose brushing against your skin as he placed a soft kiss at the base of your neck.

“I think she needs a reminder how well a proper man can fuck her,” Rafe said as though you weren’t standing right there, as though it was just JJ he was talking to.

You could feel JJ’s breathy laugh on your neck. “I don’t think a kook prick like you could give her what she needs,” he murmured. “She likes it rough.”

Rafe’s darkened gaze met yours. “Oh, I know.”

Your body was buzzing, humming, thrumming as you tried to remind yourself that you needed to breathe and your lungs needed air. But it was hard when Rafe was staring at you like he wanted to devour you and JJ’s hands gliding up and down your arms was making you want to melt into his embrace.

“Let’s let her decide,” Rafe suggested so casually like you weren’t seconds away from exploding. “Let the best man win.”

JJ’s fingers circled around your wrists. “Hope you aren’t a sore loser, Cameron.”

“I never lose, Maybank.”

You barely had time to process their words, let alone remind them that you were standing right there, before Rafe’s hands were on either side of your cheeks and he was pulling you towards him as your lips met his in a sloppy kiss.

It was instinctive to let out a gasp, your lips parting just so slightly but it was enough for Rafe to slip his tongue inside you, a low groan of appreciation emitting from the back of his throat. He was intoxicating, and his kisses were no fucking different.

“Kiss her like you mean it,” JJ muttered against your neck, teeth lightly scraping against the spot below your ear that he knew made your knees buckle.

Your hands reached back for him like you needed to know he was there, like you needed to feel them both to keep you sane or otherwise you’d lose your mind. But before you could even grip the belt loops of his shorts and pull him closer, he was slapping your hands away. A small whine climbed up the back of your throat, only to quickly die down when he gripped both your wrists in one hand, keeping them pressed against your back.

“Shhh,” JJ cooed mockingly as you tried to fight his grip for a solid few seconds before giving in, the smug smile undoubtedly painted on his face. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I know what you like.”

Your breathing was close to panting when Rafe pulled away slightly, your head moving forward to chase him but his fingers pressed into your cheek and kept you in place.

“Focus on me, doll,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your lips with a look that only thrilled you. “You hear me?”

You nodded your head dumbly.

“Good.”

It was too much. Too fucking much all at once and yet you never wanted it to stop.

The bruising kisses, the passion and anger poured into these fucking kisses that made your brain stop working. You didn’t even realise kisses could affect you so much, and yet here you were, thinking you could reach heaven with his kisses alone. Or maybe hell. Whatever made him keep kissing you.

But then there was JJ, with his lips all over your neck and shoulders and collarbone. There was the way he was gripping your hands in one of his own, that small bit of attention and authority making a wave of pleasure rush down your back. There was the way his other hand glided up and down your body until his pinky was playing with the waistband of your shorts, just enough to tease you.

The whine you let out was only swallowed by Rafe’s kisses.

“Hm, always a desperate thing, aren’t you?” JJ whispered to you as his finger dipped beneath the waistband, teasing along the edge of your cotton panties. “Never took much to get you wet, princess.”

You could feel Rafe’s smirk against your lips.

“Bet you’re fucking soaking, loving all the attention,” JJ continued as his hand dipped beneath the barriers between him and your cunt, a breathy chuckle fanned over your heated skin as his fingers slid along your lips. “Oh princess, you are fucking loving this.”

“Please,” you breathed out between kisses.

“Want me to touch you? Want me to make you feel good like I always do?” he asked and he could feel the way your body shivered against him at his words. “How can I say no to my princess?”

It was hard to focus on the way Rafe was kissing you or the way he nipped your bottom lip to get your attention. It was hard to focus on anything except the way JJ’s thumb pressed against your clit in slow circles, a choked whine leaving your lips as your body surged forward.

“Is he making you feel good, doll?” Rafe’s voice was rough and hoarse as he spoke, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as JJ’s fingers worked against your soaking cunt until you were weeping for him, until you were begging to have him inside you. “Is he making you feel as good as I do?”

“I–” But the words were cut off by a pathetic moan when JJ finally slipped a finger inside you. Slow, far too fucking slow and you could feel the smugness oozing from him when you clenched around the single digit.

“Fucking look at me,” Rafe commanded, his fingers tangled in your hair as he tugged your head back so you were staring up at him, eyes glossy and lips swollen, and god they had barely touched you and you looked like a fucking wet dream.

“Shit,” you moaned, eyes fluttering close as another finger slid inside you, curling in a way that only JJ seemed to be able to do and your knees buckled in response. You were pretty sure if you weren’t sandwiched between the two men you would have fallen.

“Come f’me, princess,” JJ groaned in your ear, his grip tightening around your wrists. “Show the kook bastard what a good girl you are for me.”

Your lips parted in a silent scream, muscles tensing and body locking as the pleasure washed over you. You could feel the heat of their bodies and your own, it was overwhelming and suffocating and still not enough and despite the fact you had white dots sprinkled in your vision you wanted more.

You wanted everything they had to offer.

“Cute show,” Rafe commented, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks as he pulled you closer to him. “But that was nothing, Maybank.”

You were pretty sure either of them could have asked for anything at that moment and you would have given them it. Your mind felt fuzzy and your legs still a little shaky and when you turned your head to look at JJ, seeing him slide the fingers that were inside of you into his own mouth, you were quite certain this would be the night you died.

“Take this off,” he murmured as his hands fell to her waist, tugging at the hem of her tank top as he did. He didn’t give much choice in the matter, not that you minded. Somewhere in your post-orgasmic bliss, the way Rafe made demands made your thighs clench together.

Except it wasn’t your hands that pulled the fabric over your head. The rough calluses brushing against your skin made you shiver as JJ pulled the tank top over your head before making work on your shorts and panties too, the way the boy was so soft at undressing you made your head spin.

But you couldn’t look away from the way Rafe was staring at you, with a hunger in his eyes you knew all too well and it sent a thrill down your spine.

“Gonna do what I say, right, doll?” Rafe asked softly, almost like he truly cared what you wanted as he pulled you closer to him by your hand, guiding you as he walked back towards the bed.

You nodded dumbly.

You gasped a little at the sharp sting on the side of your thigh as Rafe pulled you to stand between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Words.”

“Yes.”

“Atta girl,” he murmured as his lips twitched upwards. “Take a seat, darling, so I can show that dirty little pogue how you really like it.”

During your escapades with Rafe, you were pleasantly surprised by how much time the boy liked to spend between your legs. You would have thought of him as a selfish lover, someone who cared more about his own needs than his partner’s.

However, it became very clear that the time he spent between your legs was purely selfish for him. No matter how much you moaned or whined or cried, the boy would pin your hips to the mattress until he was done with you. He decided when he was done. He decided how many times you would come before he finally gave you his cock like you’d beg him for.

But this was new.

You were used to being sprawled out on the bed, clenching the sheets between your fists as you cried out for him. Now, your thighs were burning as you hovered above him, not quite ready to commit but the darkened look in his eyes gave you a very clear idea on how quickly his patience was dwindling.

“Thought you were a good girl,” Rafe grumbled, his hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he tugged you down. “My obedient girl.”

“Rafe–”

“Shut up,” he murmured before his arms wrapped around your thighs, closing any remaining distance between you both until you were sat on his face.

“Shit,” you gasped, still sensitive and soaking from JJ’s hands minutes ago but the feeling of Rafe’s tongue lapping against your cunt like a starved man was too good. The noises he made, the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head, even the way he fucking tightened his grip on your thighs like he was scared you’d disappear.

This was about Rafe and his pleasure, nothing to do with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated, mixed with breathy whines as your hips began to roll against his face, his nose nudging your swollen your clit that you couldn’t help but reach out to grip the headboard for support. There were days your hands would be tangled in his hair, but the buzzcut prevented that now—not that you were complaining at all about the haircut.

“You look pretty with your tits bouncing like that,” JJ’s voice made you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes glossy and hooded as you whined helplessly as the man below you ate you out like it was a fucking sport.

“JJ–” you choked on a whine when Rafe pinched your thigh, clearly not happy about hearing another man’s name on your lips.

“Look prettier when you’re bouncing on my cock though,” he commented thoughtfully, one hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you whilst his other one rounded your body and pinched your nipple between his fingers.

The whine you let out was embarrassing.

It was like you could feel them everywhere, both pairs of hands exploring your bodies in ways that you never wanted to stop. You couldn’t let them stop. Hell, if you had known that being caught by them would lead to this, you would have done it weeks ago.

You could barely keep yourself straight by the time you came on Rafe’s tongue, you had tears in your eyes and your legs were shaking as the boy gripped your thighs, not quite ready to let you go yet. And the blonde behind you was no better, so lost in slow and lazy kisses whilst he cupped and groped your tits like it was the first time he had ever touched them.

But the whole night had been about you: them touching you, them pleasing you, them whispering the filthiest things known to man in your ear. And you were greedy and insatiable, and you wanted them to just let go. You wanted to know how fucking close they were to snapping.

“I think it’s a tie,” you told them, still panting and breathless as you leaned back on JJ’s chest. “And you haven’t been fair.”

JJ sounded amused, his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. “Fair?”

“You’re both wearing far too many clothes,” you said nonchalantly.

As soon as the words left your lips, you could almost feel a shift in the air. It was like the night had been leading to this moment, like it was some sort of twisted plan set up by the universe that was finally coming to be. It felt like you were finally getting what dirty fantasies and hopeful dreams had made you crave in the dark, lonely nights where neither boy was warming your bed.

It shouldn’t have turned you on the way they moved your body like you weighed nothing, like you were a toy for their pleasure and amusement alone. It shouldn’t have turned you on the way their eyes glimmered with lust and desire as you pulled their boxers down. It shouldn’t have turned you on the way they fucking consumed you—and yet, here you fucking were.

“God, this fucking ass,” JJ groaned from behind you, his hips slapping against yours as he thrusted in and out of you, a steady tempo that just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you wanted him deeper, you wanted him harder. But here he was, gripping the fat of your ass as he pounded into you from behind.

But you couldn’t even beg or cry for more, you couldn’t bat your eyelashes and play him like you knew would have him doing anything you wanted. You couldn’t do anything with Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat, tears running down your cheeks and your cunt clenching around JJ as the boy slowly lost his control.

“Look so pretty choking on my cock,” Rafe muttered between gritted teeth, fingers lost in your hair as he bobbed your head up and down. “My fucking girl is made for my cock, hm?”

You moaned around his dick, unable to help yourself as you body lurched between the two boys.

You couldn’t keep count on just how many times they made you come, and how many times they let you get close before pulling you away. Because despite their competition and differences and rivalry, the one thing the boys seemed to have in common was that they fucking loved to see you beg for their cocks.

They loved that the little good girl kook was a slut, just for them.

“Taking me so fucking well,” JJ moaned, skin slapping against skin echoing through the bedroom and he couldn’t have been more fucking glad that your parents were out. He knew you loved it when he was vocal, and god, he loved it too.

“Gonna take it all, sweetheart?” Rafe goaded, heavy breathing mixed with soft curses as he felt your tongue wrap around the tip of his cock. “C’mon, we know you can. Be our good girl, yeah?”

“Take it all,” JJ said it like it was a command and it was your undoing, the orgasm completely wiping you out as your body shook and tensed as the pleasure washed over you. You could feel the boys following you soon after, you could feel their hands on you but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever again.

Maybe this really was the night that ended you.

You could feel them shuffling around the bed, could feel a wet rag between your legs and you could feel a soft shirt with a familiar cologne clinging to it being pulled over your head. You could feel the duvet being pulled over your body as your head hit the pillow, and your arms blindly reached out.

“Stay,” you whispered the word like it was forbidden—and maybe it was. “Both of you. Please.”

Because the truth of the matter was that there would never be a world where JJ and Rafe wouldn’t be them: a pogue and a kook, two boys from different worlds who would never find a way to understand each other or put years and generations worth of rivalry behind them.

But for you? They could bite their tongue and pride. Even if just for a night, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

“You chose a winner, sweetheart?”

A slow grin pulled at your lips as you felt both boys tense beside you, waiting and biding their time as they awaited your response.

“It’s still a draw,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling your head into the chest of whichever boy was on your right. “Guess another round is in order. Sudden death.”

A breathy laugh could be heard from behind you. “Sudden death?”

“I wanna be thorough in my research.”

“Goody-two shoes my ass.”

“You saying no?”

“I never said that.”

“Good, I hope those bodies of yours live up to their stamina then. Otherwise, I’ll be severely disappointed in the morning”

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multistoty · 2 years ago

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@kookbled @kookwits @kierras @jaymaybnk

#wow i usually hate my edits and these turned out well #obx rp #**jj-kind hearted bastard #**Kie chaotic heroine #**john b treasure idiot #** Sarah kook converted #** he's family jaymaybnk #** turtle savior kierras #** sarah x jj blonde chaos twins #** blonde bombshell kookbled #** blonde savior kookwits #** treasure couple john b x sarah #** best friends lover jj x kie #open outerbanks rp #indie outer banks rp #indie obx rp #open obx rp

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multistoty · 2 years ago

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@jaymaybnk

That’s JJ, my best friend since the third grade. You and me man, we got nothin to lose. We really don’t.

#** he's family jaymaybnk #**john b treasure idiot #** my best friend jj x john b #** jj kind hearted bastard

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abbatoirablaze · 4 months ago

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Criminal Minds, Season 1, Episode 5

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of violence/being tased.

Anastasia Garcia

“What do I have to do to get the case, huh?”

JJ laughed, “we aren’t giving up the case to anyone, Ana...your boyfriend already tried to get it from me, and his pretty smile didn’t even phase me. Not to mention, we’re free, and I’ve already gotten it accepted by Hotch and Gideon. But even if it wasn’t you came to me last, so you’re last in line.”

“I knew there was a reason he suggested I was the one that get the coffee for us today,” you smirked as you thought about how your boyfriend suggested that you get the coffee for the three of you this morning; a task he usually undertook himself, “tricky bastard.”

“But I could use your help with your boyfriend...Brent’s holding out on letting me have Nessa...and this case...we really could use the extra help from the tech side of things.”

“Ahh, so you want to use my relationship to get your little sister to help out my little sister?”

She smiled, “oh come on, Ana. I’ve given you your little sister when your tech analysist was away on vacation.”

“Fine...I’ll try. But you owe me, JJ.”

“Margaritas after we finish the case?”

“The way to my heart!”

“Hey, you wanted on the case, babydoll. And since Elle isn’t here, you’re filling in for her. We needed all hands-on deck!”

You couldn’t help the growl that came out of the back of your throat, “just because I’m working this case with you doesn’t mean you can speak to me however you want, Morgan.”

“I don’t mean nothing by it, sweetness!” he teased, holding up his hands defensively, “I’m just being friendly.”

“Be friendly with someone else.” You growled in reply, “I’m not just going to bend at your smile and every wink, Derek.”

He smiled even more as he watched you. He went to brush some hair behind your ear, and you shifted away from him, which only brought a chuckle past his lips, “always so tense. You know, you’re not anything like your little sister. Guess she got all the fun from the Garcia genes!”

“We’re working an abduction, case, Morgan...do you not have any level of professionalism?” you growled.

He frowned and the air around him felt heavier, “alright, what’s your problem with me, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“What is your problem with me, Anastasia?” he asked, “ever since you met me you’ve had some kind of stick shoved up your butt. I’m not rude to you. Your sister likes me. And no one ever complains about me. I’m easy to work with and get along with. So why do you hate me?”

“This is not the time or the place, Agent.”

“Oh, I think it is,” he said quickly, “we’re here, hiding out to make sure that this unsub doesn’t get to Cheryl, and it’s just us, and Agent Shyler. So why do you hate me so much, huh?”

“Because you’re playing with my little sister,” you growled, finally giving into the playboys’ questions, “it’s obvious that she’s got some sort of crush on you and you’re just treating her like a plaything. Because you’re the playboy of the BAU, Derek Morgan. And you know what? I don’t take too kindly to people walking all over my little sister’s feelings.”

He took a step back, clearly confused and shocked, “wh-what?”

“Penelope, Derek...my baby sister is all but wrapped around your finger and you just keep playing with her. Is it because you’re bored?” you asked, knowing that you were pushing his buttons, “Penelope doesn’t need a guy like you in her life that will just keep getting her hopes up while he sticks his dick in every other girl that gives him a wink and a flirty smile. She doesn’t need that. She’s had plenty of those types of guys in her life already, and she doesn’t need to add any more to that list.”

“O-our friendship isn’t like that?”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, “because I’ve seen the way she acts when she’s with you. I’ve seen how she glows when she talks about you. She’s wrapped around your finger, Morgan.”

“I-“

“I know it may be easy for you to do that, and not give a damn, but someone needs to watch out for my baby sister,” you hissed, cutting him off, “and I’m the only one she has. She doesn’t go out and date because she doesn’t have the confidence to. But yet, she flirts like wild with you. You’re a walking, talking red flag, and my sister is like a bull waiting to charge with you.”

“A-are you, jealous?”

“Jealous,” you scoffed, “jealous of what?”

“Look, I know you got a man...Smith...and sure, he looks like Taye Diggs, and you get to walk around the bullpen all high and mighty because you have some Mr. And Mrs. Smith thing going on...you guys are like the Stepford couple...but that don’t mean you’re happy.”

“What would you know about me or my happiness?”

“I know that in the time we’ve been here, you play with that necklace when you get nervous,” he pointed out, “and I know that isn’t anything that baby girl gave you because you’re completely confident in your relationship with her. She would have mentioned if she bought you a trinket, and I know for a fact you would have worn it until the clasp gave out, but this looks new, so it’s a gift, and not one from love alone...but I see the way that you cling to Agent Smith when he’s around. I see that he gets just as many looks around the office as I do...you’re nervous about that relationship...I also know that you don’t have any male friends around the office. You avoid them like the plague...which means Smith either doesn’t trust you around them, or he doesn’t like the thought of you having male friends. S-“

“Stop profiling me, Derek. It’s not your job.”

“Your little sister is a grown woman,” he pointed out, “our relationship has healthy boundaries, one which Garcia set herself. Now, if you want to hate me, that’s fine. But you should hate me for reasons that actually matter. Ones that affect you...”

“You’re an asshole, Morgan.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but I know one thing...I’m not the one playing games.”

“You alright?” Derek looked up from his wound to you as you walked over to his desk. He grimaced as he reached for the bandage, and you found yourself feeling bad for him. Rushing over to his desk, you stopped short when he held out a hand to you.

“Stop...”

“I’m not here to argue, Derek,” you sighed, “look, I can tell that it’s hard for you to reach. Just....here...let me help you out.”

He winced as you took the bandage from him, and gently placed it over the wound, “you don’t have to do that, sweetness.”

“You can hardly reach it...” you pointed out softly, “you know...things could have been a lot worse for you. You were between him and Cheryl. He saw you as a threat. I’m surprised he just knocked you out.”

“He didn’t kill me though.”

“But you took a taser hit...that’s rough!” you answered as he sat down. He winced once more and leaned against his desk, “look no one expects you to finish the Davenport file tonight. You should get out of here. Get rested.”

“Yeah, well I guess it’s still a little fresh in my mind,” he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee, “nothing like fifty thousand volts to keep the motor running right? I’m just...I’m lucky as hell that he didn’t gut me while he had the chance.”

“Yeah...” you said thoughtfully, regretting the earlier conversation you’d had with him at the safehouse, “hey Derek...wh-why do you think that is?”

“That he underestimated me?” he asked. You nodded, “remember on that last call, when he called me a pumped-up, side of beef?”

“Yeah...”

“I wasn’t a true threat to him...I wasn’t competing for her heart. I was just someone that had to be temporarily misplaced,” he frowned, “honestly, I’m glad he didn’t even think to look for you. I would have hated to explain you getting injured to your baby sis.”

“He wouldn’t have hurt me...”

“You know, Shyer didn’t see you as a peer or a threat.”

“Why would he?” you asked, “I’m just a unit liaison normally. And a woman. In his eyes, I wasn’t worth it. Not competition for Cheryl. As far as he was concerned, I was a babysitter. He doesn’t know anything about my background or where I came from before the BAU.”

He chuckled, “guess that was his Achilles heel, then, wasn’t it?”

You smiled, “yeah. I guess it was.”

“You are one hell of a formidable woman, Garcia. You know that?”

“Trust me, Penny’s told me that on more than one occasion.”

“Penny,” he chuckled, shaking his head. You watched as he looked at the files, but didn’t really move, “you should call her. I know she left before we got back...hell, you should call Smith. Or get home so you can get some rest yourself. We gotta be back in the morning.”

You sighed, “if I let you do this by yourself, you’re ging to be here all night...give me half.”

“Sure, you want to put up with me?”

“You took the brunt of Shyer’s assault,” you smirked, “it’s only fair that I take half the paperwork. I mean...I did cuff him after all.”

“I’ll have you know that he must have been tired out after taking me on,” he laughed, “I warmed him, then wore him out for you.”

“Oh, is that what it was?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled, handing off half the files to you. You felt a shockwave run up your hand as your fingers touched his, but you tried to ignore it. He seemed to feel something as well, and you both froze as your eyes met one another.

“You gonna let go of the files, Morgan?” you asked softly, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Yeah...yeah...sorry!” he said, shaking his head, “guess those fifty thousand volts are hitting me in bursts.”

“Yeah...” you whispered softly, as you walked over to the desk across from his and opened the first file, “I think my adrenaline is on the fritz too...I’m never in the line of fire like that.”

“Yeah...” he agreed softly in return.

The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes before you looked back across the row at him. He was pretending to focus on the file, that much you could tell. His eyes were drifting across the page, but it felt like he wasn’t really reading anything.

And then he looked over at you, “you okay, Garcia?”

Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as he waited patiently for his answer, his eyes melting your very being.

“Yeah...” you muttered, shaking your head, before focusing on the file in front of you, “yeah. I just-I’m glad you’re okay, Derek.”

S1, E6

#criminal minds #season 1 #fbi #bau #behavioral analysis unit #ssa derek morgan #derek morgan

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lcstinfantasy · 1 year ago

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rafe cameron headcanons

it's not much of a surprise when i say rafe has daddy and abandonment issues. he strives for his father's approval but always comes up short, even more so when compared to sarah.

rafe's mother passed away when he was younger, a few years after wheezie was born. there is a lot that surrounds her death. for one, rafe was there when his mother died. present as she took her last breath. he was 9 at the time, his mother and him arguing over something stupid now. it had to do with her not letting him go to toppers for the weekend. his mother had taken her eyes off the road to scold him for just a second. a second that cost her her life as a truck ran a red light and directly into her side. spinning them out, glass shattering and he remembers the car flipping at least once. coming to he was met with his mother calling his name who shortly after could barely keep her eyes open. the 9 year old desperately pleading for her. because of this his father resents him, blames him for his wife's death. if rafe could just learn to follow orders, is what he had over heard his father to one of his friends. since than, ward has been anything but kind to rafe.

he doesn't want to hate his sister but it's so hard not to when she doesn't even have to do anything to gain their father's love. sarah is a spitting image of their mother, almost a complete carbon copy and rafe can see the tug it creates in ward's heart. rafe was the bastard that got her killed and sarah was the only way he could still see her.

sarah and rafe use to be close, before his father's blatant distain for him ruined rafe. before he turned to alcohol and drugs to number every dark though, ever negative feeling from his mind. he misses those days. sitting up and talking to sarah all night. playing stupid games on the xbox or wii. he's ruined that relationship completely and he's not sure how to start with repairing.

topper is rafe's best friend from sandbox days. those two have confided in each other about almost everything. he was PISSED when top first starting dating sarah because that's his sister but he could tell topper really cared for her; in his own obsessive ways. not that rafe could judge that by much.

rafe is very possessive of his relationships. he's not jealous per say. he knows he's good looking and he could probably out buy anyone but he also knows he's broken. but if someone dares try to touch or take what he deems his, they better watch out because he is ruthless when he wants to prove a point.

there are two people that rafe is absolutely gay for. he's bi but you know what i mean. that's jj and barry. one is his ride or die and the other is someone similar to him but an "enemy" of sorts.

rafe and kie had a thing back in the early years of high school. before she started running with the pogues and scream fuck kooks. when she had embraced that side. they had been friends at first. close friends actually to the point they shared everything with each other. she was the first person he told about being bisexual. that friendship just started to develop into something more but was cut off shortly after her meet with the pogues. she choose them over him. it's why there is so much tense between them.

#(headcanons || rafe cameron)#do not reblog

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artsyfangirl · 2 years ago

Note

Mama!Y/n facts

Y/n has 3 tattleBabies. Yellow - Lemon, Purple - Leo, Blue - Clyde

Babies say Y/n is the ”BEST PARENT EVER!!!”

Y/n hums. a lot,

Y/n makes their own and their babies clothes <3

Babies don’t wear shoes and Y/n wears mostly mary janes or no shoes also

Leo is fucking feral. and by feral i mean, Pounces on you and fucking tries to attack you.

y/n has a nest full of plastic eggs and snacks

Y/n perfers not to attack trasspassers. They don’t wanna make a bad example :(

I was actually about to say that Leo looks like a little shit before I read what you said about him being feral. Looks like we’re on the same page.

And yeah, with kids like THOSE? You HAVE to set a good example. Not like it’s gonna stop Leo from jumping the poor bastards…

And the bois simp so hard. Literally MILF/DILF/PILF. They are ON THEIR KNEES. PLEASE. JUST ONE CHANCE. Oh god, Eric wouldn’t be able to function around Mama!Y/N. He wouldn’t. Like me with a few of my fictional crushes (AKA Time, Malon, Twilight, Rosemary, Jack, Michael, etc.)

The poor boy couldn’t do anything. And the little ones are lookin’ at ‘im like, ‘We know’ with Leo being all like, ‘don’t you dare do a thing, you little shit’.

JJ would… oh he’d be head over heels, more obviously than most of the others cus of the whole ‘silent movie’ thing. Poor guy.

YANCY WOULD BE JUST- OH MY GOD. HE JUST- I CAN’T, THERE ARE NO WORDS.

Damien is fucking SWEATING. Is it hot in here? YES HE KNOWS HE’S IN A SNOWY WASTELAND SHUT UP. LEAVE THE POOR MAN ALONE.

Celine is also awestruck. She immediately decides to team up with Y/N. Power couple of the century. And yes, she’s fully aware of her brother having a crisis over there, he’ll be thanking her later for setting them up with Y/N.

Actor can’t. Fucking. SPEAK! Which is kind of important when you’re an actor, at least, one from his era. Be careful, Y/N, and keep the tykes away too, his handle on his powers isn’t the best right now, to say the least.

The Host is mumbling so much no one can tell what’s going on over there. He’s ascended to Izuku Midoriya levels of muttering. And yes, he’s muttering, not speaking, cus he doesn’t want to freak Y/N out or draw attention to himself.

Wil literally just sticks to Y/N like glue, ignoring the jealous glares of the other Egos and the glares from Leo. He literally is the only Ego that can weasel his way into the heart of any Y/N. He is immune to the boundaries that the others face. So take that, Dark!

Dark, speaking of, is uh- well, he’s in conflict alright. One of his aberrations (as I’ll call them for now) is all over the place, and the other is just… chill. Kinda. Not hiding the fluster very well. Poor guy.

He’s so used to being the composed one but now, since SOMEONE (coUgH Damien coUgH) can’t handle himself (Dark’s redirecting the blame, yes it is partially Dame’s fault for not being able to compose himself but also Dark’s fault for being insanely flustered himself), now he’s a mess.

AND EVERYONE CAN SEE. EVEN THAT LITTLE SHIT THAT’S BEEN GLARING AT EVERYONE SINCE THEY ARRIVED. Though… he will admit, the brat has been glaring at Mark rather nastily (the most nastily out of all of them) this whole time, so maybe he’s not as bad as Dark thinks.

Celine responds in ‘headspace’, ‘nope, he’s just a little shit who wrecks everything and sees Mark as the biggest competitor’. Well, there goes that hope.

Anti is metaphorically slipping on everything. Like he’s stepped on a banana peel in a cartoon. He tries to be all intimidating, but then it just. Fails. Utterly. He’s getting so frustrated, he starts glitching out a bit more than usual.

Marvin is more thankful than EVER that he has his mask. Cus it’s sure comin’ in handy. Other than that, I think he’s probably fine. Slips up a bit sure, but mostly fine.

Jackie is also glad to have a mask. For some reason Leo keeps glaring at him the most, not sure why. Perhaps it’s the brat’s inner ‘law abider’ radar.

Schneep is just- so tired. Can someone please escort him out? He can’t deal with this right now. He’s too mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Chase is more sympathetic, but is also really flustered. He gets along well with the kids though, even Leo, strangely enough.

Also, Wil is obsessed with the fact that Y/N makes their and their children’s clothes by hand. JJ finds it charming too. And this discovery just makes Damien’s situation even worse.

The man is so flustered that if you saw him, you would swear that his body heat was melting the snow around him. Celine just looks at her brother and’s just like, ‘yup, this is my brother, everyone, this right here. This useless (affectionately) man. Can’t even get a S/O. Pathetic (affectionately)’.

Engineer is the most shameless simp of them all. Even Yancy can’t hold a candle to this man. This man is truly SHAMELESS. Just please, please. Remember, this guy is a Mark, after all. Of course he shares the love of big people. (Ahem, remember Mark’s reactions to Lady Dimitrescu, everyone)

He would do anything. Please.

#courtesy of writer #septic egos x reader #markiplier egos x reader #egos x reader

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multistoty · 2 years ago

Photo

@soughthope

#** sarah kook converted #**jj kind hearted bastard #** blond chaos twins jj x Sarah

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multistoty · 2 years ago

Text

@maybankormaylose @sulsurfer @pogueframed

#** sarah kook converted #**john b treasure idiot #**jj kind hearted bastard #** kiara turtle savior #** heroine pogue sulsurfer #** he’s family maybankmaylose #my edit #obx rp #open obx rp

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checkmatein3moves · 3 years ago

Note

Jareth + neon sign, maybe? I love your writing and characters!

hell — jareth

You’re no stranger to VIP sections, but there’s something different about this one. The smoke meandering around its patrons is a thin, slow-dissipating and sweet-smelling kind that almost glitters as the ceiling lights send bright lances through it. The leather wraparound seat under you is holey and burnt in some places, and you imagine the PVC shorts of the tall woman opposite you would be squeaking up a storm if such sounds didn’t blend in perfectly with the music.

“So I told him to fuck off and find some boot to lick if he felt that way. Couldn’t be doing with his whining on top of whatever shit they’re playing here,” says the man to your left, kicking up one of his feet to rest over his knee. He downs about half of a syrupy looking red beverage, wiping the ghastly drippage off his chin.

Jareth, having decided to sit opposite your new acquaintance, glances over at you for a beat. His eyes are a yellow-orange colour tonight and his glasses hang on his slightly unbuttoned shirt, drawing extra attention to the heart shape of his face. “I thought you’d like this ‘shit.’ You have abysmal taste,” he fires back, so seriously that you can’t tell whether he’s playing or not.

The man with the red mouth laughs, a coarse sound that comes across hellish given the circumstances. “Aye. But there’s bad and then there’s bad. This is the kind of music that'd make the glass palace bastards shit themselves in shock.”

He means you, obviously, though you’re happy to report that you remain unsoiled. However, you can’t imagine that anyone genuinely likes the cacophony of bumps, squeals and...moans? You’re not even sure there’s a beat — the intermittent flickering of the hot red double-sided VIP sign keeps time better than any sound.

Jareth gets a kick out of that, licking his top lip like a hungry serpent. He winks at you. It’s weird. “I’ve found that this one’s kind of a trooper. The perfect person to drag down to Hell.”

There’s an even hotter, redder and less flickery sign outside that reads HELL, the name of the club.

“JJ, ya toothless fucker,” says the man with bad taste. “Don’t act like you’ve not gone soft, now. You reek of money and you’re talkin’ so much shit you may as well be carrying a little skull around with ya that you can like, take out and soliloquise to.” He adjusts his position and raises a hand to the light, gesturing dramatically. “To be or not to be, to agonise or to antagonise? To fuckin’...prance about in silly silk shirts and live as hero with villain’s eyes...you get the joke.”

Jareth laughs, but he runs a finger up and down the breast of his silk shirt. You’re dying to see how this ends.

#thank u #jareth #drabbles #hes v hard to write for but also very easy its a dichotomy #this is also a tease for a future character LMAO. enjoy

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loganofthenorth · 3 years ago

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Random short of Janus revealing his name to Remus

“I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? Fear, you, heck, even Roman and Patton seem to make such a big deal out of names! It’s just a name! What’s the fucking problem?” Remus ranted as he followed the retreating side.

“You’re right, Remus.” He hissed, stopping right in his tracks. The side, who Remus usually couldn’t help but chuckle at since he dressed as a Victorian widow, glared Remus down and somehow managed to silence him. “You don’t get it. We are not people, Remus. Names aren’t simply ways for us to tell each other apart. Everything that goes into us means something. Everything is a symbol. Our names are a symbol of trust. Revealing a name means giving away your trust. Do I look like someone who would do that easily?” Deceit snapped.

The fear that Janus managed to strike in Remus’s heart vanished as suddenly as it came, and was replaced with sympathy. “Well, I think I’ll give my name freely regardless. Because… I trust all of you. We’re all here to help Thomas at the end of the day after all.” Remus decided.

Deceit scoffed. “That doesn’t mean that the others will allow you to serve your own purpose. If you give them your trust, they can easily abuse it.”

“Fine… I’ll keep my mouth shut then.” Remus sighed.

For awhile, that was the end of their conversation. Remus never brought up Deceit’s name again, nor did he bring up revealing himself to Thomas, or his own name to the other sides. These were all topics that made Deceit angry.

Today, however, as they sat on the living room couch of the dark scape, Remus was surprised.

The two had been sitting there silently for hours, both coming to terms with the black and grey jacket that Janus had found abandoned in Virgil’s room.

“He’s really gone… Isn’t he? He… He even told them his name…” Remus finally began to cry, feeling anger and sadness and betrayal and all kinds of emotions bubble up inside of him. His cackles echoed though the mindscape as Deceit watched him, his expression blank.

“That he did…” Deceit sighed.

“That bastard never told us his name, and we… We were the only ones that gave a shit about him!” Remus growled.

“That we did…” Deceit agreed.

“Do you have anything helpful to say? Why aren’t you upset about this!?! Oh, right, you’re just Deception! You don’t care about us, you just wanted to keep us contained for Thomas’s sake! Admit it! You think I’m dangerous don’t you! You think I’m evil!” Remus accused, allowing emotions he had been holding back for years to speak for him.

Deceit stood up, silent as a shadow, sending Remus into shocked silence.

“I… I didn’t mean it… Dee… I’m sorry…” He whispered, looking down as Deceit walked towards him.

“Janus.” Deceit whispered.

“What?” Remus asked, looking up at Deceit, who looked back at him with a look of… well, Remus wasn’t sure what it was. It was far deeper than sympathy, sadness wasn’t the right word for it… It was just pure and utter… Melancholy.

“My name is Janus.” He said louder.

Remus began crying again, and leapt up, pulling Janus into a strong hug. “I have a plan, and I’ll need your help… Do you trust me?” Janus asked as he hesitantly returned the hug.

“Always.”

“Good. Then I’ll need you to follow my instructions as provided, do no more than what I tell you.”

“Can do JJ! You won’t regret it!”

“I already do.”

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #dad janus #janus sanders fan fic #Remus sanders fan fic #sanders sides fan fic #sanders sides headcannons

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multistoty · 2 years ago

Photo

@jaymaybnk @kierras

#**jj kind hearted bastard #**Kie chaotic heroine #**john b treasure idiot #** Sarah kook converted

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beerecordings · 3 years ago

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Marvin's Cage

Story One l Story Two l Story Three l l Story Four l Story Five

This is part 1 of the sixth story, where Marvin's secret comes to light. Tws for extreme distress, imprisonment, Anti's general creepiness, and mentions of human trafficking.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you love to hate it. I'll hopefully have the next part fairly soon. But also this is quite long, as a heads up

Okay, here we go...

They stack cards in terse silence, racing through decks, climbing up to Jacks, Queens, Kings. They both grab at a black seven of hearts at the same time and end up slapping at each other's hands, JJ yanking the card back just before his opponent. Anti cackles and keeps flipping cards, waiting for the next one to snatch.

“Peanuts,” signs JJ suddenly, and Anti swears and laughs and starts picking the cards up to re-deal, doling them out in piles, and they're playing again, without a word, stacking decks, up and up and up.

After a few rounds, JJ reaches for a bottle of water at his side, sucking it down and brushing at his sweaty hair. Anti rocks on his thighs, chewing at his nails. “Where's your sweet Big Brother today, child?” he asks.

“Comes and goes,” signs JJ, setting his bottle down and getting a granola bar out of its box for lunch. “Birthday week. Celebrate, family. But he will come see me soon. He loves me because I've been very good.”

He stacks up a fresh set for another game, yawning.

“He ought to let you come play with me in the real world,” purrs Anti, stroking his thumb across JJ's chin. Jameson shivers, but he does not protest. “He's so mean to keep you from me. Now all I get to do is come visit you and play silly games. My warm flesh... don't you know I miss you?”

JJ sorts his cards quietly, avoiding his eye. Anti reaches forward and grips his neck, squeezing gently.

“My warm flesh,” he repeats softly, licking his lips.

Jameson breathes through his mouth as Anti begins to strangle him, keeping calm. The easiest thing is just to get through it. If he talks back or makes Anti angry, then he'll really get hurt, and there will be nothing he can do to stop it. Anti gets up on his knees and crawls into JJ's space, pushing him down onto the floor of his cage. He straddles his waist and increases the pressure on his throat. JJ gazes up at him, still.

“We had such a good time together,” hums Anti, feeling his thready human heartbeat beneath his hands. “Didn't we?”

JJ doesn't remember much good about his time with Anti. He knows the taste of a human heart in his mouth. He was once chained against a wall so tightly he couldn't protest when the rats began to gnaw at him. At one point, he was so delirious and hurt that he believed he was dead for two weeks straight.

That's the good thing about his Brother. Not being allowed to leave this box doesn't matter, and neither do the occasional beatings or possessions Anti causes him, because Brother would never let anything half as horrible as the things Anti used to do to him happen anymore. Brother protects him from Anti – and protects everyone else in the world from Anti using his body.

He shudders at the memory of his teeth clamping down around the beating muscle his hands pulled from a stranger's chest. Blood leaking onto his tongue, warm as it filled his mouth. He was laughing. His fingers dug into soft, squishy organs, the filth filling up his broken nails, and his heart beat like the wing of a hummingbird beneath his ribs, making him dizzy with Anti's sick delight.

Yes. Brother protects him. Brother protects everyone. That's why he's here.

He's just beginning to lose consciousness from the cut-off of his oxygen when something stops Anti.

His head tilts and his ears perk up as he stills, paying attention to something JJ has not sensed yet. His mismatched eyes flicker back and forth as he thinks – and then a wide smile grows on his face.

“Please let go,” signs JJ, squirming.

“Someone... other than Marvin,” Anti mumbles. “Oh, this will be really good.”

JJ stills, blinking. Anti creeps to his feet, gazing through the front of JJ's box from the corner, trying to look without being seen. His eyes light up with a venomous light. He turns his smile towards JJ, eyes gleaming.

He crawls back into JJ's space, tucking a strand of his brother's hair behind his ear. JJ holds still as Anti leans close to him, whispering against his ear:

“Things are going to change for you now, my darling. But I'll see you again soon. I promise. So don't forget about me, child – not even for a moment.”

A cold kiss presses against the side of JJ's head.

Then Anti is gone, leaving only a faint and fading trail of glitching colors behind him.

JJ waits for a few moments, but he's so used to Anti's mannerisms he can't even be unnerved. He sighs, scattering the cards across the floor. Well, if Anti is gone, he'll have to find something else to do.

He reaches for his violin, getting to his feet and stretching a little before setting the bow down. Still, he can't shake a feeling that something in the air has changed for good.

Jackie treads on the solid floor of the endless mirror, his head tilted as he listens to the music.

“What the hell is this?” he whispers, creeping forward.

It's certainly not a portal to anywhere, not like it used to be, or at least this isn't the door. Instead there's some kind of box, a shed or a tiny house like on TV or maybe just a really weird puppet theater. The words “JJ's Jolly Jaunts” is spread across the top of the inside layer, behind bars, and it makes Jackie's stomach do a weird, foreboding turn that he doesn't understand.

Something about this is fucked up, that's all he knows. But if it has something to do with his missing brother – well, why wouldn't Marvin tell him? Has he been trying to find him? Is this some freaky memorial to him? Does Marvin think he's dead?

His next footstep lands heavily, echoing a little in the expanse. The music that he thought must have played from a speaker cuts off with a timid release of the violin bow from its strings, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Something is in here.

Someone is in here.

Being alarmed and weirded out, however, is only a catalyst for Jackie's curiosity, and the not-knowing becomes almost unbearable. He races towards the box, setting his tense fingers on the side of the barred window as he looks in.

There are decorations like fairy nights and pinned-up drawings of animals overhead a big red rug and a mattress with blankets and pillows disarrayed on top. A small curtain covers a corner in the back, stuffed animals stack against the wall opposite, and there are tupperware containers and cardboard boxes full of granola bars, dried fruits, cookies, and more. Art supplies scatter across the floor – paper and charcoal and bits of fabric and buttons. Jackie leans a little farther over the sill, his face nearly pressing against the bars around the outside, and he sees homemade puppets among the felt and sewing materials.

“This is fucked,” he mutters, turning to the left. Pressed closer, he can see some cleaning supplies. He turns to the right and –

Jackie rears back with a shout, his heart leaping into a double-time march.

Silence in the mirror realm. Nothing moves.

Deep breaths, Jackie. Deep breaths.

“Jameson?” he whispers, stepping cautiously back towards the cage. “I... is that you?”

It looked like him, for the moment where Jackie's eyes landed on him, a figured pressed against the closest corner of the box, clutching a violin like a shield and staring back at Jackie with wide eyes. But it couldn't be. Why would he be here? None of this makes sense, but the idea that comes closest – of course.

“Not Jameson,” he realizes, face darkening. “Anti. Right? Marvin caught you, didn't he? And he's... trying to get you out of Jameson's skin. Trying to make you let him go. You fucking parasite.”

There's a slight scraping of cloth on wood. Jackie tenses, licking his mouth, and waits for Anti to start laughing and step out to see him.

But nothing moves.

“If you're trying to get me to come closer, you missed your opportunity,” snarls Jackie. “Fuck, I can't believe – why wouldn't he tell me about this? It must have been just the last couple weeks that he caught you, since we fought just before. You've been possessing him this whole time, then, bastard? You're a creep. When I figure this out with Marvin, you'll never touch him again.”

And Jackie waits again, but... nothing.

This isn't like Anti. Not taunting? Not snarling and snapping or teasing Jackie over every failure he's ever been haunted by?

Why the pictures on the wall? Why all the stuffed animals? What the hell is going on?

“Forget you, then,” Jackie scowls. “I need to go talk to Marvin.”

He turns to walk away, back towards the portal, mind racing. He needs to talk to him before he gets more confused.

He touches the portal to leave.

Why the pictures? Turtles and bears and butterflies?

That's not Anti.

It must be.

Why the stuffed animals? A well-loved puppy, ratty with hugs and petting?

Anti wouldn't do that.

It only looks like Jameson because it's Anti. It has to be Anti.

Why any of this? The obvious time that's been spent in that box even though he saw Anti not a month past? The scared look on Anti's face as he hid from Jackie, something he's never done before? The violin music? Does Anti play violin now?

That is not Anti.

But it has to be, so –

“I need to talk to Marvin,” he repeats to himself, heart racing again. “I need...”

Marvin lied to me.

Marvin didn't tell me about this. Hid this. On purpose. Denied all of it a hundred times.

No. That's my little brother. I can trust him.

He lied.

And that –

It's Anti.

It's not Anti.

It has to be.

It isn't.

Looking back at this moment, Jackie will wonder what would have happened if he went through that portal and asked Marvin what was going. What he would have said. If he would have lied, if he would have made excuses. If he would have just been silent.

It doesn't matter now.

He knows that something is not right, and he can't trust Marvin – shit, he's never had that thought before, not once in his life – so he has to figure this out on his own.

He walks back towards that cage in the middle of the endless reflections of himself. In the mirrors, he can see himself walk towards the box from behind – steady, tentative steps, tense shoulders beneath a red jacket, hands in black gloves squeezed into fists. He can see himself from the side, with his mouth parted and his eyes fixed ahead. He can see his own face, looking into his own eyes, looking into the face he shares with his younger brother, the first younger brother he had, the one who made everything else worth having.

As he comes back towards the box, he realizes that whoever is in there must have thought he left like he said he would, because now he hears soft sobbing coming from inside. He hears the moment the violin is set aside with a slight thud, and cloth slides against the wood as the prisoner sits down on the floor. Jackie stands outside, listening, his eyes beginning to burn.

Not Anti. Not Anti. He knows. In his heart, yes – in his heart he already knows.

“Hello?” he calls.

The crying cuts off. Jackie closes his eyes. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Jackie, even if this can't be true.

“Look, Anti,” he says. “If that's you, well. I hate your guts, but I still don't think you should be trapped in a box like this. Nobody should be. Come out and tell me what's going on and we'll figure this out.”

The prisoner doesn't bite.

“Okay,” sighs Jackie. “Um. Listen, I... I'm sorry I yelled. If you're not Anti, please let me know. I'm not going to hurt you. I was just surprised. And scared, I think. I don't know what's going on.”

A soft, shaky breath moves through the air.

“I'm going to come closer now,” says Jackie, straightening up. “I'm going to look at you again. Please don't scratch my eyes out or anything. Okay.”

He leans in for a second time, bringing his head close to the bars.

There he is. The prisoner in the corner. He's sitting down now, arms wrapped around himself. His face is mostly hidden in the knees drawn to his chest, but his eyes –

Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from beneath overgrown, mousy brown curls.

Jackie has never claimed to be good at reading others. He actually tends to miss plenty that other people seem to find obvious in mere expressions and gestures. But this...

No. He could never forget this exact look, these exact eyes. The eyes of the little brother that stared up at him for hours that night so many months ago when he lost him. The eyes that were looking at him when he lost consciousness and woke up to an empty bed and a missing piece of his heart. The fear and the confusion and the hope and the love all at once.

His Jameson.

Jackie bows his head and cries.

For long minutes he's bent over the side of that ledge by the box, one hand clinging to the bars behind which his youngest brother has been kept as a prisoner, and he can't seem to stop no matter how hard he tries. There is no noise from Jameson. Jackie can't look at him again. Can't bear it.

And then the soft brush of something against his hand startles Jackie from his breakdown, and he looks up to find a tissue pressed against his fingers.

JJ has brought him a tissue.

Jackie stares at him and Jameson looks back, ducking his head shyly now, even as he pulls Jackie's fingers around the Kleenex, plucking gently at his hand. Jackie takes the tissue. JJ backs away again, still holding that battered violin to his chest like a shield.

“Thank you,” croaks Jackie.

Jameson nods just a little, eyes fixed on him.

“Do you... remember me?” asks Jackie. “We were... it was so short. Just that night. And you were sick and confused. He'd been possessing you a long time and I just – do you remember at all or...?”

Jameson scoots a little closer, chewing at his nails for a second.

His fingers reach out to touch Jackie's again. Curl around the back of his hand and settle there. Soft.

He nods just a little a second time.

Yeah. He remembers.

“Jameson,” breathes Jackie.

He reaches for his hand in return. Their fingers lock together through the bars.

Laughter bubbles up in the empty coldness of the mirror realm, and after a moment Jackie realizes he is the one he's laughing.

“Yes,” he laughs, squeezing his hands, and JJ looks back at him in awe, letting his violin fall to the side. “Yeah, Jameson, my little brother. You remember me. You're alive! You're here! JJ, JJ... how do I get you out?”

He wants to be holding him. Now. Wants to wrap him up like the kittens Marvin used to sneak into the house and take him back to the world and never let him the fuck out of his sight again.

Jameson glances to the right of his box and Jackie goes racing around the side to find the opening. There's nothing but a half-door carved into the side and this is locked by a padlock with no keyhole. Jackie grabs the chunk of metal, frowning, and there – carved into the back of the metal are sigils that burn with heat even untouched in the coldness.

Magic.

He returns to JJ, taking his hand again.

“I'm going to get you out of here,” he says, and it's so true and so important in his chest that it hurts somehow to get the words out. “I'm here now and I will not let anything more happen to you.”

He wishes JJ would smile or nod or anything like that. But he just stares at Jackie with that big, starry awe in his blue eyes, and squeezes his hand softly, shuffling closer to him, staring. Jackie holds his breath as Jameson leans his head against the bars of his prison so his forehead almost touches Jackie's. He picks up the discarded tissue and presses it against Jackie's reddened cheeks, mouth parting.

Jackie clings to his hands and closes his eyes, letting his little brother brush his tears away.

“Jameson,” he says, just soft, though everything seems loud in the silence, in the emptiness, in the endless cold. “Tell me who did this to you.”

JJ draws away. There is a pause where he looks down at his toys and his animals and his art. His hands wrap around each other. He shrugs his shoulders weakly.

“Tell me,” says Jackie, reaching for him again. “Jamie, my Jamie. Tell me.”

His head already knows, but in his chest –

No.

Jameson chews at his nails for a second, big eyes flashing up to Jackie, and then he turns and points at the picture pinned to the wall above his mattress.

In JJ's charcoals, Marvin is thin and tired, but whoever drew the curve of his sorrowful mouth and detailed the light in his eyes loves him.

Jackie's heart stays steady. His eyes do not burn. His lets out just one more shaking breath.

Very well, then.

“Jameson,” he says. “I will be right back.”

“No! No, not even like that.”

“There's no scenario in which this works, Chase.”

“Guys, hear me out!” Chase cries, re-adjusting on the couch between them and snagging popcorn from Marvin's bowl. “Okay, so the earth is round – ”

“Well, he's got that much right,” says Marvin.

“Already better than I was expecting, to be fair,” agrees Henrik.

“The earth is ROUND,” re-iterates Chase, shoving them both. “So theoretically, if I got enough momentum, and there was a path that went all the way around... I could Heely the whole way round the earth.”

“No,” groan his siblings, throwing popcorn at him. “No, that still doesn't – ”

“Haters! Haters, the both of you!”

Marvin's laughing and antagonizing Chase by pushing him with his socked feet, trying to throw him off the couch while Henrik shields the cat from the fighting on the other side of the cushions. They've been talking about stupid shit for so long he's completely lost track of the plot of the movie they're watching, but it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but them. And you know what, he feels good today, feels light and painless for the first time in a long time. For them to actually set aside the time for his birthday... well, that's the only thing he could have asked for. That and some earrings. And food. And a couple other things he wanted. But really the time together is the important stuff.

And here comes Jackie to complete them.

“Good afternoon, my darling, and will you be joining us?” he crows, letting his feet fall into Chase's lap instead of continuing to try and shove him off the couch. “Sit down with us and let's – um, Jackie?”

Why is he standing like that? Too still on the stairs. Wild, bouncy Jackie frozen stiff with his palm spread out against the wall, steadying him like a statue with a weak foundation. In his other hand: his fighting staff, extended and clenched so hard in his fingers that they have gone red with blood.

“Jackie?” asks Chase. All three of them are staring up at him by now, the TV playing loudly in front of them. “Everything okay?”

Jackie blinks at him a couple times, his face blank.

Henrik and Chase look at each other, eyebrows raising. Marvin's eyes are just fixed on their oldest brother. He realizes that his body has gone just as tense as Jackie's, his legs swinging off Chase's lap and setting firmly against the carpeted floor, a hand pressed against the cushion beside him.

Jackie starts shaking his head. Head low, eyes haunted.

“What's the matter?” asks Marvin.

Jackie shakes his head at him. His mouth is taut and his eyes narrow, angry like a wounded dog.

Marvin's throat is dry.

“What's the matter?” he repeats.

“Chase, Henrik,” says Jackie. “Go to Stacy's and stay there til I say you can come home.”

Chase pauses the movie, gaping at Jackie. Beyond the bizarre suddenness of the request, he never calls Schneep 'Henrik.' After a second, he moves to rise, but Henrik reaches across them to grab his arm and pull him back down.

“I don't think we're going anywhere, my friend,” says Henrik softly. “What's going on?”

“'Maybe Marvin can tell you,” Jackie answers.

Marvin can almost feel his own neurons firing. In a second, he has made the decision to lie through his teeth.

Because this isn't happening. He won't let this be happening. Jackie does not know – you've been scared that he does a million times before and they've all been false alarms, don't overreact, this is just some kind of misunderstanding – and he will never know. He will never, never know.

“Jackie, I don't know what's going on,” says Marvin sadly. “Tell us, please.”

“Yeah, Jackie, shit, you're freaking me out,” Chase agrees. “You want me to turn the lights off? You can lie down and – ”

“I'm fine,” says Jackie. “Marvin, you know, you – ”

“I don't know what's going on.”

“I went in your room.”

He laughs. Doesn't know why. “Okay?”

Henrik and Chase just look between him and Jackie. Jackie starts coming down the stairs. Heavy footsteps on the wood.

“Let's go look together.”

Marvin's smiling at his brother, his lip snarling a little.

He nightmared over this moment so many times. Is it really here? He always thought it would make him scared.

It just makes him angry.

Jackie doesn't know shit and it will stay that way. Stupid, naive Jackie. Marvin will lie his way out of this if he has to gaslight Jackie til Chase and Henrik call him crazy.

“There's nothing in there,” he says.

Jackie grabs him by the arm.

“Jackie!” calls Henrik, getting to his feet and setting his hands indignantly on his hips. Marvin wants to laugh again. Schneep is using his big, bad doctor voice, just like he would with any other argument in their house. Like they're fighting over who flooded the sink or whether to keep the kittens Queenie's pregnant with. Like it's just any other day.

There's no inkling in either him or Chase that this is Marvin's apocalypse. Somehow, it makes him feel powerful. Even if Jackie does have some idea of what's going on, only Marvin knows how deep this really goes.

“Don't grab him like that,” Henrik is scolding. “Now tell us what's going on or – ”

“Don't bother, Schneep,” says Marvin, staring right at Jackie. “He's angry. And you know Jackie when he's angry. He doesn't listen to anyone.”

Jackie's ears draw back and his mouth clamps tighter. He's gazing right back at Marvin. Heat like a geyser in his blue eyes.

“Let him drag me, whatever,” Marvin continues. “He'll realize he was wrong with whatever he's talking about later and come sobbing to me for forgiveness. 'Oh, Marvel, I was so mean, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry...'”

Jackie yanks him hard towards the stairs, ignoring Chase and Henrik shouting at them. Marvin lets him march him towards his room, but it's becoming less funny. His eyes burn and it seems difficult to breathe. His heart pounds against his ribs hard enough that Jackie might be able to feel it from his grip on him.

He can see Anti under Jameson's skin in days gone by, signing slowly at him, promising him that he'll regret what he's done. He laughs weakly as Jackie tears open the door of his room and shoves him inside.

“Jackie, don't push him!” shouts Chase, tugging on the back of Jackie's sweatshirt. “Hey, look at me!”

“Tell them what's in the mirror, Marvin.” Jackie advances on him. Marvin tries to move past him, but he won't let him. Pushing him back towards Jamie's mirror. “Tell them.”

“You've lost it, Jackie,” snaps Marvin.

“Jackie, what's gotten into you?” cries Chase. “Leave him alone! Marvin?”

Marvin wants to call to him – baby, it's okay, amata, don't worry – but how is he supposed to say that now, with Jackie pushing him towards that prison he created? In his heart, he wishes Chase would save him.

“Tell them what's in the mirror!” screams Jackie, and he lunges forward as his composure breaks, slamming Marvin into the wall beside the mirror. Marvin shrieks as his brother's hands wrap around his throat and pin him hard to the plaster. One of the cats is yowling in the doorway and Chase and Henrik are both yowling too, grabbing at them and trying to pull Jackie off, but he will not be moved.

“Tell me you're Anti!” Jackie howls. “You're possessing Marvin! Or he's blackmailing you! Tell me, tell me! My little brother! Tell me you didn't do this to him!”

Marvin does not know if he laughs or sobs in that moment.

Jackie throws him hard to the ground when he does not answer, his staff striking the ground beside his head. “You let him out of that cage, Anti! Now!”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” chokes Marvin.

“Jameson's in that mirror,” shouts Jackie, whirling on their younger brothers. “He's locked up like a fucking dog! Like an animal! This isn't Marvin, it's Anti!”

Marvin stares at the ceiling, writhing beneath Jackie's hands as Chase and Henrik back off, asking questions and exclaiming at Jackie as their oldest brother starts to relate what he saw. Marvin can't breathe.

A little box. A box with bars on the front and a magical lock on it. Him just lying all small inside, with his toys and violin and drawings and snacks. Jameson. Jameson.

Jackie knows.

Jackie knows!

A nightmare – it's a nightmare. It's a nightmare!

“Get off!” he screeches, and when Jackie doesn't budge Marvin opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the hand holding his chin down.

Jackie yelps and draws back. Henrik jerks forward to keep Marvin down, now, clinging to his clothes.

“Marv, Marv,” chants Henrik, holding him carefully. “Hey. If you're in trouble, we'll figure this out. Just let's be calm. And if you're Anti – there's no point to running.”

“But Anti can't get in here,” Chase puts in, frustrated. “You guys know that. Marvin warded the place to hell and he doesn't know where the mirror that comes to our house is.”

“Chase, go check the warding,” orders Jackie. “Anti might have compromised him instead of possessing him. He must have been at it for months. That's why he's been acting so weird. Blackmail or something. I didn't think it was Anti because I thought you would have come to me if he were hurting you!”

No, no, no! Marvin grips at his head, giggling again. This is just a half-truth and their disapproval and fear and distrust is already too much to bear. If they find out the truth – if they know –

He was right, though! He had to do it!

“Come, my brother, up we get,” says Henrik, wrapping an arm gently around his waist. Jackie still looks like he wants to beat the demons out of him, but he lets Henrik handle him. Marvin slinks to his feet with his brother's arm around him and Henrik sits him down on his bed.

“Okay, now, tell us what's been going on,” he murmurs, brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes.

Marvin grips his wrist, dizzied. He doesn't want him to step back. He wants Henrik to stop this from happening.

“Has Anti been talking to you?” Henrik asks in a hush. “What has he done, my dear? You can tell us now. Is Jameson really there?”

His Schneep. He's as feral as a rabid squirrel most of the time, but then, when he needs him, his brother melts into soft touches and a quiet, even voice. Unflappable, reliable, steady Henrik. Marvin cups his chin, staring up at him.

“Don't touch him,” says Jackie darkly, standing posed like a toy boxer behind Henrik. “Don't put a hand on him.”

“The warding is fine,” calls Chase, coming back into the room. “Nothing smudged or anything.”

“Anti may be manipulating him from a distance,” says Henrik. “Threatening and holding things over him. Jameson... did he threaten to hurt him? Marvin, you were trying to protect him, yes?”

Jackie's stance slackens, his fingers loosening around the staff, and Marvin sees the moment where his eyes soften for him. Chase comes close too and stands beside Henrik, rubbing a hand along Marvin's shoulder.

“Breathe, amata,” he says. Sunny, starry Chase. His Chase. “It's gonna be okay, Marv. I promise. What did Anti do? He hurt you, huh?”

Marvin stares up at him, mouth parted. His eyes flicker towards his own figure in the mirror.

He knows JJ is back there. At this time of day, he's probably napping or playing his violin. Anti could even be in there with him now. He can see him now, black eyes and a wicked smile twisting up Jameson's mouth. He'd bite his teeth at Marvin behind the bars of the cage or coo threats and dark promises. He'd leave Jamie bleeding and ill and laugh about it.

He can see Jameson helpless in the middle of everything. Months and months of Jameson's helplessness. Curled up around himself, silent and dead-eyed in the corner, begging for Marvin's attention, scared and crying, playing with his puppets and toys like a two-year-old, writing music for Marvin, praying devout rosaries on his mattress, sleeping the day away. Hollow eyes. A big smile and then nothing on his face. Eating noodles with his hands and looking over new llama-patterned socks like they're a gift from God. Nosebleeds and fevers and coughs, enough to shake his whole chest.

And on the other side of that mirror, on the other side of the helpless intruder and the mad spirit that wears his flesh like an outfit: Marvin's family.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Yes. Yes. He did what he had to do.

For months it has tormented him. Now Jackie knows. Lies won't help. Even this one, this tempting lie being offered to him by his hopeful brothers – the lie that Anti made him do it. They're looking so gently at him, but it's just another web to tangle him up and choke him for months. In the end, it won't protect him.

He did what he had to do.

He will make them see that.

JJ sits in his box, chewing his nails down to the bit. He takes a hangnail between his teeth and pulls it til the blood runs down his thumb.

He doesn't know what's going on.

He decides to pick up his violin again, setting the bow down and trying to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out, steady. Marvin always makes him take three deep breaths when he was beginning to freak out. Marvin hates it when he freaks out. So he will be calm. He will breathe – one, two, three – and play his music.

He feels that he can hear Marvin in the movement of his improv. M-Brother. The only person other than Anti he's ever really known.

His voice started out stern and hot and distant. His eyes would flash and he would stand at a distance as though afraid of Jameson biting him. He stayed with him very little and never touched him.

Marvin became scared, later. Jameson remembers the first part of his illness, when he was so sick he could barely stand on his own, but the second half, when he stopped being coherent, is lost to him. The only thing he recalls is the frantic rise of Marvin's voice, thinner and louder as the days went on.

Scared Marvin. Screaming Marvin. Cold Marvin. Comforting Marvin.

Flashes and glimpses. He rarely stays more than an hour.

Jameson plays long, sweet notes across the violin.

My brother protects me. Because I'm dangerous. Because I'm bad. If I'm good, maybe someone will hold me for just a few minutes.

Long, sorrowful notes.

He realizes he has transitioned from improv to the tune he wrote for Marvin's birthday. He lets the long notes pull across the violin. He will play it til it's perfect, so that, when Marvin is finally ready to hear it, it will be so excellent he will have to like it.

He misses a note and re-starts. He draws a rest out too long and restarts. He plays it too lifelessly and restarts. Restart again, again, again, one, two, three. It must be perfect. For Marvin. For his brother. His brother who protects him, and the only person in the whole world whom JJ loves.

He cannot see or hear anything beyond the mirror realm, but a part of him hears when Marvin starts to cry.

“I locked Jameson up to keep you safe,” says Marvin. “That's all.”

Large eyes looking back at him. Chase and Henrik exchange looks again, passing thoughts between gazes. Jackie's just staring at him.

Marvin raises his chin and stares back.

The tears are running down his face, but he doesn't sob and he doesn't wheeze and he does not let his expression break.

He did what he had to.

“Keep us safe?” Chase repeats.

“It's not his fault,” says Marvin. “I know that. But Anti uses him as a weapon and there are few few things we can do about that. The two of them are connected – Anti can find him anywhere and Jameson has no defense against that kind of power. He's just a mortal kid. I've been looking for a way to protect him from Anti's interference, or at least stop Anti from being able to locate him, but it's complex magic. In the meantime, I had to keep him away from you. That day he stabbed you...”

Marvin's eyes flicker to Chase's chest. He remembers the dark wound in his shoulder and the ache in his brother's movements for weeks. The fear as the blood poured out and Jackie dragged the thrashing monster off Chase's body and choked him til he passed out.

“I couldn't let that happen again.”

They still don't say anything. A part of him screams at them to speak, begging for anything in reply, but the other half of him is desperate for the quiet. If they tell him how they feel it could break him in half.

“I didn't tell you,” he continues. “And I lied to you about it many times. I'm sorry. I don't know how to express to you how much it has hurt me over the time it's gone on. I know that doesn't make it right, but I want you to know I have always wanted to tell you. But I knew that if I did... you wouldn't agree.”

A faint, thin laugh from Chase. “This is a joke, yeah? Of course we wouldn't agree. How could you think that – ?”

“Because none of you have the guts to make this call,” replies Marvin before he can even finish, voice raising. “Don't you see? You all wanted him to just live here with us, hoping we'd be able to restrain him if Anti came! But that's not realistic. He would have fucking killed you! Jackie, you're too empathetic, Chase can't even kill a spider, and Henrik – ”

Henrik is staring at him, face unreadable. Marvin deflates, shaking his head.

“Henrik didn't deserve to have to make that call, even if he could. I'm older. I was the one with the means to hide him away. I – ”

“This is a lie,” Jackie interrupts him, sudden and loud. “This is a lie.”

Marvin says nothing. Meets his eyes and waits.

“Marvin?” asks Chase. “This isn't true, right?”

Chase – well, his eyes Marvin can't meet.

Chase looks to Henrik and Jackie, mouth open, bewildered.

“My little brother?” he asks in a small voice.

“Boys,” says Henrik, sighing. “Okay, deep breaths. Let's not get worked up. Of course it is not true. Anti is... he still has something over him. Marvin cannot speak freely. He is protecting us I would guess. Anti has made threats, perhaps cast spells or things like this. Forced Marvin to cast spells. Or he has a way to possess him. We must find Anti and deal with him before we can get anywhere.”

Henrik's voice is sure and cool, but Chase and Jackie don't respond to his call to action. Henrik turns firmly back to Marvin and cups his chin, stroking his thumb across his beard. “We will make this right, my brother,” he says. “I promise.”

“You said Anti didn't have Jameson, though,” says Chase, pushing forward. “Anti told you that, the last time you fought.”

“The second to last time we fought,” Jackie corrects. “Yes, he said that he didn't have Jameson. Then I saw him not a month ago. He didn't say anything about Marvin. But... right after that was when Marvin had that encounter with him.”

“Guys,” Marvin offers wearily. “It's not – ”

“Marvin wouldn't do this to our younger brother,” scoffs Henrik. “Locking him away! It's terrible.”

“I've taken care of him,” cries Marvin. “I have, he – ”

“Can I see him?” Chase's voice seems to be fainter with every sentence he speaks. “I never got to meet him, just Anti. We've talked about him for so long.”

“You – you used to help me go out looking for him.” Jackie whirls on Marvin again, eyes burning. “No, tell me this isn't true.”

“He would have killed you,” hisses Marvin, his eyes watering again.

“So that means you caged him like an animal?”

“Marvin can't have done this,” Henrik insists. “Marvin can't have.”

“I don't know what's going on,” says Chase, starting to cry. “Can I please see Jameson?”

“Maybe Jackie's the one possessed,” says Henrik, backing suddenly away from his oldest brother and putting a hand on Marvin's shoulder. “Maybe that's why Marvin is acting this way. Anti will blame him for what he's done to Jameson.”

“He's in a cage in there! When was the last time he's been out of there? How long has it been?”

Jackie's question seems to quiet everyone again. All eyes turn back to Marvin.

“How long what?”

“How long has it been since you let him out of there?” asks Jackie, voice dangerous again. Stance dangerous.

Jackie has never looked dangerous to Marvin before this moment.

Marvin breathes in through his nose, trying to find an answer. He wants to come clean – wants to show how justified he was – but it sounds so cruel when it's said out loud.

“He's been missing for seven months,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “If this is true, what you're saying, then he's been your prisoner for seven months. Right?”

“Yes,” says Marvin softly.

“Marvin. Has he been inside that box this whole time?”

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Jackie turns away from him, breathing thinning out. Chase is just shaking his head. Henrik's still at Marvin's side.

Jackie looks back to them, poised like he's about to pounce.

“Jackie,” warns Henrik, holding a hand out. “It's not true, it – ”

“Just let him out of the box,” whispers Jackie.

Marvin licks his mouth.

Draws a breath.

Shakes his head.

Jackie cocks his head at him, frowning. “What? What was that? Are you saying no?”

The disbelief in the air seems heavy on his shoulders.

Helpless Jameson. Snarling Anti.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Had to.

Has to.

“Yes,” says Marvin. “I said no. Jameson is a threat to you. I won't let him out of the box.”.

Jackie has a grip on Marvin's shirt collar in a flash, shoving him down onto the bed. Henrik yelps and tries to pull him away again, and now Chase is sobbing openly somewhere in the background, and the cat starts to mewl again. Jackie's screaming. Jackie's screaming at him. Jackie's screaming everything Marvin was ever afraid that he would say.

“Like an animal, you locked him up like an animal! You knew I loved him and you took him away from me! You – you knocked me out that night! Fucking traitor! Marvin, Marvin! How could you do this to me?”

Marvin cries against the bed. Jackie slams him back, once, twice.

“Jackie,” Henrik wails, and honest to God Marvin has never heard him that scared.

“How could you do this to him?” Jackie screeches, squeezing his shirt til the buttons below pop. “He didn't deserve it. He was just a victim! You lied to me so many times! I wanted him, you knew how badly I needed him back! You let me think that Anti had him, and then that he was missing from everybody! Do you know how many sex trafficking rings I busted looking for him? How many times I spent my nights under bridges or in drug dens looking for him, trying to make sure everyone was safe?”

“Jackie,” sobs Marvin. “Love, you do all that anyway.”

“But I didn't use to wonder if it would be my baby brother when I found homeless men dead in the streets,” Jackie answers, and it's now that Marvin realizes he's sobbing too. “I didn't use to carry teenagers to the emergency room after they'd overdosed because they just got mixed up with the wrong people, people who should have looked after them, and then spend the rest of the week wondering if anybody would carry my baby brother like that if the same thing was happening to him. I didn't used to clean up trafficking victims and see every one of those bruises and cuts and markings and diseases on his skin too.”

Marvin's crying too hard to breathe. He takes hold of Jackie's sweatshirt and cries, shaking his head up at him.

“I love you,” he manages, choking and sobbing. “I love you, I love you.”

“I searched for him! Cried over him, nightmared about his little body washing up on the beach! That one night I had him, he looked up at me like I made the world spin, just because I showed him a few minutes of kindness. He had just finally in his life gotten some kindness. Why did he deserve this?”

“I love you,” Marvin chants, because what else can he say? Jameson never deserved it. He always knew that. It's just that his brothers also deserved better – deserved to be safe from Anti – and that was all that mattered.

That is still all that matters.

“Let him out of there,” wails Jackie. “Now, now, fucking traitor, let him out!”

But Marvin keeps shaking his head. No. No!

Jackie screams in frustration and draws his arm back. Marvin flinches and jerks his head away.

And in the middle of all the chaos and all the turmoil inside his chest, he thinks that that moment is clear as day to both of them, because they realize at the exact same time that Jackie almost hit him.

Marvin gapes up at him. Jackie still has his fist drawn back.

His big brother almost hit him.

Marvin lies there, breathing thick, wet breaths. Jackie holds that fist up, shocked.

Then his hand lowers, and for just one second, his fingers stroke down Marvin's cheek.

It's bizarre, later, that Marvin knows exactly what Jackie is seeing in that moment – his little brother. His only little brother, back before any of this. Bright green hair and a silly Game Grumps cape. A cat mask and a blue shirt. They go racing through the city causing trouble together and come home laughing like wild. They make Old Fashioneds and drink while they watch comedy specials on Netflix til the sun comes up. Marvin brings his first cat home and they both spoil her rotten, spending hours playing with her or just watching her run on her wheel, til their phones are both full with pictures of her. They cook together, setting the fire on kitchen more than once, and they catch bad guys like real life superheroes, cackling with triumph as they review their victories over sweet wine and take-out. When they get sick, they look after each other, even if they do make fun the whole time. Marvin runs away once and then comes home again, and Jackie squeezes him so tight it actually leaves a couple bruises on him, and Marvin allows himself, for the first time in his life, to be loved.

He promises Jackie he will never run away again when his hair is still bright green, and Jackie hugs him again, and the world is right there – the world is that place where their hands wrap around each other. The world is the syncing of their heartbeats and the vibration of Jackie murmuring his thousandth “I love you” into Marvin's ear, and Marvin giving his first one back.

There was nothing else that mattered.

A young man with green hair and a blue cape. His baby brother, smiling.

Marvin.

Jackie's fingers pull away. The spell breaks.

“Get out of my fucking house,” Jackie whispers, releasing him with shaking fingers.

Marvin shakes his head, letting out a long breath. “What?”

“I said get out,” says Jackie.

His voice is tight, and it trembles just a little, taut with stress, but he forces it calm.

“You've lost it,” says Marvin. “It's... Jackie, it's me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jackie doesn't look at him anymore. He straightens up, wiping his hand down his face.

“Jackie,” Marvin repeats. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you stay here,” says Jackie, voice very low. “I'm going to lock you in the garage with a box of granola bars and a pile of stuffed animals. Then we'll see how 'justified' you were.”

Marvin stares, a faint laugh coughing its way up his throat. He looks to Chase and Henrik, but Henrik seems to have gone numb, just listing between the three of them with his hands held out like he's not sure what to do, and Chase is turned towards the door. His face is scrunched up and furious, and there are hot, swift tears running down his face.

Marvin's heart aches. “My little brother, amata,” he says. “Look, I'll make this right. Just tell Jackie – ”

“I,” says Chase, very clearly. “Am not your brother.”

Even Jackie winces a little. Henrik stares blankly at Chase, unable to register the words.

And Marvin –

Oh, he's been punched in the stomach. He can't get any air in.

“And I think you should get the fuck out,” spits Chase. “Cause I never want to see you again.”

He leans down, scoops up Queenie, and vanishes through the door of Marvin's room.

Marvin might honestly collapse. He's taken back to every time he's gotten so stressed over holding JJ captive that it made him sick, and suddenly, all of those moments seem like a cakewalk, and he knows that he could more easily have lived with the guilt and the crushing weight of what he did for a hundred years more rather than hear Chase say that to him even once.

It leaves him so hollow that he can't seem to think of anything else, and the pain of everything else fades too, like he's reached the max of some limit he didn't know he had and now he'll just be a confused zombie for the rest of his life. Before he knows what he's doing, he's packing a few of his things into a bag. Henrik is gone somewhere, he doesn't know. And Jackie is standing there like a prison guard, in silence.

Marvin's in the entryway of their house in what seems to be a half-second, staring at the mirror that will take him back to the realm of the world. He manages to regain just enough awareness to turn back to Jackie behind him, dizzy.

“Call me in a couple days,” he manages. “Let me know where we're at. I'll find someone to stay with for a little while. But once you talk to JJ and see that I've treated him well, that I loved him – and once you have time to think about why I did what I did – you'll understand.”

Jackie doesn't say anything. He's staring at the wall.

“Promise me,” Marvin chokes. “Promise me you'll call.”

“Fine,” says Jackie quietly.

Marvin turns to the mirror, and then looks back again.

Jackie walks away from him without another word.

Marvin steps through the mirror. He's taken the portal that's closest to Henrik's hospital without thinking, and now he's practically in the middle of the city, standing in an alleyway with a single bag over his shoulder and a crushing weight in his chest. The people are rushing by around him. Everything is loud and bright and bursting, but he can't seem to take any of it in.

“Marvin.”

Just... just this terrible combination of dissociation and debilitating pain.

“Marvin, Marvin.”

Hands cup his face. He blinks and looks up.

Henrik. His Henrik. He followed him through the mirror.

“It's okay, I'll go with you,” promises Henrik, pressing their heads together, a bag of his own packed up on his back. “We'll figure this out. I know it wasn't you, Marvin. I know you wouldn't really do that. We're going to be okay, my poor brother. Here I am, Marvin. Here I am.”

Marvin collapses into his arms and weeps.

#marvin's cage #bee writes #jse egos #writers of jack

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multifandombookstore · 4 years ago

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Ichor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: kidnapping, torture, blood, shooting, death, and uh I think that’s it. Sorry guys I didn’t hold back Word Count: 9.8k (is that too long omg this is the longest fic I’ve ever wrote. I’m sorry if it’s too long srhvoehrfvnwoinveg) Summary: (Y/n) could never have seen this coming. Hopefully, the team will have her back like always

Three days.

Three days since this happened.

You see, this happens almost every single day that you’re at work and yet you never thought that it would happen to you. I mean, no one really thinks that they’ll ever be harmed in any sort of way until it happens. No one ever thinks that this sort of thing will happen to their friends and family.

You stare up at the ceiling, still trying to figure out where you are. From the looks of it, you were in an empty barn or a big shed. From what you remember, all of the people you interviewed or suspected had either or even both on their property.

Your mind starts to wander to before all of this. Before all of the threats and torture.

To Spencer.

He’s probably so worried about you. He always is no matter what the situation. Even when you aren’t on a case, he’s always making sure you are well.

You two kind of have this unspoken thing. It’s obvious to everyone that you two like each other but you two don’t know it yourselves. How could two profilers not tell that the other likes them? You two are both very intelligent and resourceful and yet you don’t know the first thing about love.

“Spence, I’m not playing you in chess.”

“Why not? It’s a good way for you t-”

“Nope. Not happening. You just beat me every time.” The puppy dog eyes and pout is what you wanted to see from that statement. He always looks cute but he looks even cuter when making that face. You couldn’t play against him even if you wanted to. Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to see his nose all scrunched up in concentration.

“We need everyone in the conference room,” JJ says as she walks between all of your desks. You were leaning against Spencer’s desk when she came by. You push yourself off and go to your desk, grabbing your notepad and a pen. You then follow the others to the conference room, taking your usual seat next to Spencer.

JJ waits for everyone to reach the room before starting her briefing. She says someone in Tennesse is kidnapping young adult females and torturing them for a week before killing them. Then, the whole process starts over and they go to their next victim. So far, they have taken and killed four women. Local law enforcement called JJ because they know it’s the same person from their signature.

“What’s their signature?” Hotch asks. JJ looks to him before changing the pictures on the screen, revealing new pictures with the females having a branding mark and the lobes of their ears cut off.

“Why would he mark them like this? Does he want to be caught?” Morgan asks, probably just thinking out loud like most of you do.

“He’s treating them like cattle,” Spencer explains. All the city folk look to him, waiting for him to explain further. Before he can though, you cut in.

“I lived in Tennessee for a couple of years and a lot of farmers mark their livestock in some way as to identify the owner of the livestock. No farmers’ mark is the same because of this reason. There are many ways to identify their livestock like freeze branding, inner lip or ear tattoos, earmarking, ear tagging, radio-frequency identification, and tagging with a microchip implant,” you explain. You and Spencer like to show up each other to keep things interesting. It’s more of a way to tease each other more than anything really.

“So, this sick bastard likes to mark his victims to show people that these women are ‘his’?” Emily asks, it not really sounding like a question.

“It appears so,” Rossi replies, writing things down in his notebook.

JJ gives us some more information before Hotch says the usual. “Wheels up in ten.” He then gathers up his file and whatnot before heading out. You stand and get your things, waiting for Spencer. You always wait for each other.

“Coffee before we head out?” you ask him, knowing he’s basically obsessed with coffee and drinks it whether it’s good coffee or not.

“Do you even have to ask?” Spencer asks with a chuckle, letting you walk out of the door first.

You two chatted until you had to leave, grabbing your overnight bags before getting to the plane. As soon as you all reached the plane, you started to talk more about the case. You toss ideas back and forth to each other. When you get to Tennessee, you immediately go to the local police.

You stay there for hours upon hours, getting no sleep while you’re working the case. Eventually, Hotch orders you to go to the hotel, seeing as how the man, as you all profiled him to be, already has someone in his clutches. She only has a day left but Hotch reassures you that if they find anything, they’ll call you.

You do as your told, letting out a yawn and rubbing your eyes. You say goodbye to Spencer before you leave, giving him a hug. The hug lasts longer than usual since you’re tired, making you a little more clingy to him than usual. He blushes at the hug, looking around at everyone that’s giving him knowing looks.

“Text me when you get to the hotel,” he says softly to you when you pull away, trying to contain his smile when you nod your head with your eyes almost shut. You almost kiss him on the cheek but you’re not quite that tired yet to be so careless.

You then head out, making your way downstairs and to the building’s exit. You leave the cars for them to drive in case of an emergency, deciding to walk since it’s only a couple of streets away. You yawn and start the walk, thanking yourself for not wearing heels and instead wearing flats.

You stuff your hands into your pockets, the air being a bit chilly compared to when you first got here. You look behind you occasionally, knowing good and well that it can be dangerous to walk alone at night. You get jumpy a few times and almost take out your gun when you hear some random noises. They were all just false alarms though.

By the time you reach the hotel, you’re a little more awake than before but you’re still exhausted from all the sleep you’ve missed out on. You check-in at the front desk and get your hotel key before going up to the fourth floor where you’re staying. You walk in with a yawn, seeing a single bed. You gave the room with two beds to Emily and JJ since you didn’t know when they would be coming and didn’t want one of them to come in and wake you up.

You text Spencer once you get to your room, smiling when he sends you back a smiley face emoticon. He has yet to use an emoji but you’re determined to make him crack.

You took a shower before going to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as you’re tucked under the covers. You’re asleep for hours until there’s a knock on the door, making you groan. You slowly sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, looking at the time to see it’s early morning. Must be Spencer or someone coming to get you to come back to work.

“Give me a sec!” you call as you slip out of bed, going to get dressed into your work clothes. You quickly put everything on before grabbing your badge and gun that you kept by the bed. You run your hands through your hair, using your fingers as a makeshift brush. You’ll just pull it back later anyway, so there’s no real need to make it look nice. Other than for Spencer, your mind helpfully supplies. You ignore the thought and go to the door, unlocking it before opening it up.

Instead of finding one of your team members, you find housekeeping standing there with a smile. “Sorry to bother you. I wasn’t sure if you were in there and when I knocked, you told me to wait,” the man explains with a smile, his eyes spotting your gun but looking back up into your eyes before you could realize he noticed.

You flash him a tired smile in response and wave off his apology, tucking your badge into your pocket, which he also notices. “It’s alright. I thought you were someone else. You actually can come in. I’m heading out now,” you say to the nice man. He nods in response and steps aside to let you out, telling you to have a nice day as you walk away. You return the polite words before walking to the elevator.

You go in and then go downstairs, smiling at the woman at the front desk before walking to the police station. When you get there, you find they’ve made little progress and are even more stressed. The woman he has is to be killed soon and dropped off somewhere to be found by tomorrow.

You all work diligently, coming to dead ends and having to go back to square one. You all have a couple of hours left when a call comes in with someone claiming to have found the body on a hiking trail. You frown and stand up from your chair, slipping your jacket back on.

You all go to where the caller claimed the body to be, finding the caller at the entrance of the trail. Hotch orders JJ and you to interview the caller, find out if they know anything other than what they said on the phone, like seeing who dropped the body off.

You get no new information and the others confirm that the body is the missing woman. You’re devastated, to say the least.

You couldn’t save her.

She was supposed to have a day left to live. That could’ve been all the time you needed to track her down and save her. So why did he kill her sooner than all the other victims? Did he know her? Was it personal?

You do all that you can at the site before getting back into your cars and going back to the station. When there, you all work overtime to find new information and clues. Eventually, the press start swarming outside of the police station. Hotch asks why they’re outside to which one deputy lets him know that it got out that a dead body was discovered. JJ reassures Hotch that she’ll handle the press and quickly goes outside to deal with them.

You work until the time is up, figuring he’s gotten a new woman by now. But you never got a phone call of a missing or abducted woman, so some of the police hope that he’s done killing now. You all hope that’s the case but you refuse to just give up, even if he is done. You still need to catch him to avenge the five women he’s tortured and killed.

For the next hour, you all wait for a call or a report that never comes.

“Maybe he got a homeless person or a prostitute,” you suggest, looking at the map where the women were taken and found.

“That doesn’t match the profile though. He goes after women with high paying jobs and are said to be hard workers,” Spencer replies, staring at the same map as you.

“Then is he really done?” JJ asks softly, hopefully.

Morgan sighs and rubs at his face before looking at the pictures of the five women. “I hope he’s done but it makes our job a little more difficult. Why can’t we catch this guy?” he says quietly. He has a good point but you’d rather he be done than to take another woman.

“Alright, who wants to go to the hotel to get some rest?” Hotch asks when he enters the room. Everyone remains quiet, no one wanting to leave or to admit to wanting to do so. “Either you pick or I will,” he continues.

“Why don’t you go to the hotel? You haven’t left since we got here,” you reply, looking over at him. His tired eyes turn to you before looking at all the information on the boards. You should’ve known that was a bad idea. He never leaves to go back to the hotel unless he’s literally about to collapse.

“(L/n), thank you for volunteering. Go,” he says cooly, not even looking over at you.

“But I-” you start to argue before he quickly cuts you off.

“Go,” he interrupts, finally looking over at you to squint his eyes a bit at you. You sigh and look over at Spencer with a pout. He just flashes a smile at you as he soothingly rubs your back.

“There’s not much more we can do other than to try and figure out where he is, who he is, or who he’s going to take next. We’ll call you if we get anything. Promise,” Spencer reassures. You groan before turning your chair back towards the desk, gathering your things. You then leave just like you did yesterday, feeling a little better since it’s not pitch black outside like it was last time.

You look to the setting sun, a frown weighing heavy on your face. You won’t be able to stop him from kidnapping someone new but you will find her before he kills them. You swear that to yourself.

You reach the hotel with ease and go up to your room, doing the same thing you did the last time you were here, including texting Spencer that you’re here. You weren’t as tired though, so you took your time with the shower and getting ready for bed. You were also anxious about getting a phone call confirming a new girl has been taken but until then, Hotch is right. You need to get some rest so that you’ll be even more helpful in catching this sick bastard.

As you’re climbing into bed, there’s a knock on the door. You check the time before climbing out of bed and going to the door. You suppose it’s housekeeping again since you just left the station. You open the door with a smile, finding the same man from before.

“Oh, you’re here. Sorry, I figured you’d still be gone,” he instantly apologizes. You shake your head and flash him another smile.

“Nope. I just got back. I know how excited you were to clean up my room,” you say playfully. He chuckles in response and nods his head.

“I actually was,” he replies. You assume he’s joking but it almost didn’t seem like a joke?

“Sorry to disappoint. I’ll be gone in the morning though,” you reassure, still playful. You’re about to close the door and go to bed when he suddenly speaks again.

“Actually, I have something for you,” he says, turning to his utility cart. Your brows furrow before you figure he has towels or something for you, letting go of the door to lean against the doorframe. He digs around the items on the cart, looking for whatever it is that is so hard to find. Maybe he accidentally picked up a shirt or something when picking up dirty towels off the floor? You have no idea, but you just keep guessing until he finds what he’s looking for.

He then suddenly turns around and wraps one arm around the back of your neck, the other hand holding a rag to your mouth and nose. You struggle against him but quickly discover that there’s chloroform on the rag. Your body quickly starts to get weak, but you aren’t going down without a fight. Despite what crime television shows people, it takes about five minutes for chloroform to work unless they’ve put things such as alcohol or diazepam into the mix.

You struggle against the strong man, using all of your training to try and get the rag from your face. With him in front of you, this complicates things a bit. If he were behind you, you could’ve just head-butted him or something. You mentally curse yourself for not having your gun on you. That definitely would’ve made things easier.

About a minute into struggling, you bring your hands to his face. You claw and scratch at his face, trying to hurt him enough to cradle his face. He already has plenty of scars on his face, making you wonder if the other women he took did the same thing as you. This makes you doubt your puny scratching will do anything to help you.

This is when you bring your thumbs to his eyes, swiftly starting to dig them into the sockets. He curses and pulls his hands away from you to yank your own away. With his eyes closed and struggling to open them, you use this to your advantage. You knee him in the groin and wait for him to let you go before running down the hall.

As you run, you realize you should’ve just run back into your room to get your gun. You’re not exactly at your sharpest with the adrenaline and panic filling you. You don’t get far before something is harshly hitting against the back of your skull, sending you sprawling to the ground. You try to keep your eyes open but it’s a losing battle.

It didn’t take long for you to pass out and go completely slack against the floor.

The next day, Spencer called you and frowned when you didn’t reply. He had gone back to the hotel a couple of hours after you did. After all, their smartest mind there needed to be on its A game. When you don’t answer the phone, he just decides to come to your room to wake you up. He knocks on the door but gets no answer.

“Did she already go to work? Maybe she’s just not near her phone,” he convinces himself quietly. Well, he tries. Him being him, he calls JJ who is at the station already.

“Spencer?” she answers, wondering why he’d be calling her if he’s still at the hotel.

“Hey, um, is (Y/n) there yet?” he asks, afraid of the answer. You always answer your phone, even if you’re dead asleep or showering. You always answer, especially if it’s him.

“(Y/n)? No. She’s still at the hotel,” she replies confusedly. With this new information, he starts to bang on the hotel door.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), are you in there?” he shouts loud enough for you to hear if you’re in there. After a couple of seconds with no reply, his heart drops to his stomach.

“Spencer? Spencer! Why are you shouting? What’s wrong? Where’s (Y/n)?” JJ rushes out, standing from her chair. This gets the rest of the team’s attention. He almost forgets to respond, currently trying to shoulder open the door. He quickly discovers that the door is either too thick and/or he’s too weak to get it open. He swiftly turns and starts running to the elevator to smash the button repeatedly in hopes of it coming up to him faster.

“I think (Y/n) is in danger! She’s not answering her phone and she’s not coming to the door! I’m going down to the lobby to get her room key!” he replies shakily. In fact, his whole body is shaking and his breathing is labored.

He hears her relay this information to the team as the elevator doors slide open. “We are on our way,” JJ replies promptly after telling the team what happened before hanging up. He pockets his phone and repeatedly hits the lobby button. He knows it won’t help make it go faster but he needs to do something with his hands.

The elevator doors aren’t even open all the way before he’s bursting through the doors and running to the front desk. The lady behind the desk starts to greet him before she’s interrupted by his demand for your room key. She’s ready to deny him before he’s showing her his badge, her eyes widening. She quickly gets it and hands it to him, gasping a bit when he snatches it from her hand.

He goes back to the elevator and once again repeatedly hits the button. While he’s waiting for the elevator, the team is running in and coming over to Spencer just as the doors open. They all pile in and watch as Spencer does the same thing with the four button. They decide not to say anything about it and to leave him be.

They all run out of the elevator and go to your room, letting Spencer open the door. Morgan and Hotch have their guns out just in case. Spencer feels like he’s going to throw up. He prays to whatever god there might be that you’re okay and not dead on the other side of this door.

He’s slightly relieved when he finds that you are, in fact, not dead on the other side. He’s only slightly relieved because that means that you’re missing. Emily goes over to the bedside table and finds that your badge and gun are still there. “Guys,” she calls out to them, letting them see her discovery.

“Phone is over here plugged in,” Morgan adds, on the other side of the bed where there’s a place to plug in your charger. Spencer sits on the bed and runs his hands through his hair, his chest feeling tight and finding it hard to breathe.

“Spencer, hey,” JJ coos softly, squatting down to be in front of him and gently placing her hands onto his knees. He shakes his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. Hotch quickly comes over and puts his hand onto the back of his head.

“He’s having a panic attack. Reid, put your head between your knees,” he demands. Reid barely registers this but feels the pressure on the back of his head to help him do as he’s told. Once there, Hotch lets go and moves to where Rossi is looking in the bathroom.

“JJ, inform the station of this.” She nods her head and moves away from Spencer, motioning for someone to help comfort him. With Emily being the closest, she takes a seat beside him and runs her hand soothingly over his back.

“No signs of forced entry,” Rossi notes, studying the door after he comes out of the bathroom.

“None of her things from her bag have been taken,” Morgan adds. “Her computer, wallet, and other valuables are still here,” he continues. Spencer picks his head up at this and moves over to her suitcase. He instantly starts to sift through everything in there, making his hands refuse to shake.

He swallows the bile that tries to force its way up, his eyes seeing black spots. He shakes his head and gulps, licking his dry lips before speaking. “She’s missing a pair of socks, a belt, a pair of heels, a dress, and most of her undergarments.”

Before anyone can reply and ask how he knows, he stands up and goes to the bathroom. He then comes back after a minute or so and announces, “She’s also missing her shampoo, conditioner, perfume, hairbrush, toothbrush, and lotion from the bathroom.” He then sits down again, his fingers raking through his hair. “She’s also missing…” he trails off, feeling the tiniest bit embarrassed.

When he doesn’t finish, Hotch decides then to step in. “She’s also missing what?” Spencer remains quiet for a long moment before finally answering the question.

“A picture of us...”

“Uh, Reid? How do you know any of that?” Morgan asks, raising a brow at him. Reid looks down at his hands, which have begun to shake again. He laces them together in hopes of stopping or at least calming the shaking.

“Because I helped her pack her overnight bag the last time she needed to repack it. The underwear thing I would just like to clarify that I did not help her pack. It’s just obvious that they’re missing cause everyone packs multiple pairs,” he rambles a bit. The others don’t bother questioning him on this seeing as how you two are basically connected at the hip.

“Let’s get forensics here to take pictures and dust for fingerprints,” Hotch says to JJ before leaving. There wasn’t that much for them to find in the room other than what they already found. They all file out of the room and head back down to the lobby.

“You can’t let anyone else stay in that room until this is solved,” Hotch explains to the manager once he explains what happened. He then asks to see the video camera set up in the hallway. The manager leads them all to the security room and shows them the surveillance footage.

“She texted me about ten minutes after she left,” Spencer says to the manager. The manager then pulls up the camera’s footage for after you left for work, speeding it up until you get there. He then sets it to normal speed, you’re moving your lips and moving a bit, making Rossi confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at the screen.

“She’s singing and dancing,” Spencer says fondly, his chest aching at the sight of you being so happy and goofy. He just hopes it isn’t his last time he sees you like this. You go into your room with no problems and don’t come out. The manager fast forwards the footage and stops when someone shows up. So far though, all of the people were just the other residents that were staying in that hall.

The manager slows it to normal speed when a custodian starts to roll his cart down the hallway. He skips all other doors and goes right to yours. He knocks and Spencer’s stomach drops when you open it, knowing he was the one who took you. He watches everything. The muted talking, his hands going to the cart, your worries dropping, his pressing a rag to your face, how you struggle, how you manage to get away, how you run towards where the camera is, how the man grabs a fire extinguisher and hits you over the head, how you collapse to the ground, how the man puts you on the lowest shelf of the cart, covering you with towels and whatever else he could use to hide you. It made the cart look messier but it did its job.

Hiding you.

He then just closes your door with a towel covering his hand and goes to the elevator to take you who knows where.

Spencer feels absolute fury boil through his veins, wanting to punch something which is definitely a new feeling for him. Right after feeling that though, he feels his stomach lurch. He runs over to the door where a trash can is resting right beside it, falling to his knees and heaving his stomach’s contents into the bin.

When he’s done, he feels weak and ready to cry his eyes out. You’re gone. That man took you. What if he does more than torture you like those other women? He didn’t bother hiding his face or taking you in a place with no cameras like his other victims. So, why you? What if he kills you? What if you’re his last victim and he plans on dying with you?

Spencer almost pukes again from the idea. Nothing makes him angrier than the thought that this prick could get the easy way out.

The team had never seen him act like this. Then again, he was closer to you than any of them were. They knew if their significant other was taken, they’d probably act the same. JJ and Morgan help him up, everyone is immensely concerned about him.

“Call Garcia,” Hotch tells Morgan, which Morgan instantly nods his head and pulls out his phone. “We need everything you have on your employee,” Hotch says to the manager.

The manager slowly turns back to face Hotch, his face as white as a sheet with sweat lining his brows. “He doesn’t work here. I don’t know who that man is,” he stutters out, looking back to the screen. Hotch sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before turning to face his team.

“We need to go back to the station,” he says after telling the manager to send him the video feed. “Garcia, we need you to analyze this video we are about to send you. Tell us whatever you can,” Hotch says quickly and then heads for the door. She quickly complies and gets to work, expecting to see a woman being abducted.

What she doesn’t expect to see is you. She can’t help the tears that start to run down her face.

You gasp when ice cold water is thrown onto you, soaking right through your clothes and freezing you to the bone. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you cough a bit, blinking the water out of your eyes as you look up to where the water came from. You scowl when you see the man who had taken you, disgust filling you when you watch his eyes trail over your body now that your clothes are sticking to you.

“Great, you’re awake, agent.”

You sneer a bit at this, trying not to shake in front of him. You can’t tell if your shaking is from fear or the cold water. You go with the cold water.

“What? Got nothin’ to say to me?”

You remain quiet, refusing to give him any sort of satisfaction. You’ve interviewed psychos like him plenty of times before. You just need to figure out what kind of psycho he is and then use it against him.

“Are you not impressed that I managed to kill those other girls and then take you? An FBI agent that is here to try and find me?” he coos.

Ah, so he’s egotistical and a narcissist. He should be easy to play then.

“Actually, yes. I’m very impressed. I’ve had years of training to defend myself and you managed to take me down in, what, two minutes?” It was a bit of a stretch, seeing as how you haven’t had years of training and it was longer than two minutes, but you needed to boost this guy’s ego.

A proud smile comes onto his face as expected. You almost roll your eyes at how predictable he is.

“Now, that’s what I wanted to hear! Everyone will be so shocked when they find you dead right in front of the police station! They’ll be asking questions about me for years to come! ‘How did he do it?’ they’ll all ask,” he boasts.

You just stare at him, struggling to play along into his fantasy.

“Now that you’re awake, we can get this party started,” he suddenly says with a crazed grin when you don’t reply.

“I hope there’s booze,” you say half joking. Alcohol could seriously help you out right now.

“I’m afraid not, dollface. But don't worry. I promise you’ll have loads of fun,” he replies with a wink.

After he says this, he pulls out a pocket knife. “First things first, we need to get rid of these pesky clothes,” he purrs as he steps up to you. You try to move your arms, feeling bile rise in your throat. You look up to see you’ve been chained up like meat hanging in preparation of being cut.

You tug on your hands which makes him chuckle, watching him drag his knife through your button up shirt. “Such a shame that your buddies can’t see you now,” he says with a mock sigh of sadness. “But don’t worry. You’ll see them soon enough.”

You assume he means they’ll see you dead.

Three days go by.

He uses multiple tools to cut and slice into your delicate skin, making you bleed out for a while before wrapping it to stop the bleeding. He repeated this process to keep you weak. Each time he dug that knife into you, he showed you the picture of you and Spencer. He also refused to give you any water or food unless it was necessary to keep you alive. Sometimes, he’d let you pass out and would wake you up by digging his knife into your skin.

At some point, you secretly wished you could just be dead rather than having to go through this. After that thought though, you instantly regretted it. Your team will save you. If you died, you knew they’d be devastated.

You have to stay strong and fight this.

You always use the time the man isn’t with you to try and figure out where you are. You figured out quickly that you’re in a barn. That didn’t really help you much though in the long run. Nothing really stood out to you but then again, with how weak you are, you wouldn’t be surprised if you missed plenty of things.

After being there for four days, the man who kidnapped you comes up to you with a giant grin. “Ready to go home?” Your brows furrow at the question, wondering if that meant you were going to be killed.

The man frees you of your restraints, knowing good and well you’re too weak to escape. You are only in your bra and panties, cuts and other markings all over your body. When he lets you free, you almost immediately collapse to the ground.

“Let’s play a game,” he says into your ear, making you want to gag. He then pulls a bag over your head and drags you out of the building and into a car. You simply lay there motionless, being too weak to move. Once the car is stopped, you hear his door open and close before he crawls into the backseat where you are.

He takes the bag off and starts to put something on you. “This earpiece will let you hear me. This wire will let me hear them. You are to do as I say. If you decide to rat me out or stay with them, I will leave you here and simply take a new girl. The longer you are alive, the more women I will kill. When you come back to me, if you are followed, I have instructed someone to take my place. Do you understand?”

You nod your head, your eyes barely even open. He hums and kisses your forehead before shoving you out of the van. “I’ll inform you of where to meet me once you have left them,” he commands before driving off. You watch him drive off before slowly turning to look at where he dropped you off.

Right in front of the station.

You slowly stumble to the station, your bare feet burning on the concrete. You open the glass door, your blood getting on it as you lean against it. You then walk in further before you hear someone gasp, meaning someone noticed you.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, are you alright?” you hear a man shout. You turn to see a police officer quickly making his way towards you. He kind of looks like the man who took you.

That thought alone triggers something inside of you.

“Don’t touch me!” you scream, quickly stumbling away from him before falling to the ground. At your scream, the whole station was in an uproar.

“She’s bleeding!”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Wait, that’s the missing detective!”

The team was already making their way to the commotion from the conference room when they heard that last part. It was easy for Spencer to shove his way through the crowd at that last part.

“(Y/n)!” he shouts, his eyes filling with tears. You’re looking around quickly, your body shivering on the cold ground. At the sound of your name, you turn to see the man. Your whole body goes into a panic.

“No! Please! No more! Don’t touch me!” you beg, making Spencer stop in his tracks at how afraid you appear to look at him. Tears start to fall from his eyes as his body starts to quake all over again. He wants nothing more than to just hold you. Why won’t you let him near you?

“Give her space!” Hotch demands.

“Stop gaping at her! She’s indecent!” Emily shouts to everyone, seeing as how you’re only in your undergarments. She knows they weren’t staring at you because of that but she knows later when you come to it, you’re going to be embarrassed and ashamed. The men quickly look away at this demand, her brows furrowing as she looks at you. She takes Spencer’s coat from him and slowly starts to walk towards you.

“(Y/n)? Hey, it’s alright. It’s me, Emily. You’re okay,” she says soothingly, not getting too close to you in fear you’d freak out again. As soon as you see her though, relief fills you. You start to sob as you reach out to her, letting her quickly go over to you and pull the jacket over you. She buttons it up for you, seeing as how your hands are shaking too badly to do so.

Once it’s on, she pulls you into a hug. After hugging you for a minute or so, she slowly helps you up. Since you have on Spencer’s coat, it goes down to your thighs with ease. You have to lean against her heavily, your head not being able to stay up completely on its own. “JJ, can you find her some clothes while I clean her up?” she asks softly as she passes her, leading you to a bathroom.

“Don’t let them clean you or put clothes on you,” you suddenly hear in your ear.

“No,” you demand. JJ stops in her tracks and turns to look at you confused.

“But, (Y/n)-” Emily starts, ready to convince you. Why wouldn’t you want clothes or to be cleaned up?

“No!” you cry out, trying to pull yourself free from her hold. She holds tight onto you, afraid that you’d fall again.

“Okay, okay! We won’t clean you or get you new clothes!” she promises. You calm down at this, letting her lead you to the conference room where they were set up. She sits you down and gives the okay for the guys to come into the conference room. They all slowly walk in, not wanting to startle you.

You tightly hold onto the jacket with a vice-like grip, your eyes watery. She sits down next to you, running a hand along your back. “(Y/n), who did this to you?” she says softly.

“Don’t answer that.” You shake your head, not answering her question.

JJ’s brows furrow for a moment before she picks up the notepad in the middle of the table, quickly scrawling something down. She then turns it around to show the others.

She’s wired. He can hear us and she can hear him.

You nod your head when you see it, a tear falling down your face. “Why send her back with that? We can just remove it,” Morgan says, not bothering to try and hide the fact that he knows. “He didn’t try hiding it. He knows we know,” he explains when he sees JJ’s horrified face that he just announced it like that.

Your eyes slowly move to the man, feeling sick just looking at him. Why is he crying? He has no right to be crying.

(Y/n), who did this?

You look up at Hotch, who was the one who wrote it. You then point at the man, Spencer’s brows furrowing at this. Everyone is just as confused as he was. That’s when understanding appears on Spencer’s face, his legs bringing him to the seat furthest away from you.

“(Y/n), that’s Spencer. He’s your...friend. He wouldn’t do this,” Morgan explains. You shake your head, making more tears fall.

“He’s tricked her. He must have shown the picture of me to her every time he tortured her. Now, when she sees me, she associates me with the pain,” he explains, placing his head into his hands. He then stands and suddenly slides everything on the desk off to the floor.

“I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him!” Spencer screams. Morgan and Hotch are quick to come over to him and wrestle him back down into his seat. They know he doesn’t mean it but Spencer thinks he just might.

“Calm down! You’re scaring her more!” Rossi shouts, seeing you flinch at his outburst and start to cry harder. Spencer calms down instantly at this, regret filling his eyes.

“So my plan worked. Poor Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid…” You say softly. Spencer sits up at this, looking like a dog about to get a treat.

“Don’t say his name!”

You flinch at the shout in your ear, wiping at your teary eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croak, feeling sick all over again. Emily looks at the others, clearly worried. JJ sits on the other side of you and offers you a tissue. You give her a nod as thanks, afraid if you thanked her out loud you’d get into trouble.

“Why don’t we just remove the wiring?” Morgan asks, starting to make his way towards you.

“No!” you scream at him, putting your hands up.

“Hey, it’s okay. He won’t do it,” Emily reassures, bringing your hands back down. You nod and slowly lower your hands. She tightly grips one of them in her hands, clearly afraid and upset.

“Why send her here in the first place?” Hotch asks, studying you with a frown. Rossi sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“To send a message?” he guesses.

“To torture us. Me,” Spencer mumbles, keeping his head down to help you. Your shaking is slowly starting to settle down but you’re far from calm. You don’t even know why you’re here.

“Tell them what I did to you. In detail.”

You shake your head violently at this, starting to cry harder. “No…please,” you choke out.

“Do it or I’ll go take another one! I’ll kill her as soon as I get my hands on her!” he screams in your ear. Your body shakes violently, starting to gag like you’re about to throw up. Morgan goes to quickly get you a trash can when you start heaving.

Nothing comes up.

“He hasn’t been feeding her,” Spencer growls, tears streaming from his red eyes. His hands clench into fists, fantasizing of how he wants to torture the man who did this to you. Morgan places his hand on his shoulder, for moral support and to make sure he doesn’t get up to have another fit.

“He...he brought me...somewhere and tied my hands together. He then...put the middle of the rope on a hook...and brought me into the air...where my toes were the only thing touching the ground. He...pulled out a knife and c-”

You cut yourself off with sobs, shaking your head. Emily calmly shushes you, wanting to run her hand through your hair but stops herself since she didn’t want your blood on her hand.

“You don’t have to continue,” JJ reassures softly.

“Tell them! Now!” You continue to tell them through your sobs and gasps for air.

“He...cut my clothes off of me...and then he started to cut me...I could barely stay awake from the pain...he’d wake me up by cutting me more…he said he likes to hear me scream...and to watch me cry...”

Spencer wanted to leave, didn’t want to hear another word. He had to hear what this man did to you though. He needed to know how much pain he needed to double and return to the man.

“Good girl.”

You hide your face in your hands, crying into them to hide. You were disgusted. Morgan shakes his head and heavily sits down, his jaw clenched tight. JJ and Emily were crying right along with you, hating to see you in such pain.

Spencer never stopped crying. His heart breaks a little more with each tear that falls down your face, with each sob that racks your body. He wanted to hug you, to love you until your worries are gone. But you’re afraid of him now.

“Ready to leave?”

“No!” you get out with a sob. The others jump, surprised by your outburst.

Write down what he tells you if you can, Rossi quickly writes down before handing the notepad to you. You shakily pick up the pen, taking a deep breath to try and calm you down. You’re surrounded by the best. They’ll help you.

He asked me if I’m ready to leave.

Emily sniffles and wipes at her eyes, knowing good and well her makeup is ruined but couldn’t care less. “Want to call Garcia and tell her you’re okay?” Morgan offers softly.

“Yeah, she’s been worried about you,” JJ says shakily, taking a tissue to wipe at her eyes and nose. You nod your head, not hearing the man tell you that you couldn’t. Morgan dials her number and puts her on speaker, sliding the phone towards you.

“Derek? Any news on (Y/n)?” she asks after the first ring. You smile at the sound of her voice, trying to sniffle but finding your nose is too stocked up. Everyone knows she’s the closest to you, besides Spencer, of course. They see him as your boyfriend though, so she’s basically your best friend.

“Hey, Penelope,” you croak out. She gasps when she hears your voice and you can tell she’s crying.

“Oh, babycakes! You’re okay! Don’t scare me like that! Let me get a video call up.”

“No, not right now,” you plead softly. You don’t want her to see you like this.

“Okay, dear. I’m so glad you’re okay!” she says loudly, making it clear how relieved she is. You silently cry, not wanting to tell her the truth.

“I’m just fine, sugar. You should see the other guy,” you joke, making her and some of the others laugh weakly.

“Oh, don’t I know it. You’re a fighter. I knew you’d be just fine.”

She probably didn’t know that but you weren’t about to call her out on it. “I love you,” you say softly, getting another tissue to wipe at your face.

“Awe, I love you more! Come home quickly so we can eat our weight in food!” You laugh, more tears falling since you fear that you won’t be able to do that.

“Will do, my honey bunches of oats.” You hear her sniffle before saying her goodbyes and hanging up. Once the line goes dead, you give Morgan his phone back.

“Don’t tell her this happened. If I…” you trail off for a moment, trying to stop your crying so you can speak. “If I don’t make it bac-”

“Don’t talk like that,” Spencer interrupts, feeling sick at the thought of you not being okay. Why wouldn’t you be okay? You’re right here! You’re safe now. With him.

“If I don’t make it back, tell her to not mourn me for too long. She suffers enough as it is. I want her to be happy. That...that goes for all of you,” you croak out, ignoring the man and swallowing thickly. Spencer shakes his head, starting to gag from the need to throw up but just like you, he hasn’t had anything to eat since you went missing.

“(Y/n), can we show you some pictures?” Emily asks, wiping at her face before pulling your phone out of the evidence bag. You nod your head, confused just like everyone else at what she wants to show you.

“This is you and Spencer at the beach. He won’t admit this but he coudln’t peel his eyes away from you. This is you two at the library. He dragged you there before you could even agree to go there with him. You two snuggled up in the corner with the bean bags and ended up falling asleep. Security had to kick you two out when they were closing. Here you two are at a candy shop. You kept telling him about all these candies that he’d never had before and you just had to take him there to try them. This one you took right at his desk, sitting on it as if it were your chair,” she says softly, showing you the different pictures. She knows about all of these stories because Spencer is all you talk about when said man isn’t there to hear it.

Spencer stands up at her words, watching you expectantly. He almost wanted to yell at her for showing you his face, afraid for what your reaction would be.

A few more tears fall at the pictures but you remain quiet, looking at your smiling face with the man who did this to you.

“Don’t listen to her!”

You write his words down, making Emily go quiet. She continues to show you pictures on your phone silently, your chest feeling tight. But you were also feeling something else.

You look away from your phone to the man across the room, looking to his shaking hands before looking to his eyes. You slowly stand up, shocking and worrying everyone. You slowly walk around the table, your eyes on Spencer the whole time.

You remember your arguments about playing chess. You remember smearing whipped cream on his face from your bowl at an ice cream parlor. You remember him randomly coming up to tickle you despite your warnings and screams of laughter. You remember all of the late-night texts and phone calls. You remember the long road trips you two would take on the weekends when you’d come back home from a case, simply because you wanted to spend more time together.

You remember your almost kiss that happened two weeks ago. You’d never forget that.

He doesn’t move from his spot, doesn’t even breathe as he watches you. Did that really work? It must have cause the next second you’re crashing into him with more sobs. He holds you tight, burying his face into a clean part of your hair.

He’s been wanting to do this since you first left work before you were taken. All he’s wanted is to hold you and reassure himself that you’re just fine. Well, what he really wants is to call you his but one step at a time.

After you’ve cried everything out, you pull back to look at him. You look like a complete mess and yet he still thinks that you’re beautiful.

His eyes widen when you tug him down, connecting your lips. Everyone, including the man you're kissing, is shocked, to say the least. You’re just happy your lips aren’t bloody. Spencer returns the kiss instantly, holding you tightly against him.

“Why is everyone so quiet?”

You pull away at the sound of the voice, panting softly and staring up at Spencer. “I love you,” you say before you can chicken out. As soon as the words are out, you hear screaming in your ear loud enough for Spencer to hear.

“No! Get out of there now! Leave!” the man roars.

At this, you try to pull away from Spencer to follow orders. “No! You aren’t leaving! Why would you leave?” Spencer asks, starting to panic. He’s never felt panic like this before. The first time he lost you was bad enough but this was even worse.

“I have to! Please! Let me go!” you say quickly, afraid of what would happen if you didn’t leave now.

“No! You’re staying here! I’m not letting you out of my sight!” Spencer replies quickly. The others wanted to help but they didn’t know who to help. On one hand, he’s right. Why would they let you leave again? You’re safe here. On the other hand, though, they don’t know what happens if you stay here.

“He’ll take someone else and kill them if I don’t!” you shout, struggling against the handsome man.

“I don’t care!” Spencer screams, making your body go still. You gape up at him, surprised he’d say such a thing. You weren’t the only one.

“Spenc-” you start, ready to talk him down.

“No! I don’t care! Call me selfish! I don’t care! I’m not losing you, (Y/n)!” He starts to cry again, shaking his head as he holds you to him in a hug. “I can’t lose you. I won’t,” he stutters out, his body shaking violently.

“Leave now or I’ll kill someone else!”

“Spence, he won’t kill me. I can’t put someone else’s life in danger,” you reassure, slowly pulling away from him. You don’t actually know he won’t kill you but you couldn’t live with yourself if you got someone else killed. Knowing he’s going to argue, you pull him down into another kiss.

“You have five minutes to get into my van or else I take another hostage!”

You pull away again and walk over to the notepad, turning to a new page before starting to write information down. “I’ll come. Just give me one more minute with them,” you beg.

6’0. Long, brown hair. Icy blue eyes. Pale. Missing top third tooth on the right. Scar on collarbone and face. Has a white van. Kept me in a barn.

You set the notepad back onto the table with a smile before starting to walk around and give everyone a hug. When you reach Spencer, you give him the longest hug. He then quickly kisses you, putting as much love and passion as he can muster into it. When you both pull away, he quickly snatches up the notepad and writes something onto it.

I love you more than you’ll ever know. I’ll find you. Never give up hope. He will pay.

He shows it to you, trying not to cry and keep a brave face for you. You smile and nod your head, shakily brushing some hair out of his eyes. “Bye, guys. See you later, yeah?” you say shakily. Spencer grabs your hand and slowly starts to lead you to the door, hating himself for letting you walk right out of here without him to help you. He’ll have to help you from here.

“I’ll buy you a new jacket,” you promise, new tears starting to gather in your eyes. He can only shake his head, his throat tightening from trying not to cry. It’s a losing battle.

“If she knows what he looks like and where she was taken, we don’t need to take her back. We can easily arrest him,” Morgan says quietly to the others once you and Spencer are far enough away.

“We let her walk away and then we follow them,” Hotch promises. The others nod and go back to watching you and Spencer. They find you two kissing again, their hearts aching a bit. You two have been pining for each other for who knows how long and you can only admit your feelings when your life is put on the line.

You tense up and pull away, everyone figuring out that then man is talking to you again. You give Spencer a reassuring smile before walking out, following the man’s instructions to his car. They watch you go through the windows before slipping out the back door to get to their cars. They watch you walk into a car garage, a curse escaping Spencer.

Morgan calls Garcia and asks her if she can spot you on any of the cameras in the garage. While she’s searching, a white van pulls out and Hotch tells Rossi to follow it. “She said he had a white van. Everyone else, wait for Garcia to confirm.”

Turns out he was right. Hotch drives several cars behind the van, not wanting to be seen. Rossi says into his mic on what roads they’re taking so they weren’t all packed onto the same road at once. They’d easily be caught that way.

Spencer was growing more restless by the second. “Can’t you go faster, Morgan? We don’t-”

“Reid, I know you’re worried about (Y/n) but we have to keep our heads,” he interrupts, keeping his eyes on the road and intently listening to Rossi’s instructions. Spencer sighs and nods his head, staring out the windshield. He knows he’s right.

Soon enough, the van pulls off onto a dirt road. Hotch pulls off to the side of the road and waits for the rest of the team to arrive before slowly driving down the dirt road. The dirt road goes on for about a mile before leading to a cabin with a barn off to the side.

Right in front of the barn is the van.

They all park and silently open the doors, making sure to leave the doors open to keep from making noise. Before anyone can do anything else, Spencer is already taking off to the barn.

“Reid!” Hotch hisses, quickly following after him. Luckily, Spencer stops at the barn doors and bends down before peeking into one of the barn’s windows. He watches as the man starts to hang you up again, his coat undone and showing your bloody body.

His blood boils all over again at the sight.

What makes him snap is when the man starts to trace over your bare skin with his hands, tears welling up in your eyes. Before anyone can stop him, Spencer raises his gun and shoots the man straight through his head.

You gasp when the man’s blood splatters onto you, your body shaking violently now that you aren’t trying to hold it back. You look to the shattered window to see Spencer with his gun raised. Did he kill the man?

Everyone runs in after the gunshot rings out, Spencer leading the way and heading right towards you. Everyone, including Spencer himself, is shocked that he killed the man. He doesn’t think about it though as he helps you down and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmurs into your ear as you both hold onto each other for dear life. Rossi spots all your missing items from your room, telling Hotch about it. You could care less about that stuff though. You don’t want any of it anymore.

“I love you. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you,” Spencer cries into your hair. You shake your head, pulling away to look up at a blurry Spencer, the tears blocking your vision.

“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing you could’ve done. You’re here for me now, just like you’ve always been,” you reassure, gently cupping his face. He smiles and quickly leans down to give you a sweet kiss.

He wasn’t joking when he said he wouldn’t let you go. From the barn, to the police station, to the jet, and even back in Virginia, he had held onto you. Whether that be his hand holding yours, his arm wrapped around you, or however else he could touch you. It didn’t matter.

He never left you alone once and you couldn’t be more thankful to have someone like him in your life.

MASTERLIST

More with Spencer Reid

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