#I mean do you think that every fbi profiler are a secret serial killer or other bullshit?!

[mitsuki91]

Question: how can someone be racist?

Answer: this and that *expalining things*

Conclusion: omg you are excusing racism you are racist!!!! Go die!!!!

I SWEAR PEOPLE THIS DAY-

[jennas-stuffs]

our little secret: mission impossible

TW: unprotected sex, piv, fingering, hickey-making, nipple-sucking, brief head (fem receiving), fluff, fem reader.

authors note: this is my first time writing smut so i’m definitely open to tips and constructive criticism 😭

i can’t believe i’m saying this but im actually excited about a college class this year. i’ve always loved criminology, i watched basically every tv series there is containing it growing up. so it’s safe to say i didn’t hate the actual subject my last three years, i just hated the professor. ok sure i doze off every now and then but i know my stuff. it’s just that, he doesn’t believe i do. just because he’s some super genius only a year older than me and already teaching people doesn’t mean that he gets to be the only smart one. enough about him because my complaints have finally been heard and the administration finally finally let me switch classes. i can finally be rid of him. i walk into class with my head up high only to find my posture slump down and my smile fade into a frown.

“hello again y/n, you didn’t think you would get rid of me that easily huh?”

what the actual fuck. what the fuck happened.

“i thought i was switching classes.” i say with my jaw shut tight

“i promised the admins that they wouldn’t have to do all that because i would make it work. also it doesn’t look too good for me when one of my students transfers out my class because we were having ‘altercations.’

the sound of every word out of his mouth is almost identical to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. i nod so he can shut up and angrily stomp to a seat. out of spite, i nap my way through his class and to my surprise i wake up to the sound of the bell signaling my next class. i wake up confused, “why didn’t he wake me up? he always does, he loves disturbing my beauty sleep.” i shake it off and pick up the class paperwork i’ll have to make up along with my homework. a week passes by with undisturbed sleep, this is just getting weird. maybe this is what he meant by making it work. if it is, i’ll have to stay i expected more from him. hes so professional and strict, as would anyone expect coming from an ex-fbi agent. i mean this guy literally saw people die in front of him, and didn’t one of the serial killers set him up to be put in jail? what does he think he’s doing letting me sleep in his class? i should confront him. if he wants me in his class, he’s gonna have to earn it. he thought he could have the easy way out with me, oh no no no. i make a plan to set an appointment with him at the end of the day.

his office is neat and organized like i expected. too bad his freakishly tidy desk is gonna get a glimpse of this sleep deprived, angsty, college student.

we sit down and he quickly releases an exhale.

“so i’m assuming this meeting is about our non-existent altercations, because your grades are great, y/n. i haven’t started a feud just yet so what’s going on?”

i stand up rapidly, pushing my seat backwards. i slam my hand on his desk, leaving a mark on his papers, not like i care though.

“good job figuring that one out professor genius. so listen up. if you think just letting me sleep thorough your class is gonna prevent me from complaining to the admins again, think again. you probably think this is the easy way out so you don’t have to actually work it out with me well guess what. that’s extremely unprofessional. and in all honesty i expected more from you. im disappointed, professor reid. i guess your retired days from the fbi really tore you down huh? you don’t have that same spark in you- you”

“i know about your nightmares y/n.”

…

“what?”

“i’m retired from the fbi, correct. from the behavioral analysis unit. i can still profile people you know. from what i’ve noticed, you barley get any sleep and run on coffee. the work you miss in class you use as an excuse to stay up late at night to procrastinate on the sleep you know will wake you up in cold sweat the next morning. the only good sleep you seem to get, is the one in my class. see, i used to mind the fact that you were just sleeping though my lectures but it’s never interfered with your grade. so, i figured since it’s your last year of college and all i would allow my period to be your nap time.”

…

i sit down shamefully and shrink in my seat. i’m so embarrassed. he was just trying to help me and i snapped at him. i feel like an idiot.

“im so sorry. and thank you. thank you so much.”

one more word and i’ll burst out crying. i quickly pick up my bag and head for the door. but my wrist is grabbed by a warm hand.

“wait, y/n?”

i turn around to meet his eyes and pray he doesn’t notice the extra liquid in them.

i clear my throat, “yes professor reid?”

my wrist hasn’t been released yet.

“are you getting help for the- you know.”

“um i used to when i was little and it helped and they went away, but it came back.”

“when?”

“since i started college.”

“can you sit back down please, i just want to talk.”

here he is being so helpful and i’ve been hating him this whole time. when he wasn’t worried for my grades, he was worried for my sleep, and when he isn’t worried for my sleep, he’s worried for my mental health. i feel like such a petty bitch.

my wrist is released and we sit down.

we talk for hours and hours and he tells me stories of when he was an agent. i’ve never laughed so much in my life. we trade in our top worst and best moments in our lives when he realizes…

“wait so, sorry, if this is crossing a line and feel free to not answer but you’ve had boyfriends. but you’ve never had sex?”

“yeahh that’s accurate. it’s just everytime i think about someone seeing me naked i just get tense, like, just the thought of it makes me squirm.”

“so you have body image issues?”

“woww way to be slick with that one profiler, but sure, i guess.”

he laughs. and this laugh was different from all the other ones because it was this laugh i realized i don’t hate his voice anymore. it actually sounds, nice.

“so you’re telling me you’ve tried everything, all your therapists have given you medication and nothing really stuck?”

“i’m a lost cause doc.”

“don’t say that.”

…

“you know you haven’t tried everything.”

“sex makes me barf. no way.”

“hey a pretty girl like you can easily find some college guy to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded y/n.”

“mhm because you’ve had so much experience.”

his face goes pink.

“how did you know?”

“what? no i was kidding. wait. you’ve never had sex either? YOU HYPOCRITE!”

“it’s much easier said than done.”

“hey, a handsome guy like yourself can easily find some girl to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded professor.”

“spencer”

“what?”

“in my office, you can call me spencer”

“okay, spencer, how about we make a deal.”

“what kind of deal?” he says with a raised eyebrow

“the first to have sex is the better person because they are not a hypocrite.”

“that sounds like mission impossible but. ok. fine. deal.”

“REALLY? i was just joking but OKAY DEAL.”

we shake hands and i go back to my dorm and sleep. i slept, better, that night.

we check in with each other everyday to see if the other person won yet.

“has mission impossible been completed professor?”

“nope. what about you y/n?”

“nope.”

that’s not all we did, though. we went out to cafes to talk about life and how us virgins are channeling that sex energy into some other thing. seeing professor reid, i mean spencer, outside of school was weird. all of sudden his eyes were easier to look into. i just couldnt get enough of them. it was like i was drowning in them. don’t get me started on that voice paired with that cute face. i could just snuggle myself up into each word that came out of his mouth. but we had that same check up conversation everyday after class for a whole month until…

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you free by the end of the day i wanna talk to you in my office”

“what happened to meeting up at the cafe? wait. did i miss an assignment? i’m so sorry i’ll make it up i swear.”

he smiles and laughs. that beautiful laugh. “no no i just wanna talk in a more private setting. you know how people can eavesdrop in cafes.”

“oh yeah sure i’ll see you then.”

“see you.”

WHY DID I SAY SURE? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME. THAT WHOLE REASON WHY I NEEDED US TO BE IN A CAFE WAS BECAUSE IT WAS PUBLIC. i can’t help myself when i see him. i know it’s wrong because he’s my teacher but he’s just a year older? i’m trying to justify these feelings for him but i can’t. i can’t help it. he’s so nice to me and i don’t deserve it, i just wanna repay him. no,nonononono. i can’t. not in that way. i have a meeting with him and it’s in his office so it’s strictly professional.

…

“hey y/n”

“hi professor”

he raises an eyebrow.

“hi spencerr, ” i say as i roll my eyes.

“ok good so uh.”

he pulls his chair and adjusts mine so that we’re sitting face to face, with no desk in the middle. god, this is gonna be a long meeting for me.

“i think we’re gonna have to switch your class”

“what?! why! we just started getting along don’t ruin it now!”

truthfully, i wouldn’t mind. all this tension i felt would definitely tone down if i didn’t see him so much. but i wanna see him, i love the butterflies he give me. it’s just so annoying i can’t do anything to ‘relieve’ them.

“well we’re just too friendly now, there’s barley any teacher-student boundaries.”

“are you serious. YOU’RE THAT ONE THAT INSISTS I CALL YOU BY YOUR FIRST NAME.”

he smiles “it’s not only that”

“you’ve chewed up my heart by making me switch classes, so, spit it out.”

“i think i like you.”

my heart feels like it’s gonna pop out of my chest, my pussy throbes and my stomach get butterflies. i get this overwhelming feeling of kissing him. but i can’t. we can’t. we shouldn’t. i look to the door and i look back at him. i stand up and walk up to the door, and lock it. i close the blinds and look at him.

“i like you too spencer.”

he grabs me by the waist and pins me to the door. we’re half a centimeter away from each others lips. looking at each others eyes and looking back down at each others lips.

“we shouldn’t.”

he nods, “we shouldn’t”

we slam each others lips against each other, making me let out the dirtiest of moans. he looks down on me and watches me unfold underneath him.

“you’re just a hot mess for me hm?”

i whimper and notice the throbbing feeling in my pussy intensify. it’s a hot steamy make out scene in his pretty little office, and i wonder how badly we can mess it up.

“spencer?” i gasp, barley having enough breath between kisses.

“fuck. say my name again please y/n.”

i moan, “spencer”

“again baby”

i cry out “spencer”

he says in his sweet voice “yes y/n?”

“fuck me.” i say in a whimper

and with those two words he kicks off his shoes and kisses me again. i mirror him taking off his clothes, working is way down, and up. once we’re both completely stripped he takes a second to look me up and down.

“you’re beautiful. all this time you’ve been hiding this?”

he bends his knees in front of me and kisses my breasts. i giggle at the feeling it gives me, similar to a tickle. he is just so sweet it melts me. while making out we move to his desk, where he pushes all his papers to the floor. he lays me down and my skin winces at the coldness of the wood. he’s sucks on my top lip, bottom lip, my jawline, my neck, my collarbone, making his way down to my nipples. i whimper, feeling his tongue go around in circles. i let out a loud moan, almost a scream, and notice the sudden arch my back went into when he starts to suck. he plans to leave every intimate place on my body with a hickey.

“you wanna leave marks on me spencer?”

he nods, making his way to the other nipple.

it’s just the sound of my whining and his sucking in his office, he breaks the silence for a second.

“i wanna show everyone you’re mine.”

then immediately goes back to sucking.

“my neck shows that enough-mm- spencer.”

“spencer… ohh spencer”

“yes y/n”

“feel me.”

that seems to have gotten him to stop sucking and he sticks to fingers up my throbbing pussy. i whimper at the motion.

“so wet, all of this for me?”

“mhm all for you”

he moves his fingers up and down, making me become a moaning, whining, whimpering, ‘hot’, mess again.

“spencer?”

“yes baby”

“i need you inside me.”

he looks down on me and suddenly the innocent light in his eyes disappear, witnessing a dark cloudy haze rolling in, covering his eyes.

“oh yeah?”

too far deep in the storm that is his eyes to speak, i simply nod. plus, that “oh yeah?” left me FOLDED.

he leaves a trail of kisses on my inner thighs, making me squirm. i feel the heat on his breath when he sticks out his tongue and sucks my core. he sits up and holds his dick, moving the the tip up and down against my folds.

“damn it spencer,” sounding like a whining brat, “stick it in already.”

he slams it in, thrusting forcefully, but slowly.

“faster.”

“yes baby”

i moan, grabbing his hair for support while my back arches even more, begging for more.

he speeds up, faster and faster, filling the office with the sound of unholy clicking, and not the type of clicking that comes from a clock. wet clicking.

i keep moaning his name…

“spencer, spencer, spencer?, oh fuck spencer, yes, please, fuck, fuck, spencer, i’m gonna cum im gonna cum, spencer.”

my head jolts back as he rails me through my orgasm.

…

now we’re laying on top of each other on his, now, filthy desk, covered in our cum and sweat. as we catch our breath i say unconsciously out loud,

“oh shit.”

i feel his laugh vibrating from his chest to mine.

“no, spencer, this is bad.”

“why?”

i sit up now realizing the mistake i made. he mirrors my action with a concerned expression.

“isn’t there some kind of rule in the university’s handbook that forbids students from having sexual relations with their teachers? i mean that���s considering that an average professor would be much older than them, usually it would be illegal anyways. do you think they would make some sort of exception? wait, do you think we’d have to tell them? will i get suspended? will you loose your job? oh my god, ok. so what if… what?”

he keeps staring at me rambling with a goofy smile plastered on his face that’s suppressing a laugh.

“whattt?”

“you know no one has to know about this, right?”

“but what if someone finds out?”

“y/n, what time did i have you come meet me in this office?”

“7pm”

“mhm.”

my eyes widen at the realization.

“ok so you made me come over when you knew the office would be closed just so you could confess your feelings to me, in your office, when the building was closed and everyone went back home?”

“yeah.”

“you know you could’ve just invited me over to your place. you didn’t have to make it so complicated.”

“well our situation is complicated, and if we want to continue to explore this ‘situation,’ we’re gonna have to be sneaky.”

i feel my face heating up.

“soo your likee my secret loverrrr”

he cracks a smile.

“i guess this’ll be our little secret.”

…

after we get back in our clothes and walk out together to our cars, he turns to me and says,

“hey y/n, have you completed mission impossible?”

“yup, what about you?”

“yeah, same.”

😱😱😱 THE END 😱😱😱

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Valentía: Broken Mirror

Season One Masterlist

Plain Sight

L.D.S.K.

Summary: The BAU is called in on a case that is very familiar to Zoe. One twin is kidnapped while the other isn't. Zoe is determined to save this twin if she can if she can't find her own twin... and her past is revealed to the team and who she really is.

Warning: Mentioned terrorists; Zoe talking about pregnancy medical terms; Alexander talks about Zoe's birth heart defect; Mentions of Zarah Noble-Valdez; Zoe is hit by a car... again; Cursing; UnSub hates Zoe; Erotomania; Zoe pushes the UnSub's buttons; Zoe's sarcasm; Mentions of possible nepotism; UnSub tries to insult Zoe; UnSub tries to profile the team; Mention of Spencer's Autism; Mention of a brief stillborn child; Brief description of Zelena Valdez's death; Mention of depression; Mention od PTSD; Mention of non-suicidal self-injury disorder; References and mentions to self harm; Mentions of an illegal prison; Implication of possible rape; Mentions of suicide; Mentions of torture for an extended amount of time; Reference to stalker; Zoe outright refusing to cooperate; Mentions of an adult FBI agent bringing a toddler to interview serial killers

“She has a quiet confidence that screams loud. She is humble, but strong. She is stable, but rebellious. She is giving, but not naive. She chooses her battles wisely. She'll stay silent until it's time to fight and when that time comes, she will fight and she will win.”

“So what happened with you and JJ at the Redskins game?” Morgan asked Spencer.

“Top secret!” Spencer said, defensively, carrying just the most files.

“Derek.” A fellow employee called, walking up to them, a pretty woman.

“Hey.” Morgan greeted.

“I put the transcript from the last prison interview on your desk.”

She walked beside Morgan as Spencer awkwardly held back to walk behind them. “Okay, it wasn’t a classified rush. You could have sent it inter office.”

“I could have.” She said and walked off.

Spencer, then noticed some passing women checking out Morgan much to his bewilderment as he was twenty-four and still very much a virgin in practically every meaning of the word, never having a girlfriend, never really going on a date, if you didn’t count the one with JJ which he didn’t really, before as he had graduated high school when he was twelve, never even having kissed a girl. 

"Must be tough, man." He said, sarcastically, making Morgan chuckle.

"Not really."

"What-what do you mean? You don't even do anything, and these women are throwing themselves at you." Spencer stammered, frustrated.

"Strictly off-limits, Reid." Morgan said as they entered the main room.

"There's no code of conduct that says agents can't socialize."

"Well, see my code of survival says never mess with a woman who carries a gun."

"That's a good instinct." Zoe said as they passed her, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." She gave them a malevolent grin.

"And definitely never date someone who enjoys violence as much as Zoe does." Morgan added.

"Also a good instinct but less fun." She quipped with a sarcastic smile.

"Are you saying you wouldn't date me?" Morgan asked, a bit offended.

She blew air out of her nostrils like a scoff and she had a slightly disgusted look on her face at the idea.

"Not if you paid me." She said, shaking her head. “Not if it would save me from a serial killer.”

“That hurts, darling.”

“Not my type. Not even close.” She said and Spencer ducked down to hide a smile before coming back up as Zoe added, “Besides, you wouldn’t survive a Valdez woman.”

“What, are they all like you?” Morgan asked.

Her memory flashed to the six months.

“No, some are worse. I may be dark and violent but I have control. Well, some control.

“Are all your family members violent?”

Zoe tensed up and she glanced at a picture on her desk, one would think it was of her at around age fifteen but if you looked closely, the girl in the picture had dark brown eyes. She turned her chair in the direction of Spencer and Morgan, “No. I had a family member who was just pure. She was sweet and beloved but she’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry. How did she…” Spencer said.

“No, she’s not dead!” Zoe snapped and then calmed down, it was clearly a sore subject. “She’s just… missing. Just lost.” She said this with the utmost frustration. She turned back to her work, “Also, I have an aunt who is the human equivalent to sunshine at first glance. Besides, I heard that because of Agent Rossi, they do frown upon relationships in the workplace because he has a thousand ex-wives.” Then she got up to head to Hotch’s office.

“I don’t know what you see in that woman.” Morgan told Spencer.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer said, sharply, clenching his jaw in effort to suppress his blush.

“Whatever man, but that’s one scary lady.”

Hotch was on the phone with his heavily pregnant wife, Hayley who was on bed rest as she was nine months pregnant with her and Hotch’s unborn son.

“So it sounds like bed rest isn’t turning out very restful.” Hotch said as Zoe gently knocked on the door and Hotch held up one finger to signify just one moment.

“Bed rest is more like bed agony. But in ten minutes I get to switch to my right side. That’ll be a thrill.”

Hotch let out a slight chuckle. It was almost like he was human. “Honey, just try to relax and get a little rest, okay.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“Bye.” Hotch said.

“Hayley and the baby okay?” Zoe asked, she was a medical doctor so she had a professional worry, also an emotional one as she had known Hotch and Hayley since she was ten years old.

“Yeah, the doctors are worried about Hayley’s blood-sugar levels. They’re worried about pre-eclampsia, and I’m worried she’s not gonna last six weeks in bed.”

“Well, she needs to keep her blood sugar up because it can affect both her and the baby, it could cause weakness, shakiness, dizziness, crankiness, anxiety, headaches, and a fast heartbeat and if left untreated it could cause confused thinking, slurred speech, staggered walking, vision changes, anger fits, convulsions, seizures, and unconsciousness.”

“Are you trying to give me anxiety or a seizure?” Hotch deadpanned.

“Just tell her she needs to drink plenty of water, eat small meals and snacks every three to four hours, she needs to avoid sugary carbs, and choose high-fiber carbs such as fruit, lentils, vegetables, or beans. As for pre-eclampsia, in order to prevent this, she needs to try eating a balanced diet, keeping her salt intake low, and I recommend she take a one-point-five to two grams of elemental calcium per day.” Zoe said.

Hotch offered her slight smile in appreciation of Zoe’s concern and help. “Is it here?”

“Yep.”

They walked out of his office together as Hotch addressed Morgan and Spencer, “Reid, Morgan, document’s up on the screen, regarding the kidnapping of Trish Davenport.”

Spencer placed down a file as he and Morgan moved around the cluster of desks, “Have you read them yet?”

“Yeah, I got a copy from the document examiner.” Hotch said as they joined them.

“What’s it say?”

“That we got until eight o’clock tonight.”

They entered the briefing room, where the note to the father of Trish Davenport was on the screen which Spencer read, “You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the call. You will answer the call at 8:00 PM. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter.”

Alexander was sitting down, anxious. Zoe was quiet.

“That gives us less that nine hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport, and prepare her father for the ransom drop.” Hotch said.

“How do we know the letter’s real?” Gideon asked.

“The handwriting is a match for Trish’s.” Hotch said, clicking the remove and showing that there had been a 99.4% match. “He dictated it to her, and they found saline on the paper.” The screen zoomed in to drops on the note.

“Her tears.” Gideon said.

“He never says ‘I’. He doesn’t say ‘I will call.’ He says, ‘you will answer the call.’ He’s distancing himself from the kidnapping. If he said, ‘I’, he’d be taking responsibility for it.” Morgan said.

“There’s also another missing element.” Hotch said.

“No mention of the police. Ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement.” Elle pointed out.

“So is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?” Hotch asked.

“Well, if he’s expecting us, let’s not disappoint him.” Gideon said.

“Wheel’s up in thirty.” Hotch said and they all headed to their desks to fetch their go-bags.

“Hotch.” Alexander said and Hotch joined him, looking over the family history list they had been sent. Alexander gave Hotch a look of worry for the Scotsman’s youngest daughter.

“Valdez.” Hotch called, gesturing for her to come over.

“I already know.” She said.

“You don’t have to come, if…” Hotch said.

“Hotch, I can do it.” Zoe interrupted him with a determined look.

———————————————————————————

Euripides said, “when a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.”

They were all on the plane, going over the case file now.

“Everyone familiar with the father?” Hotch asked them.

Spencer as always spoke as if he wrote the Wikipedia page on the subject, “Evan Davenport. U.S. Attorney, Executive Assistant. Southern District, New York. Widower. Assigned U.S. Marshals three times in the past ten years due to death threats.”

"Is the protective detail still current?" Morgan asked.

"Around the clock. But Trish declined protection when she turned eighteen.”

“Too bad for the boyfriend.” Morgan said.

“Would you want to be constantly followed by people with no sense of humors when you were eighteen?” Zoe asked, merely glancing up from the file.

“Why kill him?" Spencer asked.

“Well, if I wanna kidnap someone, I know I have to take out whoever's with them.” Morgan said and he sighed, looking back over the file. “Says here she's got a sister.”

“Cheryl.” Alexander said, not looking at the file but the pictures in his locket—it was customized locket with a twinflower flower engraved on the front and on the back was: My angels, the front half had pink tiny footprints with the name: Zarah C. Noble-Valdez written under it and on the other side it had even smaller footprints, these were more of a purple color and under those was written: Xiomara A. Noble-Valdez.

“Any problems? Were they close?

“Yeah. They're identical twins.” Spencer said, Zoe’s eyes darted up at the last words, seeing the picture.

———————————————————————————

Zoe headed to crime scene at landing using her motorcycle, so she arrived before Elle and Morgan, when they arrived Zoe was sitting on her motorcycle with her helmet in her lap while she watched the kidnapped victim's twin sister lie in the road like she was suicidal.

“What’s she doing?” He asked.

“Lying on the road.” Zoe answered, as usual, total deadpan.

“Yeah, I see that but why?” Morgan asked.

“She’s trying to get a feel for what happened to her sister.” Zoe replied.

“By lying on the ground?” Morgan asked, always the skeptic.

“The girl spent her teenage years perfecting ways to ditch her bodyguards.” Said a man.

Zoe, ahead of them, smirked, having spent her entire childhood (if you could call it that) doing the same (well, the bodyguard being either her sister, Gideon, David Rossi, Alexander, Isobel, or a member of the Valdez family) until her dad just gave up because it just made her rebel more.

“We’re just happy she’s in our line of sight.” A woman said.

Zoe got off her motorcycle, placing her helmet on the seat and said, "No one touch my baby." Then she and Morgan joined Elle who was closer to Cheryl with the case file.

"Cheryl Davenport?" He asked.

"Shh." Cheryl shushed him.

"Shh." Zoe shushed him, echoing her and annoying Morgan. "Just wait a minute."

"No, I'm not crazy." Cheryl said, "I'm lying here for a reason."

"We work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, trained to psychologically understand people, you are far from crazy." Zoe said and she turned to Morgan, "She knows what she's doing. Have a little faith for once. Wouldn’t kill you.”

Morgan opened his mouth to say something else, "Shh!" Zoe shushed him.

Cheryl opened her eyes and stood up and wiped the back of her skirt to get the dirt off, "He dragged her from the car." She pointed to a spot in front of Morgan and Zoe, "this is where she fell. Trish is a fighter. She wouldn't have gone quietly. Not even with a gun pointed at her."

Zoe flashed back to over four and a half years ago—every moment counted—how she had struggled despite the gun.

"She's right." Elle said, showing Morgan the paper she was holding, "There are nail marks on the car seat."

Zoe smirked and cocked an eyebrow at Morgan.

"So you believe your sister's still alive?" Morgan asked.

"I know she's still alive." Cheryl corrected, looking him dead in the eye.

"You know the way twins know." Zoe said.

"Not the 'I can feel my twin's pain' crap." Cheryl scoffed, "If you stick her with a needle, I won't cry out..." 

"I never said that. But her emotions, right..." Zoe said with surprising knowledge of the emotional connection between twins.

Cheryl looked shocked for a moment, people rarely knew about the bond, "Yeah, if something's bothering her, if something is wrong, I can feel it. Even from a thousand miles away at college."

“Even if you haven’t seen her in a long time.” Zoe said, absent-mindedly.

"Yeah." Cheryl nodded.

"You study physics, right?" Elle asked.

"If you're asking why a science major would believe in something non-scientific I don't. I just know what I feel. My feeling is that my sister is still alive."

"If you believe that, then hold on to that." Zoe told her, "And don't let go."

———————————————————————————

Back at the Davenport house, Evan was picking up a textbook he had gotten soon after his twin girls were born. "They're not entirely identical. They're mirror twins. Some of Trish's organs are on the right side that should be on the left. Doctors assured us that it wasn't life-threatening."

"Well, then you got lucky." Alexander muttered. Gideon glanced at him. There had been some complications with Zoe's birth that put her at risk.

"Situs inversus." Spencer said, not hearing Alexander.

"Believe me it could've been worse compared to the complications my girls went through."

"You have twins?"

"Two girls. Nearly twenty. Honestly, my oldest came out with no complications but my youngest girl was born different from her twin, she nearly died.” Alexander recalled and Mister Davenport looked at him, listening with the empathy only a good parent could have, “It was a rare congenital heart disease. Transposition of Great Arteries. The tubes to her heart were switched. Without the open heart surgery, she could’ve died in months. She had the surgery seven days later. You can’t imagine the complete terror of observing a bunch of surgeons who are complete strangers, standing over your baby girl’s cut open body to help her live.”

“Is she okay?” Davenport asked.

“Yeah, but they did warn us that she may start having heart failure episodes in her mid to late twenties or early thirties. She turns twenty on the thirty-first.”

"Is the oldest okay?"

Alexander tensed, and looked down, and Davenport could feel himself being iced out.

"They had self-defense training?" Gideon changed the subject.

"Yeah. I insisted on it. The protective detail rankled when they hit puberty and I was sure that they would refuse their bodyguards when they left for college." Davenport had noticed Spencer flipping through the book, he was using his finger to skim down each page, apparently reading each word. "Excuse me. Can you actually read that fast?"

"Our conscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second. Our unconscious, however, can process eleven million." Spencer explained but Davenport just stared at him. Spencer looked back up and summed up, "Yes, I-I can actually read this fast."

"If whoever took her wants me to blow cases or suppress evidence or stand down, I..." He tapped the table, signaling he would do it without a second thought to protect his daughters."

"What makes you think it's someone you prosecuted?" Gideon asked.

"Well, I have money, but I don't have millions. I mean, what else could it be?" Davenport asked.

"In our experience, Mr. Davenport every case is different."

———————————————————————————

Morgan was walking around, toying with some brushes.

"What is he doing?" Cheryl asked Zoe.

"He's role-playing." She said.

"How does that work?" Cheryl asked.

"We study behavior of people like who took your sister, so we can understand how they think, how they behave. He's trying to get a sense of the kidnapper through his behavior."

"Well, that doesn't sound very scientific, does it"" Cheryl said.

Zoe chuckled slightly and said, "Try telling him that. He's a skeptic through and through."

"What do you think?"

"Me?"

"You seem like you know what you're doing. I've never met anyone who know about the emotion thing I have with Trish." Cheryl said.

"You could say I was born for this job." Zoe said.

"So what do you think happened?"

"I don't know..." Zoe tried.

"Please." Cheryl pleaded.

Zoe bit her lip and the gears in her mind started working. "Well, from what I've heard your sister was rarely without Jordan. If I wanted to get to her, I'd take him out. I would say he would think Jordan was collateral damage but... but certain methods of killing show their emotions. A shot to the face like that. It was personal. He wanted Trish and Trish alone."

———————————————————————————

It was almost eight by now and they set up a call monitoring system to record the message and try and track the call. Mister Davenport was supposed to be answering the call and Spencer was showing him how to use the system.

"This button answers the call this button makes everyone in the room silent. It'll flash red. You'll be able to hear his side of the conversation. He won't be able to hear us."

"We'll be running the trace through the field office but you're in good hands with agent Gideon and his team." An agent named Vincent Shyer said.

Zoe was on her phone beside the entrance of the kitchen where Morgan and Elle were talking. Zoe was reassuring two friends who knew her personal past that she was fine.

“You think Cheryl's a whack-job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety?” Elle asked.

Well that figures that'd be Mister Skeptic's view.

“I never said whack-job.” Morgan protested as Spencer joined Zoe’s side and she snapped her phone shut.

“Actually, there may be a physiological basis for it.” Spencer said.

“Don't ask.” Morgan told Elle.

“Oh, please, tell him.” Zoe grinned to Spencer.

“Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late, between nine to twelve days. The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code, but there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain.”

Zoe’s grin turned bittersweet and she still felt that constant emotional pain that Zarah felt, for coming on five years now.

“And… you believe it?” Morgan asked, skeptically.

“Yes.” Zoe said, bluntly, in an almost defensive manner.

“No. I'm just saying it's possible. I don't know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do.” Spencer said as Hotch joined them.

“I never said that. When have I ever said that?” Morgan asked.

“Every day since I met you.” Spencer chuckled.

“This morning at breakfast.” Elle said.

“Yesterday when he beat you at cards.” Hotch said. 

“You told me that Spencer and I were know-it-alls ten minutes ago.” Zoe deadpanned.

“Um, we've got one minute.” Hotch informed them.

“Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?” Morgan muttered.

“Mm-hmm” Spencer and Elle said, unconvinced.

“Oh, definitely.” Zoe deadpanned.

They returned the room with the calling system.

"Zoe, you're on tracking the trace." Hotch said. Spencer wasn't great with technology.

Zoe gave him a sarcastic salute and sat down.

She looked at the Davenports who were both very anxious, perfectly understandable. Mister Davenport practically sweating and Cheryl kept shifting her weight. She exchanged looks at Alexander and then Gideon.

Gideon spoke to Davenport in calm patience and understanding, "Remember keep your voice even and calm and agree with everything he says."

It was a few minutes past eight, "He's late." Davenport said.

"He'll call. Just try to relax. This is his strategy. He wants you on edge." Hotch reassured him.

Then the phone rang and Davenport sat up straight. Zoe put the headphones over her ears and got situated at the laptop to make notes at.

"Remember to repeat any important information he gives you to make sure you understand. You try to keep him talking to reveal something about Trish or about himself." Gideon explained calmly to Davenport and then he pushed the accept button.

"This is Evan Davenport." Davenport said, his voice was a little hoarse.

"Hello, Mister Davenport." The Unsub spoke evenly and calmly.

"Are you the man who has my daughter Patricia?"

"I have your daughter."

Can I ask you--" Davenport started.

"You may ask me nothing." The Unsub interrupted him "This is not an interrogatory. You will listen only to my instructions."

"Okay."

"But I will not give them to you."

"I don't understand."

Mister Davenport was barely finished talking when the Unsub spoke again, "I do not want to talk to you, Mr. Davenport."

"Excuse me."

"I want to talk to her." There was a slight breathlessness to this tone, "I want to talk to Cheryl."

Alexander pushed the mute button so the Unsub couldn't hear their conversation. "What's he doing?" Davenport asked.

"What most of the offenders we catch try to do... Establish dominance." Morgan said.

"How long can we keep him on hold?" Elle asked.

"We can't put her on."

"Why not? I want to help. I'll talk to him." Cheryl said, eagerly, anything to help her sister.

Hotch shook her head.

"Cheryl doesn't have the authority that Davenport holds." Morgan said. "He shouldn't want to talk to her."

"Well, obviously he does." Alexander said.

"I think that she should speak to him." Elle said.

Zoe snapped her fingers three times and gesturing pointing and a 'move along' signal but also nodding, pointedly. She agreed.

"Do I need to repeat myself? I want to talk to Cheryl. Put her on the phone. Now."

"No." Gideon said.

"I think she should speak to him. He wants to talk to her. The more he speaks, the more he reveals." Elle said.

"She is right, Gideon." Alexander sighed.

"He has my sister." Cheryl argued.

"No." Gideon said.

"I'm waiting."

Zoe cleared her throat, urging them to hurry up and make a decision.

"Elle." Gideon said

Elle walked over and pushed the unmute button sand said, "This is Cheryl." The Unsub just sighed, and Zoe shook her head, looking at them, like, Not working. "Hello. This is Cheryl."

"I have Patricia by my side. I know her voice therefore I know her sister's. Get off the phone. I want Cheryl. I'll give you sixty seconds. If you don't put her on the phone I will hang up and you will never hear from me or Patricia again."

Gideon pushed the mute button said, "Prep her. Come on over here, please."

"Fifty seconds."

Davenport got up as Cheryl moved along the table to take his place.

"This guy's arrogant." Elle was advising Cheryl. "Let him know that he's in control. Let him guide the conversation."

"Forty."

"Use your sister's name. Say my sister Trish or her name's Patricia."

"Thirty-five seconds."

"Talk about her. Let him get to know her through you. Don't veer off topic."

"Got it." Cheryl nodded.

"Agree with him."

"Twenty-five seconds."

"Tell him that you understand him and as hard as this sounds, empathize."

"Twenty seconds.

"Let him know that he didn't mean to hurt Trish or go this far and that he can fix it. He has a chance to show that he's a kind and forgiving person by letting your sister go."

"Ten seconds."

"And if you don't know what to say, I'll tell you."

"Three, two, one..."

Elle pushed the unmute button, "This is Cheryl."

"Hello, Cheryl. How are you?"

His tone was different. More affectionate. Not as cold but not warm.

The tone he got when he spoke to Cheryl caused goosebumps to go up her spine. She blocked out the overlapping voices that haunted her.

"I'd be a lot better if I knew that my sister... Patricia's okay." Cheryl said.

"I can tell you have a lot of empathy, Cheryl. You care about others.

Sure. But that didn't really describe Cheryl's act, she was worried about her twin sister. Sisterly love. Could it be a coincidence?

"Yes, I do. And it sounds like you understand."

"You mean that I empathize?"

There it was again. Zoe typed on the laptop. It was odd he was using the exact wording Elle had used when it should've been muted. Could that just be a coincidence. Zoe made a note about this, she faltered as she could feel Spencer leaning over and look over her shoulder, he was breathing down her neck, but she ignored this.

"Yes."

"I do. Very much. I empathize. I empathize with you, Cheryl." He was really nailing that home, wasn't he? He was putting stress on that word. As if he had known Elle had used that exact word.

Zoe typed on the laptop: Empathy... why empathy? What does he need? Why does he keep saying "Empathize"? The same word SSA Greenaway said.

"I know you want to be with your sister." He was saying as Elle showed Cheryl a note pad saying: You want Trish back. Like Cheryl wasn't already aware of that.

"Yes, I want Trish back."

"Good. Tell me what you want, Cheryl. I'm very interested. Tell me all about yourself. What's your favorite color?"

Elle pushed the mute button, "Don't answer that. Stay with Trish." She advised and pushed the unmute button.

"If I tell you, will you let me talk to my sister?" Cheryl asked.

The unsub chuckled, "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I like blue." Cheryl relented, just on the off-chance he would. Davenport put his hand on his daughter's back to support her.

"How ordinary. Do you like chocolate, Cheryl?" The unsub asked and Cheryl looked around in confusion. "Do... you... like... chocolate?"

Spencer noticed Zoe's reflection in the laptop screen, her eyes were closed and she shook her head, trying not to remember something.

"Oh, little corazón, I want to know everything about you..." He had said to her, she was blind to him as she had a blindfold over her eyes but she could feel him touching her cheek. The path his fingers touch would have a feeling of absolute filth on her skin; sometimes she could still feel it and the feeling of his breath on her face.

She blinked rapidly as she forced herself to focus on this kidnapper.

"Yes."

"I do as well."

"Please, let me talk to my sister." Cheryl pleaded and there was no response. "All I want to do is hear her voice. Please."

There was a different breathing pattern suddenly over the call. Cheryl eagerly asked, "Hello?"

Then a voice identical to Cheryl's spoke.

"Cher..." Trish's voice was slow, she sounded groggy. Zoe looked up at them, faltering for a moment and she exchanged looks with her father. It was more than she had ever gotten in nearly five years. Zoe recognized that pace of voice as being drugged and disorientated.

"Trish!" Cheryl gasped.

"Cher, is that you?" Trish asked

"Trish, it's me. I'm here. Are you okay?"

"Cher, I can't..."

"Where are you? What do you see?" Cheryl pushed.

"I... I see the moon." Cheryl slurred. She was too out of it to answer properly.

There was crackling static.

"Trish!" Cheryl shouted.

"Have five-hundred-thousand ready." The unsub took over again

"Let me talk to her!" Cheryl pleaded.

"Five-hundred-thousand dollars is what I'm owed. The Davenports will wait by the phone. You will receive a call with precise instructions in exactly fifteen minutes." The unsub said and then hung up.

Cheryl ran off and Davenport ran after her.

"Were your able to trace it?" Gideon asked Zoe.

Zoe pulled her headphones down, "No. He's probably using a disposable cell phone. They're impossible to trace."

"She said she could see the moon." Elle said

"She sounded delirious." Gideon observed.

"Unsub probably sedated her. That would helped him to have her nearby enough to put her on the phone and stay calm and in control during the phone call." Zoe explained.

"Could have been a light." Gideon added.

"If he's keeping her drugged, it might mean he's not very strong. He might have to keep her weak just so he can dominate her." Morgan theorized.

"Or he's keeping her quiet." Elle suggested.

"Has Davenport told us everything about his staff?" Gideon asked.

"Oh, yeah, we have detailed reports but we should probably revisit background on household staff aides and current docket." Hotch said.

"Guys, she wasn't blindfolded." Morgan stated the elephant in the room.

"No."

"If she's seen his face, as soon as he gets that money..." Morgan said.

"He'll kill her." Gideon finished.

"Maybe." Zoe said, standing up.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

"Ransom and killing are not the only reasons someone would kidnap someone." Zoe said and walked off.

———————————————————————————

They were looking over the script of the conversation Zoe had written with her notes.

"He said owed." Gideon said, looking over the line that he had said that followed by Zoe's note: Sense of entitlement. Why does he feel like he's owed something?"

Five-hundred-thousand dollars." Spencer recalled. "His demand sounded scripted, like he was reading it to us."

"But the rest of the conversation wasn't." Zoe pointed out, nodding at the paper, "He was his most relaxed just talking to Cheryl."

"What do you mean?" Alexander asked.

Zoe opened her mouth but then noticed the intense look her father was giving her so her words had some hesitance to them, "Maybe... he already knew her."

"What makes you say that?" Gideon asked. Oh, was he doing that teaching thing again? He had been doing that since she was a toddler. Annoyed the heck out of Stephen.

"When he was talking to Davenport, he was detached, cold, short, he didn't want to talk to him at all. It seemed like more than just establishing dominance. But with Cheryl... I don't want to say he was warmer but it was like that was what he wanted. Jordan, the fiancé was shot in the face, usually a head shot is cold and detached but the face in particular suggests it was personal. Maybe he knows both Cheryl and Trish." Zoe explained.

Alexander felt an incompletion to her statement. Her eyes were cast down at the paper and she was twisting her gear spinner ring "What?"

"You see in the notes, I point out he kept on saying 'Empathize'. The exact same word Elle said. It was almost like he was trying to prove that knew more than us but I don't know how, he couldn't have bugged the place, they did a sweep and I would've noticed if he hacked us. So, I don't know..."

There was a slight silence before she exhaled and walked off the see Cheryl.

"How much time we got?" Morgan asked.

"Six minutes and forty-three seconds." Spencer said.

"How quickly can you get the money?" Gideon asked Davenport.

Zoe entered the kitchen where Cheryl was pouring a glass of red wine.

"Cheryl, it's not a good idea." Zoe said, taking the glass and placing it on the counter.

"Look, I know I shouldn't drink, but under the circumstances you'd think you could let this one slide." Cheryl said as Zoe recorked the wine.

"It's not a good idea and not just because you're underaged. He's gonna call back. We need you at your best. With a clear head so you don't do anything impulsive."

"Have you had many cases like this?"

"I've seen my fair share of abductions." Zoe said. More like, I've had my fair share of abductions.

I don't know how you do it, this job. How do you stomach it? You've got to be my age."

"I-I turn twenty the end of the month. I... I've worked my way here my whole life. Started college classes when I was five. I've always known of the darker side of humanity that a lot of people may only realize when things like this happen to them or from movies. My whole family are either in law enforcement... or are criminals." She pondered these two categories. "Occasionally both. I've always had an understanding of these kind of people. Believe it or not, but usually I can find some sort of empathy for them, typically ones suffering from mental illness. I'm ADHD and I have a mild form of bipolar and I've seen some things that have given me PTSD, I guess and possibly other things so I don't really see black and white. Some people have a limit and sometimes they're pushed past that. Some people are stronger than others. I strive to be that and keep my compassion for these kind of people. But people like the guy who has your sister, I... I do my damnedest to find them."

"I just wish you could get 'em before they snatch someone."

"I do too but that's not possible. Here's how you can stomach it for a little longer. You have that bond with your sister and now you have proof she's alive. Not many people get that. All they have is hope and sometimes they're one of the only ones left with that hope. Hold onto your feeling and instincts. Hold on to that as tightly as you can and don't let go of it even if the whole world tells you to."

———————————————————————————

The unsub called again and gave his instructions, making them clear.

"Everything will be done by Cheryl. Cheryl will gather the money packets. Only she will touch the money. Cheryl will make the drop. If she is wired, if you use a look-a-like, Patricia dies. Cheryl will get in her car. No one is to be in the car with her, no one is to follow her no air surveillance, no car surveillance of any kind will be tolerated. I will give directions over a cell phone as Cheryl drives. She must make the drop at exactly 3:00 A. M. She will follow each instruction to the letter."

Zoe made her notes: Unsub wants Cheryl alone. Wants to get her isolated.

"We can't let her go alone." Hotch said.

"He said if he sees anyone--" Davenport started.

"I know. One car, unmarked. Tinted windows. Zoe?" Hotch said.

Zoe was taking the headphones off and exiting the house, they saw her motorcycle lights light up

If he sees one of you, and Trish dies-- if my daughter dies...

"Zoe's very stealthy." Alexander reassured him.

"She's riding a motorcycle."

"Trust me." Alexander said.

Cheryl got into the car, placing the money down. She started the car, lighting up Zoe on her bike, she had changed so she was wearing black motorcycle boots and she was zipping up her black leather jacket that with her black Kevlar pants and leather motorcycle gloves. Zoe gave her a two-fingered salute, this one was genuine. One of good luck. And she put her black motorcycle helmet on with the black visor. She perfectly blended into the darkness. Zoe pushed a button on the side of her helmet and to Cheryl's surprise two thumbs up emoji lit up in place of two eyes

"Uh, Zoe hooked the computer up to Cheryl's GPS so we'll be able to track her." Spencer told Morgan over the phone once Zoe on her motorcycle, Cheryl in her car, and Morgan and Hotch in their unmarked car set off.

"The first thing he's gonna do is have her switch cars. Where are we headed?" Morgan asked.

"Let's see." Spencer said and pushed the buttons on the laptop awkwardly and then a map came up, "An address which appears to be... A rental car lot."

Zoe was already there when Morgan and Hotch arrived, she was watching Cheryl in her bright yellow car among all the other seemingly empty cars. Something wasn't right.

Zoe watched as Cheryl exited her car and walked, slowly through the parking lot and Zoe saw a car door open and someone started to step out. It wasn't a ransom drop; but a second kidnapping.  Just then Morgan and Hotch came out of their car.

"CHERYL!"

"GET DOWN! GET DOWN!"

"STOP!" Zoe shouted near the only other exit.

The car started up and started up, speeding past Cheryl as Hotch and Morgan shot at him.

Zoe shot her gun at him but missed and then he jerked the car, speeding in her direction so they would stop shooting at him.

Zoe quickly reacted quickly, not being able to move out of the way in time, managing to leg her leg closest to the car so she was swooped up and she rolled along the hood of the car, cracking the windshield but before she could look inside the car, the car stopped to halt, making her jerk off the car and hit the ground and the car started up at full speed again, she managed to stop being run over by rolling out of the way.

———————————————————————————

Morgan and Hotch entered the house.

"Cheryl's all right." Morgan reassured Davenport.

"Zoe got hit by a car though." Hotch deadpanned and Alexander looked at him, incredulously like, you can't just end a sentence like that.

"Please, that was part of my training." Zoe said, closing the door after Cheryl entered.

Spencer went up to Zoe, her hair was windswept but other than that and looking like night itself, she seemed as okay as she had been when she exited the house. She shook her head in protest to his silent concern.

Already the phone was ringing. As if he already knew. Either that or he was more acquainted with time than Spencer.

Morgan walked to the phone as Zoe sat back in front of laptop, putting the headphones on.

They answered the phone and the unsub started speaking, he sounded just slightly out of breathe.

"That was fun, wasn't it? A little running around, getting our pulses racing. Are you there, Cheryl?" Morgan held up a hand to tell Cheryl to not answer, "Are you there?! Tell me you didn't feel a slight tingle, a thrill run up your spine. Huh? But those clever and cunning FBI agents deduced my little plan just in time. They figured it out. If they hadn't, I would have had you both. The whole set. The matching pair. Now just have Trish and I hit that wunderkind nepo-brat with the car and didn't even finish the job."

Zoe raised her eyebrows in a somewhat sarcastic kind of way but she was learning something more. He knew her--Zoe. At least, of her. Half the team didn't know that.

Still she typed: Matching pair. He's a collector. He knows of me (Doctor Z. Valdez).

"Why are you doing this?" Cheryl asked and Morgan gestured for her to stop talking.

"Because you asked me to, Cheryl. You asked me with your glances." The unsub said and Cheryl looked deeply confused, understandably if someone was told this nonsense. "The way you talk. Those little gestures."

Zoe flinched, violently for her, but for a person in general, it was barely noticeable. She squeezed her eyes shut as she flashed back... not to those eight months when she was fifteen. But when she was twelve. David Rossi believes that William Grace, a serial killer was the face of pure evil, but Zoe believed that serial killer that she met in that warehouse, was pure evil. He convinced her the difference of evil acts and evil in general. Dressed in all black, including that mask, as he held a revolver to her head, taunting her until he realized she was doing something no other person he had worn this mask and held a gun to had ever done: Showed no fear.

"You told me with your eyes." A broken memory she preferred the keep locked up until it was time resurfaced. She pushed it away and kept back to the manner at hand.

Spencer was gesturing for them to stop and Morgan pushed the mute button.

"What are you doing?!" Cheryl demanded

"Do not answer this man." Morgan said.

"You asked for this! You asked for it, Cheryl!" The unsub shouted.

Cheryl impulsively pushed the unmute button.

"Cheryl!" Morgan shouted and retracted his hand in frustration.

"What do you want? Cheryl shouted.

"What do I want?! You! It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but I promise you, we will be together." He said and then hung up.

———————————————————————————

They all sat down to discuss what to do next. Zoe was very quiet and for once quite still. Only Gideon and Alexander noticed.

"We can't let Cheryl speak with him any further." Gideon advised, patiently.

"Why not?" Cheryl asked.

"It's only feeding his psychosis to allow your interaction." Spencer explained and then asked, "Was Trish involved in any serious relationships prior to the kidnapping?"

"With the boy that was killed." Davenport said, "They were together for two years."

Cheryl turned to her father and said, "Trish didn't want me to tell you. They were getting engaged."

"Well, that certainly could have been the unsub's stressor." Gideon said and Spencer nodded.

"What does that mean?"

Zoe finally spoke, her voice was briefly hoarse, "We all have resentment, stress that builds up. But a stressor is when a traumatic event or a perceived traumatic event that causes someone to lash out or change behavior or even have a psychotic break."

"How would Trish's engagement trigger him?" Cheryl asked.

"Will someone please tell me what we're dealing with here?" Davenport demanded.

"De Clerambault's syndrome, otherwise known as erotomania the belief that someone, usually of a higher social status but not necessarily a celebrity, is in love with you." ," Spencer explained and Zoe balled up her fists; Gideon glanced at her a look a sympathy for the girl he watched grow up. He knew why this was bothering her. Best they could figure two unsubs felt that for her. Both times she was kidnapped; the first time had been a very touchy subject and only a few knew about it. Gideon only knew about it was because he had been the best profiler on the team then... the only one who had been a father at that time and understood the situation. Then again when she was fifteen and went missing for eight months and Zarah... was never seen again. Both instances traumatized Zoe drastically. "Erotomaniacs believe that the objects of their affection are subtly professing their love for them through looks, gestures--"

"Looks in your eyes. Emotions you show with your eyes." Zoe said, her voice again briefly hoarse, before she got back on topic, "Glances. He said, 'you asked me with your glances'."

"The unsub truly and full-heartedly believes that Cheryl and Trish are in love with him. They don't tell him this with their voices. No, with gestures and looks. He's obsessed with them." Spencer explained.

"What does this mean?" Davenport asked.

"He is the most determined kind of criminal."

"You should know that this wasn't Trish and your fault, Cheryl. This is in the mind of the unsub. Some unsubs are so departed from reality they form relationships in their heads that don't exist in the real life. It could just be from you smiling at them to be polite and they took that to mean you and Trish were in love with him. Or it could just stem from something about you they found fascinating." Zoe explained.

———————————————————————————

In the kitchen, they were discussing what was to be done as Gideon cut up an orange with a knife.

"Crime of obsession. Your specialty, your lead, Morgan." Hotch told Morgan.

"I think we should recheck everyone on Davenport's staff against the profile of a stalker." Morgan said.

"Aren't stalking behaviors pretty diverse?" Elle asked.

"There's overlap. Narcissistic, inflated sense of self-worth, history of bad relationships."

"What do we know so far?" Hotch asked.

"He's probably white, obviously male... Sophisticated speech patterns." Morgan listed.

"Sophisticated, yet bizarre." Gideon added, "He rarely uses contractions. It's not 'you're', it's 'you are'."

"This guy's pretentious. He wants to sound smarter than he actually is. Whatever position of authority or level of success this guy has he had to struggle for it. He accused me of being a 'wunderkin nepo-brat'." Zoe explained.

"What did that mean?" Spencer asked.

Zoe completely ignored the question and continued as if Spencer hadn't spoken, "He resents the fact that I got this job at not even twenty while he may have had the struggle to get his..."

"Which means he's probably just average at his job." Alexander continued. "Of average intelligence for that particular job."

"We also have to face the possibility at this point..." Hotch said with a lowered voice.

"That Trish may already be dead." Elle finished.

"No." Zoe shook her head. "No. Cheryl believes she's still alive and if she says so then I believe her."

Gideon handed the others part of the orange.

"You know, so far he's called every play.

"I say we apply some pressure, make him sweat." Morgan suggested.

Gideon looked straight at Zoe with that soul-piercing look at his, like he was analyzing her very soul. She was the best at pushing unsubs' buttons. She had learned that from Rossi as if she hadn't already had a natural talent at it. But she knew this had the risk of revealing her secret to the team. But if could help them learn more about the unsub to save Trish... then that was worth it.

"Good idea. Well, there's only one way to do that." Zoe said, hoping this was the right move.

———————————————————————————

Later, the phone was ringing again and they all stared at it; Spencer was now at the laptop since Zoe's job had changed. Just before the fourth ring, Davenport moved to answer it.

"Hold on. Hold on. Hold on." Alexander said as Zoe glanced at Gideon and he nodded and she walked in front of it, not sitting but standing.

Zoe looked up at Alexander as she let it ring to the fifth ring and then the sixth. He nodded at his daughter in encouragement.

She looked down, waited a bit more... seventh ring... eighth ring... and during the ninth ring,she answered but then promptly hung up.

"What are you doing?" Davenport asked.

She didn't answer, she stared at the phone as it started to ring again.

"Doctor Valdez." Davenport said with a plea in his tone.

“Hello?” She asked, innocently once she answered the call.

“Tell me there was a technical issue with the line because if you actually just hung up on m—" Zoe hung up again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Davenport asked, incredulously.

The phone started to ring again.

“Are you gonna answer it?” Cheryl asked, anxiously.

“Why is she doing this? What is she–what–you’re gonna drive this guy crazy!” Davenport stammered, stressed as the second ring rang.

“Just, quiet. Please, quiet,” Gideon whispered.

Third ring...

Cheyrl tried to move forwards after the fourth ring but Elle held her back.

"Cheryl."

"SOMEBODY HAS TO ANSWER IT!" Cheryl cried.

"Just-Just answer the phone!" Davenport pleaded

“She knows what she’s doing,” Alexander reassured the Davenport family.

They were on the fifth ring now, but Zoe continued to stare at it, formulating a taunting plan in her head at rapid speed while simultaneously predicting each possible outcome and the consequences they’ll have.

“Just answer the phone, for god’s sake!” Davenport yelled, reaching for the phone.  "PICK UP THE PHONE!"

Alexander grabbed his hand, pulling him back, "Don’t touch it!”

“She knows what she’s doing!” Morgan pushed Davenport back.

Zoe let the sixth ring finish and she finally answered the call.

“Davenport residence,” She said, casually.

“Are you out of your mind? You do realize, you do understand, that I’ll kill her?! Do you—" Zoe hung up on him again.

They stared at the phone again and it started ringing again, Zoe smirked a little, she could practically feel the UnSub's frustration. The rebel in her thrived at this part of the job.

Davenport started to lose it and tried to get at Zoe to force her away from the phone but Alexander was on him, holding him back, "YOU'RE KILLING MY DAUGHTER! PICK UP THE PHONE! PICK UP THE PHONE! SON OF A BITCH! PICK UP THE PHONE!"

“Get him quiet." Gideon ordered. Second ring

"ANSWER THE PHONE! YOU'RE KILLING HER! ANSWER THE PHONE!" Now Morgan and Hotch had joined Alexander in pushing Davenport back. Third ring.

Fourth ring. "Mister Davenport, get a hold of yourself.” Gideon said.

"ANSWER THE PHONE!"

Fifth ring. Zoe spoke at first patiently and calmly. "Mister Davenport, I understand your agitation, believe me, I do. You’re not the only person with a missing family member.  But you need to get a hold on yourself and BE QUIET!" Zoe shouted the last two words, her shout was deeper and rumbled with a growl and was honestly quite terrifying but her face softened and there remained an empathetic look in her eyes.

Davenport started sobbing loudly as he stopped fighting as the sixth ring rang. It was an improvement. Cheryl started crying and was comforted by Elle.

When the seventh ring started, Zoe placed her finger on the answer button but waited until it finished ringing.

Zoe answered the phone again, and the UnSub was also losing it.

"SHE IS DEAD!"

"No!" Cheyrl sobbed.

"No, she's not." Zoe said with a blank deadpan, shaking her head. "Bye-bye." She reached for the decline button again.

"YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN, YOU LITTLE BITCH, AND I RIP HER OPEN!" He bellowed and Alexander had to be reminded by Hotch with an elbow in the ribs that he couldn't interfere.

Zoe got an irreverent smile on her face and giggled before she said in a mocking voice, "I’m sorry. You must have the wrong number." And she hung up.

Davenport was breathing, raggedly,

“Come on, Zoe,” Morgan breathed.

“You killed her.” Davenport cried.

"No." Zoe said.

“Oh, yeah? Then what–what the hell do you think you're doing?” Davenport asked.

“I’m saving your daughter, Mister Davenport." Zoe insisted in an emphatically empathetic tone.  After a few moments of silent, the phone rang again. First ring... second ring... third ring... "Have a little faith."

Fourth ring... fifth r...

Half way through the fifth ring, Zoe answered it and smirked when she heard the UnSub's tone. She had pushed him past the point to fiery rage.

"Put Cheryl on the phone." The UnSub demanded in a calm tone compared to what he had last time.

"How did you know this wasn't Cheryl? It's almost like you know what's going on here. Why is that?" Zoe asked with a mocking questioning tone.

"Put… Cheryl on the phone." He repeated, not answering her question.

“No, you’re finished talking to Cheryl.” Zoe refused, speaking in her most authoritative tone that she knew he'd mock.

"Listen to faux authority in your tone, little girl. A lesser man would believe you had been at the BAU for more than seven months until they actually saw you of course, you stupid, little child." The UnSub spat as Spencer put the headphones Zoe had previously had on. "You think you're a prodigy, just because you got your first degree at seven; you're neurodivergent and incapable of focusing or being still. You pretend that you're better than the crazy people you catch but you're just like them."

Zoe blinked twice, unaffected by his words,like, yeah, tell me something I don't know.

“But I guess that's only to be expected when you're raised in a recklessly dangerous environment like you were."

"Mmm." Zoe hummed, mockingly while doing an equally mocking nod before saying in a voice positively oozing with sarcasm and patronism, "That's a very interesting conclusion. You sound intelligent, you certainly sound educated, and... but we both know that's a lie. You're more dull and unintelligent, unknowing of anything. I actually almost lost interest while you were talking, that's why I kept hanging up.”

"Oh, I know all about all of you. The ambitious Agent Hotchner. Do you wanna be the FBI director someday, Agent Hotchner? Would you step on Jason Gideon and Alexander Noble to get there? I think you would." Yeah, well, you think glances mean two twin sisters are in love with you too. "Post-traumatic stress is a very good excuse. Even your sick pregnant wife can't get you to leave your post."

Zoe raised her eyebrows, he knew about Hotch's ambition and how his wife was both sick and pregnant and how that hadn't affected his workaholism.

"Jason Gideon, an expert in the criminal psyche, arrogant and didactic pedant, yet unable to diagnose the autistic leaning of the very insecure Doctor Reid." Spencer made a face like, did people think it was a secret?  "Well, maybe he can make money counting cards in Las Vegas."

He knew Gideon, obviously, he knew Spencer was possibly somewhere on the Autistic Spectrum and that he was born in Las Vegas. It wasn't likely he knew that Spencer was banned from like very casino in Vegas... somehow... before he was eighteen.

"The lovely Elle was promoted too soon. She doesn't have what it takes to make it in the BAU boys club. You're no threat to me. You're not a threat to anyone."

He knew how recently Elle had been promoted to the BAU, being the only other female profiler agent other than Zoe who pretty much counted as a boy, well according to Zoe. And multiple other people.

"And token Derek Morgan wants to be taken seriously, but he is just a pumped-up side of beef." Morgan just chuckled at this though there may have been a little truth in his mind.

He was huffing loudly. Zoe made eye contact with Alexander. He had purposely left out two of them. He knew Zoe's father was the senior supervisory agent (the only reason he hadn't been promoted to unit chief over Hotch was he was deemed not stable enough, which was how he summed up his meeting with Strauss) and that Alexander was one of the founders of the BAU. That had been why Zoe initially went by her mother's name, so people wouldn't assume nepotism. She had had the right way of thinking and more than enough knowledge of how to do this job by the time she was ten. The question was if Zoe was going to let him tell the team this.

Yes. "Apparently, you're not all that impressive. First of all, a genius would’ve deduced what kind of autism, not that I think you know the layers of it, and you couldn't even list all of us." Zoe taunted, ignoring the fear that he would expose her secret to the BAU but realizing that it was probably time and this way she didn’t have to do any social interacting. Besides, it would show how much he knew. It was general knowledge among the FBI of her story, the newer members of the BAU only didn't know because she kept it that way. They hadn't been in the FBI at that time.

"Oh but I know the last two very well. Put Cheryl on the phone or I’ll expose your greatest secrets and fears.”

Zoe looked up at Alexander without moving her head, there was nothing in her eyes indicating that she wouldn’t do so but more that she was trying to gather courage and encouragement from her father.

He smiled softly and nodded.

“I don’t believe you.” Zoe said, her voice only slightly strained with a hitch.

“You asked for it but your team will never look at you the same, you bitch! One of the founders of the BAU, Alexander Noble, abused by his father and spend half his childhood protecting his sister from him, put in the academy too young, fell in love too young, had two bastard children too young.” A growl rumbled in the depth of Alexander’s throat at his two daughters being called bastards. Like his dad didn’t say it enough. “Two beautiful and annoyingly intelligent baby girls, especially the youngest. Twins. Born three days apart. Irish twins. The first one was born normally, the second one was with your pregnant girlfriend when she was kidnapped and murdered with an axe as she died in your arms. The doctors had to pull your youngest daughter out of your girlfriend's dead body, nearly dead." Technically, Zoe had initially been a stillborn. So not quite nearly, she wasn't breathing, plain and simple. "The twins who you continuously brought on dangerous missions and got kidnapped frequently until at age fifteen when you lost one of them forever. This must be killing you." Cheryl had her hands over her mouth in sympathy and Davenport had never felt so much sympathy for another father. "The other... you found another way to keep her close and in danger at all times by giving her a job at the BAU."

The team apart from Zoe, Hotch, Gideon, and Alexander looked at one another in confusion.

"Zoe Noble-Valdez." Zoe's eyes only looked up but she showed no emotion as everyone looked at her, the team who didn’t know how making the connection.

Spencer sat back in his chair, his memory flashing to the picture of Zelena Valdez. She looked so much like Zoe.

The first time he saw her after she got the job. After he had greeted her with an awkward hitch in his voice that had made Alexander give Spencer a sharp look. He now realized a protective look a father would give a boy he thought was interest in his daughter. (To be fair, that was accurate.)] She had hesitated just breifly before telling him, her name was Valdez. She had said it like she wasn't use to just saying that. He even had outright talked about Zelena Valdez. He now realized Zoe had spoken quite quickly for a normal dismissal of commonality of the surname.

That first case, Alexander had looked like he was going to have a heart attack when they realized Zoe was with the killer alone.

Hotch had trusted Zoe to take on talking down killers with hostages, do profiles, talk to witnesses and families, all on her own so early into joining the team, at the age of nineteen. Hotch had scolded Garcia for trying to look up Zoe in the computer. They already knew Zoe was very talented at hacking, perhaps even better at Garcia, she could've hidden her report.

Gideon trusted Zoe's skills right from the start. It had always been as if they had known each other for a long time.

 "Half-Hispanic, half-Scottish-slash-Caucasian. Born October 31, 1985, twelve hours after your mom died with a near fatal heart condition as if your life-long mental illnesses weren't enough to cripple you. FBI family legacy. Criminal family legacy. Younger twin sister of Zarah Noble-Valdez, who hasn't been seen in four years because of you, Zoe. How challenging has this case been for you? Your mother died while giving birth to you."

It had been more because of the several axe wounds but this was a person who was absolutely certain they were right no matter what they said, you know those people, arguing with a wall is more effective.

"You nearly died, you believe you should've." She showed no emotion as this man revealed more about herself than half the unit knew. "Raised by her father, the famous FBI agent, Alexander Noble, her dear boss, with help from his co-founders, Jason Gideon and David Rossi and mentored by her own psychopathic cousin, Mazikeen Valdez, who slaughtered a handful of people just to save her. She’s quite successful for only nineteen, why else would that be than nepotism, I think so.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “IQ that's estimated to be off the charts yet impossible but you refuse to take the test; why else would that be than proof that you're not as smart as you think you are.”

A sarcastic look appeared in Zoe’s eyes that was more amusement than irritation and Alexander actaully snorted at this theory and Gideon smiled, shaking his head. By the age of one year old, she had the cognitive understanding of an eight year old which was highly advanced. When she was three, she was able to outdo Rossi with Saturday morning crossword puzzles... in pen... which had deeply insulted Rossi.

“Diagonosed with ADHD at age six, Cyclothmia at age eight, depression at fourteen, PTSD at fifteen, non-suicidal self-injury disorder at age sixteen." This was the first time she moved, she sat back in her chair as everyone looked at her. "If you were to take off your jacket, your co-workers would see your scratches and bruises, and maybe a few scars, your palms have crescent moon marks, you would stab your legs with sharp objects because it should've been you! Both sisters went missing at fifteen years old and only you came back eight months later with your body all broken, bloodied, and bruised, I wonder what they did to you during those eight months." His tone was hostilely sarcastic, stating plainly enough what he thought. Zarah should have gotten away and you should've been the one still missing." Now he was yelling because she hadn't responded like he had predicted. "AND YOU HATED YOURSELF LONG BEFORE YOU WERE BOTH KIDNAPPED, YOU'RE AN INSECURE BROKEN LITTLE GIRL WHO TURNS OFF HER EMOTIONS TO GUARD HERSELF, TO KEEP HERSELF FROM GETTING HURT BECAUSE HER FATHER COULDN'T PROTECT HER! YOU ARE EVERY BIT AS PATHETIC AND WORTHLESS AS YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE! YOU SHOULD JUST THROW YOURSELF IN FRONT OF A SPEEDING TRUCK! YOU RUN FROM ANYTHING REAL! YOU HIDE ALL YOUR EMOTIONS BEHIND THIS FALSE APATHY AND FAKE SMILES, THROWING YOURSELF AT DEATH, HOPING ONE DAY IT STICKS! YOU'RE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO YOUR MOTHER! MENTORED BY YOUR PSYCHOPATHIC COUSIN! DEATH FOLLOWS YOU EVERYWHERE FROM YOUR MOTHER TO THE PRISONS OF EUROPE! YOU SHOULD JUST KILL YOURSELF!"

Zoe showed no sign of this actaully getting to her, like she was watching someone had a tantrum they were much too old to be having. Like he was too immature for his words to actually affect her. She wasn't phased by having her traumatic past told to her, she lived with it everyday.

Finally he moved on, "I know who you are, I know how you think and I know what to do next! Do you?”  He didn’t hang up though. He wanted to know what Zoe's reply was.

“Mmm.” Zoe said, keeping a deadpan in her voice, “Thank you, you’ve already told me everything I need to know about you.” Then she hung up on him. Again. Everyone stared at her. She could feel sympathy and pity. “Well, someone’s hangry. Make sure to arrest him with a Snickers bar on hand.” Zoe quipped, getting up and walking off. She just vanished into the kitchen and then there was a thump and glass breaking. “Somebody broke your window.”

Alexander hurried out of the room after his daughter. "Angel!"

"What the hell was that?" Davenport asked, "Why did he say that he knows what to do next? Is he gonna hurt my daughter?"

"He was grandstanding." Gideon said.

Davenport moved forwards and Morgan put a hand against his chest to stop him, "You don't know that. You-you can't possibly know that."

"Mister Davenport, I have learned more in the last five minutes than in the last twenty-four hours." Gideon said.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't understand. Why is he focused on you right now?" Davenport asked.

"Because we are interfering in his relationship with the girls." Morgan said.

"He said he knows all about you.

Yes, apparently." Hotch said.

He profiled us, Mr. Davenport.

"Why would he do that?" Cheryl asked.

"To show us how smart he is." Elle explained.

"Often times the best profilers are the unsubs themselves." Spencer explained, "They're the ones able to walk into an arcade full of children and pinpoint the boy or girl that can be led out quietly."

"But he made a mistake, because he gave us something he didn't expect." Elle said.

"Which is?" Davenport asked.

"He told us how to find him." Gideon said.

"What do you mean?"

"Half of this team, didn't even know my last name was Noble-Valdez or that I had a sister who went missing or that Alexander Noble is my dad." Zoe was back, "You could only know that if you were in the FBI long enough or followed the life of my parents to the extent to know who I really was. He's known all this time, that's why he keeps accusing me of being a nepo-bitch."

"He said nepo-brat." Spencer said and everyone looked at him and he muttered, looking down, "It-it doesn't matter."

"And the information he had was only general knowledge."

"He said you were suicidal."

"I wouldn't say that exactly but I am very, very, very reckless and also he did say I had non-suicidal self-injury disorder."

"What is that?"

"Self-harm." She said, bluntly, "Without intent to kill oneself. I am extremely reckless and resourceful, I had injured myself to get the job done and when I was diagnosed with that I was still dealing with being kidnapped and tortured for eight months and Zarah... my sister not... I've learned to manage pain that is otherwise unbearable to others so it makes it seem like I do actively self-harm." Not that she didn't. Pain grounded her. "And because of that added with my behavior and backstory, it makes me seem more sucidal more than I am. His knowledge is based on general knowledge among the FBI and assumptions based off what character he's gotten from me. I willingly stood in his way as he tried to run me over but I have training in surviving that."

Spencer looked like he had a million questions and was shaking his head, trying to figure out which one to ask first.

"Your twin sister went missing?" Cheryl asked Zoe.

"Because of a man who claimed I told him with my eyes that I loved him as much as he loved me... if... if he were capable of love. Or I might be confusing him with the first one."

"Wait, two?" Spencer asked.

"It's two to three." Zoe shrugged. "Any attempt to talk to me about that will result in me walking out of the room."

"Zoe..." Spencer tried and she turned away and promptly walked out of the room.

———————————————————————————

Davenport was losing his mind. He was getting right in Gideon's face. "You said you knew how to find him, that you were gonna save my daughter. Why don't you get out there and do something? What are you-everybody's standing around here, looking around..."

"Mister Davenport--" Gideon tried.

"Don't-don't condescend to me. Don't patronize me."

"Evan, Evan. Evan." Shyster tried to calm him down.

"Mister Davenport, I understand..."

"How could you understand!?" He turned to who had spoken, which had been Alexander. Still he lashed out, “How are you going to find my daughter if you couldn’t even find yours!?”

“I did my damnedest to find my Zarah. That is not fair.” Alexander said.

Zoe walked up and everyone looked at her, they kept doing that.

“The only reason they couldn’t find my sister was because it went wrong. They tortured me like the serial killer wanted, but I didn’t break and somehow they started a cult around me. I was constantly being moved. This is one guy. We will find Cheryl. I still have hope after four years, eight months, and six days. Cheryl’s only been gone barely three days and you know she’s alive.”

"Everybody is doing the best that they can. Come on. Come on. Take a break, come on." Shyer pulled Davenport away to cool off.

"For the suspect to know that much about us he has to be one of us." Morgan said.

"He has to have been in the FBI for a while, he knew general details of my life. Rossi told me that it was famous among FBI for years afterwards, but it mostly sparked people's interests even outside of the bureau when it was actually happening. At the very least, he'd had to have heard about it while it was happening and he didn’t know my real only my chosen one." Zoe explained casually as if she didn't just say a cult was formed around her.

"Can we..." Spencer started.

"Spence, do not make me walk the fuck out of here again!" She told him sternly, holding up a finger. Spencer looked like someone had kicked his puppy into the sun.

"You know the David Rossi?" He asked, timidly.

"Yeah, Uncle David. He used to read case files to me and Zarah as bedtime stories because normal ones were too predictable. That and his fifteen failed marriages."

"I told him that would damage you." Gideon said.

"It was fine."

"You started asking him to bring you along to interview serial killers."  Gideon deadpanned.

Zoe just stared at him blankly like she didn't see how that proved otherwise.

“Wait, your real name?” Morgan asked.

“Zoe is a nickname.” Alexander said.

Zoe took out her credentials and handed them to Morgan.

“Your name is Xiomara?” Morgan asked.

Zoe, unamused, snatched them back from him.

"Point is, the unsub likely knows the family and maybe even this house." Zoe said.

"I'm gonna have Garcia do a search of the New Haven FBI field office."

"There's seven hundred agents in New Haven and another seventy in satellite offices." Spencer informed them, "Davenport knows quite a few of them"

"While we're narrowing the list, Cheryl can't stay here. If he's one of us, he has access, weapons and you bet he's got a strategy." Elle said.

"So who can we trust?" Morgan asked.

"No one. We need to get Cheryl to a safe house." Hotch said.

"And limit the amount of agents she comes in contact with." Morgan said.

———————————————————————————

Cheryl had wanted Zoe to come with her, most likely now that she knew how much Zoe could relate to her situation, so Zoe, Shyer, Morgan, and Elle went to the safe house. Cheryl was dressed in FBI garb, a hat, a jacket, etcetera.

Later Davenport had calmed down when Alexander brought him a tea

"I'm, uh, sorry about before." Davenport apologized.

It's your daughters. You-You don't have to apologize for anything. I understand, I'd do anything for my daughters." Alexander said. "When my girls went missing, I screamed at everyone until I literally had a heart attack at thirty-six."

"So, this, uh... This safe house, you sure it's okay?

"Of course. We have agents inside, out. We have Zoe there. Trust me, as long as she has breath in her lungs, she'll protect Cheryl. I think she wants to make up for feeling like she failed her sister." Alexander said.

So now we just...wait.

"What was your other daughter's name?"

"Zarah. My... Zelena, her sister was killed in a home invasion during the early months of the pregnancy when they were watching their niece. They tried to protect the unborn twins and the little girl. So we named Zarah after her. She and Zoe were always so different. Zarah thrived socially while Zoe rebelled, but they always got along." Spencer was listening but felt guilty for doing so. "You can't imagine the... relief I got when I got the call that Zoe had turned up at a station, but my heart breaks each day I don't know where my oldest is. But Zarah is a fighter too, not as evident as Zoe but she'd learn how to survive."

———————————————————————————

"Zarah is three days older than me. The stress of the kidnapping prolonged my mom's labor."

Zoe showed Cheryl a picture of both Zoe and Zarah, she had dark brown eyes as opposed to Zoe's amber-brown eyes, she had straight hair with no dye, she was a bit tanner than Zoe.

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, kids at school always called her the pretty twin, even though we have the same face." Zoe said, her smile faded.

Her phone rang, "Oh, it's Spencer. Let me take this. Just stay." Zoe said and left the room to take the call in private.

———————————————————————————

"They did a bug sweep, right when we arrived." Zoe told Spencer

"Yeah, I remember." Spencer said.

"And yet the unsub seems to know all about us." Zoe said. "Hey, Reid, do you know what non-local interaction is?"

"What are you getting at?" Spencer asked.

"When Elle told Cheryl to empathize with him, he kept using that specific wording. It's like he knew exactly what we were talking about, so how could he do that and keep Trish captive?" Zoe asked.

"I know what you're saying. It seems like he knows what's going on here the moment that it happens."

"There's gotta be a listening device." Zoe said, "that's the only explanation. Not even a mole would explain it because it's instantaneous."

"They swept the room when we got here."  Spencer said.

"Yeah. And then they brought in their own equipment." Zoe said.

———————————————————————————

Zoe walked in on Shyer, approaching Cheryl with a knife.

"I've known you both for so long, loved you for so long."

"Please don't do this." Cheryl pleaded.

"But this is how it should have been all along, the three of us together."

"Put the knife down."

You don't understand. You don't understand my relationship with these girls."

"I understand plenty. Put the knife down."

"You don't understand--"

"Did I stutter? I said put it down!" Zoe shouted.

He swung at Zoe who ducked and stood back up and punched him square in the nose, before grabbing him and forcing him against the wall in a slumped sitting position, she had taken his knife and stabbed it in the floor between his legs, under his crotch.

"Where the hell is Patricia?" She demanded. She had ice cold fury in her eyes, she had danger in her eyes. No remorse. Like she could take another stab a little higher and not feel remorse. "I was tortured for eight months by ruthless serial killers and rapists and professional torturers, I survived all that and I was fifteen, do you think I'd be crippled by the guilt of what I could do to you?"

———————————————————————————

Zoe joined the medics in bringing the gurney, carrying the drugged but alive Trish out of the storage.

"It's okay." Cheryl reassured her twin.

"Hey." Trish whispered back.

"Don't worry, I'm going to make sure she's going to be okay." Zoe told the Davenports.

"Thank you." Davenport told Zoe as she moved about the ambulance. Davenport looked back at Gideon, Alexander, and then to Spencer. "Thank you."

"Hey, how did Zoe get Shyer to give us Trish's location?" Spencer asked Gideon

"Uh, knowing my daughter, I imagine she found some creative way to persuade him." Alexander said.

"What do you think--"

"You know, you just don't need to ask so many questions. Let's... just enjoy the moment." Gideon said.

"Then why didn't anyone tell us that Zoe was your daughter, Alexander?"

"She didn't want you to think that because I'm her dad, she got the job." Alexander said.

Spencer looked back at Zoe with the family, he could see how she feared that would the assumption but knew she was more than qualified.

———————————————————————————

Euripides said "when love is in excess, it brings a man no honor nor worthiness."

Zoe sat in a seat in the jet, reading Vilette by Charlotte Brontë as Spencer finally worked up the courage to walk over to her.

"You know, Charlotte Brontë wrote that book in the wake of the death of sisters'. It was loosely based off her and her sister..."

"Emily. Yeah, I know. It's in my mom's notes."

"That would be Zelena Valdez, right?"

"Yes, she is my mother, never got to meet her though."

“Zelena. Of Spanish and Italian origin. Meaning ‘Powerful warrior’ or ‘Universal battle’. Appropriate.” He said and then cringed  at his awkwardness, “I’m sorry. I read how she died. That… must be horrible.”

“What, how she died or she only died because she chose not to put me at risk?” Zoe asked.

“Both."

"I was going to tell you, to tell all of you. I just didn't want you all to think I got this job because of my dad. I mean, I got the interveiw but it's really a connection and my mentor was my own cousin and she's fucking crazy.

"I’m sorry about Zarah."

"You know, it’s funny. She’s older than me but I’ve always been protective of her.”

“Makes sense, you feel responsible for your mother’s death so you try hard to protect what family you have left.” Spencer said.

“Thanks, Doctor Phil.” She said, sarcastically, he could see her attempting to put up her walls so he offered some vulnerability to her.

“You-you know, my dad left when I was ten. Haven’t seen him since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re more than qualified. You proved that your very first case and you continue to prove it every day I get to spend with you.” He said.

She met his eyes and gave him a warm smile.

"Do, uh, do you watch Doctor Who?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, best television show ever." She said.

"Oh, good. Me too. Uh, do you, maybe want to come over when the next Doctor Who episode comes out. We can watch it together, granted we’re not on a case."

"Yeah, you know, I live closer and I’m not totally sure you have a television.” Zoe said and Spencer chuckled.

"Maybe you could tell me about your sister or about your mom's books or just about Doctor Who?" Spencer said.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

———————————————————————————

The next day, both Garcia and JJ knew, Garcia had flung herself around Zoe who looked like she was going to murder her until Morgan pulled her away before Zoe got the chance. But JJ really felt for Zoe, she could relate to Zoe's plight.

None of the team, not even Hotch knew how JJ’s sister died, she never talked about her family. She never told them how when she was eleven she walked into the bathroom in her childhood house in Pennsylvania to find her seventeen-year-old sister dead with her wrists slit with her dad’s razors. She never told anyone about how she had stood there for at least ten minutes, unable or unwilling to process what she was seeing yet unable to deny it at the same time.

Zoe seemed even more closed off than usual so JJ walked up to her and put her sister's necklace box on Zoe's desk, pulling up a seat.

"This was my sister's." She said, opening the box and pulling out the golden heart necklace. "She... she gave it to me when I was eleven. She told me it would protect me from all the monsters of the world. Three weeks later... I found her in the bathtub... she stole one of my dad's razors... her name was Roslyn and I never realized how much I loved her until she was gone."

"Zarah's not dead, she's just missing." Zoe said.

"I know. And I can't imagine what it's been like for you but we're here for you."

"I don't need people to be here for me. I need my sister to be safe and know she's alive from more than a feeling."

"Well, she's your sister. From what I heard, if she's even half as much of a fighter as you are, then she'll do whatever it takes to get back to you."

Zoe put her hand to the silver moon necklace, "We were born three days apart. So every birthday since we were five, we gave each other jewelry. In Mexican culture, the moon represents mystery, calmness, instinct, and coolness and the sun represents life-giving energy, and good luck. So every twenty-eighth of October, I'd give her like a sun necklace and she'd give me a moon necklace on every thirty-first."

Note: Any suggestions of songs about twins or the loss of a twin?

[maybege]

What Happens in Kansas ... - FBI Part 1

Summary: You are pretty sure your boss hates you until you get a new case. (Part 1 of the FBI Series)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k | Rating: M

Warnings: mentions of sexual violence, canonical violence, Reader is attacked, also unrequited feelings (but are they?), a little bit of fluff, soft!Hotch maybe?

This is my first Hotch piece and I am so nervous posting this. I have read quite a bit of fanfic but only watched the first 8 episodes so far, so I hope I got his voice right. This is also my contribution to @aerynwrites​ Follower Celebration! I chose the trope 26 “Wearing each other’s clothes” and it kind of got away from me. 😂 I do have an idea of maybe expanding this into a series, so please let me know what you think!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“Front sight, trigger press, follow through.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you whined, despair laced through your voice, “And it doesn’t help when you repeat it again and again either.”

The lanky man next to you let his shoulders fall, “It was easier when Hotch taught me how to do it.”

Immediate remorse filled you. You knew Reid only wanted to help you when he had suddenly appeared at your desk, repeating the six words as if they were somehow a secret code for all your problems.

Well, not all your problems.

Just the most pressing one.

With a groan, you let your forehead rest on the desk, unable to hide your frustration any longer. “Everyone is going to laugh at me when I fail,” you mumbled, already feeling your ears heat up in embarrassment.

“If you fail.”

You turned your head to the side, glancing up at your colleague, “What?”

“You said when I fail, however, statistically, there is still a chance that –“

He saw your raised eyebrows and stopped talking, “Never mind.”

“Where did you have that phrase from anyway?” you asked him, noticing too late that it would bring the topic back to –

“Hotch taught me,” he explained cheerfully, “Granted, it took a bit of time and a serial killer but I did end up getting my qualification.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing a hundred miles a minute. You did not want to think about Hotch’s disappointed and exasperated face when he would confront you about your failed qualification. Again.

God knew how you had gotten into the BAU in the first place. Aaron Hotchner certainly did not and he let you know that every chance he got.

Ever since you had gotten here, you had failed. Again and again and again. It was a miracle they let you keep working in the BAU or that you had not been called into Strauss’ office. The last shred of dignity you had was used to keep the tears at bay whenever your dark-haired supervisor would snap at you for one thing or another.

You hadn’t been in the field for weeks now, ever since Hotchner had found out you had no qualifications to carry a weapon and although Rossi had mentioned how a profiler did not necessarily need a weapon, you also knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner did not see you as one.

And if you were neither a profiler nor could hold a gun properly, what were you doing on this team?

And so, you had spent the last few weeks in Penelope Garcia’s office, trying to help the team from across a screen. Even if it meant having to hear his voice almost constantly and having your heart clench so tightly in your chest when any of them were in danger.

As if the devil had conjured him up himself, your boss entered the room, bypassing the bullpen and you felt your heart skip a beat. Like always he was wearing one of his black suits that just fit so damn well and you wondered if he was even capable of wearing something so informal as a t-shirt.

Then again, who knew if you would survive the sight of Aaron Hotchner in just sweatpants and a shirt? No matter how much you dreamt of seeing him like that.

In an attempt to keep down any unprofessional feelings at a professional place, you straightened up in your seat, trying to pull the wrap dress you were wearing into a more or less better position so that the wrinkles could not be seen so easily. This was probably the last thing that somehow kept up the pretence that you knew what you were doing – you were properly dressed.

But of course, Hotch did not spare you even a glance, he never did, as he strutted through the office, looking way better than should be allowed.

“Everybody in the conference room, now,” he announced loudly, Rossi and Morgan already following him because everybody knew what that meant.

A new case.

You stood up, grabbing a notepad and pen and following Reid up the steps. Everybody was already there and the last remaining place was at the very end of the table next to Rossi. Quietly you shuffled into the empty seat and smiled at the older man who reciprocated it.

You had never gotten a chance to really talk with him but you knew he was basically a walking legend at this point. On more than one occasion had Spencer filled you in on the legendary cases that Rossi and Gideon had solved manifesting the BAU as the essential unit of the FBI. But most importantly he was nice. And with how Hotch was glaring at you from the end of the room, kindness was worth everything at the moment.

Pictures of various body parts were already thrown on the wall and you swallowed harshly as you saw the victim’s faces. You still struggled sometimes, reocgnizing them as uman beings with their own individual lives and stories and reconciling that with the horrible ways the had to die.

“The police department has requested our help,” Hotchner started, “Three weeks, four victims.”

“He seems to get quicker,” Reid noted, “He escalated from one victim a week to already having two this week and it is only Thursday. We could have another body by Saturday.”

“Most likely,” Hotch confirmed, “The crimes are sexually motivated. The unsub seems to keep them alive for a few hours before he kills them.”

“So, it is about control,” Morgan piped up, “He wants to control when and how they die.”

“And what happens to them before,” you added quietly, jotting it down quickly. When you looked up again, you only found Hotch staring at you, lips in a tight line and you sank back in your chair. His dark eyes were fixed on yours and you knew that the others were looking at you as well but for the life of you, you could not look away from him.

You did not know whether you wanted him to keep looking at you or not.

When he turned back to the presentation, you could breathe a little easier.

“When do they expect a profile?” Rossi asked.

“We have 12 hours,” Hotch revealed to the collective groan of the team, “Wheels up in 20. I want all of you on the jet.”

The pointed look he sent you, made your chest feel hot and cold at the same time. What did he mean – “all of you”?

Was this right? Had your ears betrayed you? Were you so desperate now that you imagined hearing things that would fit into your dream world?

The others filed out, probably on the way to get their go bags and you flinched when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Derek smiling encouragingly at you.

“That was a good addition, kid,” he nodded, “It is nice to have you contributing as well, you know? We can all learn from each other. Keep talking.”

You were not so sure about that but you were also too excited to really answer him.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I,” you nodded, standing up and pressing your notepad closer to your chest just so he could not spot the trembling of your hands, “Just one second.”

Walking to the office felt like a dream and you tried to focus on the way the hem of your dress fell against your calves. Something to ground yourself in.

You knocked on his door three times and following his muffled Come In opened it.

“Sir, I, uh – “

He did not look up from the file in front of him, “Hotch.”

“Yes, Si- Hotch, I mean. I just wanted to check if I understood you correctly?”

That made him look up and your heart skipped a beat as his cool gaze met yours. Shit, shit, shit, keep it together, your brain screamed at you and you shifted on your feet.

“That what was correct?”

“That I would come with you too – to Kansas City,” you hated how meek your voice sounded but when faced with the stoic gaze of Aaron Hotchner a man that your blood both freeze and boil at the same time, it was an accomplishment to get any words out at all.

“I do not make mistakes, Agent,” he snapped and there was something unreadable in his eyes, “Wheels up in 15, I suggest you hurry.”

Your heart fluttered with excitement. This was your chance! Your chance to prove yourself!

“Yes, Sir,” you nodded, still a little struck, “Of course, Sir.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you and hurried to Garcia’s office.

You hated yourself, truly, for feeling so soft towards a man who was so harsh. At least to you. You knew he could act differently, had seen him act differently with others. Sometimes Morgan would make a joke that would make him smile and it felt like it would light up the whole room. Once his eyes had met yours during one of his rare laughs and instead of closing up like he seemed to do around you, his eyes had remained soft and his laugh had turned into a small smile.

You had dreamt about it that night.

*

“So?” the woman in front of the screens swivelled in her chair, “Excited to be allowed on the field again?”

“I am not sure if I would call it excitement,” you muttered, “More like dread now that I think about it. What if he only did it to have me make mistakes again? To get a final reason to have me fired?”

“I still think you are misreading it all,” the quirky woman shrugged, putting her headset in front of her on the desk before throwing you a mischievous smile, “You’re the only one he lets him call Sir, after all.”

“That’s not exactly a testament to how much he cares for me, Penelope.” Rather the opposite.

“It is when you see the way he looks at you,” she replied, “Your bag is over there by the way.”

You followed her gesture to the dark corner in the room and picked up your black bag. It had been so long since you had packed it, you hoped it would be complete. There was no going back now.

“Wish me luck, Penelope,” you murmured, smiling slightly at her.

“You don’t need luck, honey,” she replied easily, “You only need to be more confident, hm?”

*

Penelope had been right.

But also, very very wrong.

Because as much as it had helped to be more confident, it also brought you right where you were. Underneath a screaming Unsub (Walter Jacobson, 27, serial rapist and murder) with no discernible weapon.

It had all started when you had overheard Reid talking to Hotch in the coffee kitchen back at the PD.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” you had heard the older man say, just as you were about to join them for a cup of tea. Captain Coulson had suggested that you be the bait for the unsub as you had fit the victim pool close enough to rouse his attention.

“What kind of assessment are you supposed to hold over her? Is she about to be transferred?”

That had made you freeze in your movements, remaining standing just short in front of the open door. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your metaphorical pants.

“She is not about to be transferred,” Hotch had replied calmly but you had heard him talk enough to know something was off about his voice. He had said your name then, your full name, and it had made you lick your lips with how unusually soft he had said it. “She is one of my agents and she will stay with the BAU. I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“I just –“

“That’s enough, Reid,” Hotch had cut him off and moments later Reid was stepping out of the kitchen, his eyes falling on you.

That was when you had turned on your heel, marched back to Captain Coulson and agreed to be the bait.

*

“Get off me!” you screamed, kicking and screaming as the man dragged you across the ground of the abandoned parking lot.

“That’s what they said,” the young man seethed and you heard somewhere the chirping of a car opening. Your eyes fell to a car. Dark Sedan just as the team had deduced.

You yanked yourself free, feeling the strap of your dress and rip and you flew backwards, your palms scraping over the asphalt as you tried to cushion your fall.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he hissed, raising his fist.

You swung your hand up, grunting when your hand made impact with his cheek. Where were they? You knew they must be here any second to arrest him. Was this not enough evidence already?

The blood that dripped down your eyebrow agreed with you.

Remembering one of your lessons, you raised your legs, knowing your legs had more strength in them than your arms, and kicked him in the groin. Something cluttered to the floor and you turned your head to see a gun. His gun.

For a moment you both seemed to freeze, Walter looking at you as you both realized what happened.

At the same time, you both lunged for the weapon. He was quite a bit taller than you and you screamed as his elbow rammed into your back, reminding you how your dress was almost falling off you. But by some sort of divine intervention, it was your hand that reached the gun first, your fingers that wrapped around the cool material.

Your temple made harsh contact with the street as the unsub tried to pry the gun from you but you resisted, gritting your teeth against the pain and instead of closing your eyes as he turned you on your back, you had them wide open.

A hand closed around your throat and you whimpered, fingers finding the trigger and you pulled it.

The shot was louder than anything you ever heard and you felt the fight leave the man on top of you. There were shouts from somewhere, you distantly heard Hotch call something. You knew it could not have been longer than a few moments but it felt like an eternity until the man was lifted off you.

There was something warm and wet on your middle and your stomach turned at the idea of the man’s blood on you.

Another hand was on you. No, two hands. Warm and soft as they framed your face.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, almost shouting at you, “Look at me, are you okay?”

You tried to nod but the movement was accompanied by a wince. “Did we get him?” you asked, frowning as you saw the furrow between his brows. He looked incredibly displeased and your stomach dropped at the thought of having done something wrong. Had you let him escape? Had you fucked up?

You tried to turn your head to a commotion next to you but Hotch’s finger kept you looking straight at him. His lips tugged up and – was that a smile?

“We got him,” he confirmed softly, “You did a good job. Are you okay?”

He had already asked you that.

“I – I think,” you answered, slowly sitting up with his help.

“The shock,” he stated, calm and collected as ever, and you shivered, nodding along to his words.

You looked down, bile rising in your throat as you saw the dark patch on the middle of your dress. Your dress was tattered and ripped to pieces almost. Heat rose to your cheeks as you saw how the Unsub had ripped it in the middle and you tried your best to cover yourself.

“Here,” warm fabric glided over your shoulders and you shivered, instinctively pulling the jacket over your shoulders. You looked up, finding none other than Hotch – Aaron – next to you. Of course. He had been here before. But the soft look in his eyes made you feel all kind of things as the adrenaline washed away from you.

Your bottom lip quivered. You couldn’t break down now, you couldn’t break down in front of him.

“The paramedics will take a look at you,” he said under his breath and his hands were warm on your shoulders. You wished he would never stop touching you. It felt like the only thing that was keeping you together at this moment were his hands and the way he was looking at you.

He was not mad at you.

For once, he was not mad at you.

“Hotch?” Derek’s voice piped up from somewhere and you both looked up at him, “They need you over there.”

Hotch did not move. If anything, his fingers twitched on your shoulders and you tilted your head. Even in your muddled state, you knew this was not typical of him.

Derek seemed to notice it too and repeated the sentence before adding, “I will keep an eye on her.”

“She will need to see the paramedics.”

“I will make sure she will be seen to, boss.”

Only then did Hotch stand up and you followed him with your eyes until it hurt to crane your neck that far. Derek crouched down in front of you, worry in his eyes, “You think you can stand or should we get the paramedics to you?”

“If you will help me, I think I can walk over,” you smiled and with one hand on Derek’s arm and the other keeping Hotch’s jacket around your shoulders, you wobbled over to the blinking ambulance.

*

It was decided you would fly back that very same night.

JJ had organized a change of clothes for you and now you were dressed in one of your favourite wrap dresses that you had forgotten was in the go bag. After the paramedics had given a more than doubtful diagnosis, Derek had taken you to the ER to be checked over again and with a few band-aids and bandages, you were released to fly back to Quantico together with your team.

The car ride was quiet as you tried to work through what had happened.

Hotch’s jacket was still around your shoulders. At this point, it was not only something that kept you warm but it helped you to somehow feel less helpless, less crazy.

This was the first action you had seen in the field and it had been more scarring than anything you had experienced ever before. You focused on some of the breathing exercises you had read about online, trying to keep yourself calm and rational.

This was your job and it had worked. You had used the tools at your disposal to defend yourself and arrest an unsub.

You had shot a man.

He had tried to kill you.

Your head was pounding and so was your heart in your chest.

The clock on the dashboard showed 3:43 am when you arrived at the airport.

“I’ll give you a minute, okay?” Morgan said next to you and you nodded, pressing your palm in front of your mouth to keep the sobs at bay, “We are all here for you if you want to talk about it.”

He kept looking at you for a moment longer but you stoically looked at the compartment in front of you.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

The car shut behind Derek, leaving you completely alone in the car.

Something akin to a wail left you, there was no other way to describe it. All air had left your lungs and you buried your face in your hands, allowing you a few minutes of unrestrained crying as your body relived the panic and the fear all over again.

The car opened again, momentarily bringing in cool air and the thundering sound of the storm before it closed again.

You did not need to look up to know it was Hotch, the smell of his cologne had already betrayed him. But what was worse was that no matter how hard you tried, you could not stop your crying. You simply could not.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccupped, straightening your posture and wiping at your cheeks, “I will try to keep it together on the flight.”

The rain hammered against the windshield and you saw nothing but the blurred light from the jet. The overhead light turned off at the lack of movement and you were glad for the darkness, hoping it shielded you a little more from him.

“The first time I shot someone, I threw up right after.”

You looked at the man next to you. The lights from outside made him glow, the patterns of the rain throwing curious shadows over his face. He was not looking at you either, seemingly lost in a memory.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

He chuckled, a dimple appearing in his cheek and at this point, you were sure it was just the shock preventing you from crying.

“What I am trying to say is,” he gestured to the window, “Everybody on that plane knows what you are going through right now, more or less. And we are here for you.”

Are you here for me too?

“I know you heard the conversation between me and Reid,” he continued and you felt your bottom lip tremble again, “And I need you to know that if I ever made you feel like you needed to prove yourself, not to this team but to me specifically, I am sorry,” he looked at you, “It is my duty to keep this team safe and whether you have realized it yet or not, you are part of it as well.”

His words hung between you and you swallowed thickly.

Hotch was still looking at you, soft and honest and open, and your hands twitched on your thigh. His eyes fell to your lap and you saw him reach out before he stopped himself, his fingers instead drifting to the fabric draped over your shoulders.

“Uh,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed and warm, “Thank you. For the jacket, too, I mean but also for – for this.”

“You can keep it,” he replied, still this half-smile on his lips that made your cheeks heat up, “Suits you better anyway.”

His hand was still on your shoulder, heavy and warm and that was he was at that moment. Warm.

“Do you think you are ready to face the circus?” he asked and you smiled at the actual joke that he had just made.

You nodded, watching as he rushed out of the car, jogging around to your side and before you could look twice he had opened the door for you.

Maybe you had a concussion after all.

“Hotch,” you asked, courage and hope and maybe a little bit of recklessness flaring up in your chest, “Did you mean what you said to Reid? That I will stay with the BAU?”

It rained stronger now and you watched as it strands of dark hair against his forehead. His big hands moved into the pockets of his slacks as he looked at you. And there, standing in front of you with the jet behind him, he looked every bit the BAU chief that he acted.

“I don’t make mistakes,” he murmured softly, his lips quirking up, as he held out his hand for you to take, “Agent.”

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

[meganwritesfanfics]

Unspoken Engagement Part 1 (Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader)

This story take place during season 1 of Criminal Minds. BABY REID!!!!  

Word count: 1224

Part 1 of 12

Part 2

Robert Fulghum said “  We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love

He held her face in his hands as he kissed her gently. Her hands were locked around his wrists, her thumbs rubbing patterns on the back of his hands. If someone had told him a year ago, that he could ever feel this happy, the young profiler wouldn’t have believed them. But here he was kissing the woman he loved in the elevator at work, on the way to tell his coworkers, whom he considered to be his family the good news. 

“I love you,” Dr Spencer Reid breathed, kissing Y/N again. 

“Spenc, if you keep this up I will have no choice but to stop this elevator and take you right here.” She growled seductively as she kissed his jawline. 

“Don’t temp me Ms Y/L/N.” 

“The soon to be Mrs. Spencer Reid if you don’t mind.” She said beaming as she laid her hand on his cheek and he could feel the cold metal band around her finger. 

“I love the sound of that.” He smiled more than he ever thought possible. 

“What do you think they are going to say?” 

“Gideon and Hotch probably won’t say anything. Elle and Morgan will probably tease me and JJ will congratulate us and Garcia…” He started. 

“Oh about that…” Y/N said smiling nervously. 

“You told her didn’t you.” Reid laughed. 

“She’s my best friend Spenc I couldn’t keep her in the dark. But I made her swear not to tell anyone.” 

This caused Reid to laugh even harder. “Have you met her Y/N, she is terrible at keeping secrets, she has no poker face.” 

“You are one to talk, doctor, let’s not forget that I knew that you had feelings for me the minute we met.”

“Darling, I knew I wanted to marry you the minute I laid eyes on you.” Reid said pulling her in for another long kiss as the elevator doors opened. His hand worked his way into hers interlocking their fingers as they walked into the office. 

That moment of pure uninterrupted happiness halted the minute he saw that none of his team were at their desks, and that could only mean one thing. 

“Reid, get a move on, Hotch has a case.” Morgan said as he leaned out of the door to the meeting room. “Hi Y/N.” He smiled before disappearing back into the room. 

Reid sighed before turning back to Y/N. “Don’t worry about it,” She smiled squeezing his hand slightly. “We can tell them later, go catch some monsters.” She leaned in again giving him a kiss before heading back towards the elevator. 

He watched as the doors closed, Y/N waving as they did, before he headed towards the room where he found the rest of the team waiting. 

It was a suspected serial killer case in Washington state, he was killing teenager girls and they had 3 more girls who were reported missing. It was a beat the clock kind of case. Reid knew that telling the group now about the engagement, would be inappropriate, it would just have to wait until after it was solved. Reid didn’t entirely mind, however, he enjoyed having this secret, something that was just his, apart from Garcia of course. 

“We have to go to Washington love.” He said having taken out his cell phone and called Y/N as soon as the meeting was over. 

“How bad?” She asked and Reid could hear the sound of traffic. 

“Murdered teenage girls and 3 girls are currently missing, so the pressure is on. Where are you? I thought you had work?” 

“Oh I… I do.” She said flustered. “I just went to grab some coffee first.” She said knowing that was only half true, and hoping that her profiler fiance could not decipher the lie. 

Y/N worked in the organized crime division of the FBI, a job she was incredibly proud of. However it wasn’t all that she had hoped for. It was a giant boys club, so being one of the only women was a challenge, and her boss didn’t exactly make it easy. Every morning he expected her to bring coffee for the entire team, and if she forgot, he would send her out to get some. And that morning she had been a bit preoccupied, so she was sent out on the coffee run. 

“I will try to stay in contact with you but you know how…” Reid started and she smiled slightly, she knew that his brain was processing so much information, it wasn’t uncommon for him to miss the little things. 

“Don’t worry about it love, I will see you when you get back. Stay safe. I love you.” 

Suddenly Reid felt arms wrap around him causing him to jump. Looking down he found Garcia hugging him tightly a giant smile on her face. “I love you too, I have to go though Garcia about tackled me to the floor.” He laughed. 

“Tell her that if she tells anyone before we have a chance that I will kill her.” Y/N said as Reid hung up the phone. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Garcia laughed as she about picked Reid up off the floor. 

“Garcia shhh.” Reid said as he tried to work his way out of her grasp looking around to see if anyone was looking. 

“What? Why are we sushing. Have you not told anyone!” She said too loudly. 

“Shhhh,” Reid tried again. “No I haven’t, we have a new case, I figured it would be inappropriate to bring it up. Plus I would like to have Y/N by my side when we do tell everyone.” 

“You can be such a romantic sometimes you know that.” Garcia smiled. 

“Penelope, that means you can’t tell anyone about it.” Reid insisted. 

“Babycakes, I can keep a secret don’t you worry.” She said as she turned and almost skipped her way back to her office. 

“What was that all about?” Reid heard from behind him and he turned to find Morgan arms crossed. 

“I..uh...well…” Reid started but he was quickly interrupted by Gideon lightly hitting him on the back as he passed. 

“Wheels up, let’s go.” He said 

Meanwhile Y/N was attempting to carry two full trays of coffee the two blocks back to the building. Heaven forbid any of the guys use the coffee machine in the office, no they wanted special coffee. Her full attention was on the coffee so she didn’t see the person coming at her, but she sure as hell felt the burning liquid as the person bumped into her sending both trays to spill onto her. Y/N opened her mouth to scream when suddenly she felt something sharp in her neck. It felt as thought she had only closed her eyes for a moment but when she opened them the world was spinning. She reached for her gun, only then realizing she had left that and her badge on her desk. That’s when she felt the hands wrap around her and begin to pull her. Y/N tried to fight, she tried to scream but her entire body felt like it was in slow motion, and her limbs felt heavy. The last thing she did before everything went dark was mouth the word Spencer.

[toriwakes]

Pretty Boy 187 [s.r x reader]

summary: reader finds out that her new found tumblr crush is none other than her coworker.

content warnings: she/her!reader, mentions of alcohol

a/n: hi!! i’m so happy to be posting again. i’m really proud of this, so i hope you all like it! as always, let me know if you have any requests!

convincing spencer to get tumblr was tough. not only did he hate technology, he didn’t like social media either.

“it’s gonna be fun! c’mon, please?” you’ve been bugging him about it for about a week. “spencer, please just download it. if i have to hear (y/n) whine again i’m gonna loose it.” said derek, plopping is papers on his desk. “you like it when i whine.” you teased, causing derek to flash you a toothy grin. “alright! jeez.” you clapped of joy and jumped to help spencer, but he stopped you. “no way, i’m not letting you follow me.” he kept his phone facing away from you, your arms dropping to your sides in defeat. “fine. i’ll find your account somehow.” “we’ll see about that.”

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

over the next few weeks you acquired a few new followers, only one catching your eye. ‘prettyboy187’ followed you on a quiet friday afternoon. the username caught your attention at first, but when you checked is profile? that’s when you were hooked. half of his pictures were just aesthetically pleasing: outside of his window, his extreme sugary coffee, some books. but others...

it was an excerpt of a poem and his hand was holding back the pages. you doubt he meant to capture it so beautifully. just his hand was godly. you wasted no time dming him.

hey :)

how desperate did you look right now? he followed you barley an hour ago. you cant stop staring at that picture.

hello

he didn’t sound happy. well, he didn’t “sound” anything, you guys were texting. but you could feel his tone through the screen. where you overthinking this too much? you shuffled into your bed, wrapping yourself in the covers as you pondered what to say next.

i just wanted to tell you i really like your account. are you a photographer or something?

no, i’m not. my friend convinced me to get this app and i noticed people post aesthetically pleasing photos on here, so i’m just doing the same haha.

ok, well you don’t post nice pictures. at least, not that type. maybe you’d post a picture of the snow or your bed, but every now and then you’d bless the feed with a picture of you in a swimsuit. it was more for opinions on the suit than anything else.

ohh. maybe i should start doing that.

how do you mean?

oh.

that sounded like a very judge-y ‘oh’. your eyes scanned your own profile to see what he could’ve hated. there was you in your favorite red swimsuit, a picture of your computer with netflix on the screen. the rest of the posts were of the same type, so you couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was.

what is it?

no, nothing. your recent picture. that’s a nice swim suit.

oh. that’s what he meant. you practically threw your phone across the room and squealed. thank the universe that he didn’t dislike you already. you shot him another text. just like that, you had your first ever tumblr crush.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“what’s up with you pretty girl?” derek asked when you walked into work. you supposed you still had the blush on your face when pretty boy wished you a good morning and day at work. “nothing!” you said, obviously it being something. as if on cue, spencer walked in behind you also giddy. “what, you’re both sweet on someone now?” when neither of you responded, derek laughed. “what?” emily inquired, taking her seat. “spencer and (y/n) both have a crush.” emily’s jaw dropped. “spencer has a crush?” everyone broke into laughter, jj overhearing and almost dropping her files. “why is that so surprising?” spencer defended himself, derek giving him a ‘you know the answer to that’ look. “well?what’re their names?” he pushed. you bit your tongue. you didn’t even know his name. yikes. “let’s start.” aaron called. saved by hotch. thank goodness. “this ain’t over.” derek warned the two of you. yes it was. by the end of the day morgan would’ve forgotten all about this.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you were right like always. morgan didn’t ask anymore about it, instead offering to get drinks. you turned it down, desperate to get home and text your boy. and you did, only at 11pm.

hey, sorry it’s so late. had a long day at work.

no worries, so did i. listen, i have a question.

this boy only sent messages that would make your heart drop. with a pacing heart, you texted back.

yes?

his ‘online’ button flashes on. then he was typing. then he was deleting. it seemed like hours before he responded.

what’s your name?

godamnit. you didnt have a display name because you didn’t want anyone you knew finding your account. what’s a fake name you can use? maybe...

lila.

why did you pick spencer’s ex’s name? you don’t know. you remember being insanely jealous of her because she got to kiss spencer in the pool while you were posted outside. your crush on spencer was still very much alive, but not as much as it was with pretty boy.

that’s a pretty name.

thanks. now you have to tell me yours ;)

you’ve never been so nervous for a text conversation in your life. for some reason, the back of your head wondered what it would be like if you were texting spencer. it was just a thought, though. spencer would never say half of this stuff.

call me morgan.

oh NO. please no... you stalked his profile again, terrified that you’ve been flirting with your coworker this past month. alas, your eye caught another body picture- this time of his arm. no tattoos like derek. not to mention he was much smaller. not that that’s a bad thing. you don’t think you’d ever be able to handle derek...

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you arrived at work yet again with a blushing face. “come on, you can’t keep hiding this from me! tell me something at least!” derek whined. “okay! his name is morgan. and i know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not you, my boy is much more attractive.” derek’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape in fake offense. “that’s damn near impossible. ain’t nobody prettier than derek morgan.” spencer walked in now, again with a dorky smile on his face. “spencer. (y/n)’s got a crush on-“ you jumped to cover his mouth, the sound of your crush’s name muffled. “what- hey! no fair! derek gets to know but i cant?” spencer whined. derek held his hands up and sat back down, not wanting to get you mad. smart. “three can’t keep a secret.” was all you said before sitting down to clean your workspace.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the new highlight of your day was texting morgan. you learned several things about him; he has a job he can’t specify for personal reasons, he really wants a dog but he feels like animals hate him. you told him about your cat joel, and how they could absolutely love him. he appreciated that.

if i tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?

depends. are you about to tell me you’re a serial killer?

no!

you giggled to yourself at your humor.

i wanna meet you.

you promised not to freak out, but you were freaking out. it was just now setting in that you didn’t know this man at all. where he lived, how old he was, even what he looked like. you took a few deep breaths and asked a question.

where do you live?

quantico virginia.

no hesitation on that one. he lived in the same town as you? you didn’t know how you’d be able to turn this down...

shit, me too. let’s meet up then.

i’ll send you a good place to get drinks.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“every time you walk in here, you’re blushing. now so are your ears.” you beamed at derek, sitting at your desk before spilling. “i’m gonna meet him.” “wait what? are you sure that’s safe?” you rolled your eyes. “i’m an fbi agent. i’m not scared of a little danger.” you playfully winked and derek blew out a huff of air. “if anything happens, you know you can call me.” you pouted at your friend and nodded, appreciating his concern. spencer was spinning in his seat. “you happy too?” you asked. he only nodded and didn’t elaborate. you we’re going to press on, but hotch called you all in and you lost your chance.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

on rare occasions, the bau got tough cases with very happy endings. this was one of those cases. the plane ride home was extremely joyous and derek offered to get drinks again. this time, everyone accepted (all except hotch). you texted morgan telling him you were going out tonight and you wouldn’t be back till late. you laughed to yourself. it was like he was your boyfriend.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the night was young and you were fairly tipsy. ok that’s generous, you were drunk. you were spending most of your time with penelope and it took you a minute to remember spencer. “ohmygosh! spence!” he was startled at your presence but he gave you that flat mouthed smile of his. “how are you! you’re my favorite scorpio.” you nodded as you said it, as if trying to convince him it was true. “thanks? i’m good. you’re drunk.” he pointed out. “no shit. hey!!! you never showed me your tumblr user! you gotta show me that girl you like, bet you she’s really sexy.” you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, whipping out your phone and snapping a picture with spencer. “what are you doing?” he asked, watching you type. “posting this on tumblr! i want everyone to know you’re my favorite in the world.” he wanted to ask favorite what, but a ping on his phone distracted him. lila posted. he smiled and checked her page.

holy fuck.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“(y/n)?” he asked, not looking away from his phone. “yess?” you responded. “what’s your tumblr?” what is your tumblr? “uhhh..i don’t know, check.” you tossed him your open phone, and his eyes only grew wider. “you’re lila?” the words rang through your ears like a siren. “what?” the word was breathy, you couldn’t add stability to what you said. spencer showed you his phone, ‘prettyboy187’ on the screen. “you’re morgan?” still no confidence in your voice whatsoever. your feelings were supposed to change, you weren’t supposed to like that morgan was spencer. but they didn’t. you didn’t even think about the fact he saw your swimsuit photos. you loved that morgan was spencer, and you still wanted to see him on the weekend. “are you mad?” you asked, not being able to stop yourself from sipping from your glass. “no. should i be?” you smiled. “no. do you still wanna meet up this weekend?” “yes. but i don’t wanna get drinks.” he wasn’t even drinking, why is he complaining. “where should we go then?” “my house.”

[luvspence]

double dates

spencer reid x reader

synopsis: a blind double date situation with derek and spencer and y/n and her friend

word count: 1k

masterlist

—-

“y/n pleaseeeeee”

“why? why do i need to come?”

“because he’s bringing a friend! his friend can’t just third wheel!!”

“why, why can’t he?”

“y/n what else are you gonna do”

“stay here and watch tv”

you and your best friend savannah were arguing, she needed you for a double date situation but you had no interest in coming

she was standing in front of you pouting

“fine. i’ll go”

“yes yes yes !!! thank you so much you’re the best”

she hugged you and you just rolled your eyes

you two were getting ready

“so who even is this guy?”

“derek morgan, he’s an fbi guy”

“hmmm okay than whos my guy?”

“spencer reid, he’s also an fbi guy but apparently he’s some sort of statistics expert?”

“great so i have a nerd”

she laughed

“maybe he’s a cute nerd?”

“doubtful. ready to go?”

“i am, but you clearly aren’t”

you were in merely jeans and a t shirt

“what why?????”

“my goodness y/n you’re so difficult”

she dragged you into the closet, picked out a skirt and a sweater because that was the most you were about to oblige to

“okay hard head let’s go” she said as she finished coating your eyelash in mascara

—-

you two pulled up to the restaurant, you walked in and scanned the tables for a scrawny looking nerd, when you saw a man wave to savannah

“y/n look that’s them”

she was waving to derek, next to him was a tall many with curly brown hair. dressed in corduroy slacks matched with a a grey cardigan. he smiled softly and waved to you

“oh my god”

“what?”

“mine is so cute, he’s so cute”

she merely laughed but you were caught off guard

“hi derek”

“hi sav and y/n”

you gave an awkward mini wave

“h-hi hi i’m spencer, u-uh spencer reid”

“hi, i’m y/n”

sav and derek were already in their own world, you were so insanely flustered, cheeks bright red, your knee anxiously bouncing in your seat. trying to avert your eyes from the man next to you.

he was no different, beat red, a little bit sweaty and anxiously rubbing his hand against his leg

“savanah can you come to the bathroom with me? i need your help with this” you motioned toward your eyelash and reluctantly got up to help you

“so what’s wrong with it?”

“oh nothings wrong with it i need help with spencer”

“oh my god”

“what! i have 0 experience and he’s so darn cute i mean look! what am i supposed to say??? what if he thinks i’m stupid”

she sighed and put her hands on my shoulder

“you are far from stupid y/n, and from what dereks telling me you two seem to have a lot in common”

“so what? i have no idea how to flirt, i wasn’t anticipating him being this cute”

“just be you! i’m sure he’s over there telling derek about how he didn’t tell him how cute you are!”

savannah wasn’t far from wrong, back at the table spencer was blabbering to derek

“morgan i don’t know how you convinced me to do this, and more importantly how you didn’t disclose that i would ALSO be on a date. what am i supposed to do, the reid affect usually scares off 80% of women”

“jeez kid slow down, first of all i did tell you this was a date, you just choose to think i would get stood up. second of all, by what sav says you guys are more alike than you think”

“what am i supposed to say to her? she’s so”

he had no words, he just exhaled dramatically

“don’t worry about it kid, you’ve been reading her behavior she obviously thinks you’re” he mimicked spencer’s exhale “too”

“okay okay fine”

“that it see, and plus with a face like that how could any girl resist” morgan said as he teased spencer

you and sav returned

“is your eyelash okay?”

you’d nearly completely forgotten about the lie you’d made up to leave

“oh yeah it’s fine! i usually don’t do the makeup thing so it gets hard”

“did you know that our eyelashes fall out and completely replenish themselves every 150 days. they re-grow until they reach the optimum length, fall out, and replenish themselves again. although everyone’s shedding cycle varies slightly in length, every set of human eyelashes goes through this pattern”

“no i didn’t! this quite interesting”

“you think so?”

“i absolutely do!”

you and spencer started to warm up to each other slowly throughout the dinner

“so what exactly do you do at the fbi?”

“oh so derek and i are profilers, we analyze behavior of serial killers to try to stop them, what do you do for a living?”

“that’s so cool! i’m an anesthesiologist, i work at the same hospital that savannah does”

“how interesting! so do i call you dr. l/n?”

“that’s not necessary” you laughed “would i ever call you ‘ssa reid”

“well no, but for different reasons”

you raised an eyebrow

“i have 3 phds”

“oh! well dr reid it is”

he laughed

the rest of the night was filled with talking and laughter

you two were staring and derek and sav

“i wonder why they brought us, they seem to be fine by themselves”

“i know right, sav basically had to drag me here, i’m not much of a going out person”

“same here, but sometimes it has its upsides”

you smiled at him, you were his upside

eventually you all left, spencer escorting you out, linking arms

derek said “thanks so much both of you, for giving us some of your time” he said as he pressed a kiss on savs hand

“our pleasure” sav replied giggling

spencer chimed in “yeah thank you! it was lovely meeting you”

“ditto!” you replied

as you were getting into the car spencer yelled

“y/n check your back pocket!”

you proceeded to and inside was a business card

“fbi behavioral analysis unit (BAU)

quantico, virgina

dr. spencer reid

702-799-2190”

on the bottom scribbled in blue ink said

“how did this end up in your pocket? a magician never reveals his secrets. perhaps if you ever wanted to converse again? perhaps over coffee? call me

- (dr.) spencer reid”

[brywrites]

For A Living

A/N: Reid has worked hard to keep his job a secret from the Reader, who he’s been dating. But she’s a little more perceptive than he expected.

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

For once in his life, everything seems to be good. He is sitting in a coffee shop drinking a mocha full of sugar, talking about the previously unpublished Hemingway short story to a girl whose eyes light up with every word. She is just as excited about “A Room on the Garden Side” as he is, and he can’t help but smile to himself. Everything is perfect.

Until she asks him what his plans are for next week, and he responds that he’s not sure yet.

“Well, my old roommate, Rimsha, is coming into town. She wants to stay at my place, and she was hoping to meet you. If that’s okay with you,” she adds, looking a little embarrassed.

“No, of course, I – I would love to meet her,” Reid stammers, though meeting new people isn’t his favorite thing in the world. But it matters to her, so he’s willing to try. “I just, uh, I’m not sure what my week will look like.”

Y/N pauses, looking down at the muffin in front of her. She teeters on the edge of speaking, and he’s trying to figure out what she’s so afraid to say. Is there something he should know about Rimsha? Is she worried their meeting won’t go well? Despite his analysis of her behavior, nothing could have prepared him for what comes from her mouth next.

“When are you going to tell me what your real job is?”

Reid blanches. “Wh-what?”

She sighs. “We’ve been dating for three months. I know you’re not just a college professor, Spencer.”

“I – I am a college professor.” He crosses his arms under his chest, trying to keep calm.

“I know that’s what you told me when we met. And when we started dating, you were teaching full-time, but you only taught for a month. So what is it you do the rest of the time?” she asks. Oh no. No, he’s not ready to answer this question.

“I do research.” Reid hopes the slight telltale crack in his voice isn’t noticeable to her. If it is, she says nothing about it, only stares at him with focused eyes and a slightly quirked eyebrow.

“Your research requires you to leave suddenly and travel to different time zones?”

She’s more observant than he thought. “I told you before, I guest lecture at other universities and I… I go to, uh, conferences.”

“Where you’re so busy you can’t talk to me?” When they get a case, he always try to talk his way out of it if he has to cancel plans, but when he’s away he never calls her. It’s too risky. With her, he lets his guard down. It’s too likely he’d end up mentioning something that happened at work, so he sticks to a strict text-message only policy.

“Um – I, uh…” he can’t find the words and now he’s tapping his foot in patterns of three and he can feel the anxiety building up in his chest. What is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do? Is he about to lose the woman who has been the light of his life since he met her five months ago?

But one gentle look from her calms his racing heart. Her eyes are soft and she gives him a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s okay.” She slowly reaches out to place her hand over his, and he can feel his body relax. “I’m not mad at you. I know you, and I know that there’s a reason you haven’t told me, yet. But I want you to know that you can trust me. I can’t be there for you if you don’t let me in.”

When she has a rough day at work or when something comes up with her family, he’s always there to comfort her and listen to her. All she wants is to do the same for him.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he starts. “I just – there’s… it’s more complicated than that.” He can’t find the words to explain, but he knows that he has to. He really likes her. This beautiful girl who loves books as much as he does, and doesn’t mind his rambling. Who asked him about the book he was reading three weeks in a row at the coffee shop they both frequented before he worked up the nerve to ask her about her book; after which they ended up in a four hour long conversation, during which the barista brought them free refills of their lattes (“because it’s about damn time you two actually talked to each other,” she’d said).

He adores he kindness and her laugh and the way a hug from her makes the world feel right again. Her patience with his quiet cover-up has lasted this long, and he’d begun to think she hadn’t noticed. How had he fooled himself into believing that? She’s so smart, of course she knew.

At that very moment, his phone buzzes with a familiar ringtone. Reid digs into his bag and pulls out his cell, only to be greeted with a message from Garcia: ALL HANDS ON DECK MATEYS, WE HAVE ARR-SELVES A CASE. When he looks back at Y/N, she nods, and he wonders which one of them is the profiler.

“Research conference?” she asks, a little coy.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I have to go.” He quickly shoves his things into his satchel, and reaches over to squeeze her hand. “But I promise, when I get back, we’ll talk.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.” And she flashes him that smile he loves so much. What would she say if she knew where he was off to? That each call meant running into danger?

All through the case, that question comes back to him. Something could happen to him while he’s away, and she would be left to navigate a field of questions on her own. Wondering why he didn’t tell her what he did, and why it was so risky, and why he couldn’t trust her with that.

The truth is he would trust her with everything, anything. He’d give her his heart tomorrow if she asked for it, but he’s trying to keep hers safe.

Reid is gone for three days, and he doesn’t call her once. She only sends him one text – call me when you’re home.They catch the man killing women in a small Missouri town, and the case is closed without anyone on the team getting hurt. The whole plane ride home he’s on the edge of his seat, mind racing with all the things he wants to say to her. He goes home and paces his living room for an hour and a half before finally calling her, and asking if she’ll come over to talk.

“So, how was the conference, professor?” she asks, taking a seat on his couch.

He sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. The last few days were hard and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“The only wrong thing you can say is nothing.” She bites her lip, and when she looks up at him he shivers under the intensity of her gaze. “Spencer, I love you.” It’s the first time she’s ever said it out loud and it takes his breath away to hear those words from her. “And I want to keep loving you, but I can’t do that if you can’t open up to me. Why do you keep trying to hide this from me?”

“I’m not trying to keep anything from you,” he says, sitting down beside her. “I was… I was trying to protect you. Because I love you, too.”

“What could be so bad that you can’t tell me? Where do you go all the time? What are you doing?”

Reid swallows hard. “Y/N, it’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. I know you’re strong. But when you came into my life, it was like this – this bright light. I see so much darkness, and I just don’t want you to have to deal with that. I don’t want what I’ve seen to ever make you worry more or smile less or dim that light you bring to every room you go into.”

She puts her hand on his. “And I don’t want to leave you alone in the dark.”

Her eyes are pleading with him, and he’s never been good at saying no to her. He can’t keep this up. He can’t hide this part of his life for her forever. Acknowledging it means acknowledging all the harm that comes with it – the loss of colleagues, the trauma, the drugs… everything. But she deserves to know.

He takes a deep breath. “I work for the FBI.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “Spencer, I’m being serious.”

“So am I!”

“I’m supposed to believe that my bookworm boyfriend who abhors physical activity is a secret agent?”

Reid jumps up to grab his messenger back from its hook, fumbles briefly in the pockets, and returns to the sofa with a small black holding case in hand. He gives it to her and adds, “Technically, it’s supervisory special agent.”

He watches as she opens it up and stares at the badge and ID inside. Her mouth falls open and her eyes widen as she stares up at him and if he weren’t so nervous he’d find the expression on her face absolutely adorable. Y/N looks between him and the badge before asking, “What’s BAU?”

“It’s the Behavioral Analysis Unit. That’s the division my team works in. We use psychology to profile repeat offenders.” He winces at the words that sound straight out of his orientation manual.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Profiling? Like… Silence of the Lambs or something?”

“More or less,” he says. “My team is a specialized unit. When local law enforcement has something on their hands that they can’t handle, they call us in. It might be a terrorist threat, a child abduction, or a serial killer – though it’s usually the latter.”

He can see the pieces starting to come together for her.

“So that’s where you go when you leave.”

He nods. “We fly out to wherever we’re needed and consult. And if we’re lucky, we catch unsu- um, the suspect, before they can hurt anyone else.”

Y/N runs her fingers of the edges of his badge, staring at it as if it can make sense of all of this. “So when you say you’ve seen things…”

He figures it’s best to keep being honest. “Yeah. Bodies. Crime scenes. Death. The most depraved human beings on the planet. It’s an abyss. There are a lot of things that haunt me. And there are things I’ve done that I’m not proud of. And I’ll answer any question you want, I just need you to know that I wasn’t trying to hide this from you because I didn’t want you to know. I just didn’t want to weigh you down with it. I wanted to pretend, for just a little while, that I’m not the person who gets in the mind of monsters. Because when I’m with you, I can forget all of that. I feel better when I’m with you. And I guess I was afraid that if I told you what I did, that something bad would happen.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“This job is dangerous. I know friends who have lost loved ones – either because the job is too much or because someone we’re trying to catch makes things personal. I thought I could protect you from all of that by hiding my job from you.”

“This is a lot to take in,” she says quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Is the only thing you’ve lied to me about?”

“Yes. There are things I haven’t told you about yet that have happened because of this job, but I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you. I’ll tell you everything, I swear. But everything else is real. I’m still me. I do teach when I’m on sabbatical. I’ve read every book by Tolstoy in English and Russian. My mom does have schizophrenia. And I do love you.”

Y/N sets the badge down on the couch between them and puts her hand over his. On instinct, he twines their fingers together. She keeps him grounded, tethered in the midst of all the madness.

“So you’re a genius and a hero, huh?”

He chuckles. “To be honest, I don’t really care about being either of those things. All I want is to be the man who gets to love you.”

She brushes his hair back from his cheek, her touch so soft he could melt. “No more secrets?”

“I promise.”

“Good. I can handle the dark. I can be strong. But you’re the one who makes me smile. And I don’t want to stop loving you.”

He can’t help but grin. What he has with her is better than anything he had ever dreamed of, and he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he swears he’s not going to mess this up. The BAU is his job, his team, the way he makes a living. But with her, he has a chance to build a life. “I took next weekend off, by the way. So whenever Rimsha is here, I would love to meet her.”

The smile playing at the corner of her mouth is mischievous. “Oh don’t worry, there’s going to be plenty of time for that, Mr. FBI Man. But for now, I kind of want you all to myself.” She leans in to kiss him, and he knows – that for once in his life everything, everything is good.

[drprettyboyspence]

Spencer Reid can dance?

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Y/n has been planning to take a ballroom dance class for a while, but what she hasn’t planned on was needing to find a partner four hours before the class. With no one left to turn to, she asks her best friend and secret crush Spencer Reid. As it turns out, the night couldn’t end any better.

words: 3.3k

warnings: some mentioning of anxiety, there’s one kiss scene, nothing else to my knowledge, it’s a lot of fluff!! :)

a/n: I thought this was a cute idea, it isn’t a part 3 of Beach Day and A Perfect Date, that will come sometime soon! (This is set in season 14/15). I hope you guys enjoy!!

“A partner?” Y/n asks the male voice on the opposite end of the phone, “I wasn’t aware that I would need a partner for this class, yes I understand there are no refunds, alright, I’ll find a partner, thank you.”

Y/n hangs up the phone and sighs heavily, finding herself in a tricky situation all of a sudden. She had signed up for a ballroom dancing class, I know, sounds stupid, but she’s almost 36 years old and she’s never learned how to dance, so she figured why the hell not. The problem is, she had figured it was a “you don’t need a partner, we’ll set you up with someone” type of deal, turns out, she’s expected to come up with a ballroom dancing partner in the next, oh lord, 4 hours before the first class. She debates blowing it off altogether, but it was expensive, and Y/n wants to learn how to dance. She sits down at her kitchen table to think, the obvious choices would be Emily or Garcia, they’d be up for it and it would be a fun girls night. Plus, it wouldn’t be awkward when they see how ungraceful she is on her feet, ironic, an FBI profiler who chases down the worst of humanity every day is nervous to walk into a ballroom dancing class.

Right as Y/n is about to send a text in the BAU girls group chat, she’d go with anyone from that group, even Tara who she honestly doesn’t know that well, Y/n remembers that Emily took Garcia and JJ to Memphis for a lower-profile case centered in technology, and Tara is off on a sabbatical teaching a lecture and interviewing serial killers, so Y/n finds herself back to the drawing board once again. An idea pops into Y/n’s head that seems so absurd she almost pushes it out immediately, but she’s desperate and hey, what’s the worst that could happen? She dials the phone number before she can find herself too nervous to click call.

“Hey Spence! I have a question for you, what are you up to tonight?” Y/n says to her best friend Spencer Reid, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice from the genius profiler on the other end of the line.

“Hi Y/n, I was thinking about having Doctor Who marathon and maybe reading some Chaucer, but I’m honestly free, why?”

Okay, now Y/n has no excuse to hang up and forget any of this ever happened, Spencer’s free, which means he can totally come to a ballroom dance class with her this evening.

“I know this isn’t something you’re usually into, but I signed up for this ballroom dancing class, and I didn’t realize I needed to bring a partner with me, all the girls are busy and I have no one to go with, so I was, um, wondering if you would come with me, please Spencer?”

“Oh Y/n you know I would do anything for you, but I’m really not the dancing type, you don’t want to see me dance, trust me, I wish I could help, I’m sorry.”

Y/n has to frantically turn this around, because Spencer is her last option, she tries to use what she’s actually good at, profiling. Her mind jumps to a few months ago, she had been in the elevator with Luke and Spencer, her and Luke having a conversation about their weekends, and they'd been playfully teasing each other, you know, as friends do. After the elevator ride, Spencer had been so grumpy and confrontational towards you for hours, Garcia teased you for days about Spencer’s obvious crush on you, but you figured he was just sleep-deprived or stressed about his mother, you know, plausible reasons for Spencer to be distressed.

“Alright Spencer thanks for telling me, you know I’m thinking about Luke to come with me, he looks like the kind of guy that would be good at ballroom dancing, you know? I’ll give him a call right now. Anyone, thanks-”

“Wait, you know what, maybe I can spare the time after all Y/n, I’d hate for you to have to go with Luke, plus, you never know when ballroom dancing might come up on a case, I’ll go with you.”

Y/n smirks to herself, honestly shocked that had worked but excited to tell Penelope about it when she gets the chance.

“Spencer thank you so much! I owe you one, can I pick you up at 6:30? The class starts at 7.”

“Yes I believe that will work fine, should I wear something special, I obviously don’t think I have the correct ballroom dancing attire but uh, I’ll try and find something appropriate, see you then Y/n.” The click of the phone hanging up makes Y/n realize the truth of the current matter. To be honest, Y/n has had a huge crush on Spencer for years, like a lot of years, she had been secretly thrilled when Garcia decided that Spencer was pining for Y/n as well, but she had kept it hidden, not letting herself belief that someone as handsome, funny, and brilliant as Spencer would ever be interested in someone like her. No matter how many times Spencer says he isn’t the dancing type, Y/n is sure she’ll be twice as awkward and ungraceful, but she lets herself, for just a split second, think that in a few hours she’ll be dancing with Spencer, pressed up against his lean but muscled torso. Y/n isn’t ready for this, that’s for sure, but she only has a few hours to get ready for the class, she better get started.

“Spence! Thanks again for coming with me, if it makes you feel any better, dancing isn’t really my thing either, it’s part of my ridiculous New Years Resolution to learn new hobbies that don’t involve studying the likelihood someone will become a cold blooded serial killer, I figured ballroom dancing might be fun.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great Y/n, there are very few things you aren’t good at, I’d despise you if you weren’t so funny and nice, its unbelievable.”

Y/n laughs and hides her blushing cheeks as Spencer’s words sink in, he thinks she’s funny and cute. It’s embarrassing really, Y/n is a 35 year old woman, laughing and blushing over a simple conversation with her best friend who she has a goddamn crush on, it’s like high school all over again. Before long Y/n pulls into the dance studio, feeling anxious but rather excited, which when she thinks about it, is how she feels whenever she’s around Spencer. “You alright Y/n?” Spencer asks, noticing she seems rather pale and sweaty all of a sudden.

“Yes Spencer, I’m just feeling rather anxious to go in for some reason. It’s funny isn’t it? We’re FBI agents, we follow armed unsubs into darkened basements and chase down psychopaths in high speed car chases, but I can’t seem to get over the fact that I’m going to look ridiculous in there, and everyone is going to judge me.”

“Oh Y/n, it’s totally okay to be feeling anxious about something like this. Did you know that 6.8% of the United States population suffer from social anxiety disorder, which is characterized by intense anxiety of being judged in a social situation, and obviously not everyone who feels anxious in a situation like this has the disorder, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, don’t you worry, remember this is a beginners ballroom dance class, I’m absolutely sure that every single one of the people in this class are sitting in their cars nervous about the same things you are right now. Besides, if even one person judges you, we can employ the one and only Penelope Garcia to totally legally cyber stalk them and embarrass them back, that’ll teach them to mess with the BAU.” Y/n giggles, she knows Spencer is too respectful to ever sick the powers of Garcia on anybody, but his joke does it’s job, it gets her to laugh, and she feels that she can overcome her anxiety and enter the class now, which is good because it’s 6:58 and she’s really not looking to be late. By the time the two of them walk into the class just as the clock chimes 7 p.m., the room is already filled. It’s a large room with high ceilings, it’s well lit but not overly bright, and there are two people at the front who are obviously the teachers, the man being the one Y/n had spoken to on the phone earlier that day.

“Welcome to the ballroom dancing class! This class is a no-judgement space and it’s specially designed for beginners, so don’t feel nervous, we are going to take you step by step and by the end, you’ll be on your way to being a great ballroom dancer! Spencer leads Y/n to the middle of the room, not the very back but not the front either, which Y/n is grateful for. As the class begins, Y/n realizes that somehow, she and Spencer had not been shockingly off the map with their choice of attire. She had read an article that recommended a loose skirt or pants with a comfortable blouse for females, and a dress shirt with dress pants for males, she assumes Spencer and probably most of the others in this class had read a similar article. She does notice that Spencer is the only man in the room wearing a tie, which is so on-brand for Spencer that it makes Y/n smile, Spencer is always the best dressed member of the team, wearing formal wear every single day, even when they’re not on a case. Y/n likes the teachers more than she expected to, she expected them to be bossy and pretentious, plus the man on the phone had been border line rude, but they are kind and explain each move in detail, so even Y/n and Spencer can keep up. They haven’t done anything too awkward yet, they’ve spent a while warming up, the teachers explaining that they must be warmed up because ballroom dancing takes more muscles and flexibility than one might think, and they don’t want anyone pulling a muscle or injuring themselves in any way.

“Imagine that,” Spencer whispers to Y/n “I can see it now, Emily disappointedly asking why I have a sprained ankle, and we have to shamefully admit that we were ballroom dancing.” Y/n laughs just a little too loud earning her and Spencer dirty looks from the older couples around them, which honestly causes them to laugh more.

“Alright, it’s time for us to turn to our partners, the taller partner should place their hand on the back of the shorter partner’s shoulder, they should place their hand on the front of the taller’s shoulder. The couple should hold hands with their other hands.” Y/n’s lessened nervous feelings come back full force when she realizes this is the moment she’d been anticipating, she’s about to be holding hands with Spencer and dancing with him. Spencer waits for Y/n to make the first move, she places her hand on the front of his right shoulder after she nods at him, getting his consent to do so.

“You can put your hand around my shoulder, Spencer, it’s alright.” Y/n says with a hint of teasing in her voice, but she’s secretly very happy that Spencer is so respectful and doesn’t want to push her past her boundaries or anything, he’s so sweet. Spencer nods and Y/n sees just the hint of a blush on his face, she assumes she’s adorned with the same by now, which deepens when she feel Spencer’s strong hand wrap around her shoulder and stay there. The two of them raise their free hands and intertwine them, this surely isn’t the way Y/n had imagined the first time she holds hands with Spencer, and she’s imagined it a lot if she’s being honest with herself. They’re then instructed to start moving their feet back and forth, just back and forth, Y/n can handle this. It’s awkward at first, Spencer steps on Y/n foot then profusely apologizes, which Y/n finds adorable, but they get it rather quickly, and they sink into a rather choppy rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless.

“You’re doing great Y/n, see, I told you you’d be good at this.” Y/n smiles up at Spencer and their eyes meet, it’s all of a sudden like they’re the only two people in the room, the other couples and the teachers fading into the background as the two of them find themselves enamored with each other. It’s honestly something unlike anything Y/n has ever experienced, she feels more comfortable in Spencer’s arms in this moment than she ever could have expected she’d feel at a dance class. She’s suddenly overwhelmingly graceful that the BAU girls had been out of town, this moment is nearly magical and it ends too soon for both Y/n and Spencer, judging by the disappointed looks on their faces that they both try and hide. The class is over so fast it’s almost laughable, Y/n had spent so much time being anxious about something that she actually enjoyed, how ironic. There’s a sort of silence that follows Y/n and Spencer as they descend the stairs and walk out into the parking lot to Y/n’s car. It’s bordering on awkward silence by the time Y/n is pulling out of the lot to drive Spencer home. “Did you have fun Y/n?” Spencer asks, Y/n grateful that he finally had the courage to break the strong tension the silence had created.

“You know what Spencer, I really did, I can’t thank you enough for coming with me, I was thinking about just blowing off the whole thing.”

“Thank you for inviting me, you better not tell the team this, but I enjoyed myself too.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid likes ballroom dancing! I can just see the headlines now! The unsubs are terrified!” Spencer laughs and playfully swats Y/n’s arm in response to her unabashed teasing. The two of them are about 10 minutes out from Spencer’s house when he suddenly asks Y/n to take a turn in the opposite direction, leading them to a park.

“Spencer what’s up? What are we doing here?” Y/n says in confusion, she’s been to this park before a few times, with Spencer actually, they’d gotten coffee here when they were getting to know each other years earlier.

Spencer gets out of the car and they walk in the summer evening, it’s almost dark but not so dark that Y/n feels unnerved by the absence of light. They sit down on a park bench not far from Y/n’s car before Spencer begins speaking. “What you said about New Years resolutions earlier, it got me thinking, we’ve known each other for almost five years now Y/n, and in that time I’ve been to jail, gotten out of jail, been reinstated, and seen enough horror for a lifetime, you’ve been through a hell of a lot too, but here we are, and that’s why I need to tell you this. You don’t have to say anything, but I don’t express my feelings enough, I guess I’m afraid of getting disappointed, but I need you to know.”

Y/n’s heart is racing with the same combination of nervousness and excitement that characterizes her moments with Spencer, but now it feels exaggerated, because she can’t remember another time she’s seen Spencer like this, so honest.

“You can tell me anything Spencer.” She says to him and he nods, grabbing her hand lightly, which makes Y/n’s heart jump almost dangerously.

“I’ve never met someone that makes me feel like you do Y/n. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person, it’s impossible in every definition of the word, but if there were, it would be you. Your imperfections only add to your perfection, you’re hilarious, brave, kind, brilliant, and gorgeous. You’re the most independent and strong woman I’ve ever met in my life, you inspire me every single day to be the best I can be and when I look at you, any doubt I have about if I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing in life disappears, because I met you, I’ve been falling in love with you over the last five years Y/n. The first time I realized how much I cared for you was right here, we were drinking coffee and you saw a kid fall of his skateboard across the way, you jumped up and helped him right away, and I suddenly realized, wow I could fall in love with her. It terrifies me but I have to get this out, because who knows what is going to happen tomorrow, it could be my last day on this Earth, and the thought of leaving this life without telling you how I feel is more terrifying than any unsub I’ve ever come into contact with. I know this must be a lot for you to take in, but just say the word and we can forget any of this ever happened, I will never stop being your best friend Y/n, and if that’s all you want me to be, then that’s all I will ever be.” Y/n finds herself with tears in her eyes, Spencer’s loving words making her extremely emotional, too good to be true. She knows she needs to respond before Spencer begins regretting telling her all of that, but she doesn’t know how to respond in a way that would ever accurately express her feelings towards the amazing man in front of her. Y/n leans forward and kisses Spencer, attaching their lips together firmly but not over aggressively. Spencer seems startled but leans into the kiss after a split second, he reaches up to cup Y/n’s face and she reaches her hand up to tangle her hand in the back of Spencer’s hard, causing him to let out just the smallest noise of pleasure. The kiss ends too soon, the two of them breathing way too heavily after just a 15 second kiss, their eyes glazed over as they look at each other passionately.

“I love you Spencer Reid” Y/n says, feeling like she’s in a dream, the words that had been hanging over her head for the last five years had just left her lips, and she momentarily worries that the last 10 minutes had been some sort of daydream, and Spencer would laugh in her face and walk away.

“I love you Y/n Y/l/n.” She says back. They sit there in silence for who knows how long, it honestly could have been hours and the two of them wouldn’t be any the wiser. They eventually get back into Y/n’s car, the two of them having seen way too many late-night park abductions and murders to allow them to stay any longer. As they’re pulling up to Spencer’s apartment building Y/n says teasingly,

“So Spencer, I’m guessing you’ll be accompanying me to the next ballroom dance class, would that be okay? Or should I ask Luke?” Even in the dim light of the car Y/n can see Spencer’s eyes darken almost imperceptibly, most likely with jealousy of hearing Luke’s name once again. He grabs Y/n’s hand and responds “You’re mine and I’m yours now Y/n, I’ll ballroom dance with you for the rest of my life if that’s what you want, and Luke Alvez surely isn’t lucky enough to ballroom dance with the goddess that is you, text me when you get home please, goodnight.” Y/n giggles and lets Spencer kiss her hand like a true gentleman. Driving home she feels like she’s in a trance, this evening having been better than she ever imagined. Ballroom dancing, who knew?

[gadgetgirl71]

Amazon First Reads for June 2020

I know I say this every single month, but I can’t get over how quickly the last month has gone. Meaning that for Amazon Prime Members we get to choose which Amazon First Read were going to download for free. Again this month as most months there are eight books to choose from.

This months choices are:

Suspense 

The Bone Jar by S W Kane, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Two murders. An abandoned asylum. Will a mysterious former patient help untangle the dark truth?

The body of an elderly woman has been found in the bowels of a derelict asylum on the banks of the Thames. As Detective Lew Kirby and his partner begin their investigation, another body is discovered in the river nearby. How are the two murders connected?

Before long, the secrets of Blackwater Asylum begin to reveal themselves. There are rumours about underground bunkers and secret rooms, unspeakable psychological experimentation, and a dark force that haunts the ruins, trying to pull back in all those who attempt to escape. Urban explorer Connie Darke, whose sister died in a freak accident at the asylum, is determined to help Lew expose its grisly past. Meanwhile Lew discovers a devastating family secret that threatens to turn his life upside down.

As his world crumbles around him, Lew must put the pieces of the puzzle together to keep the killer from striking again. Only an eccentric former patient really knows the truth—but will he reveal it to Lew before it’s too late?

Contemporary Fiction

Someone Else’s Secret by Julia Spiro, Pages: 363, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Here’s the thing about secrets: they change shape over time, become blurry with memory, until the truth is nearly lost.

2009. Lindsey and Georgie have high hopes for their summer on Martha’s Vineyard. In the wake of the recession, ambitious college graduate Lindsey accepts a job as a nanny for an influential family who may help her land a position in Boston’s exclusive art world. Georgie, the eldest child in that family, is nearly fifteen and eager to find herself, dreaming of independence and yearning for first love.

Over the course of that formative summer, the two young women develop a close bond. Then, one night by the lighthouse, a shocking act occurs that ensnares them both in the throes of a terrible secret. Their budding friendship is shattered, and neither one can speak of what happened that night for ten long years.

Until now. Lindsey and Georgie must confront the past after all this time. Their quest for justice will require costly sacrifices, but it also might give them the closure they need to move on. All they know for sure is that when the truth is revealed, their lives will be forever changed once again.

From a fresh voice in fiction, this poignant and timely novel explores the strength and nuance of female friendship, the cost of ambition, and the courage it takes to speak the truth.

Mystery

Never Look Back by Mary Burton, Pages: 332, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Expect the unexpected in this gritty, tense, and page-turning mystery from New York Times bestselling author Mary Burton.

After multiple women go missing, Agent Melina Shepard of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation makes the impulsive decision to go undercover as a prostitute. While working the street, she narrowly avoids becoming a serial killer’s latest victim; as much as it pains her to admit, she needs backup.

Enter lone wolf FBI agent Jerrod Ramsey. Stonewalled by a lack of leads, he and Melina investigate a scene where a little girl has been found abandoned in a crashed vehicle. They open the trunk to reveal a horror show and quickly realise they’re dealing with two serial killers with very different MOs. The whole situation brings back memories for Melina—why does this particular case feel so connected to her painful past?

Before time runs out, Melina must catch not one but two serial killers, both ready to claim another victim—and both with their sights set on her.

Thriller

Find Me by Anne Frasier, Pages: 286, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: A bone-chilling family history is unearthed in a heart-stopping thriller by New York Times bestselling author Anne Frasier.

Convicted serial killer Benjamin Fisher has finally offered to lead San Bernardino detective Daniel Ellis to the isolated graves of his victims. One catch: he’ll only do it if FBI profiler Reni Fisher, his estranged daughter, accompanies them. As hard as it is to exhume her traumatic childhood, Reni can’t say no. She still feels complicit in her father’s crimes.

Perfect to play a lost little girl, Reni was the bait to lure unsuspecting women to their deaths. It’s time for closure. For her. For the families. And for Daniel. He shares Reni’s obsession with the past. Ever since he was a boy, he’s been convinced that his mother was one of Fisher’s victims.

Thirty years of bad memories are flooding back. A master manipulator has gained their trust. For Reni and Daniel, this isn’t the end of a nightmare. It’s only the beginning.

Book Club Fiction

The Lending Library by Aliza Fogelson, Pages: 295, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: For fans of Jane Green and Loretta Nyhan, a heartwarming debut novel about a daydreamer who gives her town, and herself, an amazing gift: a lending library in her sun-room.

When the Chatsworth library closes indefinitely, Dodie Fairisle loses her sanctuary. How is a small-town art teacher supposed to cope without the never-ending life advice and enjoyment that books give her? Well, when she’s as resourceful and generous as Dodie, she turns her sun-room into her very own little lending library.

At first just a hobby, this lit lovers’ haven opens up her world in incredible ways. She knows books are powerful, and soon enough they help her forge friendships between her zany neighbours—and attract an exciting new romance.

But when the chance to adopt an orphaned child brings Dodie’s secret dream of motherhood within reach, everything else suddenly seems less important. Finding herself at a crossroads, Dodie must figure out what it means to live a full, happy life. If only there were a book that could tell her what to do…

Historical Fiction

Opium and Absinthe by Lydia Kang, Pages: 379, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: From the bestselling author of A Beautiful Poison comes another spellbinding historical novel full of intrigue, occult mystery, and unexpected twists.

New York City, 1899. Tillie Pembroke’s sister lies dead, her body drained of blood and with two puncture wounds on her neck. Bram Stoker’s new novel, Dracula, has just been published, and Tillie’s imagination leaps to the impossible: the murderer is a vampire. But it can’t be—can it?

A ravenous reader and researcher, Tillie has something of an addiction to truth, and she won’t rest until she unravels the mystery of her sister’s death. Unfortunately, Tillie’s addicted to more than just truth; to ease the pain from a recent injury, she’s taking more and more laudanum…and some in her immediate circle are happy to keep her well supplied.

Tillie can’t bring herself to believe vampires exist. But with the hysteria surrounding her sister’s death, the continued vampiric slayings, and the opium swirling through her body, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for a girl who relies on facts and figures to know what’s real—or whether she can trust those closest to her.

Epic Fantasy

Scarlet Odyssey by C T Rwizi, Pages: 534, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Magic is women’s work; war is men’s. But in the coming battle, none of that will matter.

Men do not become mystics. They become warriors. But eighteen-year-old Salo has never been good at conforming to his tribe’s expectations. For as long as he can remember, he has loved books and magic in a culture where such things are considered unmanly. Despite it being sacrilege, Salo has worked on a magical device in secret that will awaken his latent magical powers. And when his village is attacked by a cruel enchantress, Salo knows that it is time to take action.

Salo’s queen is surprisingly accepting of his desire to be a mystic, but she will not allow him to stay in the tribe. Instead, she sends Salo on a quest. The quest will take him thousands of miles north to the Jungle City, the political heart of the continent. There he must gather information on a growing threat to his tribe.

On the way to the city, he is joined by three fellow outcasts: a shunned female warrior, a mysterious nomad, and a deadly assassin. But they’re being hunted by the same enchantress who attacked Salo’s village. She may hold the key to Salo’s awakening—and his redemption.

Children’s Picture Book

Kat and Juju by Kataneh Vahdani, Pages: 40, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: An unlikely duo star in a charming story about being different, finding courage, and the importance of friendship in the first book in a new series from an award-winning animation director.

Kat likes doing things her very own way, but sometimes she doubts herself. So when a bird named Juju arrives, Kat hopes he’ll be the best friend she’s always wanted. He’s outgoing and silly and doesn’t worry about what others think—the opposite of who she is. Bit by bit, with Juju’s help, Kat discovers her strength, and how to have a friend and be one—while still being true to herself.

*** Which book will you choose? I chose “Opium and Absinthe” as soon as I saw the cover I knew that was this book I had to choose. Let me know which book you choose. ***

[heycasbutt]

Serial Love-3

A/N: Hey Ya’ll here is the finale to Serial Love. I hope you all enjoyed it as much I loved writing it. I’ll be back shortly with some drabbles. But here is this to get you by in the interim. 

Spencer had to tamp down the excitement that came over him when J.J. slid a case file across the conference room table that morning. He recognized the case as one that you had talked about at dinner the night before and could only hope that MPD was inviting the BAU in to investigate.

“As you all know, there have been a series of slayings in the greater DC area. This killer seems to cross socio-economic borders, as well as gender and ethnic borders,” J.J. explained, displaying the pictures of the 4 most recent victims.

“How does MPD know these aren’t just singular cases? I mean, if that’s the case, then why are they calling us in?” Derek questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“That’s where it gets weird,” J.J. started, pulling up the ME reports from all 4 victims, “They all had this singular letter ‘a’ on their inner thigh-“

“In a pentagram,” Spencer finished, running his finger along the photo. “This is like that case in Indiana we had last year, isn’t it?” He queried, finally looking up.

“Exactly,” J.J. sighed “We were called in because they just got a transfer from Indiana who recognized the killings as one she had dealt with last year. I believe they said her name was Detective Y/L/N.”

“Oh, I think that’s the one that Pretty Ricky kept ogling while we were there.” Derek laughed and patted Spencer on the shoulder. Spencer spluttered in disbelief as he shook off the gesture and scowled in Derek’s direction.

“IQ of 187, slashed to 60 just like that,” Emily quipped, stifling a soft laugh.

“Let’s uh, let’s just focus on the case at hand,” Spencer mumbled, pulling pictures and reports from the files.

“Do we think we’re dealing with the same unsub, or does it look more like a copycat?” Derek questioned, placing pictures from the two cases side by side.

“Copycat” Spencer mused. He traced one finger over a photo from Indiana. “The ones from D.C. have hesitation marks. See where the line falters a little bit here? But, when we go over to Indiana, the lines are crisp, almost surgical. Which makes sense because we found out the unsub had been expelled from medical school when the first killings started.”

“Alright then,” Hotch smiled, a half smile, but rare nonetheless. “I guess you weren’t ogling over that detective the entire time.”

“I told you all I wasn’t! She appreciated my facts unlike the 7 of you!” Spencer screeched and snatched his coffee off the table, walking out to his desk. He pulled his phone out and sent you a text. He might be annoyed with his coworkers, but he was beyond excited to work with you again.

Spence: Guess we have a case together (;

Y/N: I know. I can’t wait! See you in a bit, Love you, Spence

*****

45 minutes later and the BAU came through the doors of MPD, case files in hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the form of Spencer. Sure, you saw him every day, but there was something about him at work. The way he carried himself, the badge hanging from his hip that gave him authority. His hair looking messier than it had that morning when he left.

“Good Morning Agents, nice to see you again.” You smiled and held out your hand to Derek, and Aaron. Spencer gave a small wave and you smiled “Kissing boy, right? It was Dr. Reid if I remember right?” You watched a small blush spread across Spencer’s face as he nodded.

“Alright, what do we have here?” Derek questioned walking over to the cork board on the other side of the bullpen. You followed on his heels.

“Remember last year in Indiana, that doctor killing those women? We think this is a copycat.” You explained, pinning up pictures of the victims. “However the victimology is different. But this one uses the same method of torture, and then this,” You pointed to a small letter ‘a’ in a pentagram. “But this one seems to have more hesitation marks than the one in Indiana did.

“Dr. Reid came to the same conclusion this morning. He said the lines falter on the 3rd and 4th victims, like he’s having second thoughts about killing these women,” Derek mused.

“Exactly,” You mumbled softly and turned to walk back to your desk.

On your way back, you passed the young doctor, he was talking to your co-worker Maria about the case. At least he was talking about the case, you could tell from her body language that she wasn’t thinking about the case in the slightest.

“That sounds absolutely fascinating, Dr. Reid” Her words dripped with sexual energy and you had to keep yourself from pouncing on her in the bullpen. Wouldn’t do much to keep your relationship a secret if you jumped on the poor woman.

“Y-Yeah, w-we aren’t sure if these are ritualistic killings. But we think they might be. Or at least someone obsessed with the killer from Indiana,” Spencer spluttered.

“Enough about Indiana. I hear about that stupid dinky state from Y/N over there all the time. Tell me about you. What’s someone of your,” She looked him up and down seductively “caliber doing as an SSA for the FBI. Surely you could get an awesome promotion with those eyes, and that brain.”

“I like the BAU. I don’t like the thought of being in an office all day at a desk. This way I can get out and see the world-well, the country, on the government’s dime,” Spencer laughed softly and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes met yours, you looked angry and he quietly excused himself from Maria. Walking over to your desk coffee and case file in hand.

“You doing okay?” He whispered opening the file and pointing to something so you didn’t draw attention.

“Fine.” You spat out standing up and walking down the hall to the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on your face usually did the trick.

“You doing alright sweetie?” A kind woman asked you. You knew she worked with Spencer but you weren’t sure of her name.

“Yeah, I just get so frustrated with this job sometimes,” You smiled softly and held out your hand “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Emily,” The woman smiled and took your hand. “Now, are you getting frustrated over the case or over someone flirting with your boyfriend?”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” You stuttered, you had been very careful about your relationship with Spencer. Your own parents didn’t even know his name for fear that they would tell someone and it would be all over.

“You and Spencer. It doesn’t take a profiler to see there’s something going on there. You’ve been together since the case in Indiana, or shortly after. Am I hitting on all the right points? He was the only name you remembered when we came in today, the way you’ve been making eye contact with him, it’s like you two share a secret. The last few months, Spencer has come in to work with a little more pep in his step and a little perkier than usual. I don’t think it’s the coffee…” Emily raised her eyebrows suggestively and you couldn’t help but laugh and cast your eyes down.

“He’s amazing. I want to scream it from the rooftops that I’m in love with Spencer Reid. But, I would also like this to be something that we have between the two of us for the time being. It’s exciting, but it’s been wonderful,” You sighed dreamily.

“So tell everyone. We want our little genius to be happy and I bet you everyone in that bull pen would like you to be happy as well.” Emily explained, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder. A soft smile crossed your face and you nodded.

“Alright,” You straightened your shoulders and walked into the bull pen. “Hey! Spencer!” You called. Spencer’s fawn curls bounced slightly as he looked up. You smirked and made your way across the room, pulling Spencer down into a toe-curling kiss. He shakily set down his coffee mug and wrapped an arm around your waist, dipping you slightly. All too soon though he pulled away.

“I think I’m ready for everyone to know,” He whispered and kissed you again.

“Finally,” Derek muttered and turned back to the files.

“I thought he’d never admit it,” J.J. piped up.

“Yeah, what’s it been like a year?” Rossi added with a small chuckle.

“Something like that,” Spencer muttered, pulling you closer and kissing your head.

Tagging: @princesswagger15 @cynbx @theroyalbrownbarbie @readerastronaut @waywardophelia @fandomsfeelsandfamily @neon-deanmon

[ryuzakisan]

Yagami Light’s Biggest Mistakes

Before you start reading this, I want you to keep in mind that:

- My native tongue is not English. I apologise for all the mistakes I might have made.

- I don’t want anyone to get offended by anything I write, because I definitely do not hate Yagami Light. I will just be stating my objective opinions about him.

- It’s been a long time since I last watched the anime, so I might have remembered some things wrong. Please correct me if you notice anything like that.

- If you think I am wrong or there’s a detail I missed, please share them with me. Reading your opinions would be a pleasure.

- If you have anything to ask me about this article-kinda-thing or anything else related to Death Note, you can submit questions.

In my opinion, none of Death Note characters were %100 pure and innocent. Most of the characters weren't even the kind of people they claimed to be, especially Yagami Light and L Lawliet.

Who we will discuss about in this article is the main character Yagami Light. In the whole anime/manga, he had one ideology. To provide justice to the world full of rotten people by killing criminals and eventually become the God of the new world that he aspired to create. It, of course, wasn't the easiest thing to do. Even though there were lots of people who worshipped Kira already, there were also people who contemplated Kira's actions as crime and stood against him. As a result of that, Light had to deal with various hardships that came in his way in order to prevent from getting caught by his biggest enemy L, the greatest detective in the world who also considered himself as justice. 

In the fight of the world's greatest detective and world's greatest serial killer, Light made multiple mistakes that caused him being L's number one suspect. These, in my opinion, were his biggest mistakes:

 1) Killing Lind L. Tailor in the live broadcast: 

He basically revealed that;

 He lived in the Kanto region in Japan. (It was first told that the broadcast was live worldwide which probably gave Light the courage to kill Lind this easily but, in fact, L was planning to do the broadcast in every region of Japan at different times to find out where Kira could be living and he started with Kanto since it had the biggest population out of others, so that was basically a trap.)

He was able to kill from distance and (since there was no way Kira could be in the highly-protected studio) the only thing he needed, in order to kill someone, was to know their name and face. L proved how Kira kills for the second time after Lind’s dead body’s vision faded away, his signature appeared on the screen and he told that the person who had just died wasn’t actually him and challenged Kira to kill him.

The two clauses you have just read above were really efficient and helpful for L to find out who Kira could be. In addition to that, Light killing Lind also gave clues to L about what kind of a person Kira could be. He made sure that;

Kira was childish and certainly hated to lose, considering on how fast he could kill an innocent person (Lind was actually a high profile criminal who was sentenced to death) just because he stood against him and basically told him what he was doing was wrong and he was a criminal.

2) Changing the time of killings:

Since Light’s dad, Soichiro Yagami, was working for the police; Light had the opportunity of hacking their system and see how the Kira investigation went. By the help of that, he realised L already suspected Kira could in fact be a student considering on the victims he picked (they were mostly shown in the evening news) and the time period he chose to kill them. That’s why he decided to change the time of killings. I can’t say it was the best decision because when he did that, L:

Immediately noticed either Kira could have hacked their system or someone had been leaking private information about the case for some time.

The possibility of Kira being a student had increased since it definitely was abnormal for Kira to change the time of killings right after L had the suspicion.

NOTE: If my memory doesn’t serve me wrong, Light found out he could control the time of his victims’ death after he realised L was suspicious about Kira being a student. That’s why I definitely don’t think changing the time of killings was Light’s biggest mistake because he was so new at using Death Note and he still had a lot to learn.

3) Killing Raye Penber:

I can’t decide if Raye Penber’s death was necessary. When I think about it, it sometimes makes sense and sometimes it just doesn’t. That’s why I divided this part into two sections: Excuses for Light to kill Raye Penber and Why Light shouldn’t have killed Raye Penber.

Excuses for Light to kill Raye Penber:

After Ryuk told Light he was being followed by a stranger, Light immediately answered him saying whoever was following them was probably an agent and he would get rid of him as soon as he saw the agent’s face and found his name. For me, that was the second time his Kira self took over Light (the first one was when he killed Lind L. Tailor.) because there was someone who was after the person that was supposed to be the God of the new world and that person was trying to prevent him from providing justice.

He made a perfect plan not only to murder Raye, as well as murder all other FBI agents that were on duty of following the other suspects. He knew he would be under danger if he killed Raye only.

Why Light shouldn’t have killed Raye Penber:

After following Light for some time, Raye was not suspicious of him anymore. The last day of Raye following him was indeed when Light planned all the chaos in the bus just to find out Raye’s real name. Although the fact that Light couldn’t have known if Raye still doubted that Light could be Kira makes this clause certainly invalid.

Light never intended to kill his victims outside his room as long as it was necessary which means there was literally no way he could do something suspicious as Raye was following him.

Naomi doubted one of the suspects Raye was following could be Kira. Because, before his death, Raye had told her about what occurred in the bus and Naomi had some reasons (especially the criminal dying because of a heart attack) to think it could be something related to the case. After he died, she was sure that she was right about her thoughts. That’s why she immediately tried to communicate with L. If Light didn’t meet her by coincidence, he would surely be under danger. In addition to that, by killing Naomi, he put himself into a higher risk in my opinion. Even though she didn’t manage to communicate with L, it was later told to L that she tried and when she went missing, Light would have become the main suspect if L thought Naomi was murdered by Kira.

For me, by killing all the FBI agents, he confirmed that Kira was in fact one of the suspects, he was still able to reach information about the case and he would continue killing whoever comes in his way to stop him, which is surely opposite to his ideology and is just another proof that he is childish. Instead of killing the agents, he should have waited for Raye to be convinced Light was innocent and stop following him. Then he wouldn’t have to act inconsistent to his motive. 

4) L’s test:

After “Ryuga Hideki” confessed Light that he was indeed L, he basically told him that he thought Light had a strong sense of justice, he had great deductive skills and because of that, he wanted to work together with him in order to catch Kira. However, before accepting Light to be a part of Task Force, L had to make sure if Light really isn’t Kira. These were at least what L said, nevertheless Light already knew L wasn’t genuine about any of that.

L eventually took Light to a cafe and showed him the pictures of what victims in jail wrote on the walls (Those writings were, for sure, a taunt to confuse L, but also a proof that Kira could control his victims’ actions before their death.) then asked him about his thoughts. Light, of course, found the secret message behind the notes immediately: L, do you know Shinigami loves apples? 

Right after Light found the message, L showed him another picture which was fake and told Light that there was actually another note but Light acted like he knew there was three of them and never asked if they were the only notes that were left. In addition to that, the fact that Light kept insisting if there were three notes, his theory would be perfect did nothing but increase L’s suspicion about him being Kira. Plus, Light was the only person in the entire Task Force who could see things from Kira’s point of view and answer all of L’s questions easily and quickly. 

In my opinion, instead of being competitive, he should have focused on his number one priority, which was obviously decreasing L’s suspicions on him and killing him eventually. So basically he should have played the stupid.

5) Calling Misa:

When Misa and “Ryuga Hideki” first met , she knew that “Ryuga” was lying about his name (because Misa had the Shinigami eyes) but she wasn’t aware that she was talking to L indeed. When Light realised that he could have used Misa and L’s unexpected meeting as an advantage to kill his biggest enemy, L had already collected enough evidence to prove Misa was Kira 2, which increased the possibility of Light being Kira 1.

Once Misa and her manager left, Light immediately called her to ask Ryuzaki’s real name. However Ryuzaki caught him, because he had stolen Misa’s phone when she was with them. So he was the one who picked up the phone and because of that, Light just made things even more obvious. Light, of course, couldn't have known Misa was going to be taken under custody for being the second Kira, although he should have waited for asking her for Ryuzaki's real name.

Thank you so much for taking your time and reading all of this. I hope you liked it! (:

[rebaobsessivelywrites]

The Profiler in the Therapist (ch 16)

You can find this entire fic here on AO3.

Fandom: Bones (TV) and Criminal Minds (TV)

Entire Fic Description:

Dr. Lance Sweets is no longer the innocent eager psychologist he was a little over a year and a half ago. His time as a prodigy profiler at the BAU was a blessing. His time in a serial killer's basement was not.

Now, scarred but healed, Sweets is 'retired' to calmer job in the FBI as a therapist. As he helps others, he helps himself. But... is it enough? What will he do when one of his most fascinating (unwilling) patients asks for help on a case? How will his new team take his past as his secrets slowly start to come out?

Entire Fic Warnings: cannon-typical violence, past torture, panic attacks, PTSD, serial killers

Chapter word count:  4,988

Chapter warnings: referenced panic attack, background anxiety, talk about serial killers

Summary: The investigation picks up speed! Featuring a very special addition to the team.

Please read the fic! First chapter, previous chapter, next chapter, master list. And let me know if you want to be tagged.

The following 24 hours were utter chaos. Sweets went to the hospital to receive pain and antibiotic medication. While there, Emily pinned down Booth and Brennan, revealed her suspicions about the explosion, and offered her aid (read: demanded to be included) in the case. Sweets chose to return to the Hoover building for the afternoon, despite the days events, as he couldn’t imagine returning to the lab yet and there was no way Emily would let him go home alone—and he knew how much she wanted to be a part of the investigation. He occupied his time analyzing Goromogon’s profile and, when it became too much, filling out paperwork for a variety of sessions and psychological assessments he had performed over the past several days. (He also rescheduled all of his meetings for the next three days.)

Upon Emily’s arrival, and over the course of the trip back to his apartment, he was brought back up to speed on the investigation. It had definitely been Gormogon; the explosion was a distraction to cut the security systems and make off with the silver skeleton. It was an inside job—it had to be—which meant Gormogon’s apprentice worked at the Jeffersonian. An FBI tech and Hodgins had both identified the source of the explosion as tricyclic acetone peroxide, a highly explosive compound that had been switched for the monomer Zack was supposed to be adding to the polymethylmethacrylate (the plastic base for the denture experiment). Hodgins was understandably upset about it.

Needless to say, everyone had gone on high alert, and Booth had called in the big guns. The FBI had the lab locked down. They were scouring every inch of the place for clues, and Cam was at her wits end. Everyone was determined to do their absolute best, but the coroner had put her foot down and sent everyone off to rest. They couldn’t do much right now, and it had been a hard day for everyone.

What caught Lance’s attention most was the tidbit Emily shared as they walked through his front door: the BAU team was home. Prentiss had immediately requested their aid (with Booth’s support and Brennan’s protests), but Strauss had unsurprisingly shot her down. But, also unsurprisingly, the team was having none of that, so—after a hefty four-sided debate—Strauss conceded to allow one more team member help the Jeffersonian. Apparently, Morgan nearly threw a fit when Hotch chose Reid instead of him.

Sweets would have paid to see that.

The following morning was just as busy. Lance was still hesitant to visit the lab, but the knowledge that Reid would be arriving at any time was enough to tempt the therapist into accompanying Emily to the scene of the investigation

The lab was swarming with its normal activity, but there was a scattering of people clad in familiar suits and jackets with “FBI” branded in bright yellow across the back as well. They were poking around the lab, carting evidence hither and yon, and hovering over the shoulders of the various employees still working despite the utter chaos. As Sweets ventured farther, Prentiss at his side, he caught sight of Hodgins glaring a hole into the side of the nearest agent and Saroyan standing just outside her office with an arm crossed over her chest and the other holding a phone to her ear. Upon spotting her, Prentiss immediately altered her trajectory, Sweets following a heartbeat later. It wasn’t long before Sweets could hear the coroner was checking on the injured member of their team. (The thought of Zack sent a pang of… something through him, and Sweets held back a wince).

Cam let out a gusty sigh, “I guess that’s all we can hope for, right now.” After a moment, she glanced up, her eyebrows twitching upwards for a split second upon noticing their approach. Prentiss lifted a hand in greeting and Cam gave her a nod in return.

She gave a brief smile at whatever she heard on the phone, “I’ll be by in a few hours to rotate with you,” she paused, listening, and her smile softened, “Thanks, Angela.” The smile stayed on her face as she hung up and turned to the pair who had reached her side, “Good morning.”

Emily smiled back, warm and friendly, “Morning, Cam.” Sweets felt himself raise his eyebrows at that; apparently, they’d moved past ‘Dr. Saroyan’ and ‘Agent Prentiss’ after the explosion yesterday.

Cam smiled in amusement at Sweets, as though she could tell what he was thinking, before her expression fell slightly, a concerned light in her eyes, “How are you doing, Lance?”

Sweets couldn’t help doing a double take, giving the scientist a baffled look, before yesterday came flooding back. He winced— how could he have forgotten what she had done for him? —but, thankfully, Cam didn’t seem all that bothered; she was busy eyeing his thoroughly wrapped hand with a surprising amount of concern. “I, uh, I’m fine,” he managed a little awkwardly, “It’s much better, and I mean, it was my fault for not being more careful anyway.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sweets saw Prentiss glower at him—which he expected. He did not, however, expect Saroyan to give him a downright frightening glare that clearly said, ‘don’t give me that bullshit.’ Despite that, she simply said, “I’m glad your hand is feeling better, at least,” and simply left it alone.

Sweets was inordinately grateful that she didn’t push, or—heaven forbid—bring up his panic attack.

“So,” Emily smoothly caught Cam’s attention, “What did I miss?”

As the coroner began giving his friend an overview of what they had discovered—or rather, what they had not discovered—since last night, Lance examined her. She looked like she’d been up all night, with dark bags under her eyes that weren’t quite masked by hastily applied makeup. Her hair was up, as usual, but was a little more frazzled than he was used to seeing on her. But, despite everything —despite the obvious emotional and physical stress she was under— she still seemed as unflappable as ever.

And for some reason, she was able to spare the bandwidth to be worried about him.

Honestly, Sweets was taken aback by her reaction. He had… assumed she would avoid the topic. After all she didn’t know him, and he had basically broken down in front of her. She shouldn’t have had to deal with that, a poisonous voice whispered in the back of his mind, it was a completely uncalled for reaction to an accident that put her friend in the hospital!

He shook those thoughts off quickly. He couldn’t control what had already happened, he could only move forward. Cam had seen him in the throws of one of his worst flashbacks in months. Nothing could change that. Sure, she did not need the added stress of knowing how… broken he really was. Not on top of Gormogon and Zack’s injury. But she did, for better or worse, and had even helped him through it. And, well, she obviously cared, and Lance would appreciate that for what it meant; he was finding a place here, in the Jeffersonian family, and he truly was making the friends he had hoped for from the beginning.

He only wished it was under different circumstances.

Cam and Emily were still deep in conversation, seemingly debating the best approach to take with the investigation today, but Sweets found he didn’t really care enough to pay attention. Regardless of their decision, he would end up profiling— since that was what he could do best, and the rest was (thankfully) out of his hands. Even the concerned looks they each threw his way weren’t enough to make him engage in the conversation. He just… let his mind wander, cataloging what had been discovered yesterday with the profile he had started on Gormogon months ago. He did not, however, get very far.

“Hey! What are you doing with that?” a familiar voice —belonging to the very person he hoped to see here— echoed from behind him, breaking through his thoughts and any remaining attention he had for the friends in front of him.

With barely a thought, Sweets whipped his head around so fast he nearly hurt his neck, quickly pinpointing his friend’s familiar figure as he leant over an agent’s shoulder. He was wearing his standard sweater vest and tie, his messenger bag slung over a shoulder and braced by one hand while the other held a white paper cup —just the same as always. The familiar sight had Lance breaking into a smile.

“That’s evidence,” he was saying, annoyance coloring his tone in a way that was rare for him. He frowned at whatever the agent said in reply, “This was an inside job. That means everything is evidence in this case; you can’t just discard it!”

The agent straightened and turned enough so that Sweets could see his scowling face and pick out the testy reply, “And who, exactly, do you think you are?”

Reid scowled and took a breath, but before he could answer Booth appeared at their side. Sweets couldn’t help but smile as he inserted himself between them, “Whoa, there. Let’s not tear each other’s heads off, alright?”

Reid turned his glare on the other agent and bit out something Sweets couldn’t quite hear, though he could make out the obvious annoyance coloring his tone.

Booth’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to the agent who was now holding the box he had been leant over a few moments ago. “He’s right, Torres,” Booth informed him, “Why don’t you take the stuff you don’t know how to classify to Myers, alright?”

The agent, Torres apparently, gave a huff before jerking his head in what appeared to be a nod and wandering off towards a cluster of agents near the entrance to the lab.

Booth turned back to Reid and extended his hand, likely introducing himself. Reid, of course, simply lifted the hand that wasn’t holding his precious coffee and gave his trademark awkward wave, completely ignoring the gesture.

Sweets couldn’t help chuckling at the baffled look on the agent’s face.

A snort sounded from beside him, startling him, before Emily gave his shoulder a gentle shove, “Go on, Lance,” she grinned at him as he looked back at her. Cam was still standing there, watching them with amusement crinkling her eyes, and Sweets was struck for a moment at how much better she looked opposed to just minutes ago. Before he could order his thoughts though, Prentiss let out a short laugh and pushed him again, causing him to stumble a step. “Go on,” she urged again, “it’ll be more fun to watch Spencer baffle Booth up close.”

He shot his friend a fond eye roll and retaliatory shove but took her advice and made his way over to the pair, tossing a wave and smile over his shoulder for Cam as he went. As he approached, he could see Booth’s face, and the increasing bafflement leaking across it, in greater detail. The agent didn’t seem to know what to make of the genius profiler yet. It was… very familiar. The reaction reminded Lance of the numerous agents and officers the team had encountered over his time with the BAU.

“…will be hard to sift through it all, especially considering the size of the suspect pool,” Reid’s voice became distinguishable as Lance approached the pair. He was gesturing idly with his free hand, while keeping his coffee cup close to his chest and leaning slightly forward. The sight was just as familiar as the agent’s reaction, causing the sense of nostalgia to grow. Lance would bet, despite being unable to see his face, that Reid’s eyes were alight and determined. After a quick pause to survey the activity swarming around him—as though proving his point— the profiler continued, “Behavior will likely be the easiest way to inform the direction of the investigation. I’d like to start on the profile as soon as possible.”

Booth’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, landing on Sweets, and his shocked expression melted into a slight smile. “Well,” he looked back to Reid, amusement coloring his tone, “I think the guy you want to talk to just got here.”

Reid’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to see who had caught Booth’s attention. As soon as he saw Lance, a smile broke across his face. “Lance,” he greeted warmly.

“Hey, Spence,” Sweets smiled a little awkwardly before moving closer and punching (more like pushing) Reid’s shoulder in his customary greeting.

The profiler rolled his eyes and attempted to school his face into his traditional scowl, but his smile refused to budge. After a moment, he stopped trying and just beamed at Sweets, “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” he huffed a sigh, “Good to see you too. I’m glad you guys caught that HSK.”

Reid’s face twisted slightly. “If you count ‘dead’ as ‘caught’… but yes; it’s good he’s off the roads.”

“Suicide by cop?” Booth asked curiously.

“No,” he turned back to the agent, shifting his bag slightly, “Actual suicide, with a gun to the chin.” In typical Spencer fashion, he made an aborted gesture towards his chin as he spoke.

Booth grimaced at that. Sweets had to agree; it was always disappointing and unpleasant when you couldn’t bring the unsub to justice. But, well… dead was better than free.

A moment of awkward silence descended, Sweets shifting his weight back and forth uneasily while Booth examined the two profilers before him. Thankfully Reid broke the silence before too long, awkwardly clearing his throat and hiking his bag farther up his shoulder, “Anyway, we should get started.”

Booth blinked as though he had completely forgotten the reason they were there, “Right.” He turned to Sweets, “Don’t s’pose you’ve got your files on you?”

The therapist offered a slight smile, “I’ve got what we need, yeah. I figured you’d want to keep the investigation contained.”

The agent gave him a wry smile, “Yeah; it’d be best to keep everything nearby for the time being.” He turned back to Reid, “What you need?”

“Just a place that…” the genius shrugged glancing around, “doesn’t present as high a probability of getting run over.”

“Sure thing,” Booth chuckled warmly and gestured over his shoulder, “I’m sure you can use Bones’ office.”

Reid gave his thanks and immediately set off, but Lance found himself hesitating for a reason he couldn’t quite place. Though… the longer he hovered with his momentum caught between one step and the next, the more he noticed how… lost his ex-patient appeared. Booth was all about hands-on investigations and hard evidence. This investigation had no concrete evidence and no solid leads, even with hordes of agents swarming every feasible crime scene and picking them over with a fine-tooth comb.

“Agent Booth,” Lance found himself speaking before he had solidified his thoughts, “I… I don’t suppose you’d, well… like to join us? We could always use fresh eyes, and I wouldn’t mind walking you through the basics while Spencer gets up to speed on Gormogon.”

The next split second was an image Lance suspected he’d never forget, as it contained two of his favorite reactions. Booth looked utterly gob smacked, like he had been blindsided by a flying tackle, while Spencer, who had halted a few feet behind the agent and was clearly visible over his shoulder, gave Lance one of his brightest smiles that practically radiated approval and joy. It didn’t last long; Spencer quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral (yet still very real smile), and Booth’s expression morphed back into his normal friendly grin (although it had a new curious edge to it), but Sweets couldn’t help being delighted anyway.

Once he had successfully squashed his surprise, the agent gave a little shrug of his shoulders, “Sure, Sweets. Why not? I don’t have anything else I can do right now.”

As the three investigators made their way across the lab to Brennan’s office, Lance allowed himself to bask in the warm feeling sitting in his chest. There was just something about Cam expressing her concern and Booth being so willing to help that settled something—a churning mass of… anxiety?— that had kept him off kilter since the explosion the previous night. Sure, things were awful right now, but at least this new team seemed to care about him as much as he cared about them.

By mid-morning, Sweets was ensconced on the couch in Dr. Brennan’s office, surrounded by mounds of paper files, several computers, and two very determined agents. Oh—and a very pissed off anthropologist. Brennan had not been pleased to find the profilers invading her office upon her return from whatever she had been doing; she had nearly kicked them out before Booth managed to convince her to let them stay.

Early on in their research binge, Spencer had called up Garcia and set her on the Jeffersonian staff and their deepest darkest secrets. Shortly thereafter Emily had poked her nose in. Lance couldn’t remember what she had said—as he had been too preoccupied with breaking down the profile he had first made ages ago and walking Booth through the more important details, explaining the mechanics of profiling when he could—but he did remember she was going… somewhere to do something to help, and that Booth seemed to approve. Sweets was rather pleased he had decided to stay; the older agent soaked up the new information like some sort of sponge. Sweets wasn’t exactly surprised—he knew Booth was a great deal smarter than he portrayed himself—but he was rather pleased with how much effort he was putting forth.

Currently, the pair was making serious headway through the impromptu profiling lesson, bent over the coffee table together. Of to the side, Reid was in his element, seated in the eye of the paperwork hurricane, flipping through files at a neck breaking speed, muttering under his breath as he sifted through piles of information. Lance, who was the closest to the genius, was barely outside of the chaos and was terrified of disturbing one of his many piles of files and notes. On the other hand, Brennan was picking away at something or another at her computer, flipping through paper files every so often and glaring at the group taking over the more comfortable seating area of her office at least once a minute. (It was… a little amusing.)

They had just gotten to the point where the agent was grasping the details Sweets was seeing and how that translated into predicting behavior when Reid sat up ramrod straight with a wordless exclamation, vigorously circling something on his paper. Three sets of eyes immediately turned to the profiler as he carefully shifted forward in his seat to hand his discovery to Lance, somehow without disturbing his organized chaos. (From behind her desk, Brennan let out a disgruntled noise that accurately conveyed her disgust.)

Mildly confused, Lance accepted the paper all the same. It was… a map, covered in familiar dots, with one section outlined in broad deep strokes. It looked almost like one of Reid’s trademark geographical profiles, but there weren’t nearly enough data points plotted out for the genius to have already circled a probable neighborhood for the unsub to live. From his spot leaning over the therapist’s shoulder, Booth voiced his own confusion, “Uhh… I think you’re gonna have to explain this to the new guy, Doc.”

“Right here,” Spencer leaned forward eagerly, miraculously ignoring the nickname, and pointed at the circled area, knocking a cascade of paper off the table in the process.

“Not really helping, Spence,” Sweets admitted, squinting at the spot his friend pointed out, “How did you determine this? You only have a handful of locations to work off, even if the unsub is obsessed with patterns and symbols.”

“Dr. Hodgins,” the profiler explained excitedly, “He did an analysis of the water the jaw was boiled in last night. The lead content suggests it was done in water from this neighborhood.”

Realization dawned on Lance like a bucket of ice water as he eyed the rough triangle sketched around the localized area, “And it fits.”

Reid nodded eagerly, “It’s far from certain, considering how little data I have to work with, but based on what I’d guess with what we do have…. I’m comfortable positing that the unsub lives in this neighborhood.”

“Wait, wait,” Booth leant forward, taking the map from Lance’s unresisting hands and turning it this way and that as though it would help him understand what it meant, “What’s this?”

“It’s a geographical profile,” Sweets said before his friend could open his mouth, “Reid specializes in them.”

“Basically,” the profiler jumped in, “it uses locational data combined with what we know about the unsub’s behavior to predict what areas they are familiar with. It is effective in narrowing the suspect pool to a more manageable size, particularly in cases where the unsub appears to have no connection to their victims.”

“That—Hodgins lives there,” Brennan spoke suddenly, startling Sweets out of smiling proudly at his friend. Somehow, she had gotten out from behind her desk without him noticing and was leant over her partners shoulder, frowning at the map.

Spencer nodded, seemingly unsurprised by both her appearance and her revelation, “There was a note of that, yes.”

Booth gave the profiler a somber look, “That means he’s our top suspect.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he immediately refuted, frowning at the agent, “Not only has Garcia already cleared him, but he doesn’t fit the profile.”

Brennan frowned at him, looking torn between abject disapproval and something akin to hope, “You can’t ignore the evidence.”

“I’m not,” the genius gave her an affronted look, “Based on the behavioral profile, the unsub is a dominant personality that feels unseen and slighted, is obsessed with the idea of secret societies and the spiritual strength supposedly gained from consuming human flesh, and lives in this neighborhood,” he paused to lean forward and tap the map in Booth’s hands, “He is intelligent and capable. However, the likelihood of him working at the Jeffersonian is low; he is fixated on this team and he would have been unable to resist the temptation to use his position to his advantage before now.”

“It’s his apprentice who works here,” Lance agreed quietly, observing the agent-anthropologist pair. They obviously weren’t distinguishing between Gormogon and his apprentice as much as they should. “We’re looking for someone young, with a more submissive personality, who is easily guided and manipulated. Dr. Hodgins is none of those things.”

“That’s a relief,” Booth commented, relaxing slightly as he absorbed their argument, “but it does leave us back at square one.”

“Not quite,” Spencer disagreed again, pulling out his phone, “I’ll let Garcia know to do a background check on all the residents of the area.”

Brennan turned to Booth and started complaining about the unreliable methods they were using, but Sweets tuned them and Reid out, frowning to himself. All the talk about the apprentice and the differences in his profile when compared to Gorm—the unsub, he found himself stuck on something.

Why did the apprentice do so little?

Yes, the explosion was incredibly damaging, but it was just one incident, staged solely as a distraction. If they truly worked here, though, wouldn’t they be able to cause so much more damage? Less noticeable damage?

“Lance?” Reid’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to find all three of them staring at him. Apparently, he had been thinking long enough for Reid to finish his call and refocus the agent and anthropologist.

He gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Reid immediately shook his head, frowning slightly. “No, what were you thinking? Anything could help,” he gently reminded Sweets of how this type of thing worked in the BAU. They shared every little thought, because anything could lead to a realization that could break the case.

“I just…” Lance shrugged and huffed a sigh, “I can’t help wondering. I mean, the apprentice planted the tricyclic acetone peroxide in one of the most secure storage areas in the Jeffersonian… so what else did they have access to? What else did they do?”

Booth and Spencer both nodded and frowned in thought, obviously agreeing and considering the possibility, but Brennan…. After a moment of silence, her standard look of disgusted disinterest, which she wore whenever Sweets was presenting a hypothesis, melted into a wide-eyed look of startled realization. “The color,” she breathed, nearly jumping out of her chair and startling all three investigators. By the time the others gathered their wits and got to their feet she was already out the door, booking it across the lab.

“Wait, Bones,” Booth called, jogging out of the office to catch up with her.

Exchanging a look, Sweets and Reid hurried out of the office on his heels.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier!” Brennan exclaimed, “It’s too light.”

“What’s too light?” Booth finally slowed to a fast walk beside her.

Brennan gave her partner an annoyed look, “The jaw.”

Beside Sweets, Reid let out a surprised noise, followed by and excited, “Oh.” The therapist gave his friend a side-eye but was unable to determine anything beside the fact that he was excited by whatever idea Brennan was exploring. Which… did not help him, whatsoever.

“Cam!” Brennan called, pulling ahead of her partner and waving down the coroner, who stopped mid stride and gave the rapidly approaching group a baffled look. “Do you still have the tissue you used for the DNA test?”

The other scientist blinked at her for a long moment, “Uh, yeah. I do.”

“I need to see it,” Brennan announced, not breaking stride as she hurried past her supervisor and made a beeline through the various agents and scientists wandering around the lab, “And I need to look at the complete test results, as well.”

“Ok,” she agreed easily, turning to follow the anthropologist to her own office, “Why?”

“She needs to check the quality of the DNA,” Reid spoke up from behind the coroner, “to check for any characteristic damage, such as thymine dimers. Although, I don’t know why she wants to see the tissue itself,” he muttered the last bit, frowning at Brennan’s back.

The group filed into the office, Sweets venturing in last, still utterly confused. Cam hurried to Brennan’s side to let her onto the computer and pull up several images, while Reid and Booth moved to peer over their shoulders. Booth’s face was twisted in confusion, but Cam and Spencer both looked rather eager.

After a moment of rearranging the various windows, Brennan leant forward and pointed to a peak on one of the graphs, “There! In the content analysis.” She slid her finger across the screen and pointed out what appeared to be indistinguishable black granulation to Sweets. “And here,” she glanced at the others, “in the tissue stain.”

Cam narrowed her eyes at the screen before turning to stare at the anthropologist. “You think the jaw bone was exposed to ultraviolet light?” she asked, a note of surprise in her voice, “Why would Gormogon do that?”

“He didn’t do it to any of the other remains,” Sweets pointed out idly from the background, still feeling a little lost with the abrupt change in scenery.

Reid nodded, giving Lance a bright smile, “It’s unique to this victim, which means there’s something different about his procedure this time around.” He turned to Cam, “So, if Gormogon doesn’t use UV light, who does?”

Brennan gave Reid a surprised and grudgingly respectful look, “We do.” She turned her attention to Cam as well, “It’s standard procedure for skeletal remains when we put them away for storage.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Booth interjected, “Are you saying the lobbyist is here?”

Brennan shrugged, “We have over 10,000 sets of remains waiting to be identified. What better place to hide a skeleton?”

Lance could almost feel the realization and dread wash over the group, his own stomach dropping. Thousands of remains, a labyrinth of unidentified bones, all here, in the Jeffersonian. And there may be evidence somewhere in that mess.

After a beat, Cam let out a low groan and voiced his thoughts, “How do we sift through 10,000 sets of remains?”

After a beat of baffled silence, Spencer cocked his head slightly, “Well, logically speaking, with lots of people. Though I don’t know where you’d be able to find a crowd of individuals qualified to analyze thousands of remains in the hope of finding bones that don’t belong.”

Brenan’s face, once again staring at Reid, was... priceless. It was cross between respect and something akin to constipation, and Lance had never seen anything like it. It was baffling and delightful; Brennan had been so set on disliking Reid on the grounds of his chosen field, but it appeared she was losing that battle.

After a long moment of Brennan examining Spencer, who was frowning as though trying to solve a puzzle (while Booth and Cam stared at Brennan, and Lance stared at all of them), the anthropologist huffed and pulled out her phone, “I need to get my grad students here.” As she pressed the piece of technology to her ear, she turned to Cam, “I need someone to help organize their search once they arrive.”

Cam blinked, “Right. I’ll…” she took a step back, “I’ll go tell Caroline and ask Angela to help.”

Lane was still rather baffled and confused, but he found he was also hopeful. As he watched Cam disappear into the chaos of the lab and Dr. Brennan steamroll whoever was on the other side of her call, Sweets felt like they just might have a chance.

[fandom-imagination]

𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 ~ 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚍

Imagine: Hailee is a Winchester. One of the most notorious hunter families. Though years ago she left her brothers to hunt a different kind of monster. Now, Hailee works with the BAU, a group known for sending serial killers to jail. When a case brings her home she decides to visit her brothers, who she hadn't seen in over five years. Though it wouldn't be a Winchester family reunion if drama didn't follow.Hailee has to navigate her family business intertwining with her work life, and all the danger that it brings.

A/N: So this is the first part of a series called Hailstorm. I began writing this story years ago and just found it while I was looking through some old files on my computer. I fell in love with the idea again after reading it again and decided to post it on here (and Wattpad). I have been wanting to post an AU where a fandom in the real world meets a fandom from a fantasy world to see how the real world characters interact with the fantastical elements. To give context this story doesn't really take place during a season in either show. But somewhere around season 12 in Supernatural (Jack is part of the story) and season 11 of Criminal Minds. Like very loosely around these seasons. Somethings may not line up perfectly with the shows regarding timelines in order to fit in this story. I wanted to include certain characters from each show and certain plot points from each show.  Enough with my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy the first part of Hailstorm.

I REWROTE THE ORIGINAL VERSION! THIS IS THE UPDATED/EDITED VERSION!

𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 ~ 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚍

"Our universe grants every soul a twin-a reflection of themselves -the kindred spirit – And no matter where they are or how far away they are from each other- even if they are in different dimensions, they will always find one another. This is destiny; this is love."

– Julie Dillon

A random warehouse type building stood tall in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas, a town smaller than most malls. To the unassuming eye, this building was a random warehouse or abandoned building. But to hunters like Hailee, it was a disguise to protect the research of the men of letters. Or what she liked to call the closest thing to a home.

Hailee stood at the end of the path, just staring up at the bunker. She hadn’t stepped foot in the bunker in over five years. She hadn’t even come back to Lebanon or seen her brothers in this time. Yet, she had the irresistible urge to visit the bunker at the end of her last case with the FBI. Now, Hailee found herself at the foot of the path staring at the building she once called a home. 

Hailee shook out the feeling of apprehension and walked up the path. Even though she knew she wasn’t really ready to be back, there was something pulling at her to be here. She stood at the door a moment because she couldn't decide whether she should just walk in or if she should knock. There was a time that she called this place her home, but that time had long since passed.

Before she could make her mind up the door swung open, revealing a dark haired man in a trench coat. Ever the man of few human emotions, Cass stood in the doorway wearing a blank expression. She engulfed him in a tight hug, “Cass! Oh my god, it’s been so long!

“Hailee! What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice still held that monotonous tone. 

“We just finished a case in town, and I couldn’t pass up a chance to visit!” she cheered. A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re here right?”

“Yes,” Cass began. She stepped around him to head further into the bunker, but stopped when he said, “It’s really nice to see you. We all missed you.”

“Thanks, Cass. I missed you too.”

The bunker smelled just like it did when she was younger, a mix of old books and beer. A nostalgic feeling washed over her and it was if she was a teenager all over again. All the nights she spent awake researching random supernatural creatures. The sips she would steal from Dean’s beer, he left lying around -- sometimes she thought on purpose. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business. 

“Moose! Squirrel! I’m home!” 

“Aren’t you a little old to still call us that?” Sam asked. A smile spread across Hailee’s lips hearing the familiar voice. Sam leaned on the doorframe that led to the library. 

“Aren’t you a little old to still be living with your brother?” She quipped. He shook his head and chuckled. 

“Touché.” 

He jogged the short distance towards her, wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight hug. She nestled her head against his chest. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this place until she was back. For a while all she wanted to do was run away and join the “real” world. Now, finally hugging her brother for the first time in years and basking in the dust of the bunker, a feeling of homesickness sunk deep into her heart. 

“Ah, little bitch is back!” Dean cheered. Dean strolled into the galley, holding out his arms for a hug. Hailee’s relationship with Dean was weird to say the least. Her relationship with both brothers was weird to be honest. You don’t grow up hunting monsters with your brothers not to develop a strange connection. 

“Not like I missed hearing that,” Hailee said, rolling her eyes. She ran up to him and jumped into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, lifting my small frame and spinning her around like he used to do when she was younger. Dean had already graduated high school when she came into their lives and acted like a surrogate father from that point on. “But I did miss that.”

“I missed you too.” 

“Is she still here?” Hailee asked, breaking the hug to look up at Dean’s face. 

“Where else would she be?” Dean asked, as he pulled a set of keys from his back pocket, jingling them in front of her before dropping them into her eagerly outstretched hands. “As soon as I heard you, I grabbed the keys.”

“Yay! Thank you!” Hailee screeched . She gave him another quick hug before running off, only to be stopped short by a knock at the door to the bunker. 

The three exchanged confused looks. No one, literally no one visits the bunker. With most of their friends in other parts of the country, it doesn’t make sense that someone would come knocking on their door. Hailee asked, “Who the hell could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered just as Dean said, “Jehovah’s Witnesses?” 

“If it’s a Jehovah’s Witness or Scientologist, tell them we’re Satanists. They should go running for the hills,” Hailee said.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean nudged her shoulder to ask for a fist bump. They bumped fists as Sam jogged up the stairs toward the front door. Sam’s voice carried across the room. “We’re Sat-”

Sam walked across the balcony, scratching the back of his neck. A moment later, another tall lanky man walked across the balcony. Sam asked, “Hailee, do you, uh, want to introduce us?”

“What are you doing here Spencer?” Hailee shouted. Hailee made sure no one saw her leave the hotel. She didn’t want anyone from her team to know where she was going or who she was going to see. She kept her life a secret. There was no way she was going to let her group of profiler friends know that her family’s business was hunting monsters, they’d surely lock her up in a mental hospital.

“You have been acting suspicious lately, I got worried,” Spencer answered sheepishly, walking towards Hailee only to stop and stare at Dean. “Weren’t you on the FBI’s most wanted list like 6 years ago for a whole list of crimes including murder? And aren’t you both supposed to be dead?” 

Hailee’s mouth dropped open. Curse Reid for having an eidetic memory. And curse her brothers for being former FBI most wanted criminals . Hailee replied to him, “No, no. Dean, why don’t you tell him?” 

Dean gave her an incredulous look, shaking his head, “No this is your problem little sis.”

“Bitch,” She mumbled, under her breath. 

“Slut,” he responded with just as much sass, although not as discreetly. Hailee turned her body enough to conceal her flipping him off .

“Do you mind explaining to me what’s going on?” Spencer asked. He held his hand on the waistband of his pants, where Hailee knew he kept his gun. 

“Ok, first off-” Hailee began before being interrupted by the horribly timed Cass returning from his convenience store run. 

“Hey, who is this?” Cass asked, eyeing Spencer. 

“Isn’t that the missing James Novak too?” Spencer exclaimed. “I don’t know what’s going on right now, but all I see are people who have been reported as missing or are convicted criminals.”

“They’re not criminals,” Hailee said, even though she knew that wasn’t true. In their line of business it’s hard not to do the frequent illegal thing, but it was always for the greater good. However, Spencer wouldn’t understand. Him being an FBI agent and person living in the real world and all. 

Spencer glanced at the ground. Dean’s fake FBI badge sat open on the ground between their feet. The next moments happened in slow motion. Spencer pulled out his gun, directing it at Dean. Dean’s eyes went comically wide and he held his arms up in surrender. Cass dropped the bag of groceries in his hand. Cans clinked together and a stray tomato rolled out of the bag. He pulled an angel blade from the sleeve of his trench coat. Spencer redirected his gun to Cass. 

“That can’t do anything to me,” Cass stated, motioning to Spencer’s gun.

“What do you mean? It’s a gun?” Spencer exclaimed. The only thing that crossed Hailee’s mind was Please don’t say what I think you're going to say.

“Because I am an angel of the lord.”

“Castiel!” Hailee shouted, beyond aggravation. 

The feeling of happiness and nostalgia disappeared as quickly as it had come. One of Hailee’s worst fears looked her right in the eyes in this moment. Spencer, the man of facts and books and what you see is what’s real, finding out about her past. Hailee’s mind drifted from everything happening at that moment. The shouts from the men around her sounded like they were miles away. All Hailee wanted was to disappear. If she had known this was going to happen she never would have come home. Honestly, she still didn’t understand why she even wanted to come back to the bunker in the first place. 

“Everyone go sit down,” Hailee said, a calm tone to her voice. 

“I don’t ha-” Dean began, but Hailee’s death glare made him shut his mouth. 

The four men rushed to take a seat at a table in the library. Hailee sat at the head of the table with Sam and Dean to her left and Spencer and Cas to her right. Spencer noticeably shifted in his seat to create as much distance between himself and the man beside him.

“So, first I guess I should introduce everyone. These are Sam and Dean, my older brothers. And this is Cass, you already know what he is,” Hailee explained. 

“Wait you actually believe him?” Spencer said and whipped his head to stare at Hailee in shock. Hailee nodded briefly before continuing. 

“Guys, this is Spencer Reid, my coworker, and uh… boyfriend.” 

Dean’s dismissive expression morphed into that of a protective older brother. He was always distrustful of the people Hailee dated. He never believed someone could be good enough. Sam watched Spencer warily. He was also an overprotective brother but more the “I’m skeptical but trust your decisions.”

Cass, again oblivious, outstretched his hand, “Nice to meet you Spencer.”

"I don't shake hands. It spreads to many germs," Spencer said. Hailee was unsure whether he said that simply because it was true or to avoid Cass at all costs.  Cass pulled his hand back and dropped his attention to the table. Spencer turned to Hailee, his eyes burning with anger, “You mean to tell me he is an angel of the lord? Just reassure that I gauged your answer correctly.”

Hailee’s heart sunk in her chest. She assumed Spencer would take some convincing but not that he would be so angry. Pain shown through her next words, “Spencer, what I am telling you, and about to tell you, is all the truth. Monsters, they’re real. What my brothers do, what I used to do, is hunt them.”

“I can’t believe you're pulling all this. Lying to me, just to cover their tracks. I thought you had more trust in me than that!” Spencer said, abruptly standing from his seat. He stormed out of the bunker without saying another word or giving Hailee a chance to explain. 

Hailee blinked a few times, staring at the empty space Spencer once occupied. She was pulled back to reality by my Dean’s next words, “That was a dick move.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Hailee growled, pushing her own chair back as she stood up. She stomped off, only turning back to utter her next words before walking off down the hall, “I wish you never convinced Dad to let me stay with you guys. I wish I just went into foster care to live in blissful oblivion, without you.”

“Go away!” Hailee shouted at the person who insistently knocked at the door. Even with her constant yelling, they kept knocking. She abruptly picked up a pillow and threw it towards the door. 

“Hey… Hailee. Can I come in please?” An unfamiliar voice asked. 

Hailee pushed herself off the bed and threw open the door. Standing in the entryway, hand still raised to knock, was a smiling Jack. “Hi. Uh… who’re you?”

“I’m Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Yea, Lucifer’s son.”

“What?” Hailee screeched. She was tempted to slam the door in his face, but the pure innocence in his expression told her not to. 

“Well, I guess now I’m Cass and Dean’s son or something,” Jack explained. He smiled. Which seemed to be his default expression. “Also, this is my room.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t realize. I thought it was just another guest room.”

“No problem,” Jack said. He walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Hailee stayed in her spot holding onto the door. The thought of the devil’s son sitting in front of her did not put her at ease. “You look like you’ve been crying. Are you alright?”

“Yea.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“And you’re direct.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “What’s wrong. Why were you crying?” Jack’s shoulders perked up. “Do you need help with something? I can beat someone up if you need.”

Hailee chuckled. She let the door swing shut and took a seat beside Jack. “You’re kinda weird. But sweet.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t really know you or quite trust you on the basis you’re Lucifer’s son. But I don’t have anyone else to talk to so… I thought I would be coming home, a nice visit to see my brothers. You know, nothing wrong there. But of course, drama always follows. My boyfriend, Spencer, showed up and found out about the supernatural, but didn’t take it too well. Not that I expected him too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Hailee jumped to her feet and paced in front of Jack. He eagerly watched her, ready to help if needed. She didn’t trust easily and never talked about her problems. It was always easier to deal with it herself. But right now, she needed someone to vent to and despite Jack being probably the least trustworthy person around he was the only one around. The words spilled out of her. “Spencer literally ran out without giving me a chance to explain. And of course because he has a fucking eidetic memory he remembered that Sam and Dean were on the FBI’s most wanted list six years ago. He thought I was making up the whole monster hunting thing to cover for their criminal past. But let me tell you, if I was covering for them I would have come up with a way better story and he should have known that.”

“Well, I could show him my powers and then he’ll definitely believe you,” Jack said. He smiled, proud of himself for coming up with a solution. 

“Thanks Jack. But I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Hailee pat Jack on the shoulder. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She held it to her ear, “Winchester.”

taglist (message me if you want to be added -- this is a rewritten version)

@jjmaybanksrings​ @alex-rose-boi​ 

[sweater-vest-reid]

All You Need Is Love: Chapter Four “I Want to Hold Your Hand”

A Love Story Told by The Fab Four / Inspired by “Across the Universe”

Spencer Reid: a genius, hardworking, dedicated FBI profiler. Persephone “Percy” Jacobson: a passionate, brilliant, ambitious FBI specialist, and the newest member of the BAU. Spencer doesn’t believe in soulmates. Persephone doesn’t believe in happy endings. Told nonlinearly, watch as time, each other, and The Beatles, proves them wrong.

Chapter List

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A/N: So glad you are all enjoying this series!! In a perfect world, I will have chapter five up sometime late next week, but I am currently in tech for a show I’m ASMing so I might not have time to write it. I’ll make sure to keep ya’ll updated!

Listen Here

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Oh yeah I tell you somethin'

I think you'll understand

When I say that somethin’

I want to hold your hand

{2006}

It was late at night, and the jet roared through the sky. Percy sat by the window, staring out into the night sky. Music blared through her headphones, blocking out the rumblings of the plane engine.

Across the plane sat Spencer, deep into a large book. His eyes followed his fingers down the page, rapidly flipping through the chapters. His emotions on his face changing as he moved to a new page.

Percy watched as Spencer flew through the novel, his brain moving faster than the jet through the sky. She couldn’t look away. She loved watching him work. There was something about his intelligence that made her heart swell. The confidence he had in his ideas, how he trusted his instincts. Everyone knew he was special, but Percy was beginning to realize how special he was to her.

Percy glared at the empty seat next to him. She longed to sit in it, to be close to him. She thought about resting her head on his shoulders, their arms intertwined.

Percy desperately wanted to tell Spencer how she felt. She wanted to walk over to him and plant a long, passionate kiss on his lips. She wanted his face to be the first thing she sees in the morning, and the last thing she sees at night.

In a perfect world, that would be her life. But Percy knew she would never act on her feelings. She knew Spencer wasn’t interested in her. How could he be interested in her? He was brilliant, and his beautiful, rambling mind needed an equal mind to love.

Now, it’s not that Percy wasn’t intelligent. After all, she did have a Ph.D. in Religious Studies. And she climbed to the top of the FBI within her first year at the agency, becoming a member of the BAU at the age of 24. Percy had her moments of genius, but Spencer’s whole life was one big moment of brilliance. She could never compete with his intelligence.

Although Percy would never admit it, with Spencer, it really was love at first sight. When she saw his face for the first time as she walked into the office, she knew she would grow to love Spencer. His smile was infectious, and his laugh was intoxicating. She found herself speechless around him. Something about his presence caused her mind to malfunction. For almost three years, they'd worked side by side. And each year that passed, Percy buried her emotions deeper and deeper.

She continued to watch him, his eyebrows furrowed as he read. She wished things were different. Percy wished she was brave enough to express her feelings. She wished she was smarter. She wished Spencer felt the same way.

Spencer, finished his book and set it aside. He looked up, his eyes connecting with Percy’s. For a beat, they looked at each other, their eyes unblinking. But Percy turned and looked back towards the window.

Oh please say to me You’ll let me be your man And please say to me You’ll let me hold your hand

Spencer finished his book, placing it back into his bag. Looking up, he noticed Percy’s eyes locked on him. After a brief moment of eye contact, Percy's eyes returned to the window.

Spencer's eyes didn’t move. He watched her, her mouth moving in time to the music in her headphones.

Spencer smiled. Something about her made him happy. Through the darkness the team sees every day, Percy still managed to be a shining light.

Spencer never felt like this before. There were women in his past he had feelings for, but nothing compared to the way Percy made him feel.

His whole life, Spencer was told he was special. He was treated differently. Everyone seemed intimidated by him. But Percy was different. When Spencer went on one of his rants, and the rest of the team had tuned him out, Percy listened. She was the first to back him up in a debate, but she was also the first one to challenge him. The rest of the team took everything Spencer said as fact. And, although, most of the time Spencer was right, Percy was always there to catch him when he was wrong. Spencer never found it embarrassing, instead, he found it incredible. He found someone who understood him, someone who wasn’t afraid of his mind.

Spencer only wished Percy truly understood just how brilliant she was. He noticed her self-doubt. How she always opened with “I’m not sure, but…” and ended with “but I could be wrong” when she presented her ideas to the team. Spencer wanted to yell at her, to force her to become aware of her incredibleness. But Spencer couldn’t do that. He wasn’t brave like Percy. No one was brave like Percy.

Spencer recalled the first time he’d seen her courage and her selflessness first hand. It was a month after she’d joined the team. Spencer and Percy were tasked with interviewing the neighbor of the victim. What they hadn’t realized was that the neighbor was the unsub. As he began to run away, Percy chased after him, gun drawn. Spencer had watched in shock as she tackled him, ripping the gun from his hand as she pinned him to the ground. She never hesitated, she never showed fear. It was like that in every case. Percy risking her life to save others. She would face death head-on if it meant saving someone’s life. Spencer loved her for that.

Spencer glanced at the seat next to him, wishing Percy was beside him. He wanted to be close to her. Usually, his germaphobic tendencies never allowed him to feel this way, but with Percy, he didn’t care. He wanted to hold her, to feel her warmth. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

Earlier that year, Spencer made out with Lila Archer, a Hollywood actress, in her pool. But, in that moment, Spencer wasn’t thinking about the beautiful actress across from him. No, when their bodies and lips intertwined, the only image in Spencer’s mind was Percy. He imagined it was her he was kissing. It was his secret fantasy. A fantasy he could never reveal to the love of his life.

How could he? Percy was too good for him. Spencer knew that Percy could have her pick of any man on earth. The world was her candy store.

But that wouldn’t stop him from dreaming.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside It’s such a feelin’ that my love I can’t hide, I can’t hide, I can’t hide

{2007}

It was a hot summer day at the BAU. One of those days where the fans are on high and everyone’s energy levels are low. But that didn’t stop the team from celebrating.

It was Percy’s birthday, and unknown to her, the team had planned a party in her honor.

Percy stared at her phone and she entered the office. A text from Hotch read “conference room. Emergency.” Looking up at the conference room, Percy saw the drawn blinds. Percy shuddered as she walked up to the room, anxious about what was on the other side of the door.

“SURPRISE!” yelled the team as Percy opened the door.

Shocked, Percy took in the scene around her. The room, full of streamers and balloons, and in the center of the table sat a large cake with Percy’s face on it.

“Aww, you guys. Thank you so much. I thought I was going to spend my birthday hanging out with serial killers. This is so much better” Percy exclaimed.

“Don’t hold your breath, Jacobson. It’s still early. Plenty of time for a serial killer to make an appearance” Morgan joked, patting Percy on the back.

“What do you think about the cake?” Garcia asked, hurrying over to Percy’s side, “I thought, since you’re so drop-dead gorgeous you’d make the perfect cake.”

Percy giggled, “I love it, Penny. But you’re giving me a bit too much credit.”

Garcia gasped, “Never, Ma Cheri. I mean every word.”

Spencer moved over to Percy, a wrapped gift in his hands.

“Happy birthday, Percy.” He smiled.

Percy’s world stopped as Spencer wrapped his arms around her. Her breathing hitched and her heart rate accelerated. Spencer had never hugged her before. Spencer never hugged anybody. In that moment, she could have sworn she felt Spencer’s heart racing as they touched.

The team was just as shocked as Percy was. There was a beat of silence before Gideon spoke up. “Okay, so, who wants cake?”

The rest of the day was a blur for Percy, as her mind kept returning to Spencer’s hug. What did it mean? Does it mean he might have feelings for her? Spencer doesn’t just hug anybody after all. Or did it mean nothing and Percy was just overanalyzing what could have been a friendly gesture.

That night, when Percy got home, she opened the presents the team gave her. She saved Spencer’s for last. After unwrapping the rest of the gifts, Percy directed her attention to the last gift. It was wrapped in brown paper, a bow of twine tied around it. She ripped it open, the anticipation driving her crazy. The package revealed an old book. It was the complete story of Persephone, a book of which she’d owned many copies, but never read.

This copy, however, was different. It was older than the other copies she’d owned. The cover was full of beautiful gold decorations. As she flipped through it, she noticed the intricate drawings on each page. The book was stunning, a work of art itself. Percy loved it.

Opening the front cover, Percy saw a message. It was scribbled in Spencer’s signature chicken scratch. It read:

To the only Persephone more astonishing than her namesake. Happy Birthday, Percy.

Percy read the next line over and over. She closed her eyes, thinking that it was just her mind playing tricks. That when she opened them, she would return to reality. But when Percy opened her eyes, the message remained. Percy could hear her heart pound as she continued to smile, looking down at the writing.

Love, Spencer

Yeah, you got that somethin’ I think you’ll understand When I say that somethin’ I want to hold your hand

{2009}

Spencer paced around the bathroom. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to ask Percy out?

His breathing was frantic, his palms sweaty. He was so nervous. His mind kept repeating scenarios in his head. Maybe she’d say yes. Spencer’s heart soared at that thought. A night alone, just the two of them. The best-case scenario. But what if she said no?

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolted Spencer from his panic. Rossi had walked in, clearly startled by Reid’s nervous appearance.

“You okay Reid? You look a little pale.” Rossi asked.

“I’m fine, great actually. I’m doing really well” Spencer rambled.

“Well, okay then,” Rossi replied, suspicious of Spencer’s behavior.

Spencer left the bathroom, shaking as he made his way over to his desk. Noticing that Percy wasn’t seated at her desk across from him, he sighed in relief, as he was not yet ready to see her.

“Well, I’m done for the day.” Said Morgan, grabbing his things and walking towards the door, “Are you headed out soon Pretty Boy?”

“Yeah, soon. Where did everyone else go?” Spencer asked, worried he’d missed his chance.

“JJ left a few minutes ago. Hotch is in his office, per usual.” Morgan replied.

Spencer felt his heart sink, “Where’s Percy? Did she go home?”

“Nope, she’s down in Garcia’s office. Why?” Morgan asked.

“No reason. Just wondering. Anyway, have a good weekend Morgan.” Spencer said.

Morgan left, leaving Spencer alone in the strangely quiet office building. He thought about ditching, abandoning his hopeful plans with Percy. The anticipation was killing him.

Suddenly, Spencer heard Percy walk up behind him, making his way to her desk.

“Hey, Spence,” Percy said.

“Hey, Percy,” Spencer replied.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Spencer got up the courage to speak.

“Hey Percy, have you heard about that new exhibit at the Natural History Museum?”

Percy looked up from her work, “Are you talking about the one on the evolution of ancient languages? It opens tonight, and they have a bunch of famous linguists presenting as well. I wanted to go so badly, but tickets for the opening event sold out before I could get one.”

Spencer took a deep breath, “So, what are you doing tonight?”

Percy looked up at Spencer, confusion on her face, “Nothing, why?”

Spencer reached into his bag, pulling out the tickets,“It just so happens that I have an extra ticket for the exhibit tonight. Want to come?”

“Of course. I’d love to come,” Percy smiled brightly, “The event starts at 7, right? Well, we have a couple of hours, and, I don’t know about you but I’m done with my work for today. Do you maybe want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, the smile on his face growing bigger, “I’d love that.”

“Good because there’s a new restaurant that opened a few streets over that looks amazing,” Percy said, grabbing her coat.

Spencer followed, grabbing his things and making his way over to the elevator. He couldn’t stop smiling.

He’d gotten his best case scenario. And he couldn’t be happier.

I want to hold your hand

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