#Their FBI agent: *bangs head against the desk*

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, in the middle of a live-stream: Hey, Stevie. I was thinking about something you said the other day and I’ve got a question

Steve: …Oh-kay?

Eddie: The other day you said that your parents used to make you go to benefit dinners with the mayor, right? Mayor Kline?

Steve: Um, yeah? I think. They were donors. They campaigned for him.

Eddie: Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.

Eddie: So.

Eddie: Your parents helped fund you being drugged and tortured by Russians.

Steve:

Steve, taking all this in: Huh.

Eddie: Huh, indeed.

[spookyshipperfics]

Discussing the Case

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Explicit

Part of the Do You Like Scary Movies? series

Tagging @today-in-fic

What is it About? While investigating the Babysitter Killer, the local PD files a misconduct complaint against Scully and Mulder. They swear it’s a misunderstanding, but if they want to keep their jobs, Skinner has to shadow them, ensuring the allegations of “unnecessary touching” and “standing too close together” aren’t true.

This is the First Chapter of Seven:

October 29, 1998 - Washington, D.C.

Skinner closed the conference room door behind him. The bang was louder than intended but not entirely unwarranted. It was too early for this. Mulder and Scully’s antics had interrupted his day before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

He brushed past Arlene with a simple nod. His meeting with the FBI’s head suits zapped any energy for pleasantries. He’d done enough talking already, but, of course, there was more to come.

You’ll need to handle this directly, Skinner.

And he would. He’d handle the fuck out of it as soon as he had more coffee. It was already cold by the time he plopped behind his desk. The cool sip angered him just enough to reach for the misconduct report filed against his agents.

The complaint came from an officer employed by Haddonfield PD. Scully and Mulder were supposed to investigate the supposed return of the infamous Babysitter Killer. Instead, they had allegedly been caught in a compromising situation. According to the report, they appeared to be kissing in an interrogation room, with the male agent “disrobing” before being interrupted.

Skinner brought a hand to his temple. Slow circles did little to relieve the telltale throb of a headache. That was the big accusation. The whammy. The doozy that got him called into a meeting with orders and threats to follow. It wasn’t the only one, though. The officer spelled out other “areas of concern.”

Standing too close together.

Whispering in each other’s ears.

Unnecessary touching.

It wasn’t often the FBI received misconduct reports of this nature from local PD. So, of course, it would involve Mulder and Scully, the two people who probably had more strikes against them than the entirety of the Washington headquarters.

Skinner hadn’t wanted children. Yet, here he sat, a father in some twisted sense. Disciplinary meetings and official reprimands felt a lot like lectures and detentions these days. What was next? PTA meetings? Help with homework?

If he was a surrogate father, he could at least be proud of one of them. Scully was the do-gooder. The pretty doctor with a head on shoulders. The type that blushed when she lied. Mulder was… well… Mulder. The rebel. The truth seeker. The loaded gun. He was a damn good agent, but he also came with heaping piles of trouble. The kind of trouble that wasted his time. That got him called into endless meetings and turned his coffee cold and his blood hot.

Mulder had rubbed off on Scully, and she on him. Their field reports were still messy, but she brought science and softness. She smoothed Mulder’s edges and held him to the ground when he threatened to float away. Skinner saw the way he looked at her. If Mulder had to blow up the world to save Scully, it would be lost to flames in seconds. It’s probably what got them into this fucking mess in the first place.

Kissing in the interrogation room. You’ve got to be kidding me?

Skinner sipped his coffee. The bitterness lingered on his tongue as he reached for the phone. Mulder answered on the second ring.

“It’s Skinner,” he said. “I’m flying out to Haddonfield tomorrow morning, and if you two want to keep your jobs, you better be at the gate holding flowers.”

The drive from the airport had been uncomfortably silent, but it beat the current tension. Skinner had created it. He explained the accusations while parroting the rules and regulations he hoped to God they hadn’t broken.

Agents are forbidden from consorting while on assignment. Any romantic or sexual relationships must be reported. Partnerships that break these rules are subject to reassignment.

Now, the motel room felt stifling. Skinner was sweating. Scully looked miserable, and Mulder was in the first tantrum of what Skinner expected would be many.

“This is ridiculous, sir,” Mulder protested. “Scully and I… we weren’t… we’ve never even kissed.”

Even kissed?

What the hell did that mean? That they wanted to? That they’d done other things but never allowed their lips to meet? He was sweating again. Big, dewy drops he was sure they both could see rolling down his stupid bald head.

Skinner wanted to believe them. But even now, they were sitting on the edge of the bed close enough that their shoulders touched. It didn’t help the cause, and he was thankful when Mulder jumped up to pace the room. He fantasized about clapping him on the back with a Attaboy. Stay the hell away from her so we can all keep our jobs.

“I can corroborate Agent Mulder’s story, sir,” Scully offered. “The officer who filed the report is mistaken.”

“Then explain it,” Skinner demanded.

“My hair got tangled in Agent Mulder’s pin.”

“Pin?”

“My pumpkin pin,” Mulder added. “Well, it’s a lapel, actually.”

Skinner felt another headache coming on. “I don’t care what type of pin it is. Why were you wearing it?”

“Tis the season, sir,” Mulder said as if the answer was so painfully obvious it made him foolish for even wondering.

Scully jumped in before Skinner could put his hands around Mulder’s throat. “In an effort to free my hair, it required Agent Mulder and I to get close. Eventually, he had to remove his suit jacket. I could see how that could be interrupted as kissing and disrobing from the wrong angle.”

“Well,” Skinner started while rubbing his temples. “That may all check out, but there are other complaints.”

Mulder huffed. “Name them.”

Skinner glanced at the report, not that he really needed to. He’d read it so many times it was etched in the grooves of his brain and tattooed on his eyelids. “Standing too close together. Whispering in each other’s ears. Unnecessary touching.”

“Those complaints are unfounded,” Mulder shot back.

“Oh, really? Well, why don’t you walk me through it again, Agent Mulder.”

“As Scully already explained, we were in the interrogation room—”

“Whispering in each other’s ears?” Skinner interjected.

Mulder narrowed his eyes. “Discussing the case. Then, Agent Scully’s hair became entangled with my lapel—”

“Because you were standing too close together?” Skinner tapped the misconduct report for emphasis.

Mulder’s mouth dropped before slamming back shut. Scully’s cheeks turned pink.

“I’m not sure about the unnecessary touching,” Skinner continued, but your stories support the other items on this list.”

“So this is why you came all the way here?” Mulder asked. “To lecture us?”

Skinner suppressed the hysterical laughter threatening to break free. At least he wasn’t the only one to view this relationship as some sort of messy paternal dynamic. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I’m not just here to lecture you. I’m here to shadow you. Where you go, I go. What you do, I write down.”

“You can’t be serious,” Mulder moaned.

“If you two want to keep your jobs, to keep the X-Files, it’s what has to be done. I have people to answer to, too.” Skinner moved for the door, shutting down the conversation—or so he hoped.

“The Babysitter Killer may have returned. We have surveillance to do. Work to accomplish.”

It was Mulder—it was always Mulder. Skinner spun around. His eyes passed over an anxious-looking Scully to bore into her rebellious partner. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Agent Mulder. While you’re hunting down the Babysitter Killer, I’m quite literally stuck on babysitting duty.”

With that, he pushed into the parking lot.

Come say hi on a03 and follow along here.

[spooky-fm]

Phantom Thief

Also known as the reveal fic that doesn't even mention the word 'ghost' until almost 20k words in. It is sufficiently traumatizing for everyone involved.

Ao3. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

Summary:

Danny Fenton flees his world and finds himself in the role of International Conman Neal Caffrey. He is actually pretty happy with his life, even with the whole 'convicted felon' thing. But of course Fruitloop of Fruitloops, Vlad Masters, has to go and spoil everything by tracking Danny down and demanding a match for the title of the Ghost King, like that is an actual thing that Danny can wager. And of course he manages to force him to out himself to his friends. Who are, coincidentally, FBI agents, including his literal handler.

In short, not a single person is having a good day.

Part 1. Neal Caffrey is missing ... again

Peter sighs in annoyance (and mild concern) when his eyes land on his CI's empty desk with its equally empty chair. Neal has been acting strange for days — coming in late, disappearing from the office for long lunches, and, as always, avoiding any questions about his problems. Peter is fairly certain that it's problems and not criminal plans that are causing Neal's abnormal behavior. Even at his most stressed and cornered, the conman has a certain air of anticipation and mischief that always settles around him when he is planning a heist.

But Neal Caffrey of the last week has tired eyes and a fake smile that he has not worn in the office in at least a year. He is tense and jumpy, flinching at loud sounds. Peter thinks that doors banging and men shouting are the worst offenders and his heart clenches a little at the implications. He has to remind himself that it might just be a coincidence, and that Neal is simply stressed, but he knows his instinct is very rarely wrong. Especially when it comes to Neal. Peter has gone against his gut before, falling back on investigator training and suspicion, and has been proven wrong every time, almost completely damaging his relationship with Neal in the process. It has taken them months to rebuild their trust in each other after the Nazi treasure fallout, but, Peter thinks, they are doing okay again.

He reads the words on the paper in front of him for the fifth time and fails to register their meaning. The mortgage fraud file would not be very interesting on a good day, but his worry for Neal has rendered him incapable of concentrating on the neat rows of numbers of Catherine Woolridge's expenses.

Peter's eyes drift towards the empty desk in the bullpen, then towards the clock on the wall of his office. It's almost half past nine, one hour and thirty minutes after Neal is supposed to arrive at the FBI building. Neal has never been late by more than thirty minutes before. Despite his flighty nature and casual disregard for rules, he is surprisingly punctual about meetings even if he does make sure to be 'fashionably late' every once in a while, claiming he needs to maintain his reputation.

Peter shakes his head to clear it and pulls out his phone. Neal still hasn't answered any of his texts, and the calls have all gone to voicemail. Peter is frowning at the phone in his hand with concern, already planning on driving up to June's to retrieve his wayward CI. Or at least to check on him, make sure he is not passed out in the bathroom or something.

The phone rings loudly with an incoming call, startling Peter so much he almost drops it. It keeps ringing while he checks the caller ID, and his chest tightens in worry when he sees the familiar extension of the marshals' office. He fumbles with the buttons and finally manages to answer the call.

Taking a deep breath he manages to answer with 'Peter Burke' in a voice that is much steadier than his hands or thoughts.

"Agent Burke, Neal Caffrey's tracker just went offline. Are you aware of his current location?"

The line is familiar — he's received dozens of calls like this, with how much Neal gets into trouble and tests his boundaries. For some reason, this time the words cause his heart to skip a beat. His stomach rolls with an uneasy feeling. He forces himself to respond in the negative, thanks the marshal on the other end of the line, and assures them that he will be coming to the last known location to investigate.

Peter isn't sure when exactly he stood up and moved to the door of his office, but as the phone beeps at the end of the call he is already halfway down the stairs and flagging down Jones and Diana on his way to the elevators. They fall into step with him a second later and he spares a moment to be a little proud of his team's cohesion.

His smile disappears when he is reminded why they are on the move. He waits until the elevator doors are closed — with no one else inside, thankfully — and fills them in on the situation.

"Caffrey's tracker went dark three minutes ago," Diana takes in a sharp breath, and Jones straightens, both looking worried and alert. "We are going to June's - that's the last known location."

"You don't think he's run," Diana makes it sound like a statement, but her eyes are uncertain, mirroring the fear tightly coiled in Peter's lungs.

"He's been acting weird," Jones interjects. "Like he's afraid of something." He looks down at the control panel display steadily shuffling through floor numbers and continues, "Blake yelled at the printer the other day and Neal almost jumped out of his shoes."

Peter nods.

"Which is why we are not starting a manhunt until we get some more intel. Hopefully, June and her staff will be able to tell us something or there will be clues in his rooms."

The elevator doors slide open with a ding!, and Peter marvels absentmindedly at his first uninterrupted descent from the twenty-first floor in the busy office building.

They make their way to their destination in silence, taking Peter's car. On the steps of June's mansion, Peter knocks and turns to look at his teammates.

"I have a bad feeling about this. Be careful."

The two nod seriously.

Seconds later they are let into the building by Maria, June's new maid, who seems a bit uneasy at the sight of them. Peter knows she comes from a complicated background and doesn't begrudge her apprehension at dealing with federal agents. He lets Diana stay back and question her about the morning and takes Jones upstairs to look through Neal's apartment.

They find it in light disarray, though obviously not from any break-in or even from a frantic search for something. It seems that Neal hasn't dusted in a while, and there are unwashed dishes in the sink and on the counters. The kitchen table holds scattered papers — sketches, paperwork, copies of files from their recent cases — along with empty wine bottles and another dirty plate that seems to be from the day's breakfast.

The rest of the apartment is similar. There are some clothes scattered on the chairs, books and random knick-knacks thrown haphazardly on the surfaces of furniture. The bed is unmade, the bathroom sink has hair sticking to its sides. All-in-all, a completely normal look for any other person's apartment, but with Neal Caffrey's compulsive need for tidiness and order in his living space it paints an alarming picture in Peter's mind.

Jones makes a sound of surprise in the kitchen, and Peter hurries back to join him. He has been taking a closer look at the papers on the dining table and is now staring at the sketches and quick watercolors that Peter has noted but didn't pay too much attention to. They look fresh, one of them even has a coffee stain that is maybe a day old at most, which is not a very solid piece of evidence when it concerns Neal Caffrey, Forger Extraordinaire, but Peter cannot imagine why he would need to fake something being newer instead of older, especially if it's just a pile of rough (for Neal) sketches.

Jones hums and throws him a quick glance. "I guess we were right about him worrying about something. At least he has an outlet that's better than punching things, unlike some people I know."

Peter spares a thought to agent Ruiz and his lips quirk up a bit in agreement. He focuses on the papers again, noting the deep pencil strokes, the paper torn in some places from the force of a line; the rough edges of the figures; the red, black, and toxic green colors dominating the pieces; the general mood of anger and fear that seems to radiate from them.

"Damn," he says quietly. Jones nods in agreement.

They put the papers down and move downstairs, where Diana is waiting for them at the door. After a hasty goodbye to Maria, the three of them take a moment to speak outside the car doors.

Peter goes first. "His apartment is messier than usual, aligning with what we've noticed about his recent mental state. No signs of forced entry, his wallet and hat are missing, presumably he took them with him and left of his own accord."

Jones scowls at that.

"I don't like how this looks, but my gut is telling me Caffrey didn't run, despite the evidence indicating the contrary. I don't want to sound like a couch psychologist, but he's been scared of something for days now, and those paintings and the state of his place just confirm that. He knows we have his back now, so he wouldn't just run off on his own without at least trying to reach out or leave a message."

Peter nods thoughtfully. "I agree, it doesn't seem like him, ironically. We haven't had any fights recently as well, or any disagreements really. There is no reason for him to not trust us. Something must have been seriously wrong for him to keep it to himself and disappear like that."

Diana, who looked curious at the mention of paintings, sobers up.

"I might have some answers to that from my talk with Maria," she speaks up. "According to her, an unknown man has been visiting Neal for about a week. White male, age anywhere between early 40s and late 60s, wearing expensive suits and a green cap with a big 'G' in a thin yellow circle."

Green Bay Packers, Peter's mind supplies. Wisconsin.

"Completely white hair and beard, but Maria says his skin was way too smooth for him to be any older than 45 at most. Possible medical condition or genetic predisposition to early gray hair. She says that he has been visiting at random hours and that Neal did not seem especially happy to see him."

She pauses to take a breath and then keeps going.

"Maria mentioned that he seemed to be very confident and charming, but she got an uncomfortable feeling from him. No specific reason, but she was careful to not be left alone with him."

Peter raises his eyebrows. That's not the kind of person Neal voluntarily associates with. If he truly was unhappy to see him, but couldn't find a way to get rid of him, this person could have had something on Neal. Or he could have been threatening someone the conman cares about. Neal normally isn't someone easily scared or intimidated into compliance. Even Keller and Adler didn't make him mope around for days on end.

"We should be careful if we have to engage with him. Did you get anything about this morning from her?" Peter asks with little hope.

"She didn't see Neal leave," Diana answers, "but she thinks she may have heard raised voices a little before seven. Then some weird noises like a big piece of cloth tearing and then a yell and a loud thud. But when she came up to check up on Neal, it was silent and there was no one in his rooms. She swears she checked them thoroughly."

Peter frowns in confusion. He is sure he is missing something, he just has to concentrate, and he'll figure it out...

"Did you manage to get the name of the visitor?" Jones asks while Peter is racking his brain for ideas.

"Vlad Masters, though it could be an alias. Apparently, he referred to Neal as 'Daniel' and 'Little Badger'," she wrinkles her nose at the nickname and Peter mentally agrees. He would normally tease Neal for such a cute moniker, but in the context it sounds more than a little creepy.

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts and figure out their next move. A tentative plan is already forming in his head.

"Diana, good job. I have a feeling that man is the key to Neal's disappearance. Let's figure out who he is. Jones, call the office and have Agent Blake look into the name Vlad Masters with that description, especially in Wisconsin and in connection to a younger male with the name Danny."

Diana and Jones look a bit confused at the last part of his orders, but Jones nods obediently and fishes out his phone. 

"Diana," Peter continues, "go upstairs and look through the apartment. Look for anything Jones and I missed, especially anything that might have a connection to this Vlad Masters. I will talk to Maria about getting us onto the roof, in case they hid up there from her. Jones, once you are done with Blake, look around Neal's balcony. Check the walls for any signs of descent and the ground around it for disturbances."

"Got it, boss."

"Understood."

They will find Neal. They have to.

[celest1all]

hii, can i please request a spencer x female reader fic where reader is sick and spencer has to take care of her and ends up confessing he's in love with her? thank youu 💗🥺

oooh i love this. soft spence makes me wanna cry.

Sickness Bug

spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of phlegm, fluff, mentions of the flu. not much else.

authors note: hope you enjoy!! i hope i did this justice <3

You hated the winter, but more specifically, you hated flu season around the winter. Everyone you came across was either sniffling, coughing or sneezing. It was -- quite frankly -- revolting. And you couldn't stand it one fucking bit.

Luckily for you, it was a simple paperwork day. Finishing up reports, writing some consults you had been asked to analyse. Not so luckily for you, however, somewhere along the way you had caught a bit of a cold. Well, that's all you hoped it was, that's for sure. Your throat had recently started to feel like you had swallowed a thousand pieces of straw and your head was banging like it was being hit repeatedly with a blunt object.

It was hell.

You were currently just sat at your desk, eyes dropping in and out of focus of the paperwork sat on your desk. There was a box of now empty tissues next you and a bottle of cold medicine that was close to being finished on the other.

You tried clearing your throat to soothe the pain but it instead just made it worse. In fact, it made it worse ten fold.

"Fuck," you mutter to yourself, hand coming up to your throat, rubbing to attempt to ease it.

"You okay?" a voice come behind you, startling you from out of your seat. You swivelled around and narrowed your eyes to try and see who the voice belonged you, breathing heavily out of your mouth as your nose was blocked.

Through the blurry mist of your vision, you could see a head of messy curls and a worried look. "Spence?" You ask, almost wondering if it was a figment of your ill-ridden brain.

Spencer took in your appearance. Your hair was up in a messy ponytail, there was a bottle of extra strength cold medicine on your desk and your trash bin was full of used tissues. You, on the other hand, looked (for lack of a better word) terrible. Your eyes were blood shot, you were breathing rather heavily, pale and also clutching your forehead.

"You're sick." He says, looking at you, sympathy swirling in his iris.

"Pfft, no." You reply, avoiding eye contact. "I'm the fit of health."

Spencer hummed in response, not needing to profile you to know you were lying. "No, seriously, it's just a bit of a col--achoo!" You both looked at each other, neither one of you saying anything. Fit of health my ass...

Spencer looked around, one hand still clasping his beige satchel, before zeroing back on you. "Uh, okay. You should go home."

You narrowed your eyes again, before shaking your head and slightly coughing. "No. I'm staying." Your voice was croaky and dry, "I've got a shit load of paperwork to do from the last case and Hotch will shoot me if I don't do it." You wipe your sweaty forehead with the sleeve of your sweater, whilst slightly shivering. "A-Are you cold? I'm cold."

Against his better judgement, Spencer took his coat he was wearing before he came into work to fight against the harsh DC winter and wrapped it around your frame, rubbing his palm up and down on your upper arm in an attempt to warm you up slightly. "Okay, let's get you home."

With that, Spencer helped you get up from your chair in the bullpen and got your bag for you and put it on his shoulder, whilst the other was still wrapped around you. "W-What about the p-paperwork?" Your teeth were chattering relentlessly now.

"Fuck the paperwork, you're sick. You might have the flu, and having the flu in a building full of FBI agents might not be the best idea." He says, ushering you towards the elevator.

Spencer pressed the button for you and let you in first, him following closely after.

"I can take the s-stairs. I know you don't l-like germs." You state, warming up slightly from the doctors coat.

He chuckles slightly, "I'd rather get the flu than Morgan kill me because you collapsed whilst walking down six flights of stairs."

You laugh, causing phlegm to get stuck and making you cough. It was disgusting. After a few seconds of coughing, the elevator dinged to signify you had arrived to the ground floor.

Making sure there was nothing that could trip you up or inconvenience you in any way, Spencer helped you out of the elevator and towards his car. Every now and then, he would check on you. You were rather out of it, anyone could tell you that. This cold was kicking your ass rather spectacularly.

Once you had both arrived at his car, Spencer opened the passenger door and helped you inside, then buckled your seatbelt. Unknowingly, the act of trying to buckle the seatbelt, he could smell the perfume you used. It smelt divine, it was a smell he would want to smell for the rest of his life.

Clearing his throat, he got in the car and started the car. He looked over at you, who was now sleeping, and smiled fondly to himself. Shaking those thoughts away, Reid pulled out for he garage and began his journey to your house.

The journey was uneventful, it wasn't rush out yet so the ride was quick and easy. That he was grateful for.

Once he had parked the car in your driveway, he got out of the drivers side and made his way around to you. He opened the door and carefully unbuckled the belt, picking you up bridal style.

He grabbed the keys out of the bag that was on his shoulder and unlocked your front door, shutting the door behind him. Spencer briefly looked around your house and chuckled at the different posters you had on your wall, all of the artists and tv shows you had talked for hours about were there. It made his heart warm.

Reid walked over to the couch and delicately placed you onto it, grabbing the blanket on the back of it and covering you in it. Unconsciously, you snuggled into it, the soft material providing you great warmth in your sick state.

Whilst you slept, Spencer had cooked up some soup for when you awoke. He had no idea how long you would actually be asleep for, but he could always heat it up for you when eventually wake up.

He also sort of cleaned, well, tidied the living room so it wasn't as cluttered. He hoped that you didn't take it as a sign of rudeness or disrespect. Fuck, what if you did? What if you thought he was being disrespectful? Was this the wrong thing to do? What if--

"Spence?" You ask groggily, hand rubbing at your tired eyes.

Spinning around, Spencer makes his way over to the couch and sits down beside you. "Hey," he says softly "How are you feeling?"

Trying to sit up, you gasp at the sudden throb of your head, making you wince slightly. "Tired." You admit, smiling at the doctor.

"That's to be expected, you most likely have the flu and you had spent almost every waking hour at the office so it's highly likely that the two--" Spencer cuts himself off at the look on your face and clears his throat awkwardly, "I made you some soup."

Your eyes widen, and you smile wholeheartedly at him, "You did?"

Reid nods his head and smiles back, "It's still warm so would you like some?"

"Fuck yes."

Spencer chuckled and gets up to grab it and som napkins incase you might make a mess. He hands it to you and you thank him before tucking in.

"It's my mothers recipe, she used to make it for me when I was sick. Well, the one time I was sick." Spencer smiles fondly at the memory, before shaking his head and looking over at you. You looked cute, all wrapped up in a blanket, sleep still costing your features.

After finishing your bowl of soup, which lasted probably ten seconds, you place it on the ground and wrap yourself tighter in the blanket. "Why are you helping me?"

The question took Spencer off guard, making his brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

Readjusting your sitting position, you continue. "You took me home, right? So you helped me out of the office, out of Quantico, and presumably into your car, out of your car, into my house, onto my couch and then made me soup. Also taking into account that you are a germaphobe, so that begs the question; Why?"

Spencer blinked at you. And then again. And once more. "It's not a trick question, Spence, no one has ever done that for me. Not previous boyfriends, no one. So why?" Spencer took note of the almost guilty look in your eyes, like you felt bad that you put him out like this.

Reid avoided eye contact and looked around the room, swallowing hard. A million answers ran through his brain and not one of them seemed viable for question asked. Spencer rubbed his hands together, anxiety flooding his senses. Fuck it.

Turning to face you, Spencer breathed in and closed his eyes. "I like you." He opened them again, but still avoided eye contact with you. "Not as in how I like Morgan, not in that way. But the way you make me breathless every time you walk into the room, the way you make me smile and forget everything I have ever known whenever you look at me with that goddamn smile on your face."

You widen your eyes at his confession, mouth ajar in shock. Spencer continued rubbing his palms together and breathing heavily. How long had he wanted to admit this?

Not wasting another second, you take one of his sweaty palms in to yours and hold it there, causing him to look over at you with this soft puppy dog eyes he always does. You smile at him, the one that always makes him have butterflies in his tummy. The one he will never ever forget, not in this life, not in the next.

"Spencer, I like you."

It was his turn to widen his eyes, "What?"

"I like you." You reiterate, eyes flicking back and forth between his.

"You do?" He asks, almost to ensure that this wasn't a massive wind up, one that he would probably never forget, even on his death bed. He shivered just at the thought.

"Mhm," You nod at him and smile brightly at him again.

Going out on a limb, Reid leans in to kiss you. But before he could do so, you put your hands on your chest to push him away slightly. His heart falls out of his ass. Had he read this all wrong?

You watched his face fall and sadness fill his features. Eyes widening in realisation, "No!" You shout louder than you thought you were going to, causing your head to throb that much more. Spencer's eyes snap to you. "Fuck," you wince, shaking your head to ignore the pain, you look into the eyes of the saddened man infront of you. "I do want to kiss you, just don't think it's the best idea. I don't want you to get sick."

Spencer's heart beats a bit faster at that, but really, he couldn't care less. All he wants, is to feel your lips on his. That's all he can fucking think about right now. "I don't care. If kissing you meant getting sick, then I don't care. I would do it in a heartbeat."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Maybe it's the sickness, maybe it's the headache, maybe it's the lack of sleep, but that sentence made tears start to prick at your eyes. "Kiss me then."

Smirking, Reid leans in and places his lips onto yours. The kiss was a sweet, but euphoric one. Your lips were soft against his, the feeling of it making his tummy do somersaults. If he could kiss you for the rest of his life, he'd be damn sure he would.

Pulling away, you lean your forehead against his. "That was..." you were breathless, the kiss taking all ounce of oxygen out of your lungs.

"Amazing." He finished, smiling down at you. You smiled back at him and curled up next to him, still relatively cold. Spencer wrapped you up in his embrace and the blanket a bit tighter, kissing the top of your forehead.

God, he hoped that this was going to be the first day of the rest of his life.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Bellybutton kiss with Marcus p 🥺👉👈

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Warnings: Pregnancy.

"Hi, baby," he picks up on the second ring, "everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect," you tell him, "I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch? I'll bring something by headquarters and we can sit on one of the benches outside?"

"You sound nervous, honey," it's half a laugh, "are you sure everything's okay?"

Reassuring him has him begging for Thai food, "or whatever you want, baby, you know what I like well enough by now," that has you plugging in directions for the restaurant near headquarters he always brings home with him.

When you get to his department, the receptionist just waves you in with a hello and another agent asks if you've gotten your hair done recently. You have but that's not why you're smiling ear to ear right now.

Reaching Marcus' office, you hear him caught in a conference call and slowly open the door to peak around. He waves you in, muting his line and saying, "I'm so sorry, baby, do you mind sitting in here and I'll make it up to you?"

He leaves his chair, grabbing one from the front of the desk to drag it around and clears a spot for your lunch on the flat surface.

"Only one entree?" he asks, his finger hovering over the mute button on his call awaiting your answer.

You nod, "I just wanted dumplings and rice, you can unmute yourself whenever, I'll shut up."

Shaking his head and mumbling something about how you're already quiet to begin with, he unmutes himself to make an input before muting himself again and turning back to you, "it shouldn't take long, just trying to figure out how to dole out this new case, it's half art half murder and there's an international twist."

Covering your mouth, you ask around a bite, "so if you have to go to, like, Paris or Madrid, I get to go with you.... right?"

"I'll see what I can do," he winks, unmuting himself once more to say goodbye to his colleagues.

"Marcus," you laugh, "I don't think I heard a solution to your problem in all those words."

"It's the FBI, gorgeous, not NASA."

Looking around his office, you abandon your food to stare out his window and the surrounding buildings of DC.

"What's on your mind, baby?"

When you turn to look at him, he beckons you to him, his thighs spreading out to give you room between his legs and his hands find your waist as you find your way in front of him.

His eyes are deep brown, a dark so deep that it still takes your breath away to this day and it's your breath that hitches now under his touch.

"If you're looking for a little afternoon action," he smirks up at you, "I will I could say I had the time but I have a meeting in half an hour and that's just not enough time for what I want to do with you."

"No, baby," you push his hair back and watch his eyes roll back as well, "I got something today and I wanted to show you."

That crooked grin widens further, "you got lingerie under there?"

"No!"

"You know I like those plain cotton panties the best anyway," he pushes forward to press a kiss to your cloth covered hip, "easier to replace when I rip them."

You want to reach for your purse, to give him what you came here for but he keeps pulling you into him; he keeps planting kiss after kiss to your sternum, your ribs, the sides of your stomach. He's so gentle and full of love in those big brown eyes while you play with the hair at the base of his skull that it just slips out. No picture. No big gift. No pomp and circumstance, you just say it as he presses another kiss to your stomach.

"I'm pregnant."

The air shifts and you look down at him, nerves pooling in your belly and welling in your eyelids as he looks up at you from his seat.

His eyes are dopey and soft, a million emotions etched throughout them and you beg, "please say something."

He turns, reaching down to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling it open, "I've been preparing," he says, gesturing to the drawer full of baby clothes this small part of his office has been playing closet to.

"So this is fine?"

"This," he begins to finger the buttons of your dress, undoing the ones at your lower belly, "is perfect."

He kisses your warm skin, his hand skating under your skirt to gently rest against your stomach as your own hand finds his soft curls again.

"Hi, baby," his lips are ghosting across the surface of your belly and you can hear the tears in his voice, "I'm your daddy."

He looks up at you again, "do you think she can hear me already?"

"I don't know, daddy," you wink at him, "but I don't think it hurts to talk to her. Or him. Or whoever they decide to be."

He nods, "I'm gonna play so many art documentaries to your tummy! I hope they decide to be an artist."

"Well," you scrunch your nose, "they'll certainly be a nerd."

"I love you," he says before breaking eye contact and pressing his lips just under your belly button, "and I love you, little bean."

TAGLIST: @a-bang-for-your-bucky @amneris21 @antisocialthat70sshow @apascalrascal @banga-sama @bdavishiddlesbatch @casualpalacebagelrascal @danniburgh @darnitdraco @dobbyjen @empress-palpat1ne @evelynseventyr @gracie7209 @green-socks @greeneyedblondie44 @hnt-escape @icanbeyourjedi @jessie-writes-things @justanotherblonde23 @klaine-92 @knivesareout @lachicapequena @leonieb @liviiii98 @mariesackler @marvelousmermaid @mouthymandalorianalso @mssarahpaulsooonn @notcookiebelle @omlwhatamidoinghere @pascalslittlebrat @phoenixpascal @phrog-seeds @pilothusband @princess76179 @purplepascal042 @rosiefridayrogersunday @salome-c @sarahjkl82-blog @sleep-tight1 @soyelfuegoquearde @starlightmornings @sugarontherims @talesfromtheguild @the-feckless-wonder @voteforpedropascal @wheresarizona @wille-zarr

[talatomaz]

lockdown | jj x fem!teen!reader

a/n: i can’t believe that a year ago today, the last ever episode of criminal minds aired. i miss jj so much 🤧

this is sort of in line with my own experiences (to a certain extent). and there’s not as much jj x d!r as i’d intended but I hope you still like it.

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

requested by @ouat2017 : “could you do a jj x daughter where the daughter’s school is on lockdown and jj is worried or something like that?”

warnings: gun violence. blood

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is jj’s 18 year old adopted daughter and suddenly finds herself on lockdown after someone brings a gun into her school

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Look, you’re the one that needs to be tutored so can you please focus?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

You were currently in the tutoring centre trying to help a self-absorbed jock pass English so he could remain on the school’s football team.

Looking around you, you saw a handful of students giving both you and Cameron - the man-child you were tutoring - disparaging looks.

“You’re not supposed to be yelling at me. You’re meant to be telling me the answers.”

The aforementioned narcissist leaned against his chair, smirking at you in a way that made you fight to hide a shudder.

You could have easily wiped the grin off his face by mentioning who your mother was and who she worked for but instead, you decided to just continue ignoring his advances and carry on teaching him.

“That’s not how this works, Cameron. Now either you listen to me or you fail and get kicked off the team. And quite frankly, I’d rather the latter happen.”

You watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. Sighing, you answered, “latter means the second thing of two things mentioned in a sentence. Now, for the love of God, just finish writing your paragraph on Heller's satire of capitalism in Catch-22.”

You let out a breath of relief when he finally relented and started to scribble on his sheet of paper. You glanced over at one of your friends, who was also tutoring for extra credit, and smiled when she rolled her eyes at Cameron’s actions.

Leaning against the large desk that stood at the front of the room, you relished in the long-awaited silence aside from hushed whispers that came from other students asking for help.

Taking out your phone, you glanced at the screen to see that it was only midday and soon the lunch bell would be ringing.

You smiled softly at your lock screen.

It was a photo of you and JJ, your adoptive mother.

It was taken a few weeks prior at your 18th birthday party. You’d been living with JJ for almost 5 years now; her having fostered you before later adopting you when you were 14.

You still didn’t know what she saw in you on that day you’d first met her - you’d lost your family in a home invasion, barely surviving yourself - but whatever it was, you were grateful because you’d gotten a second chance at life.

Several minutes passed and you’d only broken from your train of thought when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw your friend, the one who’d rolled her eyes earlier at Cameron, standing beside you.

“I see you finally got him to do his work.” She whispered, loud enough for your ears only.

“Barely. He still has an essay to write and hasn’t even finished a paragraph yet.”

“I would have smacked his sorry ass by now.”

You laughed before clamping your hand over your mouth, her comment having caught you off guard.

“Ally!” You whisper-shouted, playfully hitting her arm.

She looked at you with a raised eyebrow causing you to smirk, “Trust me, I’ve thought about it but-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a large bang rang out, shattering the silence the room had once held.

With wide eyes, your head whipped to the door where the gunshot had presumably come from and you listened as the hallways were filled with panicked screams.

Running to the door, ignoring the gasps and shouts from the other students behind you, you turned the lock on the door, pulled down the blinds, switched off the lights and jammed a chair under the handle.

Looking up, you saw everyone had the same look of panic in their eyes; a few were crying, including Ally, and others were pale with shock, Cameron was one of them.

“Guys, we’re gonna be okay but we have to be quiet.” You whispered harshly, constantly looking over your shoulder at the door, listening for any indication of the shooter coming your way.

Everyone stared at you, as if you were the leader of a camp and they were small children awaiting for further instruction.

You supposed it wasn’t far off.

By taking charge, you were the one who’d been unwillingly given the role of protector.

“First things first,” you walked over to the group of 10 students, “I need you all to make sure your phones are on silent. We can’t risk being caught.”

You watched as everyone followed your instructions.

“I know you all want to call your parents but that’s going to attract attention to us so for right now, we need to be quiet.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest and as you spoke, one thought repeated in your head. JJ.

Taking out your phone, you scrolled to find your mother’s name in your contacts. You watched as your thumb hovered over her name.

Just breathe, y/n. Breathe.

Tapping your mother’s name, you brought the phone to your ear.

“I thought you said we couldn’t call anyone.”

Your eyes locked onto Cameron’s, his face pale and his eyes filled with terror and a hint of anger.

“My Mum works for the FBI.” You whispered as the phone rang out.

Any other time and you probably would have laughed at the way his face grew paler, if that was even possible. But, in a situation this tense, it was going to be difficult to find any levity.

Your Mum picked up on the second ring and you let out a shaky breath when you heard her voice.

“Hi baby. A bit early for your lunch, isn’t it?”

You closed your eyes at her soft tone, as if you were trying to engrave the way she spoke into your mind lest you would never hear it again.

From your lack of response, the blonde sensed there was something up, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

A single tear dropped down your cheek as you struggled to maintain a steady tone. Catching a glimpse of Ally staring at you, you steeled yourself and spoke.

“Mum, you need to come quick. Someone’s brought a gun into school.”

“Oh my-AARON.”

You winced when you heard her shout for her boss, listening as you could hear her run up stairs. You held your breath as she filled Hotch in on what was happening before telling Garcia to hack into your school’s security system.

“Are you okay? Stupid question. But are you hurt?”

“Mum,” you interrupted her rambling, “I’m fine. I’m in the tutoring centre with 10 other people. I don’t know how many people are injured. It just all happened so fast.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Though you could hear the clear panic in her voice, her words did bring some form of reassurance to you.

“Penelope’s hacking into the system so hopefully she can have eyes soon.”

As she spoke, you could hear the clacking of keys in the background of the call; presumably Garcia doing exactly what JJ said.

“Mum?” You questioned when you heard Garcia swear.

Instead of JJ answering, the usually peppy tech analyst replied, her voice shaky and wet, as if she was crying.

“Y/N, thank God you’re okay.”

“What’s wrong, Garcia?”

“Someone’s disabled the cameras remotely. I can only get them back online if someone reprograms them from the inside.”

Grasping what she was explaining, you nodded, “I’ll fix them.”

“What? No!”

Your mother had taken the phone off of Garcia.

“You are not leaving that room, y/n. We’ll find another way in.”

“Mum, someone needs to fix the system from inside the school. I need to do it.”

Ignoring your mother’s worried shouts, you continued to speak, “Mum, I have to. I love you.”

You disconnected the phone and switched it off, preventing her from being able to call you back.

“Y/N, you are not leaving this room.”

You’d only just realised that everyone had been watching you intently during that entire interaction.

“Yes, I am.”

Moving away from the huddle, you rose to your feet and replied to your friend.

Cameron rose to his feet and towered over you as he challenged you, “No, you are not. You’re going to put us in danger.”

“Do you know how to hack into our school’s security system and then reconnect the transformer and enter the Mastercode?”

His face contorted to a look of confusion making you reply,

“Exactly.”

Turning to leave, you felt a large hand enclose around your arm.

“I said, you’re not leaving.”

Your eyes flickered from Cameron’s hand up to his face that dared you to take another step.

“Remove your hand from my arm before I remove your hand from your body. You may letter in football but I’ve been trained by some of the best FBI agents there are and unless you want to end up in a sleeper hold, I suggest you shut up and do what I say for once.”

His harsh grip almost immediately lessened as his hand returned to his side.

“Good. Now, have any of you been shot? No? I didn’t think so. Well, I have and whoever did get shot is probably bleeding out in the hallway. I can’t not do anything.”

No one dared to respond and instead, shook their head ‘no’ at your asking if anyone else would try to stop you.

Content that you weren’t going to deal with any more unnecessary distractions, you made your way to the door and gently removed the chair that was beneath the handle.

“Ally, you’re in charge. Lock the door when I leave. By my count, the FBI will be here soon. And Cameron, you do anything stupid and I’ll shoot you myself.”

Unlocking the door, you stepped out into the empty hallway and hastily made your way to where the main security hub was located.

Just a couple of hours ago, all you had wished for was silence but now that your wish had been granted, all you wanted was to hear the playful shouts and conversations between your friends and fellow students.

The silence that currently fell on your school was unnerving and unbearable. And with each step you took, you flinched at the sound your shoes made against the marble floor. Each noise practically acting as a beacon for the shooter to come find you.

You let out a sigh of relief when you found the Hub and you quickly worked to reconnect the security system. Typing on the laptop that rested atop one of the servers, you couldn’t help the smile that formed when all the cameras re-engaged.

Tapping on one of the keys, you navigated through the various cameras, looking for any indication of the shooter or of any injured people. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of someone.

Squinting at the screen, you saw, what appeared to be a freshman - since you didn’t recognise him as being a part of your year - laying on the ground, a hand clutching his stomach as blood coated his clothing.

Immediately knowing where he was, you cautiously made your way to the east hallway before running when you noticed him laying on the ground, his blood coating the once-white marble floor.

Falling to your knees, you pressed your hands against his wound, trying to stop the steady flow. He groaned out in pain, tears staining his face.

“H-Help me.” He choked out.

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson. But everyone c-calls me J-Jack.”

“Jack, you’re going to be okay. I just need you stay with me, okay? I’m-”

“Y/N.”

You failed to hide the surprise from your face making the younger teen smile despite his predicament.

“You’re t-tutoring Cameron. Everyone knows who you are. Y-You’re the one who doesn’t take any of his shit. I think h-he likes you.”

“Well, tough shit for him. I may be bi but he’s definitely not my type.”

Jack’s laugh quickly turned into another groan of pain.

Unzipping your jacket with one hand, you used the other to keep pressure on his wound. After removing the jacket, you harshly pressed it against his torso and watched as it barely absorbed the blood.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. I won’t let you.” You said, tears filling in your eyes as memories rushed back of when you tried to save your brother after he’d been shot.

“You’re going to be okay. I just need you to-”

You stilled when you heard footsteps come up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You didn’t recognise the voice and couldn’t bring yourself to turn around to face the person who’d caused all this pain.

You opened your mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

Closing your eyes, you readied yourself for your inevitable death when a shot rang out and a body slumped to the ground beside you.

Jumping at the action, you turned around and almost collapsed in relief at what you saw. Your Mum and her team stood behind you with several SWAT members flanking them.

The tears that had once filled your eyes now spilled shamelessly down your cheeks.

Without saying a word, JJ holstered her gun and ran to your side, hugging you as best she could since your hands were still pressed against Jack’s wound.

Paramedics soon followed and after that it was all a blur. It was as if you were floating outside of your body. Logically, you knew it was the effects of an adrenaline crash but you felt so disconnected from your body.

You barely took note as your mother gently lifted you to your feet, allowing you to be briefly looked over by the paramedics. Nor as your mother escorted you to one of the school bathrooms where she rinsed the blood off your hands.

You didn’t even say a word until you’d arrived back at the BAU where a worried Penelope wrapped you in a tight hug which you returned.

“I’m gonna take her up to my old office, Hotch.”

The Unit Chief simply nodded as he and the rest of the team watched as JJ led you to the abandoned office that was still filled with random case files.

Closing the door, she sat you down on her sofa and stared at you, not touching you in fear that even a simple caress would cause you to shatter.

You exhaled a long breath before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

Her brows narrowed, “Sorry? Sweetheart, why?”

You looked at your hands that had been coated in blood less than an hour before and then up at your mother; her blue eyes filled with nothing but concern, love and confusion.

“You told me not to leave and I did. I’m sorry.”

And with that, you started to cry heart-wrenching sobs that made your shoulders shake.

JJ gathered you in her arms, gently rocking you as her long blonde hair draped over you.

“It’s okay, y/n. I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

Her arms wrapped tightly around you as she laid soft kisses on your head, her hand stroking your back.

That only served to make you burrow into her even more, seeking comfort in her motherly embrace.

You muttered your apologies as she continued to reassure you that you were okay.

JJ was afraid that if she stopped, you wouldn’t be here, safe in her arms.

Still rocking you in her arms, she whispered in your ear,

“I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

[hellfireclub-at-thebau]

Boy Wonder

Chapter 1: The BAU

Warnings: Mentions of blood, serial killers, graphic depictions of murder

Word Count: 1,157

BANG! The door swung open, the smoke now pouring out the door, as vested men and women ran into the house. The fire was about to take over the whole house, but it hadn’t reached the main floor yet. However, the smoke suffocated you, just at the sight of the black void that was seeping through the cracks in the wooden floor.

“Peyton!” The voice boomed, shaking the whole floor.

The man, a dark haired cop, his gun out in front of him at the ready, was approaching my hiding spot. I could see him through the cracks of the cabinet, small enough for me to fit in, a great spot for hide-and-seek. 

I could see the letters on his vest, clear as day through all the smoke. FBI.

In that moment, my heart told me to jump out of my hiding spot, and reach for the man in front of me. Picking me up in his arms, the wind danced through my hair as the agent rushed me out.

“Have you found her, Rossi?” The faint voice whispered near his wrist.

“I got her. Call the medics.” The man said, as he whisked me past a cop car, where my father’s face was pressed against the hood, covered in soot, sweat, and blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I rubbed my eyes as the annoying, ear piercing beep practically killed my eardrums, before grabbing my phone and pressing “Stop.” Before I could even process the fact that it was 6:30 in the morning, a wet tongue dragged against my cheek, over and over.

“Teddy!” I giggled, sitting up in order to avoid the sloppy tongue of the fluffy Golden Retriever, who practically weighed 100 pounds when standing on my chest. 

The sun beamed through the edges of my window, just enough to remind me that it was Tuesday morning, and while I wanted those extra five minutes of sleep, bad guys don’t rest. And neither do dogs who desperately need to use the bathroom.

Once my normal routine of taking Teddy outside, feeding both of us breakfast, and getting myself looking sharp and professional was finished, I hopped in the car on my way to Quantico, where the BAU was centered and held all business, unless the call of justice was leading us anywhere else in the country.

Turning on the radio, I heard the smooth tones of Bobby Bones reaching my ears. 

“Good morning everyone! Happy March 18th, and I hope you’re enjoying the weather out there!” His voice roughly scratched in his radio voice that seemed to run on a lawnmower engine.

Shit. March 18th. I had to mentally prepare myself for the cacophony of birthday wishes and celebrations from the team, as well as the million hugs I would get from Garcia. 

Damn, how do you forget your own birthday?

—-------------- 

DING!

The elevator opened just as I started meticulously counting each freckle on my left arm. 

Is that a freckle? Or a crumb? I did have some chocolate this morning…

I barely stepped out of the elevator before being blinded by, what I lovingly refer to as, the personification of a pink highlighter. 

“Happy birthday, Caroline!” The blonde practically screeched before pulling me into a hug. Garcia’s hugs always felt like being hugged by your favorite aunt, the one who would help you sneak back into your parents house after a night out of partying. 

“Garcia, I can always depend on you for the best birthday hugs.” I smiled, finally pulling myself away from her. It seemed her hugs lasted forever.

“Of course. I give everyone birthday hugs. If I don’t, then my day feels empty.” Garcia explained, pretty nonchalant about her precise schedule. 

“I still can’t figure out how you remember everyone’s birthdays and special days, good or bad.” I shook my head, starting to walk into the main office of the BAU headquarters. 

“Duh. I keep a calendar. And each of you has a color. You exude purple energy.” Garcia stated, pretty matter-of-factly. I couldn’t help but smile at Garcia’s little nuances. She was such a dork, but a cute dork. 

As I reached my desk, I reached a wrapped gift sitting right next to my desktop. Wrapped in beautiful blue gift wrapping, I could tell, was a book. 

There was no need to guess who got it for me.

I could feel the excitement from the boy genius as I picked it up, turning to face him. His desk was right next to mine, but his was littered with rolled up post-it notes that I had thrown at him when I was bored. It seemed to be the only way to get his attention when he was wrapped up in the five books he was reading that day.

“Spencer, you did not have to get me anything, you know?” I semi-scolded, setting my bag down before sitting on my desk. 

“Well, I figured I would get you something anyway. Besides, if I didn’t get it for you now, I know you would procrastinate getting it for yourself.” Reid explained.

I hate it when he’s right.

I carefully opened the wrapping paper, before forcing myself to look down at the present. My eyes shot open with surprise. 

“Shut up! The new BTK book by Kathrine Ramsland?! Signed by the author?! Reid, where did you find this?” I smiled, my voice practically climbing two octaves.

The doctor shrugged before running a hand through his unruly hair. “I pulled a few strings.” He smiled, his hazel eyes sparkling in the light of the sun that burst through the window. I love his smile… And his eyes…

Two hands on my shoulders took me out of my trance, as a cigar-ridden breath was close to my skin. “Happy birthday, kiddo. Your annual cheesecake is in the fridge.” Rossi said, before giving me a loving, but friendly, kiss on the cheek, his stubble grazing against my pale skin.

I reached my arms across my torso to hold his hands that were on my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze, closing my eyes as I did so. 

But upon opening my eyes, I could see Prentiss and JJ in the briefing room, looking very concerned. 

“Rough one?” Spencer asked, looking up at the briefing room as well.

“Looks like we are gonna lose some sleep over this.” I sighed, standing up from my desk, as I tried to take a peek at what was on the screen. To my surprise, it wasn’t the usual crime scene photos or map of the state we would be traveling to. 

On the screen, there it was. The picture of the worst night of my life. My mother and two older brothers hanging by their own small intestine, blood dripping into a puddle on the floor below. 

And right next to it was my dad’s mugshot.

There’s no way he escaped. Right?

[chosenimagines]

Seizure (Dr Spencer Reid)

Universe: Criminal Minds Summary: Reader (named Lola) gets taken out of college for an interrogation but gets a seizure when seeing the crime scene on pictures

Warnings: Seizure, mental illness, panic attack

Language: English Request: yes/no Requests [Open] A/N: Seizure plays before Trash talk! This one shot/imagine can be found as well on my wattpad^^

🖊️    🖊️    🖊️   🖊️

____________________________________________

The confident Clatter which was going through the hallway outside made me smaller and smaller in my chair. I knew that I haven't done anything, but this situation was too much for me. I have been dragged out of my seminar from several FBI-agents and now I am sitting a small room which I've seen in different tv-shows. I was sitting in an interrogation room. 

Smoke had to come out of my ears because of all the thinking I did. I could not figure out why I was broad here. What could I have done to pull the FBI into my direction? I couldn't even go across the street when the traffic light was showing red! There was nothing I could have done to draw the attention of a state authority to myself. I was nothing more than a simple and overwhelmed law student. Suddenly the door opened and a brunette woman with emotion-loaded eyes and a stiff posture entered the room. She seemed to fight an aversion inside of her. The woman tried hard to cover it up. In my opinion she didn't do a good job covering up her emotions. I felt sorry for her. "Agent Elle Greenaway!", she introduced herself and slowly took a seat infront of me. Agent Greenaway put a file on the desk. "Ms Cinder-" "Lola please.", I mumbled. I didn't expecte that she heard what I've said. "Okay! Lola, you were broad here to talk about the homicide of Jasper Oram.", Agent Greenaway began to talk. I saw her expectantly look in her eyes when I lifted my head for the trickle of a moment. I couldn't keep looking into her eyes. The crushing silence between us was tactile. I digged my fingers into the lower part of my oversized hoodie. My heart was beating heavily and painfully against my chest. My shaking hands felt weak. All in all, I didn't feel good. My only hope was that I could go home soon. "Did you know Jasper Oram?" Rashly I shook my head. The name didn't ring a bell. No face popped up in my head. In silence I told his family and friends that I am sorry for their loss. Even though I felt sorry I didn't get what my humble self had to do with this homicide. "In the room of our victim we found pictures of you. Can you explain how these got there?" Agent Greenaway pulled out three pictures the size of a normal sheet of paper and placed them right infront of me. The photographs were all showing me. I coughed in shock. Why did a stranger have pictures of me in his room? Especially those pictures! Those couldn't be found on my social media. The first photo showed a scene from last year when I have been in the hospital. My doctor, Dory Green, was checking up on me. I remembered that moment clearly and in detail. I had one of my seizures before because I've been scared of one of the doctors. The second photograph showed me looking in astonishment at my phone. There was a date written on the paper. December 09th 2018 On that day my last boyfriend broke up with me. He had sent me a message over WhatsApp that I was too much for him. He texted me how I freak him out when I have one of my seizures. He wanted a normal girl that he could introduce to his parents without being afraid of her having a seizure. He didn't want to explain to his parents why I have what I have if I have a seizure. My weird issue and I would be locked up the next day anyways. The doctors would take care of me so I wouldn't have to do it. After this text I couldn't reach out to him anymore and I haven't seen him again. Without the date the picture wouldn't have been so intimate. But the previous ones were nothing compared to the last. My right hand laid on throat. My left hand pulled away the collar of my black dress. I was kneeling with tears in my eyes on the ground. The desperate and panicked look on my face made clear what situation was portrayed here. I was having a seizure. In the background I recognized my High School which meant this picture was one year old. "I don't know!" "You want to tell me that you can't explain how these pictures got into the victim's room or why he wrote with his own blood 'It was Lola Cinder!" on the floor the seconde before he died?!" Agent Greenaway was now standing. She banged on the table when she said 'died'. I flinched. The tears which hit my eyes were running down my cheeks. "I don't know anything. I've never met the victim!", I mumbled. Agent Greenaway starred me into the ground. Again, she pulled pictures out of her file and threw them on the desk. "Look closely at victim and tell me again that you have nothing to do with this!", the angry agent demanded. A short look and it was over for me. The blood caused a certain tightness inside of my chest. Suddenly I felt like somebody wrapped their hands around my throat and choked me brutally. A rattle escaped my throat, before I tried to reach for air hiccoughing and slipped of the chair. I crouched on the floor with my back pressed against the wall. Underneath an arduous effort I tried to focus on my breathing. But I still had the crime scene infront of my mind's eye and the scene didn't disappear. The imaginary hands tightened, and the hiccupping gasping was getting more. My breath went faster, shorter and heavier. I wasn't able to use any of my calming exercises because my thoughts only circled around the current happenings. No matter what I did it didn't leave my head. Through my panic I observed how the door crashed against the wall with a loud sound. Suddenly a young man knelt infront of me. "My name is Dr Spencer Reid. But Spencer will do for the moment!", he introduced himself. I wanted to answer but my seizure didn't give me a chance. The attempt to talk made the pain in my chest even worse. "Lola, if you can understand me just nod shortly." In a hefty motion I nodded. "Great! Now listen to me." Spencer's voice was pleasantly soft and calm. "I am now carefully taking your hands off of your throat. Okay?" Again, I nodded. I felt cool hands on mine which embraced my fingers and softly took them of my throat and hood. "I am going to hold your hands the entire time until this over. If you are okay with this squeeze my hands." I did what Dr Reid told me. "Spencer, I can't breathe!", I pressed out between my gasps and squinted my eyes. "I know.", he replied calmly. "But I know how to help you!" I squeezed his hands again as a sign to show him that I understood. "Look at me, Lola." "I can't!" My voice sounded strident, panicking and halting. The hiccoughing got worse. I felt dizzy! "You can do it! It is not hard. Open your eyes! You can do this. You are not alone!" I opened my eyes with a flutter. Splashes of colour danced before my eyes. The world didn't get focused. "Wonderful!", Dr Reid praised me. "Now look me in the eyes." I lifted my head and looked at him. "Okay. You are doing great. Now we are breathing together. Can you do that?" Again I wasn't able to speak. So I put pressure to Spencer's hand as an answer. "Take a breath!", Spencer demanded and demonstrated how to do it accompanied by a loud breathing sound. My attempt to mimic his action ended up in three gasps. "You are doing great! Now breath out." Along with him I left the air escape my lungs. Dr Reid breathed out in one go and I did in three separated strokes. We repeated this several time and the gasping and coughing blend into heavy breathing. At least I was able to talk again even tough it sounded breathless if I was being honest. "Okay. Let's play again. I say a word and you use the last letter to say a new wort." Another squeeze. "Victimology-research!" "Ho- Ho- hospital.", I coughed. "Leprechaun!" "Nostrils." "Sample." "Echo." "Occasion." "Nabal-trio!" "That is really creative!", Dr Reid laugh. I joined him laughing. Suddenly I noticed that I could breathe normal again. "I don't know how to thank you, Dr Reid!" He smiled sheepishly. "You can keep calling me Spencer." "You can stick with Lola for me as well.", I said and pushed my hair back looking as sheepish as Spencer. "Are you able to answer a few questions?", Spencer wanted to know. I felt how all blood left my face. "Stay calm! I won't show you the crime scene again." I swallowed hard. "Okay." I whispered. Spencer continued the interrogation under the hawk eyes of Agent Greenaway.

[liaromancewriter]

What Ethan & Cassie AU is this? #OpenHeart

Fated

Premise: When renowned diagnostician Dr. Ethan Ramsey goes missing, Agent Cassie Valentine is tasked with solving the case. AU based on a picture prompt.

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine)

Rating: Teen

Warning: Mention of gun shots, violence, death

Category: AU / Mystery

Words: 1,500

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this visual prompt from @beastlyinstrument about creating an Open Heart AU.

“Hey, Valentine!”

Agent Cassie Valentine turned at the sound, her reflexes kicking in as she caught the baseball thrown in her direction.

“Yeah, you still got it,” said Assistant Director Banerji, smiling at her quick action.

“Chief, we’ve talked about this,” said Cassie, exasperated. “You can’t keep throwing things at me just because I got top scores for speed and agility at the Academy.”

“I know, Agent Valentine,” he grinned. “And yet you always catch them.”

“Instinct, Doc,” she quipped, leaning against her desk as her boss and mentor, Dr. Naveen Banerji (PhD, not MD) walked into the bullpen.

They had been having a version of this discussion since Cassie had graduated at the top of her class from the FBI Academy a year ago.

She had had her choice of assignments and had opted for this specialized team within the Violent Crimes division that dealt with crimes against non-diplomatic Americans on foreign soil.

“We have a new case,” he said, handing her a folder. “Wheel’s up in 30. We’ll brief on the plane.”

By the time they landed at an airstrip outside of Manaus in Brazil, Cassie knew everything there was to know about Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

World-renowned diagnostician and infectious disease specialist, he’d received numerous honors including a Nobel Prize in Medicine. He was also known for his love of opera and highly exacting standards.

Cassie thought he sounded like a prick.

“What’s our plan, Agent Valentine?” asked Dr. Banerji.

“I’ve got a contact, freelance courier,” said Cassie, holstering her weapon after checking to make sure the safety was on. “He’s got his ears to the ground and would have heard about an American doctor that’s gone missing.”

“You head to the safe house, set up communications,” she continued, pulling on her sunglasses as the sharp rays of the sun hit her face when they exited the plane. “I’d also like to visit the neighborhood he was kidnapped from, see if I can find something the team missed.”

“Sounds good,” replied Dr. Banerji as he got into one of the SUVs waiting near the hanger. “Stay in touch, every 30 minutes.”

“Copy that, Chief.”

Cassie got into the other car and gave instructions to her driver. Ethan Ramsey might be a prick, but he was hers now and she never left a person behind.

-----------

Dr. Ethan Ramsey knew that keeping calm and not angering his kidnappers was likely the smart choice. But he hadn’t succeeded so far as evidenced by the bruises forming on his jaw and his ribs.

His formal white shirt was wrinkled and stained from sweat; his dark hair rumpled from several days of running his fingers through it. He’d lost his jacket and tie sometime after the first night.

He’d been attending a benefit for the local opera house, his one night off from the gruelling schedule that his mission with the World Health Organization required, when rough hands had grabbed him.

They had placed a black hood over his head and whisked him out of the venue and into a van of some kind. That had been four or five days ago. He’d lost track of time in his dark prison.

He hadn’t recognized the dialect of his kidnappers, but they spoke some form of Portuguese. His own was passable so he understood enough to know that this was about ransom, nothing more. That had been yesterday.

He laughed out loud — causing the guard outside to bang on the door for quiet — thinking how disappointed they’d be to learn there was no one in his life that would be willing to pay it. Or, in the case of his father, have the wherewithal to secure his freedom.

He was alone and, for the first time in his life, he regretted the state. The concept of love had eluded him most of his life, in fact from the time his mother had walked out twenty-five years ago.

His brief casual affair with Dr. Harper Emery, a colleague at Edenbrook Hospital, had left him unsatisfied and he’d been relieved when they called it quits almost a year ago.

Since then, he’d felt like he had been in a holding pattern. Waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure.

And now it looked like his time had run out.

-----------

Cassie had a good feeling about this. Her contact had come through with three possible locations where her Dr. Ramsey could be stashed away. This was the second one on the list, but her instincts went on overdrive when she scoped it out from the rooftop across the street.

The two guards patrolling the perimeters carried serious hardware. There were two more inside, according to her source. She’d signalled Naveen with an update and knew she should wait for back-up.

But her source had also told her that the local gang holding the doctor hostage was getting antsy and was likely to cut their losses than wait any longer.

If she were going to save his life, it would have to be now.

-----------

Ethan could feel something in the air change. It was followed by the sound of gunfire outside, pop, pop, pause and then pop, pop, pop again. He braced himself as the door slammed open.

Instead of the burly guard, he found himself staring at a beautiful young woman with blonde hair wearing a bulletproof vest.

“Are you Dr. Ethan Ramsey?” she asked, stepping inside the room. She had a gun in one hand and Ethan found himself staring at it.

“Yes, I’m Ethan Ramsey,” he responded when she repeated the question.

“Am I glad to see you alive, Dr. Ramsey,” she said. “Let’s go. I bought us some time with the distraction outside, but we’re pushing it if we stay here any longer.”

Ethan followed her out of the room and through the maze of concrete hallways. Her feet soundless, she held the gun as if it was an extension of her hand.

“Who are you?” asked Ethan, keeping his voice low.

“Agent Cassie Valentine, FBI,” she replied, throwing him a smile over her shoulder before turning back to scan their surroundings.

They almost made it out when she suddenly stopped. Ethan looked over her head to see the leader of the gang blocking their way, a gun pointed straight at her. Ethan knew him well; he’d after all been at the other end of his fist several times.

“Stand down,” said Cassie, her voice hard as she shifted her stance to grip the gun with both hands. “There’s a group of FBI agents waiting outside for us. You’re outnumbered and there’s no way this doesn’t end badly for you.”

The gang leader shouted something at them in Portuguese.

“He says it won’t end well for you either,” translated Ethan.

“I appreciate you translating, Dr. Ramsey,” said Cassie with a smile in her voice. “But we both know those weren’t his exact words. At least he wasn’t that polite.”

“No,” said Ethan, impressed despite himself by how cool and collected she was with a gun in her face.

Ethan watched as the gang leader got a mean look on his face, raising the gun higher until it was aimed at Ethan’s head. He closed his eyes as he heard the gun cock, ready to meet his fate. The gunshot came but not the pain.

He opened his eyes to see Cassie standing over the prone body of the gang leader on the floor, blood trickling from the bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

“Let’s go, Dr. Ramsey,” said Cassie reaching for him. “He might have friends.”

Ethan looked down at her hand on his forearm, feeling an unfamiliar electricity course through him at the light touch of skin on skin. He was…mesmerized as his blue eyes met her green ones, sparkling against the grimy walls surrounding them.

“Dr. Ramsey? Ethan? We need to leave. Now!” 

He realized she was talking to him and shook himself out of a daze. He saw the same awareness in her eyes just before she looked away.

She walked around the body, kicking his gun out of reach despite the threat no longer there. Ethan, who had spent his entire life saving the human body, felt pain at the loss of a human being even though he would have killed Ethan without any remorse.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” he found himself saying to her back.

“Yes, I did,” she said without turning around. “It was him or us. That was the only choice, doctor.”

As hard as it was to hear, Ethan knew that she was right. He followed her out of his prison and into the sunshine, leaving regret behind.

“Thank you,” he said once they’d cleared the structure and crossed over to where her team waited outside.

She turned to face him, walking backward, a quizzical look in her eyes. “What for?”

“Saving my life.”

“Part of the job, doc,” she smirked. “Nothing personal.”

But it was, thought Ethan. She’d saved him, in more ways than one.

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @starryeyedrookie @genevievemd @forallthatitsworth @queencarb @ohchoices @casey-v @anntoldst0ries @coffeeheartaddict @openheartfan @udishaman @danijimenezv @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @mainstreetreader @tsrookie @bex-la-get @chaoticchopshopheart @mercury84choices @beezybean @headoverheelsforramsey @thegreentwin @dorisz @silma-words @custaroonie @pixelnutrookie @adiehardfan @parisa-kh @takemyopenheart @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @jerzwriter @choiceskatie @mia143 @mm2305 @a-crepusculo @choicesficwriterscreations 

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[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Epilogue)

Chapter Eight: Epilogue

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of the series. this is just a summary of what Spencer and Reader’s life is like in the future. thank you so much for joining me on this journey. I’ve enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. So without further ado, enjoy.

Working for the FBI made for a pretty wild life. Even though Y/N wasn’t an agent, her life had been caught up with work just like all the other agents’. It also didn’t help that her boyfriend was endangered practically every minute of every day. It was hard, but Spencer and Y/N made it work. Among the darkness, they created light for each other. Spencer was no longer dreading coming home to a quiet life of reading and rereading his favorite books. He had a partner, he had a lover, someone to depend on. She was there for him as he grieved the loss of his friend and coworker deeply and she was there when he struggled with his excruciating migraines. They walked through life together, facing the challenges head on.

Emily’s death had taken a toll on the both of them, but they were nothing short of relieved when they found out that she was alive and well. Many changes took place after that.

JJ had worked long and hard to turn into a profiler, the liaison had years upon years of experience before switching jobs which meant Hotch had to find a new communications liaison, but he didn’t have to look far at all. He had offered Y/N the job without a second thought. A lot of her job as receptionist covered a liaison’s job. She would often get numerous calls a day from nosy reporters and she’d have to shut them down. However, with the added responsibilities, she’d had to take classes and had undergone copious amounts of training with JJ and Hotch, but she found that she flourished in this new job, despite the hardships that came with it.

This meant that she had her own office now. Whenever Spencer wasn’t at his desk, he was in her office, and whenever she wasn’t in her office, she was at his desk. She often found that she missed her old job as receptionist, but nothing could replace the newfound feeling of making a difference in the world. She used to admire JJ’s ability to stand before nosy reporters and judgmental cops, and here she was, blowing herself (and the team) away with these hidden abilities. 

Before, she was aware of the general gist of the job, she knew it wasn’t easy, but the team often kept the gory details to themselves around her. Now, she had to pick and choose the gore which constantly left her with the question of whether she’d made the right choice or not. The intensity of the job had slightly damaged her spirits, but thankfully she had an amazing support system. She couldn’t have done it without Spencer’s unending support, or Hotch’s for that matter. Before allowing Y/N to accept the job, Hotch had made sure to warn her about the horrors first. She assured him she was ready, even though sometimes she felt like she wasn’t.

On the somewhat bright side, this also meant that she was around during most, if not all cases. This had Spencer jumping for joy, but it also terrified him to his bones. All his emotions were always on overdrive when it came to her. He was glad that he didn’t have to spend so much time away from her, but it simultaneously meant that he was constantly worried for her safety. He never wanted her to go into the field, ever. No matter the amount of combat training she did with Morgan. She found that she preferred interviewing victims’ families and controlling the press to facing serial killers head on anyway.

Sometimes it was easier for her to control the press from Quantico, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to stay back during cases. One particular case had dragged on for much longer than any of them had expected. The whole team was gone in Wisconsin and Hotch had asked her to stay back and hold down the fort at Quantico. The team ended up staying there for two weeks. It was the longest she’d ever been away from Spencer. Nightly calls weren’t enough for them and Spencer truly hadn’t experienced such an emptiness without her before.

As he scooped her into his awaiting arms right outside the elevator when they finally made it back to the office, he breathlessly declared to her, “Marry me.”

She pulled back from the tight embrace to examine his features, “What?” She said, voice thick with confusion.

“I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry. Me.” He enunciated firmly. She broke out into a grin.

“Okay, I will.” She laughed and he squeezed her once more, savoring her warmth.

“This isn’t the official proposal by the way, you deserve something far nicer than all this, but I just want you to know that I’m ready if you are.” Spencer clarified and she threw her head back with laughter. Spencer’s heart soared at the sound.

Spencer took that statement and ran with it. He teased her every chance he got. At one dinner date they had planned, he had the nerve to begin his sentence with her full name, her heart dropping to her gut.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of...sharing this fine wine with me?” Spencer said smugly, resulting in a shocked, but somehow relieved scoff coming from her.

A different time, he decided to give her a false alarm during one of their daily lunch walks in the park nearest to Quantico. He knelt down to one of his knees in the middle of their promenade.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you...wait for me while I tie my shoe?” Spencer asked with a face-splitting grin. This time, she didn’t hesitate to shove his shoulder slightly, causing him to lose balance and almost faceplant into the pavement.

At this point, she truly had no idea when he was going to pop the big question. Knowing him, it could literally be at any point in time. She had to admit, though, he kept her on her toes. A month later, she was sure he’d pop the question during JJ’s wedding reception because of the way he was staring at her all night. He’d looked dreamy in his tux to say the least. Y/N was almost too shy to dance with him because of how magnificent he looked. What she didn’t know was that he was thinking the same exact thing about her. She looked exquisite in the evening gown she adorned and Spencer was absolutely enraptured by her. 

Being so surrounded by love and admiration, Spencer finally asked her to marry him the second they made it through her front door. They stood in the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room. She had just turned around from taking her heels off and was met with Spencer down on one knee, holding the most beautiful ring out to her in a navy blue velvet box.

“I had this elaborate speech planned, Y/N, I really did. I was going to talk about the stars, about the first conversation we had when I told you about the origins of yogurt, about how stupid we were for not realizing our love for each other earlier, but I realized that none of that matters right now. All I know is that this feels right, you make everything feel right. Will you marry me?” Spencer asked, his face incapable of hiding even a sliver of the adoration he felt for her.

“Yes, I’ll marry you in every lifetime and every universe.” She said, tears falling freely from her eyes. He sprang to his feet and wrapped her up in a long awaited embrace. He felt her body shake with wet laughter against his. He placed the ring on her finger and quickly kissed her passionately. Their giddy giggles flew through and around them.

Spencer knew she didn’t want a long engagement. Her previous engagement was hard enough of the both of them. Their jobs were just so demanding, it was hard to set a date and keep from pushing it back. Their wedding planner was beyond frustrated with them, but what can they do? They’re literally out there saving lives. And before they knew it, two years had passed them by and they were due to be married in two months.

But, alas, Spencer Reid seemed to have a knack for getting shot by unsubs right before weddings. While they were investigating a difficult case in Texas, Spencer was shot in the neck. Y/N was at the police station when she’d heard. She wasn’t sure who took her to the hospital to see him, everything was a blur since she got the call. She was plagued by the fear of losing him. 

She’d overheard Alex Blake and JJ discuss how he’d always wanted children when she arrived at the hospital. In the back of her mind, she screamed that she’d give him all the kids he wanted, if the universe just let them breathe. 

All too quickly, she was a sobbing mess in JJ’s arms. He’d gotten hurt before, he’d been in danger before, but she’d never been as close to it as she was then, it terrified her. Garcia had arrived and guided her to Spencer’s room. In another flash of events, there was a loud bang and Y/N had barely registered that a gun was shot inside the room.

The ringing of her ears subsided just enough to hear Spencer tell Garcia, “You saved my life, do you hear me?” 

That was the second time his life was endangered in the span of two hours. Y/N looked her fiancé square in the face.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. As soon as you’re up and well, we’re getting married.”

Exactly one week later, they’d rushed through whatever they could rush through. Thankfully her dress was ready and altered, the cake was made to order, but sadly, they’d given up their gorgeous, gorgeous venue. Rossi was more than happy to offer up his backyard and the couple found it more than fitting to commemorate their love in the very location where Spencer had first confessed his feelings to her and where she’d returned them later. 

Life truly came full circle as Spencer stood in the same exact spot where he’d confessed his undying love for her the very first time. Spencer did everything he could to keep from sobbing like a child as he saw the owner of his heart stand before him, just like she did that day, but this time adorning her white dress.

Being the romantic sap that he was, he recounted almost every milestone in perfect detail during his vows. Through the unrelenting tears, of course. Y/N’s words came out wobbly and wet, but she managed to get her vows out. There really was not a single dry eye in the small, intimate crowd. The entire team had watched them fall in love oh-so-gracelessly over the years.

Their ceremony was beautiful. It was different than JJ’s had been, it was more special to the two of them. Spencer was in nothing short of awe as he watched his wife sway with Henry wrapped up in her embrace on the dance floor. Henry’s little arms and legs were wound tightly around her, the bottoms of his shoes surely smearing dirt all over the back of her dress, but she didn’t care. Not when Spencer was looking at her like that. His throat clogged itself up as she caught his eye and smiled sweetly. The same thing was on both their minds, it was like an unspoken agreement had been made through some kind of special, invisible bond between them.

He couldn’t wait to have a family with that woman.

And they’d wasted absolutely no time. Three months after the wedding, Y/N announced that she was carrying a baby Reid. Tears and cheers erupted for them all. They had found the perfect little house with the help of Morgan. It was perfect for their growing family.

Pregnancy wasn’t easy on Y/N at all. Flying all around the country and helping catch serial killers was not an activity that pregnant Y/N wanted to engage in. The team had been more than forgiving as they dealt with her mood swings and crazy cravings. It also turns out that soon-to-be mama Y/N was especially helpful in chewing out unsubs in the interrogation room, but as useful as she proved to be, she couldn’t wait to pop the little peanut out.

Spencer and the team were rushing off the jet to the hospital as they’d heard Y/N had gone into labor. Spencer had only missed the very beginning and was by her side the entire time after that.

They welcomed baby Emelia Reid into this world on a chilly September night. Spencer was over the moon, he was borderline obsessed with looking at the baby and keeping a hand on her at all times whenever she was in the room with them. 

He waited for his mother to fly out a few days later just to meet baby Emelia. He wept as he watched his mother kiss the top of his baby girl’s head. No other feeling could ever compete with the one he experienced at that moment in time.

Emelia had grown into such a radiant little girl. She was a miniature hurricane of chocolatey brown curls and rosy red cheeks. She’d already blown her parents away as her intelligence only seemed to increase with time. The similarities she had to her father were astonishing. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind sharing him. Not when the sight of them together instantly melted her heart every single time.

Diana tried to be as active in the baby’s life as she could possibly be, however her condition began to worsen over time. Eventually, Diana had had to move in with Y/N, Spencer, and Emelia. Thankfully, their house was large enough, but taking care of a toddler and Diana while being 6 months pregnant was inarguably too much to handle for Y/N. She’d found out that she was pregnant again, and they were expecting another baby girl. Y/N had also taken time off from work to focus on the dilemmas at home. 

The at-home nurse was doing the best she could since Spencer was always either at work or off finding Diana some kind of new treatment. He’d told Y/N that he’d been going to Mexico to get her some special medication and so she didn’t mind as long as she’d been kept in the loop of where and how he was. Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. They were always transparent with each other. Y/N was glad that he’d told her about his trips down to Mexico, or else she’d be out of her mind looking for him. 

But suddenly, during one trip, he’d stopped answering her calls. Complete silence on his end. It had driven her absolutely mad. It was only until JJ visited her the next morning informing her that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico for the illegal possession of drugs and possibly murder. If JJ hadn’t been around to catch Y/N before passing out, she or the baby would have been in extreme danger.

But Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. She’d been adamant that she would have known if he was struggling with drugs again. The last time she’d seen Spencer was during the trial. He’d looked so terrified as they pronounced him guilty and shoved him away from her. From his family. He’d spared Y/N one last broken glance, his gaze drifting down to her swollen belly. Their second child was on the way and he won’t be there to meet them. He mouthed a heartfelt apology before they took him away. Y/N wept and wept until everyone but the team left the courtroom.

“How am I gonna do this, Pen? How am I gonna do this without him?” She spoke between breathy sobs. The baby, Emelia, Diana. She couldn’t do it on her own. It would break her.

“You won’t be alone, Y/N. We’re all going to help you.” Penelope reassured her, but the only thing that was capable of reassuring her was currently in handcuffs behind closed doors.

She’d had to keep Spencer’s whereabouts from Diana and Emelia. She’d told him that he was consulting a case somewhere in California, where he also had access to the beach. Up until that lie wasn’t viable enough. Emelia’s questions about her daddy absolutely tore through what remained of her heart.

Diana’s caretaker had apparently quit and a new one came by. Y/N thought something was off, but she pushed that thought aside as she worried over her husband and the baby that they were due to meet any day now. Two months had passed and Spencer was still incarcerated, he hadn’t allowed Y/N or Emelia anywhere near the prison, but she’d broken down at the possibility of him being locked away for 25 years.

She’d visited him once, right after the birth of their second baby. They’d had another beautiful baby girl, whose name had been decided long ago by the two parents. Baby Adaline. The delivery was immensely difficult without him, but she pushed through. Y/N had almost begged Emily to pull any, any strings she could to get them to meet since Spencer said he’d only agree to see them if he could ensure their privacy and safety. They’d managed to get them in with Spencer’s lawyer, Fiona. Y/N cooed to Adaline as she cradled her in her arms, wrapped in her little blanket. The cooing served as a distraction as she waited anxiously for Spencer to meet them in the small little room. 

Suddenly the doors emitted a loud buzzing noise, prompting a loud cry from Adaline. A sound that was strange to echo off the walls of this place. Y/N shushed her gently until she caught sight of her husband walking through the door. Tears gathered in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state. His eyes found hers and quickly flitted to the squirming bundle of joy in her arms. Spencer’s lip wobbled as he entered the room. Y/N shifted Adaline to rest upon her shoulder as she wrapped one arm tightly around Spencer. No touching was allowed, but the guards pretended to look the other way, courtesy of whatever strings Emily had pulled.

The three of them bawled against each other in an unceremonious reunion. Spencer at last pulled away from his wife and stared at the baby in the bundle. He hesitated to carry her. His hands were clean, but they still felt so dirty. How could his hands hold this beautiful gift of life while they’d been committing such heinous acts within these very walls? But one utterance from his wife made that all vanish.

“It’s okay, Spence.” She smiled slightly, angling Adaline towards him. 

He gazed at Y/N closely, as if checking to see if she was sure. Y/N carefully handed her over to him and he instantly turned into less of a shell of himself and had begun to resemble the man that Y/N could recognize. He cooed to her softly, kissing her face repeatedly. Adaline instantly quieted down at her father’s touch.

The small interaction had fueled the pair for weeks. Spencer found a source of hope and was determined to see through to the other side. He would not rot away in his cell forever. The team continued to try and crack the case from the outside. Y/N was instructed to be more careful than ever. She often brought Emelie and Adaline to work with her. She had not been flying out with the team, preferring to stay close to her girls until Spencer was back.

On one of the days Y/N brought her girls to work, she’d found out that Diana had been missing. Her caretaker was accompanying her to visit Spencer in prison and then neither of them had been seen afterwards. They quickly identified the caretaker as Lindsey Vaughn. If Y/N had been on the case with them ten years ago, she would have identified her, but she was just another face to her. Y/N was livid, Vaughn had been around her children, she’d been inside her home. If Spencer didn’t get to catch the bitch, they better believe Y/N will.

Spencer was released quickly after the BAU proved his innocence. He was on his way to the office now. Y/N had been peering into Adaline’s carriage when she’d heard the high pitched voice of Emelia.

“Daddy!” Emelia exclaimed, racing across the bullpen to jump into her father’s arms.

“Hi baby. Daddy missed you so much.” Spencer said, hiding his tears in his daughter's hair. He held her tightly to his chest as he crossed the bullpen and made it to Y/N’s office. He put Emelia down gently and scooped his wife into his arms.

“You’re back.” She said softly through tears. 

He hooked his chin over her shoulder and sniffled strongly. He might not be the same man he was before, but he still loved her unconditionally. He still loved all three of them unconditionally.

“I’m here.” He repeated the phrase out loud like a mantra.

And he was here, but he also wasn’t. His wife could tell that the man who stood before her had endured hell, but when he cradled their baby girl so tightly to his chest, it was hard to imagine him as anything other than a loving, gentle father, and a compassionate partner. She knew she’d hold onto that thought forever. Once they retrieved Diana, they knew they could face anything.

As long as they were together.

And they knew they would be, for as long as the universe would allow in this life, and then the one after that.

~THE END~

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[morganbritton132]

Eddie, postjng to his socials: This is how every conversation with my husband has went for the past two weeks

Eddie, as Eddie: Do you want to do something fun?

Eddie, as Steve: We can’t. We have to go get experimented on by the government.

Eddie, as Eddie: Ughhhh

Steve, as Steve:

Steve, as Steve: They’re going to euthanize you this year. Don’t post that anywhere

Eddie, as Eddie: *posts everywhere*

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Dilema 2

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Promt: In your angry state you were busy speeding home that you you weren’t paying attention and got into an accident

Warnings: possible death, broken bones, angst

Part two was requested by a number of you hopefully you guys enjoy this one also ♥️

Part One Part Three

MASTERLIST

------

Aaron Hotchner had some balls on him, dumping me one week and then two weeks later he’s introducing the team to Beth after the FBI race. Four months later he’s telling me that he loves me

“I still love you y/n”

“I never stopped loving you”

My grip on my streering wheel tightened as his voice replayed in my mind. My vision was blurred from the streams of hot tears that poured out. My phone started riging and the screen lit up with Penelope’s caller ID 

Letting it go to voicemail my foot pressed harder on the gas, that was the third time she tried calling me. Eventually it stopped buzzing but it wasn’t long before it started ringing again this time with an unknown number, I answered putting the phone up to my ear

“Agent Y/l/n” 

“Y/n it’s Beth, don’t hang up ple-” 

Nope 

Quickly hanging up I switched off my phone and carelessly threw it on the passenger seat. In my enraged state I hadn’t noticed the headlights of a truck heading my way until it was too late

I blacked out 

-----

Aaron’s POV

She slapped me

You deserved it

My cheek stung, most likely red by now. Reaching up I placed my hand on the aching spot

“You’re lucky she just slapped you” Spencer walked out from behind the wall arms crossed shooting daggers at me

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything, really Hotch, why would you do that? Why would you hurt her like that?”

Defeated I slumped against the counter thinking about what I could possibly say

“Aaron?” Beth came in the kitchen with the others following right behind her

“What was that all about y/n just took off?” She moved to pull me in her arms but I stopped her

“Beth and I have been trying to call her but she ignored me and hung up on hers” Penelope is panicking

“We just got into an argument” my eyes flickered between Dave and Spence, both annoyed at my choice in words

“What was it about?” Morgan asked shifting his weight on his legs

Sighing I rubbed my face avoiding the two people that knew the real reason

“She was right Hotch, there’s nothing to hide so why not just come clean” Spencer’s hard tone of voice made the others even more suspicious

“Y/n and I wer-“ I started but was cut off by my phone ringing. I quickly pulled it out of my pocket, looking at the caller ID, unknown

“Hotchner” putting the phone up to my ear I waited for the caller to speak

“Agent Hotchner this is Detective Raul, there’s been an accident and one of your agents has been rushed to the hospital” steadying myself on the counter I felt my stomach drop to my ass

Oh no, God no

“Thank you for calling, I’m heading there now” swallowing the lump in my throat I looked at the group who were anxiously waiting for me to speak

“Did we get a case?”

“It’s y/n, she go into an accident and was taken to the hospital”

“Go, Will and I would look after Jack just keep us updated”

Without another word I hastily made my exit heading straight to my car. In my daze I hadn’t noticed that Reid, Rossi, Morgan and Garcia were behind me until my car doors were being opened and shut

Rossi pat my shoulder from where he sat in the passenger seat and we left

Everything’s gonna be alright

Thankfully the drive to the hospital was short. As soon as I parked the car we all piled out running to the entrance

“Hello I’m looking for y/n y/l/n, she was in a car accident” Breathless I asked the nurse at the desk

“Are you all family?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, the woman I just asked about is a part of my team” Flashing her my badge she nodded

“She’s in surgery right now you guys can have a seat in the waiting room the Doctor should be out soon”

Thanking her we walked down the hall and did as told. My feet tapped aimlessly as the unnerving feeling returned. Looking around I took in the others, Spencer was trying not to cry, Derek had his head in his hands, Penelope was indeed crying as Dave tried his best to hold it together as she cried into his shoulder.

This is all your fault, if you had listened and left her alone maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If you hadn’t broke her heart she’d be in your arms, smiling and laughing like the old times

My eyes blurred from the tears that threatened to fall, it took everything in me to not break down. Swallowing the lump in my throat I pushed myself to my feet, pacing the room trying to focus on the bright side of things

She’s strong, she’ll be alright 

“Y/l/n family” Snapping out of my bubble I focused on the Doctor who came over to us

“She’s going to make a full recovery, she has two broken ribs, minor internal bleeding which we were able to stop, a concussion and a dislocated shoulder from the impact as well as some superficial cuts and bruises” he informed us and we collectively released a sigh of relief

“Can we see her?” 

“Of course right this way, she’ll be waking in a few minutes” he lead us to her room the others rushed in but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her fargile state 

She was banged up pretty good, her lip was busted, she had bruises that covered her face possibly from the airbag

“Agent Hotchner a word please” nodding I encouraged the Doctor to continue

“I believe that what I’m about to tell you may or may not surprise you” 

“What is it?”

“She’s roughly five months pregnant, luckily we managed to save the baby in time”

My entire body froze as he went on, she’s pregnant

Pregnant with my baby  

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 17.

Chapter 17: Positive

(Not my gif)

Summary: Things haven’t been easy since Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Bridgett has been having a hard time without Spencer. When Penelope comes to check on her best friend, Bridgett realizes her timing is off.

TW: Mentions of murder. Spencer going to jail. Mentions of pills. Mentions of alcohol. Mentions of throwing up. Pregnancy. Putting pregnancy at risk.

Word Count: 3.2k.

A.N: The italicized paragraph in the beginning is a flashback..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day...

The day of Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Nobody knew what he was going to plead, not even Bridgett… she didn’t even think Spencer knew. Once Emily got the call that the Mexican authorities had found the knife used in Nadie Ramos’ murder, everything went downhill from there. At first they were offering if Spencer pleaded guilty that he would do 5 years, if he chose to plead not guilty, he was looking at 25 years to life. Fiona gave him both of his options, but Spencer decided then and there that he was going to plead not guilty.

“Can I have a minute alone with him please?” Bridgett asked, turning to Emily and Fiona.

“Of course. We’ll both be outside.” Fiona says, grabbing her briefcase and walking out of the room with Emily behind her.

Bridgett stayed quiet, staring at Spencer, waiting for him to explain himself. His eyes stayed on the table between them, not wanting to have the conversation with his girlfriend.

“Do you know what you’re putting yourself up against by pleading not guilty? You could go to prison for a long time, Spencer. Think about all the evidence.”

“Scratch has been very thorough with making sure things don’t look good for me.”

“Yeah, and a jury isn’t going to see that you were set up. They’re going to see that all signs point to you. They don’t know Scratch like we do.”

“Do you think they’ll convict me?”

Bridgett sighs heavily, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. But if you plead guilty… 5 years isn’t the worst. You can come out of prison and still have a life.”

“Yeah but not as an FBI agent. I’ll be a convicted felon.”

“But you would be free. You and I could still have a life together.” Bridgett replies, already tearing up.

“And while I do want that, you know that the FBI is where I belong.”

“But you don’t belong in prison, baby. If you want to roll the dice, and take your chances with going to trial, 25 years might as well be a life sentence.”

“If this whole thing has been orchestrated by Scratch, I know the team can get him.”

“Without a doubt we will. I know we will. But.... what if we can’t prove it this month, this year… or this decade. Spence, we can’t figure it out by tomorrow for your arraignment.” Bridgett lets out a sob.

Spencer shakes his head, sniffling and dropping eye contact with Bridgett.

“What do I do?” Spencer says, his voice straining to keep from crying.

Bridgett sighs shakily, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. But I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m going to be here either way.” She brings him in for a hug, letting him cry onto her shoulder.

***

The whole  team was in the front row on his side, watching as the bailiffs walked in with Spencer between them in handcuffs, walking him to the desk in front of them and helping him sit down. Bridgett was right behind him, giving him a warm smile when he turns around to look at the team.

“How do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Doctor.

“Not guilty.” He says sternly.

Bridgett’s heart jumps at his decision.

Okay… that means we’ll go to trial. But we can get through it.

Penelope held onto Bridgett’s hand while Fiona and the defense attorney went back and forth about why Spencer should and should not have bail set. At one point, both Bridgett and Penelope wanted to hop over the railing and beat the attorney up for the negative accusations he was saying against Spencer. Luke could tell Bridgett was getting agitated, but he took her other hand and gave it a squeeze of comfort. The judge was being less than understanding when Fiona offered the team as character witnesses to speak on Spencer’s behalf, not feeling “in the mood” to hear what they had to say.

“Bail is denied. Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” She fires, banging the gavel.

Bridgett’s whole heart falls into the pit of her stomach, hearing that Spencer wouldn’t be coming home with her. She looked in horror at Spencer as he looked to her, just as scared as she was.

“How long until his case goes to trial?” Emily asks Fiona.

“It’s a complicated case. We’re looking at maybe 3 months.”

Bridgett reaches for Spencer’s hand over the railing, he takes it and pulls her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Bridge.” He whispers.

“I love you. Please be careful.” She says back, trying to take in his embrace one last time, trying to commit to memory his smell and how he held her.

The two bailiffs pull Spencer back from Bridgett’s embrace, taking one of his hands behind his back. Before they get the other hand Spencer points to the top of his sternum and mouths “I’m right here.” Alluding to the necklace he gifted her years ago.

Bridgett sniffles and grabs the moon pendant and rubs it with her thumb, nodding her head.

Spencer turns around one last time as he’s being escorted out, looking at his family; lost and scared to be leaving them. After the door closes, Bridgett sobs, gripping the railing under her to keep her standing. Everyone’s worst nightmare just came true... Spencer was going to prison for something he didn’t do, and they still had no physical evidence of him being set up. Bridgett drops her head as she feels Luke grab her, bringing her in for a hug.

This isn’t really happening. He wasn’t actually going to prison. This was all just a big mistake.

“Bridge, come on, let’s go outside.” JJ says, rubbing her arm.

Bridgett lifts her head from Luke’s chest, wiping her eyes. “I need to go home. I can’t… I can’t be here.” She cries, scooting past Emily and Penelope and walking out of the courtroom.

***

Bridgett’s eyes flutter open, looking at the empty space in her next to her that Spencer always slept in when he was over. Her eyes filled with tears again as she touched the dark grey sheets next to her, feeling the tears go over the bridge of her nose and rolling onto the pillow under her head.

The muscle relaxer she had taken a few hours prior had knocked her out, it was the only way she was going to get sleep. She hugged the body pillow tight, wishing it was Spencer that she was hugging instead of the damn pillow. It had been 2 weeks since the hearing and Bridgett was going through a serious depression. She hadn’t been  back to work since the hearing, Emily said she needed time to get into the right headspace, which usually Bridgett would argue with being away from the job, but now it wasn’t a fight.

A possibility of 3 months. 3 months. 90+ days before his case went to trial. How was she going to get through 3 months without him? The prison wasn’t allowing him visitors just yet for whatever reason. Emily was hopeful that within the next week or so that they would allow them.

Finally, Bridgett grabs the throw blanket at the foot of her bed, wrapping it around herself before getting out of bed and walking into her living room. Her head felt fuzzy and dizzy as she shuffled out of her room, a definite side effect of the pills and alcohol she was consuming everyday for the past 2 weeks.

She stood in the middle of the room, closing her eyes to try to get the spinning to subside. The spinning made her feel nauseous, a bitter taste developing on her tongue, one of her queues that she was about to throw up. Bridgett hurries to the kitchen, going through her pantry to find some crackers to snack on, needing some sort of substance to fill her stomach. She chewed slowly through the saltiness of the cracker, sipping on a glass of water as she chews.

Bridgett’s phone chirps from the other side of the counter, she sees a text from Penelope.

Hey I’m less than a minute from your place, I just want to see how you’re doing.

Bridgett shuffles to the living room, opening the apartment door to wait for Penelope in the hallway. It was the first time she had been out of her apartment. Once she sees her blonde hair and the red as black patterned dress she was wearing, she half smiles, stepping back inside.

Penelope shuts the door behind her, embracing Bridgett right away. “I miss your beautiful face, Bridgy.” She says, squeezing her tightly.

“I miss you too. You know you don’t have to come check on me, right? I’m… fine.” Bridgett shrugs.

“How long have I known you?”

“10 years.”

“And don’t you think I know when you’re not okay? Your man being in prison means that you’re definitely not okay.”

Bridgett sighs, leaning back on the couch. “I feel like if I tell myself that I’m okay, at some point my mind will believe it and I’ll start being okay.”

“Eventually you will be. It’s just going to take a while. It’s been 3 weeks since the hearing, you’re still getting used to life.”

“3 weeks? It’s been 2.”

“No, it’s been 3. The hearing was on the 20th.”

“Wait, it’s really been 3 weeks?” Bridgett mumbles. She quickly sits up on the couch, trying to do math in her head, but she was already so scatterbrained at the moment that things weren’t making sense. She hops up from the couch, going to the calendar on her desk to try and figure it out.

“Bridge? Hey what’s wrong?” Penelope asks, following after her.

Bridgett puts her pointer finger up in her direction, counting the weeks for the fourth time. There was no way.

“Bridgett, what’s wrong? You look scared.”

Bridgett’s heart started to beat out of her chest as the realization sunk in that her math was spot on. She sinks down onto the chair, covering her mouth in shock.

“I’m late.” She mutters.

“Oh!” Penelope gasps, her eyes growing wide.

“I was supposed to get my period the week after Spencer got arrested, but it never came. I thought it was all the stress. It wouldn’t be the first time my period just doesn’t show because I’m stressed out because of the job. And I figured it still hadn’t come because I’m beyond stressed out, but it’s been almost 2 months since I’ve gotten it. Eventually my body is like ‘okay just give the girl her period now’.” Bridgett runs fingers through her tangled hair, her leg bouncing up and down feverishly. “Oh my god, I can’t be pregnant. Not now.”

“Yeah, probably not the best time, but it’ll be okay. You know you have all of us to support you.”

“Penelope, you don’t understand. I’ve been drinking everyday since Spencer’s hearing, taking pills to help me sleep. Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I should have known with how long it’s been since I’ve had my period. Shit.” Bridgett cusses.

“You didn’t know, Bridge. It’s not your fault.”

“Spencer and I were trying for a baby for almost a year and a half before he brought Diana to live with him. We put it on hold, but… what if now that we stopped trying, I really am pregnant?”

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go down to the drugstore down the block and get you a pregnancy test, and we’re going to find out if you’re actually pregnant before we panic, okay?” Penelope says, grabbing her purse and hurrying out the door.

Bridgett sighs, biting at the hangnail on her pointer finger. If she was pregnant, she was at least 2 maybe 3 months, but that was not likely. She hadn’t been careful with consuming alcohol, especially after the hell she had been through the past month and a half.

Bridgett being the overthinker and worst case scenario on her mind all the time type person she was, she got onto Google to ‘Risks of consuming alcohol during pregnancy’. Most of it was common knowledge, but it was almost as if her mind needed to punish her for the horrible thing she was doing to her possible child.

“You didn’t lock the door after I left?” Penelope scolds her, walking back in the door.

Bridgett turns around, sighing. “I uh… no sorry. Can I have the test?”

“Oh, yeah, I bought you this water in case but you do you. Think happy thoughts.” She says with a smile, handing her the plastic bag with the box inside.

***

“I didn’t know you and Spencer were trying for a baby.” Penelope says, sitting next to Bridgett on the couch, handing her a glass of water.

Bridgett takes a big glup, trying to focus on anything else at all. “Yeah we went through a scare about a little over a year a half ago. It came out negative but then we talked about trying. Nothing came of it… until maybe now. How much longer?”

Penelope looks at the timer on her phone, “45 seconds.”

Bridgett sighs, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “What am I going to do if I am pregnant? I put this baby at risk by being so irresponsible.”

“You stay here, I’ll go get the test and then we’ll go from there before we panic.” Penelope says, getting up from the couch and walking to the bathroom.

Bridgett takes several deep breaths, trying not to give herself a panic attack as she waits for Penelope.

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is… uh, I have a friend who’s an OB, and we’re going to get you an ultrasound to check the baby out, okay?” Penelope says, holding a pair of Bridgett’s shoes in her hand and the test in the other.

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide, her jaw dropping. “Wait, I’m… it’s positive?”

Penelope nods her head slowly, offering the rest to her. Bridgett covers her mouth with her hand, gasping into it. The tears flow hot down her cheeks as Penelope hands her the test. She sobs as she sees the word “PREGNANT” on the screen, a cold shiver running over her body.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bridgett says over and over, sniffling.

“Honey, everything is going to be okay.”

“This is my fault, Penelope! I should have known I was pregnant! And now… shit, how am I going to tell Spence?”

“We can’t worry about that right now. We need to worry about getting you to see someone to check on my future god child.”

***

“Miss Mendez?” A petite red headed lady walks into the room.

Bridgett smiles at her, still completely terrified. “Yes, you can call me Bridgett.”

“My name is Dr. Clark, I’m going to check you and your baby out, okay? Penelope said you were worried.”

“Yes, I… I went through a hard time the past month or two and I’ve been drinking and taking sleeping pills. I had no idea I was pregnant, I lost track of time and didn’t realize I was so late until today. I figured it was all the stress I’m under.”

“So what I’m going to do is first see how far along you are, and see if the baby is developing normally, the brain, heart, all the organs are developing normally as well, okay? And I’m going to tell you something, there are lots of women who don't realize they’re pregnant and drink, smoke, do a lot worse things that they shouldn’t do. You’re not the first, and you’re not the last. What matters is that now that you know you’re pregnant, you stop all of that immediately.”

Bridgett nods her head, fighting back tears. Obviously Bridgett was the biggest cry baby before pregnancy, but she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was going to be with pregnancy hormones.

The doctor squeezes a gel onto Bridgett’s belly, her body covered in goosebumps at how cold it was. Penelope was smiling from ear to ear next to Bridgett as she sees what actually looks like the shape of a baby on the monitor.

“Oh my god, Bridgy, look.” Penelope says with excitement.

Bridgett looks at the monitor in disbelief, it didn’t look like a baby, but like a large bean.

“So you’re measuring about 8, almost 9 weeks. And the measurements look spot on for where the fetus should be.”

“Oh thank god.” Bridgett says.

“With that being said, do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

“I can do that?” Bridgett asks, smiling at the doctor.

“Yes! Let me turn this on, and find it for you.”

The room is filled with a loud and fast rhythmic thumping. Bridgett’s jaw drops hearing how quickly the thumping was going.

“Healthy heartbeat.” The doctor beams.

“Oh my god.” Bridgett smiles, looking over at Penelope who was now crying too.

“Congratulations. I’m going to print some pictures for you to take home with you.”

“Thank you.” Bridgett replies, looking at the screen in awe. “That’s my baby. Mine and Spencer’s baby.”

Penelope smiles, “Baby genius on the way.”

***

Penelope and Bridgett go around her apartment, throwing away all the empty bottles of liquor that she had accumulated throughout the past few weeks, tossing them in a garbage bag.

“Can I ask you something? Are you going to tell Spencer you’re pregnant?” Penelope asks.

“Not now. I’m going to wait. I don’t want me being pregnant to be something he worries about while he’s in prison.”

“What if…”

“I don’t want to think about that. Worst case scenario, I’ll tell him before he goes to trial. I just want to be able to see him.”

“Emily told us this morning that they’re allowing visitors starting tomorrow. I took it upon myself to make a chart of who’s visiting Spencer and when, but obviously you get first priority.”

“Okay, I’ll go see him tomorrow. But I’m going to keep it to myself just for now. That means that you, Penelope Garcia, need to keep a secret. You can’t tell the team that I’m pregnant, okay?”

Penelope nods her head, crossing her heart. “I promise I’ll keep you and my future god child, a secret.”

“Thank you. We both appreciate it.” Bridgett rubs her stomach. “It’s crazy to think that I have a baby growing inside me. Even crazier to think it’s Spencer’s baby.”

“You two are going to be the best parents ever. I can’t imagine how much love this baby is going to be surrounded by.”

Bridgett smiles, getting a little emotional over the fact that her and Spencer were going to be parents. “Do you think he’s going to be happy?”

“Who, Spencer? Are you kidding? He’s going to be so excited. I’m going to get going, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you so much for being here, Garcia.” Bridgett says, hugging the woman tight.

Penelope takes the garbage bags with her as she leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Bridgett sits on the couch, taking the ultrasound pictures in her hand and looking at the black and white blob in the picture. Her hand drops down to her stomach, nowhere near a baby bump yet and rubs it.

“Hey in there. I’m mom.” Bridgett laughs. “Your dad is away as I’m sure you know with how much I’ve been crying over it. But you’ll meet him soon and he’s going to love you so much. I can’t wait to meet you. And I promise I’m going to take better care of you. I’m so sorry for hurting you before, but now that I know, I’m going to protect you.”

[agent-ccarter]

in another life | emily prentiss

Summary: Y/N realises her love for Emily is more than friends.

Emily Prentiss x gn!reader

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

In another life, I would be your girl We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world

The bar was busy, filled to the bring with intoxicated people. You found yourself sat at the table, keeping ahold of Garcia’s bag and watching over a couple of drinks whilst your team danced. Hotch and Rossi stood at the bar, whiskey in hand as the somehow managed to have a conversation over the blaring music. 

“You need to come and dance, Y/N. You look so lonely!” You could tell Spencer was drunk, him never usually being this straightforward when not 4 drinks down. 

“I’m ok, thanks Spence,” you smiled, taking your vodka back into your hand to try and look vaguely busy, “Go have fun! I’m fine.” He looked at you, sending you a lopsided grin before putting his arm around you and kissing your head in a rare, but genuinely heartfelt act of affection. He almost ran back to the dance floor, turning around to clumsily dance at you, eliciting a laugh from you. 

You took another swig from you drink, looking around at your friends dancing before feeling the table buzz slightly. And then again, and again, and finally once more.

You picked it up, the alcohol not yet fully in your system, allowing you to fully make out the 4 messages. 

Em: Come dance with me. Please.

Em: Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Em: Y/N. Put your drink down and dance.

Em: Why are you doing this to meeeeeeeeeeeee. Whyyyyyyyyy?

You looked up at her, red dress standing out in the swarms of people. She sent the most ridiculous grin you’d ever seen your way.

Y/N: As an FBI agent, you of all people should know its a bad idea to leave a drink unattended at a nightclub.

You watched as she read the message, pouted, and passive aggressively texted you again.

Em: You don’t want me to cry on the dance floor. 

And there she stood, slap bang in the centre of the room, dramatically fake sobbing and running her finger down from her eye to mimic a tear drop. You raised your eyebrow quizzically at her, only making her pout grow larger. So, in an attempt to prevent an actual tantrum, you made a show of downing your drink and slamming the glass against the table, then taking Garcia’s bag to Hotch, before making your way to the dance floor.   

“Yes!! My favourite person!” Emily shouted, hugging you close so you could smell the mixture of perfume and liquor radiating off her. She raised your arm, allowing you to twirl dramatically, earning whoops from the rest of the team.

“Come on, dance with meeee,” the pair of you laughed, dancing far two expressively considering how sober at least you were.

She genuinely looked happy, dancing under the rays of blue, red and green, taking the various shots members of the team gave her.

And you loved it. You loved her.

You loved her smiling so wide. You loved her laughing and joking with the team, typically at Spencers expense (although he didn’t really mind). You loved her dancing so carefree, as if she didn’t have a job that exposed her to such atrocities.

But you also loved her normally. You loved watching her at her desk, pen hanging from her mouth as she looked over files. You loved her as she argued her point, refusing to stand down until it was clear she was right. You loved her as you held her head against you, letting her weep as she rarely did. 

But as she danced, you could see. She loved you, as much as humanly possible. You were her favourite person, her best friend, and nothing more. 

You looked around, Hotch and Rossi still at the bar smiling on fondly at you all, the rest of your team dancing as strangely as you two. 

Yes, you wanted more, but this family is too good to risk ruining. So just friends is enough.

[rae-is-typing]

Bravery

Description: Your uncle has to pick you up early from school. A case the BAU is working on lands you in a tough situation.

Characters: reader, the BAU, unnamed officers and school staff

Warnings: non consensual groping, fighting, guns, hostage situation, reader shoots someone for self defense, swearing

Word count: 3.6k

“Hotchner!” 

You glance behind you to see the giant teenage boy stomping towards you, fury radiating off of him. He shoves other students aside. Greasy brown hair falls into his face, he doesn’t bother brushing it aside. You roll your eyes, shut your locker, and shoulder your bag. You begin walking away from him, which fuels his self-righteous anger. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, dumb bitch!” 

You keep a straight face, and keep walking the busy halls of the school. Students had started parting like the red sea, not wanting to be bulldozed by the titan toddler throwing a fit. A hand grips your shoulder hard, forcibly turning you around. You come face to face with an acne covered, pissed off linebacker. His breath smells like rotten egg so much so you physically gag. 

“Listen here, bitch-” He was cut off by you ramming your knee into his crotch. You rip your shoulder away as he doubles over, clutching his balls. Adjusting your bag with a huff, you whip around and walk away, all the while ignoring the gasps and stares you received in the hallway. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re called to the office. You stand up from your desk, grab your things, and march to the office, ready to fight the principal. 

“Y/N, have a seat.” Mrs. Huffman, one of the three secretaries, says. Her wrinkles are amplified by the fake smile gracing her cracked lips. You give a curt nod, taking the uncomfortable seat closest to the door. You pull your phone out of your back pocket, opening it up, and mindlessly scrolling through twitter.

‘Y/N,” Your vice principal, Mr. Roberts, starts, exasperation seeping into his voice. You look up from your phone to see him beckoning you into his office. You get up and walking into his office, dreading what he’s going to say. 

You sit down in front of his desk, and he takes a seat in his. “Tell me what happened in the hall, Y/N.”

“Tyler grabbed my butt before the period ended. I told him off. The bell rang, I left the classroom. He ran after me and grabbed me again. I kneed him in the crotch so he wouldn’t hurt me.” You explain, unable to keep the underlying anger out of your words.

Mr. Roberts sighs. “You can’t assault other students in the hallway, Y/N.”

“I shouldn’t have defended myself?” 

“You shouldn’t resort to violence.”

“I should’ve let it happen?”

“You should’ve waited for a teacher to get involved-”

“So I should’ve let myself get assaulted by someone twice my size without attempting to get myself out of the situation at all?” You challenge once more, anger rising further. 

“You’re a good kid, Y/N. You’re the top of your class, you have a bright future, and you have a clean record. Don’t throw it away because another student bothered you.” “Being groped is being bothered.” You deadpan, unable to keep the utter shock out of your voice. “Tell me, Mr. Roberts, has anyone ever grabbed your ass without consent?” 

His face hardens at your choice of words. “I’ll let you off with a warning. This won’t go on record. If it happens again, I will suspend you. Your uncle will be here soon to pick you up. You can wait in the office for him.” 

You grab your bag, flinging it over your shoulder while you gave him the nastiest look you could muster. Stomping out of the small subsection, you take your previous seat closest to the door. Your leg bounces up and down, your hands shake, and you’re ready to fist fight someone.

It doesn’t take a long time for Aaron to get to your school. His eyes are hard, so is his face. Rain drops fall from his coat as he marches in like a soldier on a mission into the office. His face doesn’t change when he sees you, and he signs you out without a word. You follow him out to the SUV. It’s stormy, rain pounds the sidewalks, and thunder rolls in the distance. 

The ride to his work is quiet at first, filled with tension so thick it chokes you. 

“I was just defending myself.” You say, eyes locked on the storm in front of you. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, making his knuckles appear white.

“This was the worst possible time, Y/N. I understand that you get annoyed by your peers, but this has to stop.” Aaron tries to make his words even, but exasperation drips off of every letter. 

“He grabbed my ass and was going to attack me in the hallway!” You snap, turning to look at him. “Aren’t you always saying that I need to stand up for myself?”

“Not like that. There are better ways-”

“Like what? Letting myself get harassed and not do anything about?” You cut him off, hands still shaking.

“You’re supposed to get an advisor or teacher when this happens.” “Like they’d do anything. They didn’t do anything when Leah was groped in the middle of the gym. They didn’t do anything when Caleb was shoved into a locker after being beat up. They didn’t-”

“That’s enough, Y/N!” It’s his turn to snap. “You used violence when you knew that is against the school’s policy. I understand that you were put into a rough position, but sometimes you have to let it be.” 

Knowing that Aaron won’t back down, you make a noise of aggravation and sit back against the seat. As soon as he parks the car, you throw open the door and storm to the building, completely ignoring the rain that gets in your eyes and soaks your clothes. 

Security is a breeze to get through; everyone knows you and your bag is almost empty. You’re making your way to the bullpen when someone calls to you. 

“Bambina! Why aren’t you in school?” You turn to see Dave pacing towards you carrying a small tray of coffees. He holds his arms out and you step into them gratefully, and he wraps his free arm around you. “What’s the matter?”

“People fucking suck,” You sigh, embracing the older man. 

“Language, darling. Care to elaborate?” He asks as you pull away. You sigh, willing your hands to finally stop shaking from anger.

“Some dumb guy grabbed my butt at the end of class. He was going to do more in the hall, so I kneed him in the dick so he didn’t.” Dave cringes, placing his hand on your back while you walk at a slower pace to the larger area of the bullpen.

“Something tells me that isn’t everything.”

“Aaron doesn’t think I should’ve resorted to violence.” You say, some frustration returning to your voice.

It’s Dave’s turn to sigh. “Your uncle only wants the best for you, Bambina. Violence is a great way to get kicked out of school.”

“It was self-defense.” You defend. “The school system doesn’t see it that way.” “Yeah, well the system is a piece of-” “Y/N, what are you doing here?” You and Dave spot Penelope and Derek walking into the bullpen at the same time as you. You open your mouth to say something, but Peneolope beats you to the punch. 

“N/N, you look upset.” Penelope gasps, rushing forward, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor reverberates throughout the busy bullpen. “Oh, my precious thing, what happened? “This guy grabbed my ass, so I kneed him in the balls, and got excused from school.” You say as she cups your face. This is standard behavior from Penelope, in her words you’re ‘A precious bundle of sunshine that I must protect at any cost because you’re one of the only good things left on this deranged planet.’ 

“I’m sorry, N/N. Are you okay?” She all but coos.

“I’m fine, just really frustrated.”

“What a scumbag. What happened to him?” Derek asks.

“No idea, but I hope he feels it for a few days.” You scoff. “If he gets off with nothing, I’m gonna be even more furious.”

The murmurs of agreement that spread throughout the small group is swallowed by the sounds of not only the other BAU agents, but regular police officers too. There are at least six officers, and many other FBI officials. “Am I allowed to know what’s going on?”  You frown.

“Some stuff with the local PD. Nothing to worry your pretty little head over,” Derek remarks, ruffling your hair to make a point. You smile, batting his hands away. Dave passes out the coffee, and you sit near the group table, pulling out your phone as a distraction. Aaron comes in a moment later.

“Y/N, head up to my office. You don’t need to hear anything about this case.” He says without making eye contact. You don’t respond verbally, only get up, grab your stuff and go to his office. Normally, you’d put up a fight, but you’re barely allowed in the bullpen as is, and you don’t want to sacrifice that privilege. 

His office is clean save for the papers littering his desk. You take a seat on the chair behind the desk, and go back to playing on your phone. 

It’s not long before an alarm goes off. It’s high pitched and shakes the room. Your hands immediately shield your ears from the screeching noise. Officers and agents alike are scrambling out the door, leaving half the BAU and only four officers left. 

One of the officers barks something into a walkie talkie, and the alarm finally shuts off. You relax back into the chair, but keep a watchful eye over the rest of the bullpen.

Within minutes, two new officers have replaced the old ones and are getting in Dave’s face, not trying to hide the fact that they’re arguing about something. Penelope and Spencer are trying to diffuse the situation, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

Then the lights flicker. It starts slow, then gets faster until the lights just give out. The bullpen is now shrouded in darkness, making Aaron’s office pitch black. You’re about to turn on the flashlight on your phone when you hear two loud bangs.

You’ve heard the sound of gunshots before, but that was when your uncle took you to a shooting range in a very controlled environment. Remembering everything Aaron has ever taught you about active shootings, you fall to your knees and hide under the desk. You press you back against the desk, clutching your knees to your chest. Breathing as evenly as you can, you strain your ears for any sound.

Muffled yelling wafts through the air and reaches your strained ears. Two more bangs. The yelling stops. You breathe hitches as tears fill your eyes. Someone is dead, you’re sure of it. Pressing your hand against your mouth, you keep the sounds of your distress at bay.

What feels like hours pass when you hear footsteps coming towards the office. Curling up tighter, you try to make yourself as small as possible. The door is thrown open hitting the wall with a boom. You bite down on your lip, dig your fingernails in the soft flesh of your palm, and hold your breath.

Loud stomps come towards you and stop. “Come out, kid. I know you’re here.” He barks. A few more steps. “You better show yourself or you’ll be sorry.” A couple more steps. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks. Wiping them away, you start to resign yourself to your fate. 

Suddenly, the chair is thrown back and your wrist is grabbed. You yelp sharply as your entire body is torn out from under the desk. An arm wraps around your neck, loose enough so you’re able to breathe, but tight enough so you’re unable to get away.

“Listen hard, okay? You’re going to come downstairs and play nicely while we get what we need, understood.” The man’s breath tickles your neck as he speaks, arm tightening around your neck ever so slightly as the other snakes around your midsection.

“Yes,” You say, desperately trying to keep the rest of your tears in your eyes. 

He drags you down the stairs. Through the little natural light, you can make out a small huddle of people in the middle of the bullpen. A shove to your back makes you land hard on your knees next to the huddle. Pain spreads up your legs and through you wrists, making you wince. Without much time to react, you’re gathered in someone’s arms. They pull you close to them and begin to whisper. 

“It’s okay, Bambina,” It’s Dave, and you want to bawl. You’re supposed to be the tough teenager, not a crying child. All of the adrenaline and anger had faded, leaving you shaking from fear and not indignation. “We’ll get you out of here.”

You can only nod along to the comforting words he whispers. He rubs one hand up and down your back, using the other to press your head against his chest. 

Glancing up, you see three officers. All of them wield what look to be rifles and they circling the group like vultures. There’s a pile of cellphones and weapons in the middle of the pile. You shift, confirming that your phone is still in your back pocket, covered by the sweatshirt you stole from Aaron. 

Suddenly, there’s a noise reverberating through the room. A generic ringtone, something overly obnoxious. You hold your breath and shift again, trying to feel any vibration. It’s not yours. One of the police officers walks out of the room. The other two get closer to the group, compensating for the loss. Dave tightens the grip he has around you. It’s silent for a few minutes. The only thing in the air is tension. You can barely make out the face of Spencer across the circle. He’s doing that thing where he has to sit still, but he’s busy putting two and two together to solve a case. His eyes dart around the room, his fingers drum on his legs, and he’s mouthing something. JJ sits next to him, a very concerned look etched into her face. Penelope is nowhere to be found. 

The sound of weighted footsteps approaches the small circle quickly. The officer that left returns, very infuriated. He holds his rifle close to his side as he once again yanks you to your feet and away from Dave’s protective grip. 

You gasp, immediately struggling. Cries of protest rise from the rest of the BAU. 

“Take me instead,” Dave demands, standing up. “I’m more valuable than her, you’ll get more of what you want if you have an esteemed FBI agent instead of a civilian." 

The officer’s face twists. Without hesitation, he slams the butt onto Dave’s forehead. He crumples to the floor, clutching his now injured head.

You fight tears once again. I need to be strong. I can’t be scared right now. I can’t be scared. I can’t be scared…. Your inner mantra replays in your head as your forced down a narrow hallway, the officer gripping your arm. You walk along with him, breath shallow and tears stuck in your eyes. 

But then you notice something.

A smaller handgun sits loosely in a holster attached to his hip. The grip of the gun is hanging out of the holster, almost falling out with each hurried step. 

If you could just… 

When you turn a corner, he lets go of you. You make your choice in a split second. Surging forward, you grab the grip, turn the safety off, and you pull the trigger. You hit him in the hip just below where a bullet proof vest would be. The you cock the gun and shoot one more time in his thigh. 

As soon as the last shot goes you, turn the safety back on, and begin to sprint. 

The only advantage you have in this situation is your knowledge. Thanks to Penelope and Kevin giving you a very in depth tour of the place when you first started tagging along with Aaron, you know every nook and cranny on this floor, and the ones above you.

With the help of another rush of adrenaline, you easily sprint down the hallway. All semblance of rational thought left your mind. All that’s left is the instinct to run as far and as fast as you can. 

You run until you’ve managed to get up to the top floor of the building. Because of the outage, every door is unlocked, but really heavy. You push the final door with all your might. It doesn’t budge. The blood rushing through you is the only thing that matters, it’s the only thing you hear and the only thing you feel. You give it another shot, using every muscle in your body. There is a loud creak as it finally budges, allowing you to slip inside.

The top floor is the only one you’ve never been in. The little natural light is starting to fade. You need to find a place to hide and find one fast. Jogging down the halls, you find that all of the doors to the offices are closed, and mostly likely locked. 

You swear under your breath, stopping at a corner. You hear the loud creak of the door as it’s opened. Fuck. 

Your blood runs cold. You don’t wait to listen for footsteps this time, you haul ass down the corridor until you’ve come wide area with a ton of doors. You slam your body against the door next to you while turning the handle. Nothing. 

You stumble to the door across from it. Locked as well. You try one last door as you hear footsteps over the blood roaring in your ears. 

Finally. This one is unlocked. You fall inside of an empty room, landing on your knees once more. A pained noise slips from your lips, and you freeze. The footsteps are still coming. You kick the door closed and push yourself into a sitting position next to the hinges.

Once again, you press your shaking hands over your mouth. Heavy breaths come out through your nose. You squeeze your eyes shut, a few tears slipping out. You clutch the gun to your chest, slowly taking it off of safety.

At some point during the night’s events, your phone fell out of your pocket. You aren’t sure when, nor are you able to call anyone or tell them you tried your best to stay alive. More tears fall from your eyes. 

You’re going to die. 

Those fuckers are going to get revenge for their buddy, and you’re going to die. 

“Y/N! Y/N are you here?” 

What? You stop breathing for a second, that sounds like Derek. 

“Y/N!” And that’s Spencer. 

You don’t dare move, blink, or breathe as shock envelopes your body.

“Has anyone else found her?” Derek demands, sounding as stressed as ever. “Not yet. Morgan, what if she-” “No, Spencer. Don’t.” Derek’s voice is full of desperation, and mainly fear.

That’s enough for you. You push yourself off the floor with one hand. Opening the door, you get blinded by light. You wince, covering your eyes with your free arm. The bright LED light from their flashlights were a lot to take after not seeing any light for god knows how long. 

"Y/N, oh thank God.” Derek breathes out. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I-I don’t know." 

"C'mere.” He says, wrapping an arm around you. You feel the gun being pulled from your grip. “Spencer, call the others." 

You melt into his embrace as the tears finally fall, steadily and silently.

Downstairs, Aaron paces wildly with red rimming his eyes. The local police department was corrupt and had been after important documents that would lead to incredible opportunities for organized crime. The BAU caught on too late to stop the hostage situation, but when they realized what the officers had been after, they sprung into action.

When the others told him about you being taken by the leader, the gunshots they heard, and the fact that neither of you came back to the bullpen, his mind jumped to the worst. All of their minds did. But when they went searching, they found the leader bleeding out in a hallway, missing a gun with you nowhere to be found. 

Now, Aaron can’t stop pacing. Dave sits close by, injuries tended to. His attempts to comfort his friend fell of deaf ears. 

But Aaron can’t lose you too. He was supposed to keep you safe. He took you in because his brother couldn’t keep you safe. Even with the call from Spencer, he couldn’t believe you were okay until he sees it. He gets his reassurance when he sees the elevator opens. Morgan has an arm around you, bracing you and protecting you from any perceived threat. 

You rush forward when you see him, throwing your arms around his neck. 

“You’re okay.” He says, comforting both you and himself. “I’m sorry,” You choke out. 

“What for?” He asks. That was certainly not the reaction he was expecting. 

“I shot him. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do-”

“Y/N.” Aaron pushes you away from his chest so he can look you in the eyes. “You did what you had to. You were protecting yourself.” You can only nod with tears in your eyes. He brings you back into his arms, fingers carding through your hair for both your comfort and his. You bury your head in his chest, blocking the rest of the world out. 

Everything is going to be okay.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

2 In the Hen House

Fox Mulder x Reader

Words: 1663

Part 2 of 3

Part One

Summary: When a serial killer that Mulder helped put away escapes the institution, he decides to pay a visit to his favorite FBI behavioral analyst. You educate yourself on all the disturbing facts of the case. When the killer begins to take an interest in Mulder’s pretty little partner, you become more entangled than you could have imagined. 

Notes: I’m really excited for the darkness of this series, but writing sad Mulder is honestly also really fun. Sorry. Same warnings as the first part. Also, don’t panic if you don’t see X-Files on my masterlist along with a few other imagines. I’m putting together a 80s/90s masterlist and that’s where they are all going. Let me know what you think as always!

-

Mulder got to your apartment before the police did. You were sitting on the ground around the corner, knees pulled up to your chest. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. When he found you, your eyes were red and your lip trembled as you spoke. 

“I-It’s on m-my door.” You stammered. He peeked around the corner at the butchered animal. 

“Sange.” He muttered angrily before taking you up in his arms. “He’s just trying to scare you to get to me.” He kept his hand on the back of your head, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. 

“How does he even know where to find me?” You asked, breaking away to look at him, trying to compose yourself. You were trained to deal with this kind of thing. 

“He does his homework.” Mulder sighed. You could hear the sounds of the police storming up the stairs. Mulder locked his fingers through yours and you felt yourself leaning against him, supporting your weight when your legs still wanted to buckle. 

This psychopath knew who you were. He knew where you lived. And he was coming after Mulder. 

“Now what?” You asked, finding your balance again and stepping back to look at your door. Mulder put a hand on your cheek, taking your eyes away from the bloody animal. 

“I think you should step away from the case.” He knew that you would object so he kept going before you could interrupt. “And obviously you can’t stay at your apartment. I don’t think mine would be much safer. Maybe you could stay with Scully.” 

“No, Mulder, I want to be with you.” You tugged on his shirt. “I don’t think you should be alone either. It’s you he’s really after.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you stopped him like he had you. “And don’t say you can handle this, because you can’t. Not alone.” 

The police finally arrived and asked you questions you could barely hear. You just kept staring at the fox. You told him as many details as you could, but this was still an FBI investigation and was therefore out of the officer’s hands. Mulder was talking to Scully who had just finished up doing the autopsies of both guards.

“How is she?” She looked over at your calm expression as you spoke with the police officer, but she could see the fear in your eyes. 

“She’s undeterred.” Mulder sighed. “I told her to take a step back from the case, but we both know that’s not going to happen.” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” Scully pointed out. “He did tie a mutilated fox to her door.” 

“He made it pretty clear that I’m already a target. Now she’s one too.” He looked over to you with worried eyes and Scully put a hand on his arm. 

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.” Her tone was almost disbelieving. Mulder was always so sure of his actions. It was rare to see him scared. He turned back to her grave gaze and shrugged her hand away. 

“I better get some of her things.” 

-

Neither of you said much on the ride over to his apartment. You could tell how much this was eating at him, but you were afraid your voice would give away your fear. When he parked, his hand still on the gear shift, his eyes shifted nervously to the building. You put your hand on top of his. 

“Mulder…” You took a deep breath. “I may not know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know that you’re blaming yourself for all of this.” You moved your hand to rest on his cheek. “You have to know that it isn’t. This is just the work of a psychopath who managed to escape. Without you, they wouldn’t have caught him to begin with. You saved god knows how many people from becoming future victims.” 

“But now he’s out and he’s added you to the list.” Mulder argued. His green blue eyes determinedly looked anywhere but you, as if staring out at the street would conjure Sange. You turned his face towards you and kissed him. Fox was hesitant at first, wanting to keep his guard up, but he melted everytime you pressed your lips to his. You pulled back, happy to see that his eyes were focused on you alone. 

“Fox, I-” A loud crash from outside the car put both of you on edge again. You both grabbed your weapons and stepped out of the car, nerves on high alert. 

“Y/N, go up to my apartment and lock the door.” Mulder instructed. “Don’t let anyone in unless it's me.” You nodded and quickly went inside, looking back to see him disappear around a corner into an alleyway. 

Mulder kept his gun out in front of him, cautiously walking down the alley to follow the sound of the crash. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, his heart racing with anticipation as the moving form became more visible. He lowered his weapon as a stray cat emerged from the trash can it had knocked over. He shooed it away, irritated with his own paranoia. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until Sange was behind bars or in the ground. 

Walking up the steps to his apartment, his feet felt heavier. As if his body could sense something his brain couldn’t. He started to unlock his door when he saw the piece of paper taped just above the apartment number. It’s writing was unnervingly perfect, every curve and line as if a machine had written in. 

You didn’t think you were the only fox in the hen house, did you?

He threw the door open and sprinted inside. 

“Y/N!” He shouted his eyes scanning his rooms wildly. “Y/N!” It didn’t matter how many times he called out. You were gone. 

-

Your head throbbed as you opened your eyes, dried blood covering your ear from where Sange had hit you. Sange. You used any strength you could muster to stand, though the room you were in was only big enough for you to crouch. It looked like you were inside of a wall. There was a scraping sound and a brick pulled away, revealing a pair of beady black eyes. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw them turn red. 

“Hello little chickadee.” He drawled. You shuttered as his eyes scanned over you, licking his lips. 

“Stay the hell away from me.” You spat, pressing yourself against the back wall. 

“Frightened little thing.” He ran his finger back and forth across the bricks. You took a deep breath and stood taller. 

“I am not scared of you.” You’d been dealing psychos like him your whole career. You’d seen things you could never explain and you had faced conspiracies that threatened the whole of the human race. He clicked his tongue. 

“I appreciate your spirit. It makes things more interesting.” He walked around the room on the other side of the wall and you could hear a shuffle of metallic clicks. You slowly crept closing to the opening, peaking out into the other room. He was cleaning a collection of rifles, all sitting neatly on a table. “I know you’ve been reading your Mulder’s files on me. What conclusions have you drawn?” 

“The same as everyone. You’re a cannibalistic psychopath. A Gentleman's Hannibal.” 

“Why do you think the papers gave me that name?” 

“I didn’t think to look.” You spat. He was toying with you. He looked up at you with a smirk. 

“It’s because I treat my kills like a fox hunt. You know, when men of high society would gather on horseback, unleash the dogs, and track the animal.” He aimed a rifle at you and you stumbled backwards. He chuckled. “You, my dear, are the fox. And so were all the others. I used to have a large property with acres upon acres of forest. It was beautiful.” His voice trailed off.

“I heard it was turned into a strip mall.” You snarked. He banged his hand against the wall, making you jump.

“Thanks to Agent Mulder, we’ll have to make other plans.” He shoved the brick back into place, leaving you in the dark.

-

Mulder was rifling through file after file hoping- praying- that something would give him a clue as to where Sange had taken you. Properties that he still owned, people he was close to, any abandoned buildings in the area. Nothing. 

“Damn it!” He screamed, knocking every paper off of his desk. Scully hesitated to knock, but figured it was better than just leaving him alone. 

“Mulder?” She knocked on the door and waited for a response. 

“Come in.” His voice was small. Defeated. He was kneeling down, gathering the papers back up. He couldn’t bring himself to look up.  “He took her.” 

“I know.” Scully sighed. She held an envelope in her hands. Maybe this wasn’t a good time. She had made sure no one else had seen it, but she didn’t even know if it was from Sange. It was just left at her apartment. No name. No address. Nothing. 

“What is it?” Mulder asked, finally looking at her. His face was stained with tears. He was really scared of this guy. She showed him the envelope. 

“I went home to clear my head and I found this tucked under my door.” She explained. “I don’t know if it’s from-” Mulder tore it from her hands and ripped it open. Inside, was a small note and something else. 

“Release the hounds, Agent Scully.” He read, the words burning into his brain. He threw the note onto his desk. “The hunt has begun.” 

“What else is in the envelope?” She asked, but she immediately wished she hadn’t. She felt sick as Mulder dumped the contents into his hand. A bloody, matted chunk of Y/N’s hair.