#and dont get me wrong i like reid! i just dont want him when i want emily! >:|

[virescent-v]

Hey Reid Girlies

I swear to god I'm going to start blocking each and every one of you who posts a Reid fic with "Emily Prentiss."

You should not be tagging Emily in a Reid centric fic.

I will give you some leeway if she's in the fic, but if she's not like one of the main characters, don't tag her or anyone else that isn't the main character.

I don't know how many times other people in the CM fandom have to post this to get it through your heads, but it's annoying as hell.

I'm in the tag "Emily Prentiss" FOR EMILY. NOT REID.

Keep him to his own tag.

[reidmania]

hi!! i saw you taking request so here is an idea :)

fem!reader and spencer in an established relationship and they really love each other but they get into a fight. they both say things they dont mean so reader rushes out and while driving away she feels sorry and calls spencer but it goes to voicemail. she starts to send him one saying how sorry she is and that she loves him but is cut off with a loud crash. spencer gets the voicemail and hears about her car accident and rushes to hospital, you can end it however you want hahah. im sorry if this is too much but i feel like you are the only one who can do justice to this <33

guilt ridden | spencer reid

summary ; reader and spencer get into a silly argument that ends in hospital trips and a lot of apologises.

warnings; fem reader, established relationships, arguments, cm things, car accidents and hospitals, arguments, spencer being an ass and reader also being an ass which is all forgotten when things get serious, kinda rushed. angst, happish ending, hurt x comfort kindaish.

an; im sorry this took me so long and im sorry if its horrible. i really just wanted to get this one out of the way bc i rlly enjoyed the idea!!

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back in the morning at some point so I don’t want you to worry and I know you will probably be pissed right now and that okay— You should be. I am too, but I am sorry. I didn’t mean it — I shouldn’t have said it but it was just, in the moment I wasn’t thinking.. Im sorry Spence. I love—”

There was the sound of a gasp, then a bang and then it was silent for a minute until the voice message ended itself. The sound sent goosebumps along Spencer’s arms and sweat to build up over the back of his neck as anxiety made its bed in his stomach.

His entire body went cold as he stood in the kitchen — The same place he had been standing when the stupid argument took place before you grabbed your keys and walked out, muttering how if he was that sick of you, you’d get out of his way before the door slammed behind you.

He had thought about following you and telling you to stay but in the moment he was just angry. So angry. Not even entirely at you, just everything.

He had just gotten home from a case after being away for a week — a case where they couldn’t save the victims. It was one that affected Spencer more than he wanted to admit, all he wanted was to come home and shower.

Then he got home and you immediately hugged him and rambled on about how you missed him and normally — any other time he would adore the feeling of your arms around him, he would breathe in your scent and breath it back out before going on about the case.

This time was different, everything was too much. The grasp of your arms made his body tense rather than relax, your scent was suffocating mixed with the smell of the food on the stove and the candle lit in the living room. It was all just too much.

Not because it was you, there was nothing wrong with you. It was just the day built up, and it was too much for him.

So he pushed you away and began his way to the bedroom wordlessly, where he showered, and eventually came back a little more relaxed — only now you were the one in the bad mood.

Which ended in an argument between the two of you, you called him childish and immature, he called you suffocating and needy.

Neither of you meant it.

But that didn’t stop the hurt that seeped in and the tension that grew between the two of you. Until you were shaking your head telling him to go fuck himself, grabbing your keys and walking towards the front door.

Spencer regretted his words almost immediately when the door slammed shut and didn’t open again. He didn’t mean it but he couldn’t bring himself to follow you yet — he needed to calm down and he was sure you did as well.

He didn’t ignore your call, not on purpose. He was unpacking his stuff when his phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. Finding it ten minutes later to hear the voice mail you left, well he had never felt a more intense ache in his chest.

Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He tried calling again and again to no avail as the call went straight to voicemail every-time. He texted you as well.

He was in his car moments later, driving to the nearest hospital because if you were anywhere — it would be there. He heard the ambulance sirens on the way and they did nothing but build the tension in between his muscle and bones.

It wasn’t until an hour later of waiting and pacing around in the hospital waiting room that someone came to tell him that you were here — stable, but in a lot of pain.

He had never felt something like this. Every bit of his mind went blank as walked fast towards the room the nurse had directed him to. His knees felt like jelly and he felt sick to his stomach.

That sick didn’t compare to the one he felt when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness, a doctor by your side. You were bruised and bloodied and Spencer didn’t think he could stand for another minute as his legs carried him towards the chair next to your bed.

“Honey.” His voice came out a gasp.

But all the same concerned and guilty. Your head turned slightly towards the sound of his voice and he was almost sure his heart broke at the sound of pain that left your lips when moving.

“Spence” You were hardly audible, voice small and so quiet, full of hurt. Genuine pain, you were in genuine pain that you wouldn’t have been in if Spencer had just pulled his head in and didn’t act like an absolute idiot.

It was hard to think about the argument now, how it felt like everything at the time and nothing now. His hand reached out for yours as he tried to ignore the tears that burned in the back of his eyes.

“Im so sorry” He mumbled out. It didn’t even begin to describe the amount of guilt he felt burnt into his stomach, and every inch of his body. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost sure he was going to throw up. “Im so sorry- God Im sorry” He couldn’t help the series of apologies that streamed from his lips, still they didn’t even slightly cover the blame he took in his mind.

“Spence” You said again, almost as if you were unable to say or think about anything else. Despite the pain medication that you had been given — everything hurt.

“Im right here— Im right here.” He repeated, moving the chair in closer, he saw a soft sigh leave your lips despite it being so quiet he couldn’t hear it. He saw your eyes closed and for a moment he genuinely felt his heart break and drop, until they opened again.

You squeeze his hand slightly, it was soft and gentle, all the energy you could muster up put into doing so. “I know. Im sorry” You apologised and it hurt Spencer.

It genuinely made him feel pain in his stomach that you were lying in a hospital bed in an abundance of pain and yet — apologising to him for an argument that seemed so insignificant now.

“Don’t.” Spencer shook his head.

“Don’t apologise, I was an ass— I deserved it. you- You didn’t deserve this. God please don’t apologise.” He almost begged.

The words died on your tongue. Whatever you were going to say now a second thought as you realised Spencer was going to drive himself insane with the guilt and blame of this.

“Its not your fault.” You huffed out.

It was enough to sooth a small part of Spencer’s mind, your voice outweighing the one in his head that held him responsible. Your comfort the one he needed. His hand squeezed yours back.

“I love you — So much. You aren’t suffocating or needy in the slightest.” He felt the need to let you know. God if something happened to you and the last thing you’d heard him say was that he thought you were something— anything other than the most important person in his life and the one who he turned to for everything, the one person he truly loved and adored

Well he would never forgive himself

“I love you” You muttered back weekly, shuffling over on the hospital bed despite the pain that coursed through your body in doing so you made room for him. “Lay with me?” You asked.

He huffed something out before shaking his head, standing up and lowering himself onto the hospital bed. He was careful of your injuries and any pain you may be in as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you” He repeated as he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your shoulder. It made a sigh leave your lips, before turning your head to face him.

“I love you.”

[reiding-writing]

Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

ACCEPTABLE GREETINGS — SPENCER REID!

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

spencer reid x gn!reader | fluff | 1.5k | masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

[cumulo-stratus]

“You Do This Everyday?”

Pairing: Spencer reid x Male! Youtuber! Reader

Description: y/n has a pretty popular cooking channel and one day after y/n doesnt edit out spencer givving y/n a kiss when he gets home the fans go crazy wanting a video where you bake together so you make a vid answering questions while making a fall recipe

Warnings: possible swearing, fluff, spencer being a clueless little pookie &lt;3

Flufftober day 12: cooking together

A/N: I saw a fic with he idea of spencer x youtuber reader and i loved it so here we are. i think this idea is so cute and has so much potential so i hope i do it justice <3 Enjoy!

The last of the afternoon light streamed through the windows of Y/n and spencers kitchen, and theirs laughs rang out loudly through the otherwise quiet apartment. Y/n had put his weight on spencer- his face stuffed into his spencers chest trying to muffle his laugh. When the laughing finally died down to giggles y/n lifted his face and said 

“spence- spencer we need to redo the intro!” 

“But we’ve done it 2 times already!”

“yes- and well do it a third and a fourth if you dont stop laughing whenever i start talking!” 

The loving bickering was only that- bickering. Spencer didnt mind doing another take, and another one, if it meant he got to see y/n laugh again he would do it 10 times. His attention was pulled back to reality by his boyfriend counting down, starting again.

“3, 2, 1, rolling. Hello ladies, gentlemen, and rats under chef hats, i welcome back to my channel- I hope your having a funky fun day becasue in todays video im going to be making minestrone soup- but with a twist! i read your comments- ive seen the requests, so today my lovely and beautiful and handsome boyfriend will be joining us!”

Y/n motioned for spencer to come into frame and he shuffled in while his boyfriend did jazz hands around him for special effects. spencer giggled at his boyfriends antics while he introduced him.

“everybody this is spencer- hes my boyfriend, and today he’s gonna help me make soup. And yes we will eat it for dinner afterwards!”

Y/n trailed off and stayed silent for a couple seconds for editing later before giving spencer a kiss on the lips- silently thanking him for participating in the video. 

“okay- now i need to start with the veggies- can you grab them out the fridge please?”

“of course m’lord!” spencer used a joking tone as he pulled all the bags labeled “for soup” and dropped them unceremoniously on the counter, eliciting a chuckle from y/n. After taking the vegetables out of their bags and setting them back on the counter, y/n went back and started the camera. Spencer giggled as y/n began to speak. 

"Okay so we're gonna start by cutting our veggies- but, and especially because my boyfriend over here is a bit of a germaphobe, we're gonna wash them first, thoroughly.”

spencer chuckled at this while his boyfriend poured the veggies into a veggie spinner that he had gotten him for christmas. After washing he brought them back to the island infront of the camera and said “Just like that- poof! clean veggies” (definitely thinking of the audio and just like that- poof! lola’s gone. wrong- im right here you fucking brusell sprout!) 

Spencer looked at y/n confused and asked "wait but- why'd you say poof? You washed them right here?!"

Y/n started giggling and took Spencer's hands in his and said "Spence- lovey I washed them off camera and then I'm gonna edit it to look like they poofed clean" spencer looked down for a moment before looking back up causing y/n to burst out laughing as he said “oh. i gués that makes sense, sorry..” and gave y/n a peck on the lips. Y/n pulled out the knife block and set it on the counter, starting the camera. 

“Okay so im gonna have spence prep my veggies and then I’ll cut them into peices about the size of my thumbnail, or a little bigger.” spencer nodded, understanding his job and started by peeling a carrot. not five minutes in of him cutting and peeling, and of course while you were filming a quick shot of you guys cutting the vegetables- did he cut his finger! y/n wa focused on dicing the onion when he heard a loud yelp from his boyfriend next to him. His headshot up looking at his boyfriend, concerned. 

"What's wrong love?" 

"I cut my finger" Spencer had the most doe eyed, helpless look on his face as he held up his finger, which was now streaming blood. Y/ns eyes knitted in concern for his boyfriend and he walked over, dabbing the blood with a dish rag. 

"Oh my poor baby- here lemme help you."

Y/n left a small peck on his boyfriend's hand, leading him over to the sink to wash it off. Spencer just pouted as the cool water splashed over his finger. Y/n chuckles before getting a bandaid from the first-aid kit in the kitchen, and gently placing it on Spencer's newly cleaned finger. 

After cleaning up the blood, and confiscating Spencer's knife and peeler. 

The couple then took a couple minutes to regroup, and finish the vegetables, before filming the rest of the video.

While y/n put away his camera and turned down the burner under the freshly made soup, Spencer flopped down onto the couch sighing and said "you do this everyday?" Y/n chuckled at this and to flopped down on top of Spencer, giving him a kiss on the cheek and saying "yup- and I still have to edit out all the clips of you just laughing" y/ns tone was teasing while Spencer's became defensive as he spoke in his defense, "hey- I don't do it for a living, you do! You know I'm a terrible cook y/n.. speaking of I think I deserve another kiss for that cut I got on my hand earlier.." Spencer trailed with a smirk. His boyfriend sighed in fake resignation and leaned for a kiss, holding back a laugh as their lips met. 

The End 

[first-edition]

Car Clean-up

Spencer reid x reader

Smut-mas Day1

Spencer has been on edge about something for the whole day, and on the drive home you finally realize what it is that bothering him.

CW- Oral Male !recviing, oral sex, smut, cussing, cum swallowing , Sub! Spencer, dorm! Reader, 18+ language and themes

Spencers leg bounces up and down as he bites the tip of his pen starring off into space.

“Spence?” You ask your boyfriend as he sits at his desk in the FBI bullpen. He doesn’t answer you just continues starring. 

You wave your hand in front of his face as he snaps out if his trance. 

“you alright hon?” You ask. 

“Hmm..yeah sorry.”  “I don’t think you blinked for 3 minutes kid.” Morgan says laughing.

“no-no sorry i was thinking.” He replies. 

“about?” You say sitting of the side of the of his desk crossing your legs your thighs squishing together, your tight pencil skirt ridding up ever so slightly.

“nothing.” Spencer asks too fast to be real.

“Okay everyone go home its 11 pm merry christmas.” Hotch says you smile and nod to him. you sigh hopping off the desk walking back to yours and grabbing you jacket as its cold as hell outside. 

Jj and Emily have already left at this point.

“what are you two doing tonight?” Morgan asks rating his eyes brow. You roll your eyes knowing what he’s hinting at.

“Dont worry i’ll tell you exactly what were doing.” You say Morgan chuckles nodding waiting for answer. 

“none of your business.” You say he chuckles shaking his head. 

“come on Spence.” You say holding out your hand. He pulls his satule around his shoulders and takes your hand in his.  “Bye Morgan.” You say waving with your other as you and Spencer enter the elevator. He smiles waving back as the doors close. “what do you feel like tonight? I was gonna cook if we got home earlier but now i just wanna go out and get something.” You reply as you take off your heel becoming noticeably shorter. You hold ont his arm for stability as you do so.

He dosnt answer you making you confused is he mad at you, is he annoyed? He’s been acting this way all day. You sigh.

“okay then i’ll pick.” You say 

Finally walking to the car you get in the passenger seat as he gets in the drivers. And pulls out of the parking lot on the road to home.

halfway through the drive you cant help it but ask what’s wrong. “Spencer? Are you okay? I mean really okay because you kinda been on edge all day. I know this case we finished was hard but…i-if I did anything today to make you mad or annoyed im sor-”  “its not you” he cuts you off.

“It’s not you it’s me…Really your pull that card out of the deck..so it was something i did..” you say crossing your arms.

“NO-Yes..No..shit.” He says you feel a limb in your throat. 

“what then…Im sorry if i hurt you…” you trail off with a screech of the tires he pulls over the car and takes you face in in his hands holding either side of your head squishing your cheeks and he kisses your lips.

after pulling away. He replies. 

“Im in love with you!” He says you giggle nodding.  “Well, i know that. I love you too.” You say you’ve been together for 2 years its not the first time he’s said it. 

“what’s wrong.” You say your cheeks still squished. His cheek turn pink.

“its can wait for home.” He says. Turning away from you. You frown and then it clicks. He wants you. Hes wanted you all day! Its been 2 months since you’ve last had sex with your wonderful boyfriend. Not because you dont want to but because case work got in the way. And your both come home too tired to function. Morning sex was off the table bc of how early you two have to get up. 

You form a grinch like smile, squinting your eyes. “you’re horny arnt you spencer…” you say leanIng into him. He’s never really been good at telling you that he wants you. although its fairly easy to tell when he does. “that’s what you were thinking about at your desk hmm…The feeling of my body under your hands…my lips on yours…of bettter, wrapping around your-” 

“YES YES IM SORRY!” He blurts out. You chuckle glancing down noticing the tent in his pants just from you mentioning a few little things.

You look up at him through your lashes your eyes dark with lust now having the best idea.

You move your hand to his chest slowly moving it down his middle.

“im sorry i made you wait so long baby.” You reply kissing his cheek. 

“y-y/n what are you-Ngh.” He groans as your hand rubs over the bulge eventually unzipping his pants and freeing his hardened cock. He hisses at the cold air around it but its subdued by your warm hand. Thank god for your tinted windows and blizzard it weather it just looks like you two got stuck on the side of the road from the snow.

“f-fuck..” he gasps as you stroke his shaft with your hand as he shifts his hips upwards into you.

you kisses his neck unbuttoning the first few buttons getting more of his skin. 

“When we get home…if your good that is…i’ll let you fuck me raw.” You say into his ear before moving down and wrapping your mouth around him.

“F-fu-shit!” He gasps twitching in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip, as you suck and bob your head. You move your hair out of the way.

He chuckles breathily and pulls your hair back wrapping your long locks around his hand holding it up for you. His hips buck up into you the feeling of your warm mouth around him getting to be too much just after a few minutes. 

“Fuck y/n-!” He moans out his head falling back to the seat as you deep throat him swallowing him. Then popping off him and doing it again. 

He moans as you feel him pulse in your mouth this time cumming. You make sure to swallow him all making sure not to make a mess. He releasing his hold from your hair. You release him from your mouth smiling as his chest heaves. He looks down at you pulling your face to his kissing you. You kiss him back.

You pull away sitting back up into the seat pulling your hair up in a rubber band around your wrist. 

“So home?” You ask looking at him. He nods tucking himself back in his pants and speeds off.

[nereidprinc3ss]

so um, you’ve probably have been asked this many times but how do you start writing fanfic without cringing at yourself? i already feel silly for reading it. i noticed you have gained recognition outside of tumblr which i believe to be an achievement but i can’t allow myself to go through that.

i work in the finance sector at a big american firm, i can’t have my coworkers knowing i’m writing fanfic. i already get teased for watching disney animated films (which it’s not that bad) how do you deal with this? ik you’re still at college and ofc, this doesn’t mean you’re stupid but i bet you know what i mean? do you have some advice on this?

⚠️me not shutting the fuck up and getting way too personal below the cut

honestly at first i DID cringe at myself. i cringed so much that after posting my first fic in like november i dont think i posted again til january because i was writing and would just get so humiliated despite being alone and no one knowing who i was or what i was doing LOL but honestly the way i got over that was just to do it more because i truly love writing and why would i let feeling “cringe” stop me from doing something i love and that makes me happy? that would be so heartbreaking, life is hard enough, we deserve to do things we love and are passionate about without judging ourselves so harshly

as for not letting other people know well yeah i just don’t tell my friends or anyone ik in real life that i write fanfic lol, they know i love to write and they know im obsessed with spencer reid but that’s as much as i’ve told them! i know it’s a thing that maybe most people would consider “weird” but as someone who has a crushing fear of intimacy this is kinda my outlet lmfao. and it made me feel really insecure and weird at first but then i realized like… i try to be kind and caring and thoughtful, i have a lot of good qualities and the fact that i write fanfic doesn’t actually detract from any of them. it also helped for me to accept the reason why i write fanfic which is (and we’re abt to get real personal) i’m deeply afraid of intimacy of any kind and always have been so writing fiction abt the stuff i’m too scared to do isn’t a bad thing. there are a lot of people who wouldn’t understand it but they don’t have the same experiences as me and i don’t need them to understand it because i know that they never could. like they don’t understand what it’s like to so terrified of being known by another person that you obsess over the hottest guy in your school district for six months bc you want the validation of him liking you back and you do everything in your power to make him like you and then when he actually does reciprocate you immediately start icing him out to the point where he says hi at a party and you ignore him to his face cause you’re so afraid of men😂😂😂😂😂 they don’t get those vibes!!!

anyway basically you just have to remember that you’re doing it for you and it actually doesn’t mean something is WRONG with you if you enjoy writing and the safety and control that fiction offers you. it just means you’re one of billions of people living an entirely unique experience, just like anyone else, and honestly i think it makes you interesting. having hobbies and passions is rlly sexy and cool, regardless of what they are, and you deserve to do stuff you like doing. if anyone else is giving you shit abt it it’s probably because they genuinely don’t understand what it’s like to have interests and that makes me feel bad for them lol

[mentallydanielmolloy]

Falling the hard way.

[ Spencer reid x reader ]

WARNINGS: lots of mentions of anorexia, overexhaustion, professor - student relationship, sickly thin reader

note: this is how i cope, if you feel triggered by any of these please dont read. also, i am in no way trying to romanticise eating disorders.

Summary: when you joined university, you thought it would be different than highschool, but you were wrong. The bullying stayed, making you relapse anorexia. Dr. Spencer Reid’s eyes worryingly go after you everywhere.

[READERS POV]

Another semester is ahead of me, today is the first day of new beginnings. You already went there for a year or so, but this time everything changed. As I pulled the clothes on my slim body, with coffee in hand, I left my apartment. Everyone was treating me differently since I lost a lot of weight.

Some with fascination, some with frustration, but non with worry. Until this day. First lesson for the day was criminology, so I rushed to the room filled with some students already. All that hurry made me really dizzy, so after finding my seat, I took some more sips from my iced americano. I left it in the fridge yesterday, it was still good thought. When an unknown middle aged man walked into the room, my eyes widened. Who is this dude, and where’s our old teacher? She wasn’t that tempting as this fine man was.

- Good morning Students! My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. As you might know, unfortunately Dr. Flamming died yesterday. - He sighed, then look around a bit. We locked eyes for a moment, and it almost made me as dizzy as pe classes did back in highscool. His beautiful hazel brown eyes struck into me like lighting, leaving me scarred for the rest of my life. I can’t have him. First of all, he’s my professor, second of all, he’s like fourty- and last but not least: I’m fucked up. I wouldn’t be able to recover if somebody was watching over me, waiting to fatten me up so they can make fun of me. I have to do this on my own.

He started teaching, this time we talked about trigger. How criminals get sucked into, and destroy their life for something that happened to them. I have been only bad with myself, so no jail for me. Maybe the mental hospital would be a good idea, but I’m not even sick enough for that..Will I ever be?

I saw the girls, even some boys were already amazed by Dr. Reid. No way I would ever have a chance with someone like him.

I stood up way too fast, when the class was over. I wanted to go out for a cigarette, so I can clear my head. Ruining my plans, my vision went blurry, and my stick legs gave up their duty. I fainted, like on those stupid eating disorder movies. How lame, I should know fucking better then this.

I woke up in a hospital, which already made me panic big time. I wanted to leave, but someone prevented me from doing so. I thought it was a nurse, but no. It was my criminology professor.

- Hey! Go easy now. You have to stay here. You are severely malnourished, but I think you are aware of that fact too. - He sighed, and soon a nurse came in too with…food.

- No thank you, I’m not hungry! I’m curious about when can I leave? - I said, sitting cross legged on the cheap bed.

- You can either have this meal young lady, or you can have the tubes again. - It’s the same nurse as five years ago. I hate my luck. I saw Dr. Reid was worried, so I took the plate. - Thanks. This was just a tiny slip up, I promise. I’m way better! - I said to the woman working here. She sent me a disbelieving scoff, and left the room.

- What a bitch. - I muttered, and picked up the plastic fork. Usually they give silver ones, but they know me already. Once I tried to attack a nurse who was trying to force feed me.

- She is just worried. We all are. - He started at me, volunteeringly watching me eat. - Do you want some help? I know it’s hard to get yourself to do it in this headspace.

- Don’t profile me. I like privacy when I’m eating. Okay? - I looked at him annoyed, but he only smiled a little. What a jerk!

- Absolutely not. I’m gonna sit here, and watch until you finish that. - He sat down, leaning forward to watch me play with my food.

- Are you into feederism or something? - I sighed, and slowly started eating, drinking some water after each bite.

- No, I’m not into eating disorders in general. Listen, you don’t know me. Why don’t you speak about your relapse? It’s easier to tell someone you hardly know. And maybe I can help. I’m pretty big into psychology as you could probably tell. - He chuckled a bit at the end, and god it was adorable.

I swallowed the food that was in my mouth, drink some more water, and started speaking again.

- Well, why not. It’s stupid tho. There was this phase in high school when I would hardly eat anything, and throwing up after I had something. It was because all of middle school, they bullied me for my size. They even pretended to like me, so they can wound me harder after I believed them. It was a nightmare. Anyways….I somehow recovered, and now I’m here again. I had some of my old friends tell me that I gained a lot of weight and that hit the spot probably. - I fought back tears at the end of my speech, I was embarrassed, mortified even.

- I saw your picture up on the university wall. You are one of the top students. You looked really pretty. Mesmerising. You weren’t even chubby. I realise they probably meant that in a positive way, meaning that you are glowing, you look healthy, and..yourself. But for a former anorexic, it’s really stupid to say that. A simple compliment would have been better. I’m so sorry. Come here. - He spread his arms, inviting me to a hug. I was very vulnerable, so I gave in.

- You did so well. So so well, and I’m really proud of you. I mean it. - He pat my head as soon as he let go of me, and I honestly thought I was in heaven.

[rainywashere]

Undercover

Summary: Reid and Reader go to a club while undercover, Y/N decides to have a few drinks while they wait, and things get a little out of hand, but thankfully Reid was there to help her in the bathroom.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, sex without protection (dont do that), drunk sex (consensual for both parties), FEM!ReaderxDOM!Reid

Words: 1.8k

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I was used to going undercover, so I didn't think anything of it when Hotch called me down to his office after telling the rest of the team about the case we were working on, a killer attacking women my age while they were in their cars with their boyfriends. I walked into the room to see hotch passing back and forth and reid sitting in one of the two brown leather chairs in front of his metal desk. "Reid." I nodded at him and gave him a tight smile. I was stressed, even though I had done this what seemed like a thousand times. He nodded back at me and I sat down in the other chair next to him.

Hotch turned around and looked at me. "Y/N, I'm sure you know why you're here." I nodded. He then turned to Spencer. "Reid, I know you're not used to going undercover, but I need you to do this for me, for the case. You and Y/N need to pose as a young couple in their car after a date, can you do this." Reid nodded, his face was hard and still, it was so hard to see what he was feeling when he was all serious like that, usually I could read him like an open book. "Alright," Hotch said, sitting down and taking a sip of coffee. "If you have any questions or things you need to talk to me about I'm here all day. You'll be getting the job done tomorrow." Reid and I both nodded and went on our way back to our desks. 

"Nervous?" I asked him. "You were real quiet in there." I mean, he was always quiet, but I could tell something was wrong. He shrugged. "I guess." He stared at the wall. "I just don't want either of us to get hurt." I smiled. "That's sweet Spence." I teased him, lightly pushing him. "But don't worry, I'll protect you." He smiled as he stared at his feet. I walked off to my desk, satisfied. 

I spent the rest of the day sifting through paperwork as there was nothing else to do. I was alone in the office besides for Hotch and Derek and a few other people that worked in different areas. I was on one of the last piles of paperwork when Derek called me over to his desk. I walked over, hoping he could save me even just for a moment from my boredom. "What's up?" I asked, leaning against his desk as he pushed his work aside. "So, working with pretty boy, huh?" He smiled and I immediately knew where he was going. "Oh my god, Morgan you know it's not like that." I rolled my eyes, trying to keep myself from blushing. "You sure about that?" He teased. "I've seen the way you look at each other. Like a dog in heat." He whispered the last part and did that annoying motherfucking smile of his. "Anyway," He changed the subject like it was nothing, "You want some coffee?" 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The next night I was in a tight dress and spencer in a suit as we have wires and microphones hooked up to us. "Just act like you're in love, shouldn't be that hard." Derek said, winking. The whole room ignored him, but he knew we all heard. "Listen, I need you to act drunk, be touchy, kiss a bit, slur your words a little, make it believable." I nodded. "Yes sir." 

Before we walked out to the car Penelope hugged me and spencer goodbye, she alway got worried when I went undercover. "We'll be okay." I reassured her as we broke the hug.

Spencer drove us to a popular bar, there were drunk people stumbling down the street. Seeing people so venerable made me nervous, stumbling down the street at midnight all alone, that's how some of the worst cases I had ever seen had started. "You okay?" Spencer asked, snapping me back to reality. "Yeah, lets go." 

We walked inside, my heels tapped against the damp sidewalk illuminated by the red neon lights in front of the bar. It was even worse inside. It was basically an orgy. People were on top of each other making out, and some were doing things I couldn't imagine doing in public, even if I was extremely wasted. I saw Spencer eyeing up some of the girls in short skirts and frowned, I had to admit I was a little jealous. "Uh, you wanna get some drinks?" I asked. "Sure." He pulled out his wallet and looked through it. "Shit, I don't have my card." I shrugged, "Don't sweat it, watch this." He followed me as I walked up to a male bartender. "Hey hot stuff." I called out to him. He looked me up and down, smiling. "Hey sweetheart, you having a good night." He asked as I got closer. I leaned over the counter so we were closer. "Yes sir, I am." I said smiling. "But... I haven't got any money on me, could you give me a drink, any drink will do, I'll pay you back." I winked at him. He immediately began making me a drink. I had to say I was pretty excited to get drunk, Reid was there to protect me and it would help me get through the night. The bartender handed me a large drink. By the time I was finished it the effects had already started to kick in. "Fuck." I stood up. "I don't know what the fuck this is but it's fucking amazing." Before he could say anything I leaned over the counter, grabbed his face and kissed his deeply. He smiled into the kiss and grabbed my waist, kissing me back deeper and rougher, and I didn't want his to stop. I would've walked behind the counter and done something stupid, but Reid grabbed onto my arm and pulled me back to our table, his nails dug into my arm and left marks, I looked at his face, which was somewhat blurred because of the drink, but he seemed mad. "Why the long face Doctor?" I teased, resting my hand on his leg, which he let me leave there. "You could've been hurt." He said, staring daggers at the bartender. "He could've been hurt." I said, gesturing to where my gun was hidden. "Listen." he grabbed my waist on either side to make me look at him. "I don't want you messing around with any guys alright? The only guy that's allowed to touch you tonight is me, do you understand." I nodded, smiling. I was so hot when he was angry. "Yes sir." I said, looking at him with eyes full of lust. For whatever reason, that drink made everything he did turn me on so fucking much. More than it usually did anyway.

"We still have an hour to kill before we're supposed to leave." Reid said. "Wanna dance?" Even drunk me was surprised, Reid never danced, even when he was drunk, which he never was. Without saying a word I grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the dance floor and started swaying my hips, raising my arms into the air. I pulled him closer until we were touching and put his hands on my hips and started to grind against him. He was pretending I had no effect on him, but I knew. There were a lot of other girls even I had to admit were really fucking hot, hotter than me, but I was the only one he was looking at. I could see him staring someone down but I paid them no mind, if I saw myself with reid in a club, I would be staring too. At the thought I turned around and started to grind my ass into his crotch. He let out a deep breath and grabbed my arm again, pulling me off the dance floor and into the unisex bathroom. The light flickered on as we entered. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He asked me. "Just having a little fun." I smiled, trying to hold back my laughter. He rolled his eyes. "Well we're not here to have fun, Y/N." He said sternly. "You think you're gonna stop me?" I asked, tilting my head to the side and giving him a pure smile. I grabbed onto his tie and pulled his lips to mine, kissing him with more passion than I had with the bartender. He almost gave in, but then pushed me away. "What if they turn the mics on?" He asked. I shrugged, "They're not supposed to do that until past 2 am." Then I pulled him back in and this time he gave in. 

He pushed me against the sink and grabbed my ass, god I wish he would just fuck me already. I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his toned chest. I trailed my fingers down his chest and then to the waistline of his pants, playing with the elastic. I could see his bulge, and god it made me even wetter than I already was. Spencer pulled my dress down so it revealed my chest. He grabbed one of my tits and played with my nipple with his fingers. "You gotta be quicker Spence, we don't have much time, please." I said. "Oh, you want it quick?" He asked, dropping his hands. "You'll get it fucking quick." God he was so fucking hot.

He spun me around and bent me over the sink. I heard his pants drop to the floor before he roughly pulled my dress up over my ass. He lined up his tip with my entrance before shoving it in without warning. "Fuck spence!" I nearly screamed, looking into my reflection as he slammed it into me again. He let out little grunts each time. He reached out and slapped my ass as he began to go faster. "Fuck.. Fuck please don't stop spence." I moaned. He threw his head back, grabbing my ass and pulling me back each time he thrusted. I could feel it building up. "I'm almost there baby, keep going." I begged. He did as he was told and thrust it in faster, grabbing onto my hair as he got rougher and rougher. I could feel him filling me up as I came with him and he slowed down, breathing hard as he pulled out. I felt our cum dripping down my leg as the mic made a beeping sound, signalling it had just been turned on. "You ready?" Hotch's voice asked. "We're ready." 

Gave you a long one, hope you enjoyed hehe

[kiankiwi]

I saw that u write for criminal minds sooooooooo

Cg Bau x little reader while she is in babyspace and non-verbal and someone hurt her but they dont notice it until she get Afraid of something that she wasnt Afraid of like her crib or smth. And they found out

Okay! I think I'm gonna do Spencer for this one :) It's not my best but I hope you like it <3 feel free to send me anything else you would like me to write :)

You were careful not to regress until at least you were on the jet. This case was rough on everyone but especially you since you fought with the unsub and had a gun held to your head. He had even locked you in his torture chamber and had tried to chain you to the wall before the team got there. Thank god the team got there in time to save you from becoming another victim.

Reid could tell you were trying not to slip. He sat next to you on the jet and rubbed your back and let you lean into him for cuddle. "Feeling small baby?" You stayed quiet and grabbed at Reid's badge, playing with it. You loved to play with Reid's badge when you were tiny. "Do you want a paci?" Reid whispered.

Everyone on the team knew about your regression so you didn't feel the need to deny it. You nodded and Reid went into his go back and pulled out a pink finger paci, handing it to you. You sucked hard on it. "Oooh, we got a tiny one on our hands now?" Hotch asked you, offering you a rare grin. You just whined and hid behind Reid's shoulder.

"Alright, alright baby, you're okay, Hotch's just teasing." Reid said as he scooped you up and held you in his lap where he hoped you'd sleep for the rest of the flight.

Later that night, you were calm but still nonverbal and you've never been silent this long before. Even in babyspace, Reid still heard you excitedly babble every now and then. But after fighting with the unsub? Nothing. Reid sat on the floor with you as you laid on your playmat, playing with the arch with hanging toys when he poked your belly to get your attention.

"Hey baby, are you okay? You know you can talk to daddy if something's wrong right? Daddy misses your lovely voice bubba." You decided to ignore your daddy and attempted to roll away from him. "Hey, hey, where you going?"

You guys played for a while longer until it was time for bed. Reid gave you a bath and got you into your pajamas and you still didn't say a word. Giving up on asking you to speak, Reid made you a warm bottle and brought you up to your nursery. You were fine UNTIL Reid adjusted you in his arms and shut your nursery door. Then you started violently sobbing remembering the chains on the wall in the unsubs rooms. You did NOT want to be shut in this room.

"What baby? What's the matter?" Spencer nearly dropped your bottle as you wriggled around in his arms, trying to get out of the room. Spencer bounced you and shushed you, trying to show you everything was fine. "It's okay baby, you're okay. I promise."

Reid walked over to your crib and attempted to put you in it but you didn't want the bars around you. As he attempted to lower you in, you held onto his neck, not wanting to leave the safety of his arms. You screamed louder, getting snot and drool all over his shirt. "Baby, what is up with you?" Reid asked. You pointed to the door, hoping he would understand.

"What baby? It's just you and me at home right now." You shook your head and pointed incessantly at your closed nursery door. "Are you scared?" Reid asked. You answered by snuggling against Reid's neck. "Here, how about we try this..." Holding onto you, Reid walked over to your door and opened it, leaving it ajar on purpose.

You significantly calmed down as he swayed you in his arms. "There, is that better? I'm sorry that scared you baby, but I promise you're safe with daddy now. Can we sit and have a bottle now?" You looked over to where Reid dropped your bottle and reached toward it.

Reid got the bottle and brought you over to the rocking chair. You tried to sleep as daddy rocked you but you weren't relaxed enough from your scare to sleep just yet. You whined, getting overtired but too jarred to sleep. "You're okay sweetie. Here should we walk around?"

Reid went downstairs and walked around the house with you laying your head on your shoulder.

It took an extra twenty minutes of him pacing but you finally started snoring on his shoulder. Reid smiled and decided to lay you in the bassinet that was in his room just in case you woke up and got scared again. "Goodnight, lovie. Daddy loves you so so much." Reid whispered.

@bellanotchewrites @elvisthesillygoose

[ddejavvu]

ohh i have SUCH a controversial jennifer jareau opinion. and this is probably gonna be more like an essay. i wish i could say i was sorry.

everyone always says theyre anti jj slander, which is fine ofc, but just weird bc i NEVER see anyone slandering her. in my 3 years in the fandom, ive seen it happen maybe 5 times total, which sucks because she deserves so. much. more. hate.

(spoilers for *that* jeid plotline, as well as some other things)

in season 7, spencer tells her that she has mean girl vibes and she replies "i was a nice girl, especially to guys like you" which ALWAYS pissed me off because she literally just confirmed what he said? and everyone acts like it was a funny joke. she said that shit with her whole chest and meant it, and it wouldnt be *that* big of a deal if it was the only time. but shes consistently mean to him throughout the show, ignoring him, walking away, etc. spencer isnt even the only one shes like this to. and she just has a sense of superiority, idk how to describe it. just by the way she talks and interacts with those around her, you can tell. (while we're on that note, she also ignores her privileged a LOT. maybe not all the time, but theres been multiple times where she acts like she went through hell to get where she is. other than her sister passing, she had it completely easy. in terms of resources, opportunities, etc., she was basically born with a golden spoon in her mouth.)

in s14 when she confesses to spencer that shes always been in love with him, it just makes my blood boil. obviously he had been over her a long time (imo), but that was something she should've kept to herself bc it just brought alllll those feelings back to the surface. not to mention that hes the godfather of her children, and shes married, and will probably (definitely) doesnt know how she feels. thats literally emotional cheating on her part, even though reid didnt reciprocate it, it was still wrong of her to be that close to him without will knowing how she really felt.

there are other things i dont like abt her too, but those are the main things and im trying to keep this as short as possible. but i literally cant stand her, shes by far my least favorite character, and everyone acts like shes an angel sent from heaven, when really shes just a privileged bitch.

i like JJ a lot (i want her to be my mom </3) but i do agree with several of your points - she's definitely not the worst character, each and every character has a list of flaws that we could make, so this by no means makes her the worst, but it does make me angry <3

i just rewatched that 'mean girl' episode!! she doesn't even hesitate before saying 'guys like you', which, you're totally right, means he was right, and she was definitely a mean girl in high school. or even if she didn't say any of it out loud, she was still silently judging 'guys like him' and in high school you can always tells who's silently judging you. they're teenagers. they're not silent about it. the nasty looks they give you?? oh man. but i do think that the blame for ignoring spencer needs to be placed on all of the team members, because they do it all the time too, it's not just her. she has some pretty bad moments with him, but it's definitely something they all do and she shouldn't take the full blame

lmao don't talk about jeid. the writers actually deserve the death penalty for that, god it was so nasty and weird. i know that it was something she confessed in the heat of the moment, like she wasn't sure she was gonna make it out alive and didn't wanna die without saying it but ??? WHY WOULD YOU PUT IT ON HIM TO DIE THREE SECONDS AFTER FINDING OUT ??? like great it's off your chest but now he's gonna spend the (very short) rest of his life thinking about it?? AND THEN THEY DIDN'T EVEN DIE LMFAO SO HE WAS JUST STUCK WITH THAT !! and yeah!! will!! what about will!! or her kids!! it was so... writers i'm watching you...

one scene of hers that really pissed me off was in reid's kidnapping two-parter in s2 (the hankel incident) where she was almost attacked by those rabid (?) dogs and she shot them and she's obviously shaken up and she tries finding reid and realizes what happened and she feels so much guilt for splitting up with him - which was not her fault, she didn't know and should not be held responsible for what happened to him - that she started trying to make other people mad at her?? she cornered derek who was grieving and stressed at the loss of his best friend and they're both sleep deprived and she says something like 'admit it, you hate me, you think it's my fault' AND I???? GIRL. he is being so nice to you?? he was literally like oh honey if you need time off i know you're really shaken up and we can take care of this and and and AND SHE WAS LIKE oH yeah suRe just admit it i'm the worSt everybody hATEs mE- I WAS... this is not about you. go get therapy for the dog attack that you just almost suffered?? do not stand around a crime scene and pester the victim's best friend and delay the investigation because you're feeling guilty. go talk to someone about it. take a few days off. again, i totally get that she was shaken up and hopped up on adrenaline, but everyone told her to go get some rest and she was like no i think i will make myself the problem instead <3

all of that being said i still love her </3 i was not kidding when i say that i wish she was my mom holy shit i would have loved to grow up as her kid but she definitely has her flaws just like the rest of the BAU, and logical, critical breakdowns of a characters flaws aren't slandering, they're analysis, so i think everybody needs to stop shitting on people who criticize or analyze their faves lmao

send me your unpopular fandom opinions

[star-mum]

Good fucking morning to ME fellas

"if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader" cant wait to get terribly hurt and maybe even tortured a little bit !!!

"reader being from Georgia" am weirdly excited about this (?)

alright, enough chit chat, lets solve a fucking crime

"Thursday, August 16th, 2007 - 3:39AM" im writing details down, this is a long one (obviously)

"The knife had felt so perfect in your hand" 👀 now was it a murder but not a crime ?

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch" FLASH FOWARD FLASH FOWARD FLASH FOWARD

"The fact that he was still breathing" do i need to know the context to know I'm absolutely justified ? No, fuck you (Number 1 Elle Apologist)

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” hiii Reid !!!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” : O hey ! rude !

"2:20AM" ohhh ????? (this is literally the CM format, like I can see the scenes playing out)

"that your parents used to own" fun phrasing, my arent dead right? like at least the "it" wasnt their death i think

"used to own" sounds like they sold it after It happened more than they died and the house went to someone else

when it FIRST happened????? alright, my parents could be dead but now the first time at least

(i also skipped the rest of cw to have the clearest mind while reading this)

"the other victims had been stabbed with" stabbed, not killed huh ?

I killed those women. I killed them!” AAAAH !

“He killed them because of me!” OHHH OKAY ALRIGHT, DAMN

okay if I dont ACTUALLY stab this dude, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed at Reid. Why are you yELLING AT ME ???? IM JUST A LITTLE GUY !!!!!!

“She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” YEAH !!!!

"the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard" sORRY I HAVE AN IMPECCABLE SURVIVEL INSTINCT ??? guess I'll just DIE (or worst) next time 🙄

"Rossi pointed out" Ariana what are you dOING HERE ???? (i forgot he shows up in s3)

"Tell me you like it!” literally anything I do here is fair and justified and no evidence couldn't possibly hold up in court

"This was a culling" everyone loOK AWAY, I HAVE TO GOOGLE SOMETHING

"the action of sending an inferior or surplus farm animal to be slaughtered" OOOOHHHHH DUDE !!!!

also i know it wasn't specified but born and raised in Georgia, we gotta have a southern accent and I will now read ALL OF READERS LINES as such

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” OH MY GOD !!!! AM I NOT ????? AM I NOT AN AGENT ????? AAAAAAAHHH WHAT ??? WHAT ????? (Worlds Dumbest Detective, you finally got here)

SUNNY WHEN I CATCH YOU SUNNY !!! YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE !!!! (or im just stupid)

"It was always the families" maybe a sister or cousin was attacked this time (?)

i need a moment that civilian reveal took a lot out of me

My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” OH THATS MY MOM !!!! OKAY !!! ALRIGHT (it's important to me that you know that I'm reading this right after waking up, so nothing stupid I say can be used against me)

What's in the fucking box? i swear to god

“I never smelled it on you back then.” so multiple times before we fought back effectively ?

“You made me a promise. No more. No more girls.” did we "agree" to what he wanted so he wouldn't hurt other girls ?

WAIT ! Now that my Senior Brain Moment has passed, I have thoughts™

if our mom "never married" did our parents live and bought a house together without a formal thing ??? or did she mean, never REmarried ? but still we go by that name? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

(.... i dont wanna say Dan's my dad but... throwing it out there just in case)

"Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag" drifting through the wind ?

"You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone" fuuuuuck (see I'm not the only one, who's brain is foggy, it's fine)

did he take MY Car ? cause they could've checked if it were still in the parking lot and saw both my pHONE AND GUN ?????

"why would she go with him willingly, she had a gun" one Could think that yEAH

"With my frequent correspondence and all?" so those in the shoe box were letters ?

My car WAS THERE !!! Duuuude ???? just check my car !!!!

“No more girls" but this wasn't The promise, that would have to have been before

"state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case" okay so he Was trying to get us back here

"Women who looked strangely like you" okay so he didn't kill anyone the first time ? (if he did his AMO is very different otherwise we would've noticed it sooner)

the profile also says he could've been previously incarcerated, so he probably did go to the jail after he attacked us, I find it hard to believe we wouldn't have been keeping tabs on his sentence, so he probably escaped (?) somehow unnoticed (?)

"thee decomposition of bodies on live body farms" we did What Now ?

I know I'm probably halfway through (or less even) but no Garcia ? 🥺 i need my girlie here, I love her sm

LORE DUMP !!! Thank you Morgan !! okay give me a minute

1999 - first victim

2001 - missing person

2001-2007 - ongoing murders (26 and counting)

ah shit i gotta math now, fuck okay hold on (if i have to suffer through this then so do you)

if it's 2007 and we went into the academy right after college (forensics is a 4 year program) so... we joined, at the EARLIEST (fbi school is 4 mONTHS ?????)

damn we joined the fbi at 22 ? damn that's crazy (suck it boy genius) (heart breaking news Reid also joined the bau at 22) (jokes on him I graduated HS when I was 17 so technically *I* joined the fbi at 21) (so suck it boy genius, for real this time)

all of this is pointless cause idk how old Reader is rn ....

fuuuuuuuuck

WAIT !! fucking brain blast motherfuckers !!! what if the hiatus isn't from being arrested ????? what if that was the time of whatever the "no more girls" promise was made ????

but are we that stupid to just completely ignore the timing ???? or maybe it's been so fucking repressed is more of a "I dont want to even CONSIDER it"

okay no, I have to figure this out. Im gonna use Reid as a "base" cause we can't be younger than him but I also don't think we're that much older (lets say 5 years is our max)

1999 - we could've been 10-15

2001 - 12-17 (i actually let out a gasp) OKAY I THINK I GOT IT !!!!!

what if we graduated High school in 2001 ???? doesn't school start in the fall ????? so if we graduated class of 2001 then we would've been going to college in the fall !!!!!

NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ????? NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ????? I cant believe the math actually got me somewhere holy shit

OKAY !!! FINAL THESIS (theres 70% of the fic left) SO !!!

the first murder happened in 99 (we were 16) when we first attacked (i assume after, to make us more compliant after we fought back) so we agreed to whatever he said as long as he didn't hurt anymore girls, a promised he kept...

UNTIL !!! 2001 when we went to college, I'm assuming we moved AWAY for college and thats why he kidnapped that girl i September, to make us come back to town

im still trying to decide if the attack we fought back to (the one Hotch mentions in the file) was the first or last attack, makes sense either way cause if it was the last maybe it was the first act of defiance before we moved away BUT reader also said he "liked us cause we fought back" so maybe it happened many times ? and only one got processed ??? still fuzzy on this on this one ngl

"I thought you could use some sustenance!” hey Ma !!!!

"No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone" so we did realize the connections ?

"Ma? What are you doing here?” omg southern accent confirmed !!!! hihi 🫣

"It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby" tell us more about that, actually *underlines "Dan = dad ????" on my notebook like 3 times*

"For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return" fOr oNcE i hAvE n- sHUT UP

"a small plastic bag" dRIFITING TROUGH THE WIND ?????

also ewwww I hate it when they do thag, cunty and dramatic but gross nonetheless

"You are the stars hidden by clouds" *looks at the camera like they do in The Office* ex squeeze me?

OKAY, Im not gonna google it cause I'm sure if it IS an existing poem Boy Genius will just tells us in under 5 seconds BUT could be either an existing poem or a monologue from a play

if it were something the killer wrote to US previously, we would've known immediately (and she seemed genuinely surprised when seeing him again so....)

"You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it" EEEEIIIIII

"You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake." SO WE DO KNOW IT !!!! at this point girlie ... please just TALK TO SOMEONE

"It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” (suck it boy genius pt2)

"That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” i love having a very obvious latino last name cause yEAH YOU'D RECOGNIZE THAT (rip to y'all smiths and browns out there i guess, but im ✨ different ✨)

like don't feel like doxxing myself (know how it is) but its the same level of "cliche" as Diaz or like Santos (id say Santiago but Santos is more ✨ brazilian ✨)

"last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp" that gossipy bITCH !! also what a FUN and CONVERSATIONAL memory to bring up for no reason

"summer of ‘99" I've never been wrong a DAY IN MY LIFE !!!! Okay I think he killed that girl in retaliation then (right? it's gonna be?) cause we fought him when tried to attack us in 99

"But you were still his girl" this wording could very well be both from an obsessive "lover" OR a father figure SPECIALLY if Im remembering correctly that he said "because I Love You" and not " because Im In Love With You", I feel like he might actually be our father

AND !! the original profile was of a delusional man who believed he was dating his victims BUT reid said the profile was all wrong so... (also that comment about our mom not babying us when we Were Babies...) (I've connected the dots)

"Somewhere Above America" KSKSKSKS and I'd sure hope so

"Perhaps he’s feeling ignored" which he Is, just not in the way we think

"It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” he keeps using specific book quotes that we recognize... like he was reading bed time stories ... ????

"Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply" ... now why would you say that? ...

i LOOOOOVE that we're going back step by step, is so fucking fun (like if were getting the facts as they happened it'd still be good, obviously, but this way is just so ✨ literature ✨)

"back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina" are they All college girls ? 👀

"You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them" Sunny when I catch you

"Wheels up in thirty" BINGO !!!

"Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call" 🫣 say less "As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” i said "LESS"

"taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening" *screams and cries" WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING I COULD NEVER HAVE !!!!

"Good morning, pretty girl" YAAAAAAYYYY !!!!!

"This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago" YOU'D USE MY FAVORITE GIRL TO DELIVER ME AWFUL TERRIBLE NO GOOD NEWS ??????

"Lover" uugghhhh fiiiiinuuhhhh guess he's not our father (I've had elected to ignore the age profiled cause fuck you, i make my own rules) (also I forgot abou that)

still tho my big brained math theory still stands

"Fate has sent us on such different paths" is that what they're calling the government's watch list now?

IS THIS THE BIG REVEAL ????? UUHHHH

"The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” after the first attack

"Are you saying that Lety is involved with this in some way?” well you came to that conclusion Very Fast JJ .....

"She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” which *chuckles* begs the question and Im so sorry to bring this up again... wHY WERE YOU YELLING AT ME ?????

"woman" he says, as if I wasn't fucking 16

"Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties" 20s ??????? this hurts me, this wounds me deeply (WDYM 20s ???? I DID SO MUCH MATH FOR THIS !!!!)

"“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001" all my theories out the fucking window... "he followed her to the Academy?”

I didn't even stab this fucking asshole, why is everyone being such an asshole to me ????? sure i withheld pertinent information on an on going case but iM JUST A LITTLE GUY !!!!!

"Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?" this will be the worms in my brain for a while now, thank you for that

"That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink" AAAAAAAAAAAHHH

okay this is so fucking long too oh my god, oKAY WOW !!!!!! Insane fucking plot, really good !!! i mentioned it already but I love that we went backwards with the information

i tried my bEST !!! to figure this one out and yet I didn't connect shit (in my mind I did tho, so that's okay !! )

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Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche 

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche 

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. 

Ten more minutes. 

“I just want to talk.” 

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you. 

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood. 

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.” 

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything. 

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box. 

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you. 

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room. 

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.” 

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure. 

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up. 

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully. 

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details. 

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.” 

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended. 

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible. 

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside. 

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!” 

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not. 

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” 

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.” 

“Reid-” 

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open. 

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him. 

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room. 

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently. 

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior. 

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional. 

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?” 

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter. 

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost. 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened. 

“Clear!” 

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn. 

“Clear!” 

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing. 

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings. 

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too. 

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open. 

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun. 

Hotch had been right. 

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time. 

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes. 

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with. 

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life. 

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster. 

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job. 

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply. 

You didn’t move. 

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink. 

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again. 

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat. 

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him. 

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen. 

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony. 

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.” 

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you. 

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her. 

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-” 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him. 

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-” 

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.” 

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer. 

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.” 

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’. 

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan. 

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly. 

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” 

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-” 

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.” 

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.” 

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.” 

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.” 

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?” 

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case. 

It was hopeless. 

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can. 

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-” 

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain. 

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much. 

“Tell me you like it!” 

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.  

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing. 

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t. 

“Come on, tell me you like it!” 

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.  

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all. 

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.” 

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them. 

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.” 

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor. 

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton. 

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip. 

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain. 

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out. 

He was losing the game. 

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.” 

“Fuck you.” He moaned out. 

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words. 

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.  

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery. 

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air. 

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day. 

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda. 

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none. 

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” 

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.” 

She looked deeply troubled. 

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice. 

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” 

Reid cracked a small smile at this. 

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him. 

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?” 

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.” 

She looked solemn at his words. 

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.” 

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now. 

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly. 

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.” 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances. 

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her. 

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background. 

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same. 

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same. 

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played. 

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-” 

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words. 

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane. 

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.” 

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied. 

He had driven you to take up the habit. 

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable. 

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-” 

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio. 

You wished they weren’t. 

You directed the conversation elsewhere. 

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again. 

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky. 

He had you now. He had won. 

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-” 

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio. 

The silence was gutting. 

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention. 

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.” 

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.” 

It felt like a lie. 

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered. 

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him. 

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return. 

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort. 

He moved back to the door silently. 

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left. 

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm. 

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed. 

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room. 

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time. 

It came free after only a few tugs. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen. 

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction. 

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze. 

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.” 

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.” 

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud. 

Then she turned back to the clerk. 

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.” 

The clerk shook his head. 

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.” 

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly. 

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed. 

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot. 

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen. 

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.” 

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you. 

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you. 

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted. 

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him. 

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?” 

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly. 

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess. 

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing. 

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock. 

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone. 

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy. 

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!” 

“We need more camera angles! We need-” 

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-” 

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious. 

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction. 

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.” 

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force. 

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason. 

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene. 

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces. 

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-” 

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?” 

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.” 

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear. 

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.” 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again. 

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him. 

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag. 

The murders. 

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention. 

“Y/N.” 

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him. 

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.” 

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.” 

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you. 

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did. 

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone. 

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly. 

You were stuck. 

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.” 

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again. 

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin. 

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.” 

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?” 

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic. 

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.” 

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it. 

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.” 

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.” 

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.” 

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.” 

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far. 

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.” 

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.” 

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you. 

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.” 

“How does that help us?” Someone asked. 

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.” 

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.” 

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.” 

Reid took a breath, and then continued on. 

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained. 

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.” 

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.” 

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided. 

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.” 

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply. 

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.” 

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.” 

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims. 

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women. 

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.  

“Hey.” 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.” 

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched. 

But this case - it was getting to you. 

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed. 

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch. 

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. 

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?” 

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?” 

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.” 

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration. 

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets. 

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled. 

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. 

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation. 

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board. 

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now. 

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.” 

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off. 

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?” 

“That’s helpful.” You sighed. 

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?” 

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.” 

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through. 

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end. 

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you. 

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!” 

It was your mother. 

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone. 

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self. 

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands. 

“Oh please, call me-” 

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face. 

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?” 

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing. 

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself. 

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice. 

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby. 

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off. 

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.” 

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.” 

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.” 

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them. 

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off. 

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.” 

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door. 

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct. 

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly. 

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?” 

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station. 

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.” 

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree. 

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her. 

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state. 

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud. 

You hummed back in confusion. 

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth. 

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper. 

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly. 

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note. 

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.” 

Bile splashed up in your throat. 

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it. 

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake. 

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-” 

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” 

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now. 

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily. 

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’. 

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.” 

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.” 

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department. 

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile. 

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.” 

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” 

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.” 

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too.” You easily agreed. 

You thought that would be the end of it, until: 

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle. 

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report. 

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-” 

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.” 

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore. 

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him. 

“Would you mind showing me, please?” 

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips. 

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened. 

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions. 

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed. 

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-” 

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?” 

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her. 

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.” 

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.  

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” 

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun. 

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it. 

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl. 

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.” 

You spoke his language - violence. 

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did. 

You were perfect. His perfect girl. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her. 

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained. 

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject. 

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.” 

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up. 

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized. 

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.” 

There was a heavy silence at this. 

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.” 

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”  

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department. 

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud. 

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-” 

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” 

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart. 

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment. 

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.” 

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information. 

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.” 

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued. 

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.” 

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this. 

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone. 

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.” 

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room. 

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.” 

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news. 

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked. 

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.” 

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?” 

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed. 

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh. 

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.” 

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil. 

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.” 

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious. 

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all. 

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number. 

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied. 

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed. 

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied. 

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized. 

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.” 

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened. 

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster. 

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend. 

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone. 

And they were from your hometown. 

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but… 

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you. 

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?” 

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.” 

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety. 

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh. 

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question. 

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top. 

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed. 

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest. 

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him. 

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return. 

You hated it. 

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you. 

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid. 

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done. 

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?” 

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently. 

“I’m human. So what?” 

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home. 

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now. 

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-” 

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home. 

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?” 

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair. 

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.” 

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” 

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog. 

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this. 

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile. 

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired. 

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn. 

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile. 

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you. 

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope. 

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut. 

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name. 

The way he had written it. 

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. 

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you. 

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now? 

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow. 

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much. 

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor. 

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes. 

Lover, 

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon. 

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell. 

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me. 

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” 

-Daniel 

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page. 

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant. 

It was from that night. He had kept it. 

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work. 

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open. 

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in. 

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it. 

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.” 

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?” 

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit. 

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door. 

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile. 

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?” 

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist. 

“Can I see?” 

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down. 

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.” 

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes. 

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.” 

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it. 

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth. 

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again. 

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue. 

You truly considered just coming out with it. 

But then- 

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence. 

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.” 

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked. 

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door. 

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation. 

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.” 

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together. 

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.” 

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?” 

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off. 

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said. 

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands. 

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.” 

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained. 

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you. 

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” 

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.” 

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind. 

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process. 

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?” 

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?” 

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked. 

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.” 

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared. 

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked. 

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open. 

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside. 

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away. 

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer. 

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ. 

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up. 

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?” 

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on. 

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-” 

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting. 

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.” 

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her. 

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you. 

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.” 

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked. 

“Oh. Ugh.” 

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask. 

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number. 

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her. 

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.” 

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked. 

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.” 

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked. 

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.” 

“What?” Derek prompted her. 

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained. 

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed. 

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked. 

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?” 

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.” 

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table. 

Battered. Bruised. Broken. 

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once. 

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-” 

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you. 

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?” 

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked. 

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…” 

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud. 

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained. 

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.” 

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.” 

It all fit together now. 

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you. 

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius. 

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-” 

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit. 

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.” 

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action. 

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident. 

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster. 

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you. 

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process. 

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill. 

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.” 

“Reid-!” 

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over. 

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting. 

“Y/N,” 

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest. 

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you. 

But you still couldn’t escape him. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Your hand shook as you held the knife. 

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would. 

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen. 

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point. 

Spencer just didn’t understand. 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

You couldn’t give up. 

You had come too far to let Daniel win now. 

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.” 

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone. 

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it. 

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.” 

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing? 

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it. 

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.” 

You didn’t look up at him. 

You knew that you couldn’t. 

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away. 

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.” 

You let out another sob at this. 

You had been so alone. 

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?” 

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true. 

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.” 

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears. 

It wasn’t pity. 

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago. 

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you. 

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in. 

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders. 

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs. 

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life. 

You should have killed Daniel. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. You should have sliced his throat. 

Ten more minutes. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage. 

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives. 

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing. 

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body? 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you. 

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.” 

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid. 

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?” 

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting. 

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips. 

It caused you to flare with anger. 

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him. 

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him. 

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.” 

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time. 

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!” 

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice. 

But you couldn’t stop. 

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it. 

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you. 

Pity. 

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long. 

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.” 

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.” 

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?” 

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.” 

Hotch nodded at this. 

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.” 

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly. 

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.” 

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own. 

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed. 

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

[spencemylove]

You're Beautiful ♡

A/N: Hey hey! This is my first written post on here, so please be kind! and enjoy!

Summary: a cute blurb about spencer praising you. (season 10 spence)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Content Warning: dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), softdom!spence

It was a long day at the bau and you and spencer just got to the door of your apartment. "whats wrong lovely?" "its nothing, just a draining day." "ok, well lets get inside then we can talk." As you put all your things away and change into your pjs, you hear spencer in the kitchen making some cereal. "honey, what are you doing" you giggle. "pouring you a bowl of cereal! ik it always hits the spot after a hard day" you take a step back and look and your beautiful boyfriend and think how did you get so lucky. you sit down at the counter and start ranting about your day. "i just feel like people dont take me seriously and im not good enough to be on this team. like you are soo smart and here i am with only 5 years of experience in the fbi, and you know everything." he looks at you with those puppy eyes you love. "i dont know everything" playfully you pinch his arm. "you know what i ment!" he cups your cheeks. "i know. i understand love. But you have to stop overthinking it all! you are amazing, smart, beautiful, kind, and everything else that is good." he kisses you slowly. "thank you. and im sorry i just dumped all my shit on you." "its ok. we need to do that sometimes. do you know what would make you stop overthinking?" you step closer to him. "you." he raises an eyebrow. "oh really?" "mm hm"

Every time Spencer puts his hands on your hips, you fall in love with him all over again, and so does he. He kisses you with the greatest passion. He picks you up and walks over to the couch, places you down gently, and gets to work making you feel like the most important girl in the world. "y/n, may i?" "yes you may" giggling agian at spencer being so sweet. It just makes your heart melt. he takes off pieces of your clothing one by one with the softest touches. he is shirtless on top of you while you lay on the couch completely naked. he starts slowly kissing down your neck. then to your chest, he plants a few extra kisses there. then down to your stomach. to your waist. then finally your clit. you gasp when he kisses it. he looks up. "are you ok? want me to stop?" "no! you feel amazing, you're amazing." he smiles and gets back to the kisses. he moves down to your thighs while you play with his hair. he loves it when you do that. without any warning, he puts a finger in your opening. your breathing is heavy. he gradually moves his fingers in and out, faster and faster. "oh my god spence" he smiles at your moans "good girl taking this so well" he now has two fingers inside you pumping in and out, and using his thumb to make circles on your clit. "Spencer! you feel so good" your legs shake. you feel your orgasim approaching. "cum for me y/n, i know you can." you feel a wave of pleasure splash over you. you moan loudly while spencer helps you finish. he smiles, proud of what he can make you do. "thats my girl, good job. you did so well." you take a deep breath and smile back at him.

He sits you up, and cleans everything up while you put your clothes back on. after that, you feel so loved. he truly knows how to make you feel better. you lay your head on his lap while he rubs your back. he still is looking at you with those same loving brown eyes that are your whole world. "y/n, how are you feeling now?" he says with a smirk already knowing the answer. "amazing, you always make me feel amazing." you sit up. "i love you so much" he tucks your hair behind your ear. "i love you too" he stares at you without saying anything. "what?" "nothing you're just so beautiful."

[cumulo-stratus]

“There’s nothing wrong with being different.”

Pairing: Dad!Spencer reid x Dad!reader

Description: Spencer and his husband talk to their daughter when she gets in trouble for punching someone (daughter is 10)

Warnings: Little bit of homophobia, lemme know if there's anything else!

Flufftober day 8: Kidfic/Petfic

A/N: I feel so bad cus I'm like a week behind on flufftober but I'm trying guys I swear 😭 anyways proof read by the lovely @ssaspenceswife!! (Totally check out her works it's way better than mine lmao)

Y/n sighed as he stepped into the drivers seat of the car, spencer sliding in next to him. They had been enjoying their day off of work together, lounging while their daughter was at school for the day. That was of course until Spencers phone rang…

Spencer lounged on top of Y/n, practically flopped on top of him, the tv played some show quietly in the back round, but the couple were much too focused on each other to quite care. They had been discussing Poes works until spencers phone starts buzzing on the coffee table, alearting him of an incoming call.

Y/n looked at spencer curiously, silently asking him to pick it up, and find out what was going on. But when the familiar crease between spencers brow became apparent his husband frowned at the discontentment of his lover. Spencer gave Y/n the universal signal to wait and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

(hello are you doctor reid?)

“yes thats me, is there something wrong?”

(we apologize for interrupting your busy works schedule but you need to come pick up your daughter, shes been suspended.)

“Suspended?!”

This finally caught Y/ns attention as he looked at his husband confused. Spencer stared back equally puzzled and continued the conversation.

(She physically assulted another student, and is suspended until the end of the week. One guardian registered with he school may come pick your daughter up.)

"okay, thank you someone will be there to pick her up soon. Buh bye-"

spencer seemed to want the conversation over with as soon as possible when he said his goodbyes to the receptionist.

"Spence- what happened, was it the school? Is Esther okay?"

"she punched a kid.."

Y/ns face fell in disappointment- and then it turned to anger

"we taught her to never resort to violence?! What happened?"

Spencer just sighed and raised himself from his previous sitting position to start making his way to the door. "I'll go pick her up, we'll talk about it when we get back.

Needless to say the car ride home was silent. Spencer was angry but he knew better than to take it out on his daughter. It would only end in a fight, and that got them nowhere

finally they arrived at thé family's apartment- Esther's other father stood in the attached living room with his arms crossed over his chest. Esther only looked down shamefully, gripping the straps of her beloved astronaut backpack. Y/n sighed in resignation and invited his daughter to sit on couch; sandwiched in between her dads. Y/n started;

"Esther- I thought we taught you to be better this, you know better than that- better than violence."

"I know dad I'm sorry- but he deserved it!

this time it's Spencer's turn to speak, "no one deserves to be punched Esther- and you know that"

both Esther and her fathers attention are pulled away from eachother when they hear a snort/giggle from y/n after Spencer said no one deserves to be punched. Spencer gives his husband a warning glare and that in combination with the aforementioned husbands antics, lightened the mood enough to release a small giggle from the child. After Spencer pulled his eyes away from his husband and put the attention back on his daughter she started to explain herself ; " well this one deserved it- he always mean to you guys- I was just standing up for you!” the couple looked up from their daughter and at each other with confusion. Y/n was the first to shake off the confusion and ask Esther what she ment.

“How would he be mean to us, we dont know this boy?”

“he always says that having 2 dads is weird and un natural. and i always tell him its not and its normal but he wont listen! and then he kept saying means and untrue s stuff and i- i, i couldnt stop myself! he was just being such a dick!”

spencer sent esther a stern warning glare at her language before his and his husbands face softened. Y/n reached out and pulled esther in for a hug asking “bug, why didnt you tell us- we could’ve done something?”

Esther just sighs and hugs back before answering “i told the teachers, and they didn‘t do anything..” Esther voice was deflated and when she told her fathers about the schools lack of response to her cries for help, the men shared a look that said they’d talk about it later.

spencer joined the hug forming one big ball of reid family on the couch. When spencer and Y/n finally released their daughter from the binding hug spencer put one hand on each of esther’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes saying “having two dads, never a bad thing, and i dont ever want you to think anything different. Understand?” before Esther could respond Y/n cut in and said, “and theres nothing wrong with being different either- just look at your dad, he’s different and a hottie” Y/n winked at his husband and Esther just exclaimed “ewwww!!” loudly, making both spencer and Y/n laugh out loud. Hoping to lighten the mood spencer responded to his husbands comment with a “save it for later- handsome” and a mischievous smile.

After a family dinner, (with lots of subtle encouragement and affirmations) Esther was feeling better, but tired. So she climbed into bed, received a kiss from both her fathers, and promptly fell asleep before her dad could even turn on the night light. Y/n and spencer were thankful for her almost immediate restful state, needing a moment alone to finally process the events of the day.

when the couple retreated back to their shared master bedroom Y/n took the opportunity of his husband just standing there to engulf him in a big hug, needing the familiar comfort of his husband. And there they stood, for who knows how long. At least 5 minutes. maybe 10 if were being realistic. But hey what can I say, they hadn’t had a moment alone since their daughter to home and lets just d say they needed it.

Spencer was the first to break the comfortable silence, saying “i still cant believe the school didn’t do anything about it- remind me to call them tomorrow before we leave for work.” Y/n just nodded and gave spencer a chaste kiss on the lips- leading him over to the bed and pulling him down on top of him. spencer chuckled and reminded Y/n that they were still wearing their day clothes, and that dental health was extremely important yet they hadn’t brushed their teeth yet. Y/n chuckled and hummed all smiley at his husbands antics.

After brushing their teeth together and y/n (jokingly) trying to get spencer to sleep with no clothes- despite the not very well insulted apartment and the blistering cold just outside the apartment walls. Y/n’s defense was that he could keep spencer warm. needles to say Y/n didn’t win that argument. but the couple still went to bed smiling, curled up in each others arms, leaving the issues of the day for tomorrow.

The End

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

[fandom-monium]

hi! can i request some fluff with reader taking care of a sick reid pls? I love your fics 🧡

AN: Thank you!! Hope yall dont mind i switched it around :))

Doctor Nurse Reid

Summary: In which you get sick and Spencer looks after you. "I don't mind germs if they're from you."

WC: 2.1k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, poor badass Reader got a fever :(, fluff, mutual pining you know me :))

—

Something's wrong.

The thought crosses Spencer's mind like a lightning bolt, alarming enough it makes him look up from his morning reading to glance around the bullpen. Coworkers sitting at their desks, others sipping coffee in the kitchen, but no one's running around like there's a fire. Nothing stands out.

But something's wrong and he knows it. He's just not sure what. It makes him itch.

He runs through his morning routine. Socks mismatched—check. His morning coffee from his favorite coffee shop—check. He came in early—also check. Okay, he's good at least. He carefully scans the office again.

The blinds partially open, he can see Hotch bent over his desk so severely he has half a mind to warn him he'll develop scoliosis. Rossi is in his own office doing... whatever Rossi does. JJ and Emily's desks are empty, but they left a few minutes ago for Garcia's cave, and Derek slouches in his chair, fiddling with a pencil as if it'll do a trick. And you—

Your desk is empty.

"Hey, did you see (Your Name) come in yet?" He asks Derek, trying to keep his tone casual. Sometimes he gets caught up in his reading to notice the world around him. Maybe Derek saw you.

But he shrugs, twirling his chair around. "Nope. But don't worry, Reid. I'm sure (Your Name) will come in any minute now."

He sputters, "Worried? Pshhh—who said I was worried?"

Derek raises an eyebrow at him before spinning his chair again.

Perfectly normal. Nice. Spencer mentally pats himself on the back. He's probably right, he thinks, turning back to his own work. They've all been late to work before, and you're no exception. Granted, this is the latest you have ever been, but he won't judge you. Everyone has their reasons.

But a few minutes turn into half an hour, and half an hour turns into one, until eventually they're called into the conference room, quickly debriefed because the case is urgent. Hotch wants them on the plane yesterday.

Before he has the chance to even bring you up, Hotch calls to him, "Hey, Reid, (Your Name) isn't answering their phone. I want you to check on them. "

"But—"

"You have a key to their apartment right?"

"Well, yes—"

"Perfect. Don't worry about us, you can video call with Garcia," Finality in his tone, Hotch strides out of the room, following behind the others, who try to hide impish grins.

Spencer blinks owlishly, frozen in the empty conference room.

—

Should he be mad at his team for leaving him behind?

Yes.

Is he mad?

No.

If Spencer's being honest, any anger or annoyance he initially felt goes out the window, replaced with excitement as he carefully makes his way down the hall towards your apartment, like you'll burst through your door any second, guns blazing at an attacker or something. Anything's possible with you. Then he realizes—

He's at your apartment. Alone.

The thought nearly sends him hyperventilating.

He shakes his head, reminding himself he's been to your place before, that he's there to check on you and not, as Derek would say, "put the moves" on you. He is there out of concern for a colleague—a friend—so when he reaches your door, he meekly knocks, "(Your Name)? It's me."

No answer.

Frowning, he knocks again before letting himself in.

At least your apartment seems untouched. Appliances off, curtains drawn with windows locked shut, and your clothes strewn here and there (he cracks his neck looking away from your underwear atop a pile of laundry), but nothing warrants concern.

So, where the hell are you?

Padding down the hallway to your bedroom door, he softly knocks, calling you. Again, no reply, and worry bubbles in him as he enters your room.

Only for it to fizzle out when he sees a very you-shaped lump in the center of your bed.

Spencer's shoulders drop in relief. "(Your Name)."

The lump shifts slightly.

Well, that's something. Stepping over more clothes and your half open go-bag, he stands at your bedside and gently shakes you. "(Your Name), wake up."

Something between a gurgle and snarl. He shakes you harder.

"Mmm..." You peek out from under the blankets, bleary-eyed. You croak, "Reid?"

"Good morning," He says, smiling down at you.

Had this been any other day, his smile would have made your heart jump, make you squeal so loud your neighbors would complain, or send you spiraling into embarrassment because Spencer's here in your room. You must look like a mess and—shit—you haven't cleaned since god knows when.

But then your head throbs and you groan, ducking back under the sheets like a turtle. Fuck how messy everything must look.

"Are you okay? Your face is flushed," Spencer asks, voice muffled above you. You feel him tug at your blankets and you pull them tighter around you. Your cheeks burn.

"I'll be fine. Just go ahead without me, I'll meet you at work."

"The team already left."

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately sit up, "Wha—ack!" You clutch the side of your head, your vision swimming.

Spencer's already at your side as he rests a hand on your back, brow furrowed in concern. "Yeah, Hotch said you weren't answering your phone, so he sent me to check on you."

"But—"

Without thinking he presses the back of his hand to your forehead and his frown deepens, "You're burning up. Have you eaten yet?"

Your lips part in surprise, eyes heavy as you stare at Spencer. Touch never came easy to him, but his palm is a cool relief against your skin, and you hope the heat rising to your face is from the oncoming fever. "Uh no, I haven't."

"Okay, you lay back down while I update everyone," He says, stepping into the hall. "Then I'll make tea. How do you feel about peppermint?"

"Thanks, Reid, seriously, but I can do it myself," You say as you struggle to push off your blankets, the strength in your arms sapped out of you. The last thing you want is to trouble him.

But before you can set foot out of bed, Spencer repeats himself, his unusually stern voice making you freeze, "I said, lay down. I'll make tea, okay?"

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he shuts the door behind him, and you fall back into your pillows, scratching your head.

... Yep, the heat is definitely from the fever.

—

“I see. We'll be back in a few days, so there's no problem,” Hotch crackles through the phone.

“Allright."

“…Is there something else, Reid?”

"Ummm..."

"...You don't know how to set up for a video call, don't you." It's not a question.

"I do not, no."

"...Call Garcia. We'll talk soon."

"Thanks, Hotch."

"Of course. And Reid?"

"Yes?"

"Tell (Your Name) we hope they feel better soon."

"I will."

—

“Open your mouth.”

You purse your lips together, arms crossed as you meet his gaze with defiance.

Spencer holds the thermometer closer to your lips, “Seriously, (Your Name), open your mouth.”

You shake your head, turning away.

He squints at you, “Are you a child?”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yes. Now open up, so I can take your temperature and diagnose you!”

“Doctor, my ass.‌ You can’t diagnose shit!” You hiss before hiding under your covers.

Counting down, Spencer huffs, slowly easing his death-grip on the thermometer.

He’s so glad he’s not a medical doctor.

—

“Where do you keep your medicine?” Spencer asks, looming at the threshold.

You avoid eye contact.

He guffaws, “You don't have any medicine?”

“I don’t get sick.”

“And you’d call this…?”

“Listen, this is just like when I get a soar throat or a stuffy nose—”

“Both of which you have.”

“It’ll pass!” You rasp, coughing into your sleeve. Spencer cringes. “Eventually."

Rolling his eyes, he steps into your bathroom, not bothering to ask for permission as he rifles through your medicine cabinet. Nothing. By the time he stumbles upon the single bottle of tylennol, he’s already gone through your hallway and kitchen cabinets. Sighing in relief because at least you own some medicine, he picks it up and checks the label.

It’s expired.

He chucks it into the trash bin.

—

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to make a corner for himself in your apartment, setting his old laptop on your kitchen counter (away from your laundry) with Penelope’s tech support. He’s down the hall from your room, far enough any noise he makes shouldn’t disturb you, but close enough he can still keep an eye on you. It’s the perfect spot.

“I was studying the crime scene photos, and I thought the symbol looked familiar, ” Spencer says, the case files laid out on the floor and on the counter. “I looked into it and they’re definitely ritualistic in nature—”

On the screen, the team nods in understanding as Spencer continues, following him and his hand gestures as closely as they can, until at some point in his info dump, he notices the team’s focus shift, their grim moods changing. Penelope's lips are barely suppressed into a smile, Emily’s fist covers her grin, Derek and JJ exchange knowing looks, while Hotch and Rossi smirk, trying to mask their own amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

The front door creeks. Spencer whirls around, and his heart drops, “(Your Name), what are you doing out of bed?”

So close. You flinch, shutting the door. “I’m going to work, obviously.”

“You’re sick.”

“No, you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. And I thought the medicine would’ve knocked you out by now.”

“Jokes on you, I’m resistant to most poisons!”

“It’s medicine; it’s supposed to help!” Spencer pinches his brow, sliding off the stool to herd you away from the door. He feels a headache coming on. “You know what? Nevermind, let’s just get you back to bed.”

You snort, gently batting his hands away, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you, I’m showing you I care,” He retorts as he ushers you back towards the bedroom.

Without either of you realizing, the team watches the entire scene unfold, hearts warming as their teammates bicker. And when Spencer returns, he notices the odd looks they give him.

“What?”

Penelope giggles, “You two fight like an old married couple.” Everyone collectively agrees.

Spencer pouts, ignoring their jests as he falls back into his rant, making them go back to work.

But for the first time in his life, he nearly squees.

—

"I know I haven't said it yet, but thank you for taking care of me, Reid," You sniff, wrapping the blankets closer to you as you lay in bed. Your bedside lamp bathes your room in a warm light, casting shadows and contouring the sides of your face. It's already late, but the teams called enough times that you know the case is a tough one, tougher without their best minds constantly present. You blink the sleep from your eyes. "I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll even do your paperwork for the rest of the week."

Spencer sets a fresh cup of tea on your bedside table before raising an eyebrow, "I'm pretty sure you snuck some of your paperwork into mine yesterday."

"...I don't recall."

He chuckles, sitting next to you, "It's okay, you don't owe me anything."

"But I do," Covering a yawn, you snuggle deeper into your blankets, "You're the biggest germaphobe I know, I doubt you wanted to be around me like this."

As you shift into a comfortable position, sleep finally catching up to you, Spencer's lips part to reply, but his throat closes as he realizes that for almost the entire time he was here, not once was he concerned of germs or contamination or dirt, at least not on himself.

His only concern was you.

After a pause, he mumbles, "I don't mind germs if they're from you." Blushing, he turns away, heartbeat in his ears as he holds his breath, waiting for you to respond. Or reject. Shit, he wants to keel over and die—

Snore.

His shoulders sag in relief. Carefully removing himself from your bed, he turns off the bedside lamp before placing a kiss at the top of your head, shutting the door quietly. His footsteps fade down the hall.

In the dark, you squeal into your pillow.

—

AN: Hi! Anyone else try to be more productive when they're sick?

As for my little absence, college was kicking my ass, and I needed to focus on career decisions and stuff. Now that I'm writing again, I started this as a warm up and ended up going over my word limit by a lot hehehe. Hopefully I finish Battle Tactics part 2 soon...

This was inspired partially by @spacedikut's Nurse Reid fic, if you couldn't tell by the title :D))

Hope you enjoyed!

—

Bonus Scene:

—

“A-choo!“

You hand him another tissue, wincing. “Sorry.”

Voice throaty, Spencer dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “No, no I did this to myself, but I appreciate you coming to look after me, even though you’re all better now.”

“Of course I would. Besides,” You hand him a cup of tea this time, and he takes a sip, humming. You smirk, “I don’t mind germs if they’re from you.”

Spencer chokes on his tea.

[atlabeth]

because i love you - spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer has a best friend in one of the secretaries at the office, but after a case nearly goes very wrong, he can't seem to figure out why she's mad at him.

a/n: hey yall..,. this is my first cm fic and i dont know if im gonna write another one but. im dipping my toes into the water. im going. im not confident in my ability to write these characters at all but its cool. its chill. its aight. is it? idk. i wrote this very quickly and it is NOT proofread so i apologize if it's a fucking mess lmao!

warning(s): cursing, mentions of violence on past cases, y/n and spencer both being little shits, argument between them but it all ends in fluff <3

wc: 2.5k

Spencer could tell that you were mad at him.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out — the way that you avoided him in the office, how short you were with him when you actually did talk to him, you just ignoring him as a whole unless it was related to business? He hated it.

Just this morning, he had entered Garcia’s office to ask her about something regarding a detail for one of his files, and you had been in there chatting with her. When you had spotted him, you had made up some shoddy excuse, dropped off the papers in your hands, and gotten out as quickly as possible.

(“Garcia, do you know what’s wrong with her?” he asked, brows furrowing as he watched you leave.

Penelope sighed as she thumbed through the papers, shaking her head in the process. “Reid, you’re going to have to ask her yourself. I love you, but this is something you have to work out on your own.”

“Garcia—! She’s been avoiding me ever since that last case, but I don’t know what I did wrong. I just want us to get back to normal because this— I don’t like this.”

She sighed as she set the stack of papers on her desk and turned to him. “Reid, as much as I wish I could help you, this is your responsibility.” Her eyes twinkled as she gave him a smile. “Trust me though — I think you’ll be surprised with how it works out.”)

A secretary and an agent — the two of you were a bit of a rare pair around the BAU, but it was a much appreciated friendship on both sides.

Spencer didn’t know how it had taken him so long to meet you, but the first time he laid eyes on you? The easiest word for how he had felt was enchanted. You were beautiful, there was no question about it, but he told himself that you were completely out of his league. Women who looked like you — he had seen enough in college to know that he didn’t stand a chance.

But despite that, he found himself talking to you more and more whenever you had papers to give to him, or whenever you passed by his desk. One night, the two of you were both knee deep in paperwork when almost the entire rest of the office had left; it was a very long four hours after closing hours that you had ended up leaving.

Spencer had finished his in half the time. He stayed so he could keep talking to you as well as keep you company. It was then that he knew he would never be satisfied with just friends — but because there was no way you reciprocated his feelings, it was something that he would have to settle for.

(But really, being friends with you wasn’t settling for anything. No time with you was ever enough, so anything he could get was something he was happy with.)

The more the two of you talked, the more you clicked. You never shut him down on his info dumps, you actually encouraged him to continue — a very welcome first — and you never treated him any differently or made him feel ashamed about the parts of himself others had put him down for.

You made it very clear that you liked every part of him, and soon enough, Spencer Reid had found a dear friend in one of the BAU’s secretaries — or his ‘favorite secretary’, the way you jokingly referred to yourself. If only you knew how true that statement was.

All of this — it was why Spencer couldn’t stand you being mad at him. The two of you had been fine before he left for that case and fine when they all came home, but the next day? Something was wrong, and with the way that you were avoiding him, it looked like Penelope was right. This was something he would have to figure out on his own.

-

“He what?”

Derek sighed and crossed his arms as he leaned against the countertop. “Pretty boy took off his vest while he was trying to deflate the situation — said that it was the only way the unsub would trust him. Reid trusts in the profile more than he should sometimes, and we thought that this guy wouldn’t shoot, but he did. If he didn’t have such shitty aim, then it most likely would’ve gotten him—” he tapped the side of his torso, “—here. He’s lucky it missed. It… it would’ve been bad.”

“God,” you muttered, the coffee in your grip becoming increasingly less appetizing. “I— I can’t believe him. Why would he do that? You— you have those Kevlars for a reason, why would he—?”

Derek shook his head. “No idea. I just… thought you deserved to know. Pretty boy wasn’t going to tell you, and— well, I know that something like this is important to you. You ever gonna tell him how you feel?”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you elbowed him, your anger at Reid temporarily forgotten. “I have no idea what you mean, Morgan. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some— some papers to get to.”

He laughed as he took a step aside to give you room, but his expression softened a bit. “Just— go easy on him, okay?”

You sighed and spared a glance back at him. “No promises.”

-

It had been almost two weeks of this. Almost two weeks straight of no casual talking, no hanging out by his desk in your free time, no lunch breaks spent together, no coffees, nothing. It was driving him crazy. And of course, this was when they didn’t get any cases. Spencer didn’t even have a cross country trip to get this off his mind, or a way to avoid your avoiding of him.

Every time he tried to talk to you, he got nowhere. A mumbled excuse would get you away, or you would suddenly have to print something out right that minute, or there was a phone call you really had to get to. Spencer didn’t know how he was supposed to fix something when he didn’t know what he had done wrong.

But one morning, he was prepared. Spencer was tired of this silent treatment, and he was going to break it one way or another. He had seen you leave Hotch’s office with a stack of papers, and he knew that this was his one chance.

He had gotten up from his desk and all but ran through the bullpen, not even bothering to take the steps as he turned down the hallway, managing to catch you right on the turn. Your eyes flicked up briefly before returning to the end of the hallway, your destination much more interesting than anything Spencer had to say.

“Y/N—” Spencer started, but you cut him off before he could get anything out.

“I don’t have time to talk right now,” you responded curtly.

“You’re walking down a hallway. Besides, you were just with Hotch, so I assume that you’re taking those to Agent Johnson— he was in his office last night, so they’re obviously dealing with something together. You have approximately two minutes and thirty seconds before you get there, so you have enough time to listen to what I have to say.”

“Fine. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Come on!” he pleaded, each of his steps matching two of yours. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not.” You didn’t look up your papers, trying to speed up your pace to get away from him, but with the legs that Spencer had it was hopeless. Right when you were about to turn the corner, he stepped in front of you and blocked your way. The absolute nerve.

“What are you doing?” you fumed, finally forced to make eye contact.

“I want to know why you’re mad at me,” he repeated. “I know you are, you know you are — ever since the last case, you’ve been completely ignoring me on anything other than official business. You’re— you’re avoiding me, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” you said, the bitterness not lost on him. “You know, IQ of 187 and all.”

“Look!” he exclaimed, growing more irritated by the second with your beating around the bush. “If— if I did something wrong, then I’m sorry—”

“If you did something wrong?” you scoffed. “God, you are so— ugh!”

Your eyes darted around to ensure that you were alone, then you grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty conference room. You let go of him then stalked to the other side of the room, dropping your papers on the table to cross your arms.

Spencer looked down at the wrist that you had dragged him in there with and pulled down his ruffled sleeve before fixing you with a disgruntled look. “Well? Are you gonna tell me what your problem is?”

“My problem is you!” you cried, letting one arm loose to gesture with it. “Spencer, you almost got shot!”

“But I didn’t,” he countered. “Things like that are part of the job, you know that. And how did you even know?”

“I—” you paused and pinched the bridge of your nose, muttering curses under your breath. "Morgan told me, but I really wish it had come from you. And I know it’s the job, but you— it’s like you don’t even care, Reid! You just— how many times have you taken off your goddamn vest while trying to talk down an unsub? How many times have you put yourself into danger when you didn’t need to?”

“Around—”

“Don’t answer that!” you interrupted. You pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead and screwed your eyes shut for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “You can’t keep doing that, Spencer!”

“Doing what?” he demanded, taking a step closer in what you took as a challenge. “You— you keep saying how mad you are at me, but you won’t tell me anything about it! How do you expect me to fix anything if you don’t—”

“You can’t keep being so careless!” you yelled, cutting him off once more. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger without a second thought!”

“I told you, it’s the job!” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and shook his head, letting loose a long exhale. “Every time I get on that plane, something could happen — you know that. Why— why don’t you treat anyone else like this anytime they do something stupid?”

“Because I love you!”

You immediately clamped your hands over your mouth after the words fell from your lips, taking an instinctual step back as both of your eyes widened.

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot, god, you’re a fucking idiot — what the hell was wrong with you?

Your crush on Spencer Reid was a secret that you worked very hard to keep, considering that you were constantly surrounded by profilers and nosy people alike almost all hours of the day. It had become something you were aware of about a week after you had met, the very first time that he brought you a coffee. From there, you were doomed to fall completely head over heels for the doctor, despite him showing no signs of reciprocating your feelings.

Luckily for you, Spencer seemed to be completely oblivious to it. Unluckily for you, Spencer seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

But now? Now, there was nothing you could do. You had already started writing your letter of resignation in your head as you stared into each other’s eyes, your own wide with mortification and Spencer’s with something unreadable.

“...you love me?” He posed it like a question, something you thought was completely ridiculous with how you had just made a fool of yourself. Any words were stuck in your throat, so all you could do was nod.

He stood there in silence, the seconds feeling more like years, before he took a step closer. Now more than ever you were focused on his eyes, the way that they stayed trained on your face the entire time, drifting down to your lips for just a second before returning.

Before you knew it, he was standing right in front of you. Spencer placed a finger underneath your chin and tipped it up slowly before meeting your lips in a kiss that you had most definitely not imagined happening before. You returned it eagerly, but it took you a few seconds to register what was actually happening.

“I, uh— I love you too.” He was still so close to you, the proximity already causing your breath to stop, and you were sure that you could’ve passed out with those four words. “And I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You… you do?” Any early fury had been extinguished, replaced with confusion, awe, and the unmistakable feeling of being loved.

He loved you.

“Ever since that first day,” he admitted. Spencer’s hand slowly fell back to his side as he took a cautious step back, as if he was doubting his sudden boldness. “I... I knew it after the first night with all that paperwork.”

As a sigh fell from your lips, a huge weight on your shoulders dissolved as well. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “For getting mad at you, and avoiding you. But… you get it, don’t you? Why I worry so much?”

Spencer nodded. “I think about you all the time in the field. It— the thought of you, it keeps me going when things are hard. And I always think about how glad I am that you’re back here, away from all the danger. That’s how it is for you, right?”

A small smile formed as you echoed his sentiment. “Exactly. There are so many people that care about you, Spencer, and I’m one of them. Every time you get hurt, it hurts me too. And I don’t want to lose you, so… just be more careful, okay?”

“I will.”

The earlier silence returned — neither of you really knew what to do at that moment. You idled for a second before you picked up your papers from the table, and with a slight push up onto your toes, you kissed him once more. Soft, short, and sweet — but the unsaid promise of more in the future had Spencer smiling into it.

“I, um— I actually do have to get these to Agent Johnson. This has made me really late, but…” You found yourself laughing softly; this whole thing had left you giddy. “But I’ll see you at lunch. Maybe we can grab a coffee and talk about this whole thing.”

“I’d like that,” he said, his smile seemingly stuck on his lips. You felt your cheeks heat up as you returned it, and his eyes remained trained on you as you walked out.

His job was hard, there was no question about it. But you… well, you made it a lot easier.

Spencer considered himself the luckiest man alive to love and be loved by you.

[gothwyfe]

every episode of criminal minds

lady: walking down dark alley slowly and alone (everything a woman would never do)

white guy in hoodie: hey

lady: AHH

white guy in hoodie: u look like my mom *stabs her* *takes her toes*

—

emily: and then i got drunk and slammed that bitch’s head into the bar counter

derek: haha thats great-

jj: its a bad one *hands out files*

emily: let me eat you out

(in the conference room)

jj: so yeah this guy stabs ladies. but now, he takes their toes

spencer: hes escalating

hotch: 😡😡😡 wheels up in 30

(zoom in on the plane)

jj: if when you do, but i cannot for the yes of he was what i no 💖 -lil huddy

(in the plane)

emily: sexual sadist

spencer: the history of toes is actually a long starting with the ancient indians they used to-

derek: dont make me put ur head through the plane window pretty boy. although i know you would love that

spencer: 😳😑

garcia on the phone: okay so i made a list of all the white guys in arizona.

derek: i want to taste ur guts

garcia: impale me with ur cock

hotch: thanks garcia 😡😡😡

—

detective alzhiemers: we spoke on the phone and i invited u here but i just want u to know i dont trust a single fucking thing you say. wow agent jareau u got that barbie doll build.

hotch: 😡 where can we set up

(at the crime scene)

rossi: 👁👄👁 he took their toes. but u can see the bone here.

(camera zooms in on derek)

derek: *takes off his sunglasses* *flexes* hes devolving

(at the m.e)

doctor dr. : so basically he kills them. u can see because theyre dead. he takes their toes but its sloppy.

emily: he must be doing it because he doesnt have any toes.

reid: *calling garcia* we need a list

(music escalates)

—

spencer: yeah so basically hes white and a sexual sadist

hotch: mid 30s, his mother didnt love him

emily: HES IMPOTENT because his girlfriend cut off his balls

derek: and he does not have toes. we gotta catch him fast. *picks up a call from garcia*

jj: i will be telling the press so we can get calls about men without toes.

garcia: hey my 12 inch bad dragon dick. i found him- Ben Serialkiller, 54 creep lane. born without toes, his mom kicked him out when he was 5.

derek: thanks babygirl. remind me to kiss ur feet tonight.

rossi: god am i old enough to die

detective alzheimers: actually i think youre completely wrong.

emily: we dont fucking care shut up limpdick

other cops: okay we believe you now

—

(in a dark basement)

spencer: Ben, i get it. u dont have to kill these women. *puts the gun down and takes off kevlar for no fucking reason* my mom tried to kill me too. but im not a serial killer.

white guy in hoodie: you dont get it.

rossi: you dont want to kill her. we can let the world know of your struggle, ben. we will teach them of a world with men without toes.

white guy in hoodie: okay i guess. *lets go of lady* *cries*

hotch: 😡😡😡 *cuffs him*

—

morgan, on the jet: u did good today, kid.

reid: thanks. i wonder what my life would be like if i didnt have 3 lifetimes of trauma on my 27 year old back.

morgan: hahaha

emily, joining in: hahahaha. loser

hotch: 😡😡😡 i wish i had emotions

jj: i miss my kids

emily: can we fuck yet

jj: fine i guess

(picture of the sky)

rossi: And in the end, if I eated soap, no I didnt because I yes ✨ -hitler